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elijahslittleprincess · 11 months

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A song from my heart

Elijah mikaelson x reader

~You catch Elijah playing piano for you~

It was late in the afternoon when you came back to the Mikaelson mansion today. You usually never get home later than seven, but today your boss had asked you to stay for extra hours and you accepted. You wondered what Elijah had indulged in while you were absent today. Did Niklaus cause trouble again, or maybe it was Damon and Stephen's time to do something to annoy your original.

You had no way of knowing, but when you opened the front door and came in to hear piano notes in the air, your mind stopped and you breathed shakily. It was honestly quite hard to recall the last time you heard the piano playing in the mansion...Elijah had stopped for almost three years by now and you had to admit missing it quite badly.

To avoid startling him and disrupting his playing, you entered the room as quietly as possible. Slowly, you made your way to the living room and stopped just inside the doorframe. There, you saw his handsome and perfect self seated at the Steinway piano, seemingly unaware of your arrival.

A sweet and happy smile crept on your pinkish lips at the scene, it felt just right to see him like this again and you let your head lay gently against the wooden frame of the large door, just enjoying the view.

Initially, your partner was experimenting with different notes without a clear direction. It was captivating to witness their process of attempting to produce a unified and melodious sound. Despite your curiosity about the final outcome, you refrained from interrupting and potentially hindering their creative process. Instead, you peacefully watched and admired him as he worked. After some time had passed, you came to the realization that your decision had been a wise one, since Elijah start playing the piece he had crafted during your observation for the first time in your presence.

With his eyes closed, he appeared to be playing solely based on the emotions conveyed through his fingertips. The composition he had created was nothing short of a masterpiece - a work of art that left you speechless, with your hand covering your mouth to suppress any sounds that might escape. As you watched Elijah play, a wave of intense emotion washed over you, causing tears to stream down your face. His melodies were so powerful that you found yourself at a loss for words or coherent thoughts. But at that moment, you realized that it didn't matter - what was important was the profound emotional response his music had evoked within you.

You harbor a deep and profound love for your vampire, you love and cherish every single aspect of his being. Elijah was simply the focal point of your universe and you felt an incredible sense of satisfaction being his significant other. As he remains lost in his musical world, you surreptitiously dab away your tears, unable to contain your emotions, and then slowly made your way to him, compelled by an irresistible urge to be closer.

You placed a soft and gentle hand on your husband's shoulder from behind, coming within a centimeter of his body. He tensed up immediately and stopped playing, clearly taken aback by your surprise touch. A small giggle escaped your lips before you kissed his neck tenderly to reassure him.

"It's ok, it's just me Lijah."

Upon hearing your voice, Elijah visibly relaxed, his tense posture softening. The gentle kisses you planted on his neck had a soothing effect on his body, and he slowly pivoted in his piano chair to face you. A sweet smile graced his lips, and his eyes sparkled with adoration and desire as he gazed upon you.

"Well hello sweetheart, what a pleasure to see you finally home."

Elijah spoke with his deep, masculine voice that had the power to make you feel weak in the knees. As he conversed with you, he brought you closer to him and settled you onto his lap, enveloping your waist in his firm embrace.

As he spoke and brought you closer, your face got flustered and you gently touched his cheek with your hand to caress it. A tender and charming smile spread across your face as you gazed at him with great love and loyalty. Elijah was just so extremely attractive and you couldn't resist the urge to kiss him when he looked at you with such intensity. So this is exactly what you did, bringing your lips to his softly to give him a sweet and delicate kiss. The both of you moaned at the contact and he pressed you even more to him feeling the heaviness of your absence all day.

When you both separated from each other after a good reminder of what you both missed so much today, Elijah smirked happily and started playing with your hair, his eyes looking deeply into yours.

"Well, I certainly missed that during the day my perfect princess. "

He said, causing you to chuckle happily, feeling a sense of warmth and pure love knowing that he missed you too. It was just so comforting to know that you weren't alone in this situation.

As you still lay gently on his lap, you decided that since he was playing with your hair, you'd do too. So you moved the hand of yours that was previously on his cheek to his perfectly styled brown hair and stroke your fingers in them, feeling happy and playful to make them a little less perfect.

"I missed it quite badly too Eli. Yet, I'll have to admit that hearing you play piano is something that I missed even more."

You gently conveyed your message to him with a cute smile, followed by a quick kiss on his lips.

Your vampire partner on his side, chuckles lovingly at you, finding your words and ministration terribly sweet and adorable.

"Oh, you do my perfect little princess, well to be totally honest darling, I've dedicated this one for you."

Elijah said with a bright and handsome smile that brought a blush back on your cheeks right away. He kissed both of your cheeks affectionately then before placing a gentle kiss on your forehead.

"I thought about you and your beautiful smiles and shining eyes when you look at me. The way that you speak my name and tell me how much you love me my darling. The melody came without an effort. How could it not when I have a muse like you."

Elijah finished with a lovesick expression on and a sweet passionate smile. It was so deep and so intense to hear him say this to you. It felt good and your heart was bursting within your chest. Honestly words were missing you to express how much you loved him and felt good right now. The only thing that actually seemed to be in your mind and that you manage to say to him was a request to heart your song again.

"Can you play it again for me Lijah?"

Your voice was soft and delicate and it sounded almost like a plea when you asked him to play your song again. Your eyes were sparkling like little comets in the sky and you looked deeply into Elijah's hazelnut pupil.

Your husband's hand came to your cheek gently after your request, a huge satisfied and pleased smile on his lips as he heard you. How could he resist any request you had really? You were his pretty little angel and the most important thing in his life, he would do anything from you.

Without a second tough, Elijah gently turned back to face the piano with you still in his arms. After that, he kissed your neck gently and let his head fall on your shoulder to see the piano adequately. When he was finally placed and settled, his fingers grazed on the notes and he started playing your song again. The only difference however this time, was that he seemingly included details and side part that wasn't there the first time around. The music sounded like the most beautiful of symphony, like a coral of angels. You were absolutely sure that it was the most beautiful thing you've ever heard in your entire life.

You closed your eyes and just let yourself be overwhelm by the emotions and feelings it makes you feel. Your heart was beating strongly and your eyes were shedding happy tears again your back pressing on Elijah's chest even more.

After a little while, his fingers on the notes stopped playing and you felt your heart cry a bit at the loss of music again. Yet, you moved your small and delicate fingers in his as he brought them back around you and tighten them around his. You faced each other again now that he wasn't playing anymore and a deep and powerful love showed in your eyes for him. You laid your forehead fall on his gently, a gentle sigh of pure bliss and happiness leaving your lips.

I love you Elijah Mikaelson...

Elijah smiled affectionately back at you and kissed both your cheek, then he proceed to do the same with your lips.

And I love you my perfect princess.

The pair of you stayed against each other like this for a while, just basking in the love and incommensurable joy you felt with bleach other close. Then, with a soft and gentle voice you asked him something while caressing his cheek again.

Would you teach me to play one day?

Elijah looked at you surprise at first by your demand but quickly, the surprise change to a joy and happiness that brought butterflies in your stomach. God he looked so handsome. His smile was the prettiest thing in the whole world.

Of course I will my love, whatever you want. We have all eternity.

And he was right...you both had eternity to love and cherish each other, what you had right now was only the start of a long and perfect millennia together.

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kamikazia · 7 days

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Trigger Warning: Sexual assault, Abuse So, I made a (now-deleted) post about Chainsaw Man's most recent chapter where I joked about fans being incredibly upset over what I considered one of the more tame moments in Denji's life. To me, it was a strange moment but there was little that made it stand-out to me. Then, I saw another tumblr post that describe the issue of consent.

For those unaware, the protagonist of CSM, Denji, got a handjob. It's not especially graphic except for 1 panel, but if you made it through 100 chapters of Chainsaw Man then you'll know it's not the grossest thing in the series. In my opinion, the chapter's a piece of art- when taken on its own, it's disturbing and horrific much in the same way that Stephen King's work is. When taken in context of the overall story, it's actually a really important chapter in understanding the themes of Chainsaw Man- particularly those involving sex, romance, and consent.

As of writing this, we don't know the fallout from this event. Denji didn't consent, and I've seen some discussion over implied consent, but I can't really make a case either way- implied consent is often used in stories (such as when one lead suddenly kisses another without saying anything) and I don't know the author's intent. I think that the ambiguity of it is intentional, and regardless of the author's intent that it's still very much a scene of sexual assault. Denji may be sex-craved, but he's still got human emotions. I haven't seen many people even discuss the fact that Asa (the female lead during this arc) had control of her body taken from her by a devil, and had it returned only to find her hand stained in cum.

Why do I say it's ambiguous? Because sexual assault is often fetishized. I've seen people cheering on Denji, I've seen jokes about the fact that Asa suddenly awoke having been violated, and I've even seen arguments that the scene is romantic. I don't know about the romance aspect of it- it's still very much a horrific scene where the leads are used against their will, but I think there's an argument to be made that one of the more horrifying aspects is that there IS a romantic lean to it. The chapter is mainly composed of Denji and Asa (whose body is possessed) making out, with the implication that either Asa or the devil possessing her has fallen in love with Denji. Morally, it's abhorrent. Yet, I think that's part of what makes it a compelling chapter. It really shows the complexity of human emotions with using a visual medium- no matter how vile the scene actually is. It's like a Rorschach test- everyone looks at it, and sees the same thing, but interprets it with different meaning. It's a litmus test for how the reader tolerates SA.

This isn't the only chapter with sexual assault. It's just a very prominent one because it's the sole focus of the chapter.

With all this out of the way, I want to give my stance: This scene is horrifying and yet compelling. It's not erotic, and anyone who argues that it is should be ashamed. Sexual violence is horrific, and the feelings people get from it are complicated. I'm a victim of abuse, albeit not explicitly sexual in nature. I look at my own abuse with complex emotions. At times, I try to justify what happened to me. At other times, I feel righteous outrage at what was done. I can't really say that there's any one way to feel about abuse, and that's just the horrifying reality of it.

I'm likely over-analyzing this chapter. I'm probably way off-base, and my stance on it could be wrong. If so, I would love if people would correct me. I don't really have a point to make, I just wanted to give this chapter a more serious look since my previous post was rather shallow.

#tw #csm #csm denji #csm spoilers #chainsaw man #consent

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fallout4-reacts · 1 year

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can you do companions react to a jokingly flirty sole who immediately gets flustered and starts panicking once they flirt back?

This one requires me to think outside the box because not all companions are going to return flirts in reality

But I enjoy the challenge of figuring out how they manage it

I've been searching online for a few concepts because I don't have many pick-up lines. As long as I do silly things, I might as well get it straight

Cait : "Sure, I feel well covered with a fighter as amazing as you to have my back, but sometimes I'd like you to take my forwards."

"I can beat anything you throw at me, but nothing beats like my heart when you're around."

Sole drops down their firearm and sinks their feet into it. Cait can't stop laughing as she helps her friend in getting up. And she has helped them in recovering their guns. And she has helped them in regaining their mental abilities.

"Eh, stop torturing yourself; if you turn a deeper red, you'll be mistaken for a tato. You have to be able to accept victory when you start a fight."

With one last lovely smile, she leaves to allows them to recompose.

Codsworth (not romanced) : Sorry! I can easily fall for the synth detective, but I couldn't fathom falling for Codsworth... Perhaps the round balled body? I get that his voice and manner of speech can be something (it is Stephen Russell, after all), but I can't. And then remark something like, "Yes, but put him in a synth body." Sorry, but it's all too far out of canon because it's been said numerous times that putting a robot's intelligence in a synth is nearly impossible, too much lack. There are fantastic authors who write romanced Codsworth fanfiction; I even stroll through an NFSW, but with a grind and... No way, I'm not going to do it. Anyway, I believe that if Sole tells Codsworth a pick-up line, it will burn his circuit.

Curie : "If kissing spreads germs, why not start an epidemic?"

Curie looks up from her computer to Sole, who is distractedly inspecting the labelled bottles on the clinic shelf.

"I'm afraid I'd rather keep our germs between us. I understand the advantages of an open relationship, but if I could obtain your undivided attention that way, I'd prefer to have it exclusively."

The antibiotic bottle Sole was holding falls to the ground as they tuck their heads into their shoulders, taking on a fascinating crimson tint. Curie is enthralled by what's happening and gets up from her seat to go closer.

"Don't tell me you're embarrassed, Sole. That's adorable. You know I could bite you!"

In a playful gesture, she lifts one hand to her friend's face and gives them a gentle pinch on the cheek.

"These colors look great on you, giving you a healthy hue."

At the height of panic, Sole finds themselves unable to say anything and tries, in vain, to hide their head a little more in their shoulders. Curie rises to her feet and kisses them on the cheek.

"If you're interested, I'd be happy to take a closer look at your germs. But tonight. Right now, I have real sick people I need to take care of."

Her partner seizes the chance to flee the exam room, mumbling a few words on the way out that Curie misunderstands so badly that they stutter, but that essentially like a: "See you later."

Danse : "You're cuter than a puppy, and I want to take you home!"

"Oh! You know that without you, every function will be devoid of love."

To say that Sole did not expect such an answer would be an understatement of the most extreme sort. They appear to be preoccupied by a dust that appears to have sunk into the butt of their weapon as the red grabs their cheeks, forehead, and neck, and Danse is taken aback by their reaction.

"It's strange that as long as you're in a joke line, you can accept your flirtation, but now that I've answered it, you don't seem to know what to do with yourself."

The remark just makes matters worse, and it is at this point when panic grips Danse. He turns almost as crimson as Sole and realizes that his armor will undoubtedly require some attention.

Deacon : "Do you believe in love at first sight or do I pass by you again?"

"Do you really believe I've been looking away from you since the day you left your vault?"

Sole starts strutting and playing with the screwdriver in their hand, their eyes lowering to the ground and never rising again. Deacon smiles as the subtle red grabs their cheeks.

"What is that? Don't say you're surprised. A smooth talker like you never thought they'd can be talk back?"

"It isn't... It's... uh... it's... a... well..."

Deacon laughs and softly strokes Sole's cheek, who continues to blush violently.

"Wow, if you ever get tired of Death Bunnie, I have another Bunnie concept that I think you'll enjoy."

Dogmeat : No. (heard the voice of Valentine saying this No, like a categoric No.)

Elder Maxson : "If my heart were to fly, your soul would be my airport."

"However, I have a real airport; do you want to land?"

To say that Sole was surprised is a minimalism. The report they were holding falls to the ground, and the paper sheets scatter to the four corners of the room, but they do nothing to gather them up. They're frozen in place, crimson like one of those antique flags Maxson saw on one of his trips. He chews his lower lip to keep from laughing. He found out that it was not in Sole's nature to say something so... bold. Is this knight the victim of a pay loss?

"You don't say anything anymore?"

Maxson find that the gorgeous tint that has developed over their cheeks makes them look even more attractive.

"I…"

It's as though they awoke suddenly, realising what they had done. They rush to their knees, gathering up the papers meticulously. Maxson leans over to pick one up and offers it to Sole, his gaze fixed on them. Sole blushes even more and attempts to speak, but all that comes out is a long string of nonsensical stutters.

"If you keep this up, Knight, you won't be leaving my office anytime soon."

This time it was too much for Sole, who has tears in their eyes. Maxson isn't having any fun at the time and moves closer to them, extending out a hand to lift their chin up.

"I would like you to answer this question honestly: do you have feelings for me?"

They broke forth, peering into the Elder's eyes: "Yes!" Then they appear to retract inside a shell that weakens in the face of their superior. A gentle smile spreads across the man's lips.

"Don't be ashamed. Coming out like you just did takes a lot of guts. I know for a fact that my position is intimidating. But I'm pleased that you dared to do it, however awkwardly. Maybe we could talk about it more tonight, in my chambers, over a pleasant drink?"

Sole, for their part, couldn't help but smile, almost relieved. They promptly nodded and rushed to leave the deck.

Hancock : "Every time I see you, I get so tired... Why? Because I can't find my way out when I gaze into your eyes."

"It could be because I don't build walls around my heart to keep it open for you, sis/bro."

Fortunately, Sole is securely seated at the bottom of Hancock's couch, otherwise the mayor of Goodneighbor is certain that they would have slipped through the cracks in the floor the way he decomposes. He can't stop laughing.

"Too much Jet combined with too much whisky can make things say, huh?"

Sole nods rapidly, lips pinched, and cheeks on fire. The ghoul finds the appearance strongly attractive, so he rises from his own couch and comes to sit next his partner.

"But tell me, was there any truth in all of this?"

Sole nods their head in agreement again, and then they quickly drop her in shame.

"Eh, a ghoul might be flattered to have caught the interest of someone like you. There is no shame here. It's all been shared!"

He holds his friend's hands in his own and encourages them to look him in the eyes.

"I will gladly guide you in finding your way if that path leads you to my side."

Sole finally appears to recompose, and a smile cracks their lips.

Gage : "You have repainted my life in colors I had never seen before!"

"Stop using drugs, and you'll realise I love you even more than before."

Sole comes to a halt in the middle of the track, panicked, then fiddles with the button of their pip-boy as if they didn't hear anything. But Porter is no fool; he knows exactly what his boss heard. The scarlet that has gripped their cheeks is, in any case, a screaming witness. He approaches them by smiling like a predator.

"So you're feeling funny this morning?"

"I can't deny that your presence in my life has made it more vibrant."

"Quit choice of words. Am I now a part of your life?"

"Well, you...are my lieutenant, and... hm... we get along pretty well..."

Nose glued to the screen, Sole still won't look up. In fact, they appear to sink their heads deeper into their shoulders, acting as if the information in front of them is too vital to ignore, but Porter believes they don't read anything at all and simply try to escape his stare. He softly grabs their chin in his palms and lifts their face to meet his.

"Is there anything else you'd like to tell me, boss?"

The raider never expected to feel so irreverent, a voice within him yells out that he has broken the rules, and he could blush and stutter about it. But it is stronger than him: Sole's embarrassment triggers his most primal impulses.

MacCready : "If I followed you home, would you keep me?"

"It's going to be a wild ride, but I'll be glad to have you along. We can even ride in a different drive."

MacCready winks at Sole, but for the first time, the latter appears embarrassed. All of this is amusing: the crimson covers their entire face, they try to stutter something, and in front of their failure, they droop their heads in shame, finding the button on their sleeve more interesting than the desert around them. MacCready's heart is filled with adoration. He comes to a halt and returns to his partner.

"What exactly are these manners? Hello, I'm Mac! Not the republic's president."

It doesn't appear to bring any comfort to the other, who still refuses to look him in the eyes.

"Were you kidding or were you serious? Because I’m not kidding at all. Not on that. I've stopped telling myself stories since then, you know. But I didn't dare to say too much since I know you're in mourning, and here I am, still in mourning for Lucy, but here. If you believe we could, you know, see if we can work together to move on."

Sole raises their eyes to meet his, trying to hide their shame at being caught at their game.

"I'd like to."

"That's all there is to it! Even more adorable. How can a man resist to such a face?"

He smiles sweetly and bends slightly, but he doesn't come all the way, leaving Sole with the option of digging deeper or retracting. Sole grows closer him by closing their eyes after what appears to be an excessive amount of heartbeat. The kiss is almost chaste, but Mac finds it even more delicious. He can't wait to get this journey over with.

Nick Valentine : "Do you consist of beryllium, gold, and titanium? You must be because you are BeAuTi-ful."

Nick is in fits of laughter. He'd never heard this one before, which isn't saying much. He knew Sole had a nerd side, but it's beyond imagination at this point. However, it is also quite touching. He smiles as he moves his chair towards his partner.

"The gold is you, because you are so precious to me."

Sole abruptly returns to their office without saying anything. Nick notices from behind that their ears have turned red, which amuses him even more. He stands up and turns his companion's chair towards him, noticing that their entire face has turned a crimson color.

"Flirty, but that's all there is to it?"

Sole raises an uneasy gaze at their companion, attempting to stutter an explanation, but the words remain lodged in their throat, turning them redder. Nick's lips grin slightly, and he kneels in front of the other to look them in the eyes.

"I feel flattered that this old cane can inspire such a statement, but now I understand that it was just a joke, isn't it?" he asks gently and reassuringly. To his amazement, Sole closes their eyes and shakes their head vigorously, appearing to have reached a new degree of crimson.

"You're not going to tell me you have strong feelings for me, are you?"

This time, Sole appears absolutely desperate, but after a good inspiration, they decide to declare: "I love you."

"Oh."

In his chest, the detective feels his metal core melt. He doesn't want to prolong the agony any longer, so he gently takes Sole's chin in his good hand.

"So do I."

Piper : "I'm no photographer, but I think I can picture us together." Sole says in a lighthearted tone, picking up an old camera off the Boston Buggle's floor.

"I can see us together so much that it's a vivid picture in my head at night when I fall asleep," the reporter replied.

Sole comes to a complete stop, unwilling to look Piper in the eyes. They become a bright red and even miss escaping the device, which bounces once or twice out of their hands before they can tighten their grip.

"Eh uh, ah... uh... you... you've seen? It's in pretty fantastic condition."

"Come on, Blue, don't tell me you didn't think I'd be interested after all this teasing and remarks?"

"A-a-are you interested? Will you b-b-by me?"

Piper approaches Sole, who steps back almost instinctively until they feel the room's wall in their back.

"No, by the reporter sitting there," Piper quips as she points to a skeleton. "Of course, you. Who wouldn't be drawn to you?"

"M-m-maybe it'd be better... it'd be better just..."

As Piper approaches Sole, she notices how panic grips them. It's almost amusing how they gaze around wildly, as if seeking for a loophole.

"You're not interested in me?" Piper mocks them with a pitiful false pout.

It's her partner's death. They appear to be in extreme agony this time, ultimately looking up at her and appearing to want to die.

"Of course, I'm drawn by you! I simply did not think... I couldn't think of a woman like you..."

"Then you should stop thinking."

Piper presses her palms against the wall on either side of Sole's head, getting even closer, up to a few centimeters from their lips. She would never kiss them without their consent, but Sole understands her intentions now, and the ball is in their court.

Preston : "Your name must be Nuka-Cola, because you're so-da-licious."

"My name is Preston; you know it, but you might not know that I can lose it when I see you."

Preston was having a great time until he realised how uncomfortable Sole is now. They're as red as a tato, attempting to stammer something but failing, and they don't seem to know where to go.

"Hey, easy! No man died. That was sweet of you, but if you think we're going too far, please accept my apologies."

Sole shakes their head and closes their eyes.

"No! I love you!"

The Minuteman shakes his head, noticing that his General is more uneasy than ever. There was no doubt that if anything might disrupt the scene, Sole would leap to his feet. Instead, they appear to be at the pinnacle of torment, wondering how they dared to speak.

"It's not a part of you that you've conditioned me to see, be embarrassed. I… but I’m flattered. As much as I've been slightly unhelpful, I have deep feelings for you, General, and if that's what you're feeling, I'd be the happiest man on earth to be able to move forward with this."

Sole bow their heads once more, still afraid to look the Minutemen in the eyes, but Preston does not want to stop there; now that the area has been taken, he intends to plant his flag over. As a result, he approaches cautiously, trying not to intrude on Sole's space while making his intentions plain. When Sole finally glances up at their Colonel, all they see is a man who is as head over heels in love as they are. Then they go closer, and they exchange a lovely kiss that could go down in history as one of the most beautiful of their century.

Strong (not romanced) : Did he basically have the ability to reply? I picture something along the lines of: "Puny human too drunk. Shame. Puny human must sleep, then seek milk of human kindness with Strong." Sorry, but it's out of reach for my limited imagination.

X6-88 : "We must be subatomic particles because I feel a strong force between us."

"The truth is, and I'm delighted with your statement. I find you appealing as well."

Sole's eyes widened to the point where X6 couldn't deny it was... amusing. He has travelled with Sole since a long time, and it's been months since the Institute was defeated, and he's learnt a whole new way to live, even if he stays X6 somehow. But if he has gained any assurance, it is that he has the right to live and live entirely, and he will not pass up an opportunity to continue forward with the person he admires the most in the world if they open a door. Is that, however, what Sole meant? As the thinking proceeds and he notices that Sole is turning red and uncomfortable, he begins to doubt himself.

"Have I gone too far in our relationship with this statement? I thought you were making advances, but I could have misconstrued your intentions."

"It's not... it's... I... you know hm..."

"No, I don’t know. Maybe I should go see Nick for a second view, because you don't appear to be any more certain than I am about what just happened."

"No!" Sole is well aware that when they are unable to provide sufficient information to X6, the Courser has developed the habit of consulting Nick. The last thing they needs is a snarky detective interfering. For months, they would be teased.

"No. The reality is, I must accept that... well, you are..."

Again, Sole appears to be at a loss for what to say or do with their ten fingers, which no longer amuses X6. He's looking for answers, and he wants them now. What has Deacon already stated about a case like this? When in doubt, proceed?

"Ma'am/Sir, may I?"

The Courser delicately strokes his boss's jaw lines with his palms, so lightly that it's difficult to tell if Sole feels it, but they do. They feel their heartbeat faster than ever in their chest, and they feel a surge of desire in them. They slowly close their eyes as they enjoy X6's kiss.

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brunchable · 2 years

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5 More Minutes || Doctor Strange x F!Reader

Word count: 2.7K. Summary: Stephen is reluctant to let you go to work and asks you to stay in bed with him for 5 more minutes. Warning: SMUT OVER 18s ONLY. Oral (male receiving), deep-throat, unprotected p & v sex, creampied, sweet morning sex. Fluff/comfort. A/N: Inspired by the obvious song choice. I'm making it up because I came back with two angst <3 here's a comfort smut.

The horrifying sound of your Samsung alarm had cut off your peaceful slumber. You groaned under your blanket, your hand blindly patting down surfaces as you tried to reach your ringing phone. Stephen, who had his hands around your waist, groaned against your back as he too got woken up by your alarm. You could barely open your eyes when you lit up your phone to turn the godforsaken ringtone.

Getting up at five in the morning was a struggle for you, particularly now that winter had arrived. You found yourself wanting to cry on the inside. You let out a deep sigh as you braced yourself mentally for the sensation of the frigid temperature being distributed to your flesh. You unfastened Stephen's arm from around your waist and made your way slowly out of the bed, but before you realised it, Stephen had deftly repositioned you against his chest and dragged you back in.

“Stay with me a little longer.” His scalding breath grazes the flesh in the hollow of your neck, his voice raspy from having just woken up a few moments before.

“I have to prepare for work, Stephen.” You reasoned while also attempting to remove his arm, at which point he became stiff and increased the strength of his grasp.

“But your body’s so warm, I don’t want to get cold.”

You chuckled out of disbelief, “Am I just a bed warmer to you?”

“No, of course not. You’re my (Y/N),” He planted a soft kiss against the skin on your shoulders, “My love,” he pecked higher each time leading towards your neck, “My only one.”

You sighed, tension leaving your body in a great whoosh—that was his affect on you. You felt a blissful happiness as you let Stephen's voice wash over you, “As much as I love hearing those words come from you—I don’t want to be late.”

“Are you forgetting who you’re dating? I can get you to work in one second.” Stephen says before nibbling your earlobe.

You chuckled at the tickling feeling that was flowing in your ear, and then you turned around to look into his eyes. What you saw in those eyes at that very moment caused you to fall in love with him all over again. He kissed your neck once more as you let out a sigh of contentment and moved your hand back to run through his hair as he kissed your neck again. In the light of the early morning, his complexion nearly seemed to gleam. The light danced over his skin in an alluring combination of light and shade as the curtains were stirred by the gentle breeze that came from the window that was cracked slightly open.

“Alright, five more minutes—that’s it.” you firmly told him before turning back around and nestling your body against his once more.

Gently, Stephen slid his hand down your arm, interlaced your fingers, and lifted your hand so he could kiss your palm. The sensation of the warmth of your body pressing up against his was addictive, and it didn't take long for him to completely lose himself in it. His want and desire for you just increased, and it was soon clear from the low chuckle that you gave him as you let go of his hand to grip his hip instead. As he put an arm around your waist, you began to softly grind while pressing your own hips back into his with as much force as you could muster. The size difference between the two of you has never been clearer as it is right now. You took advantage of the free hand you had available and gave his forearm a firm grip. You both knew he could raise you with one arm, and he had done so in the past; nevertheless, at this moment, that strength, which could hardly be restrained, was focused solely on you and your needs.

Now, Stephen's hand shifted ever-so-slightly as he repositioned his forearm in such a way that his fingers were able to slip down between your legs. While he is doing this, you let out a soft, low moan, and he makes gentle circles with his middle finger around your clit.

“You’re going to make me late if you get this started.”

“You’ll be fine, you’re always punctual anyway.” Now, with some reluctance, he pulled his right hand away from yours; the reason for this separation was because of where his hand was heading.

The outline of your breasts was lightly traced with the tips of his fingers, which simultaneously drew random patterns as they moved. As his hand continued to go around the region, it first cupped and caressed one breast, and then moved on to the other as it continued to move around the whole area. Throughout it all, he was softly caressing your shoulders, and then moving his kisses up to your neck and back.

As he attentively readjusted his position, he brought his hand up to put a finger under your chin. Then, as he leant around to kiss you, he turned your head ever-so-slightly until your lips finally touched. The kiss began softly, serving as a gentle reminder of times like this that had been relegated to the past. However, as the seconds passed, it got more intense, with desire and need pushing both of you. When you turned completely around, he had his hand at the base of your back.

Gripping you firmly Stephen flipped over onto his back and proceeded to carry you along with him. You slid your hands through his hair, one of them seeming to grab a handful of it as if to prevent him from pulling away from you. Your legs extended out to straddle him.

“Have I ever told you, you look the most handsome when you just woke up?” You whispered and Stephen groaned in delight as he felt your thighs grip him tighter. Whether you knew it or not your hips had started to move slightly and it was almost more than he could take.

Stephen grasped your hair and pulled back just enough to break the kiss and bury his face in your neck, “Then just stay with me and don’t go,” The scent of your skin driving him wild and ensuring a deeply animalistic growl rumbled up and out from deep within him.

You had your hands placed against his wide chest, and when he softly nipped the back of your neck, your fingers flexed slightly, and your nails sunk in just enough for him to detect the feeling. Stephen distanced himself from you and gazed intently into your eyes. The yearning that was so plainly seen there, just as he is certain that it was also there on his own. You sat up and arched your back in a manner that was reminiscent of a cat's, and then you let your hands slide down to his hips.

You hand moved and lightly gripped him through his boxers, eliciting a sudden inhale from him. You stayed like that for a moment, staring intensely into his eyes as you held onto him like that, the thought behind the action so obvious. Stephen is aware of the air coming in through the open window, but it has no effect on the temperature of his skin. In fact, he didn't even seem to notice it. He was concentrating a lot on you. The sensation of your thighs tightly gripping his. The softness of your skin feeling like an invite to a series of actions he knows all too well you would enjoy. For now though, he waits, he waits for you to act, or speak or really do anything and yet if you did nothing from now until the stars blinked out one by one he would not complain.

Stephen barely had time to even register the deft movement of your hand before it had completed its task. So quickly it had moved inside his boxers and wrapped around his cock that his first warning was his involuntary tensing in response to your touch. Your eyes never broke contact with him. Slowly you pulled his cock out from his boxers and paused for a moment before you wrapped your pretty hand around the shaft of his semi-hard cock. Your hand was so cool and soft on his skin, he could feel the blood pumping into his veins as he swelled up larger against your touch.

You licked the tip of his cock in a circle with your tongue, and Stephen let out a soft moan. You started to stroke a little faster as you switched from licking the tip, to sucking at the tip of his cock. You could feel Stepehen's hands gathering up your hair and holding it in a makeshift ponytail with his right hand and you put the whole head of his cock inside your mouth, opening your jaw wider to fit him.

“Mmm yes,” He let out another moan of delight as you started to suck more forcefully and the grip in your hair tightened. You started working your head up and down on his cock in small motions, but all of a sudden, you felt your head being forced down, deepthroating his whole shaft against your will. He started to manipulate your head up and down as he face fucked you. His moans grew in volume and frequency. You were so turned on by it that you couldn't contain yourself. You cupped his balls with one hand and slid the other hand between your legs, rubbing your clit as you let Stephen use your mouth for his pleasure.

You had been wet at just the thought of sucking off Stephen, but to finally have him inside of your mouth had your pussy practically dripping. You let out a contented groan, the sound of which was muffled by Stephen's impressive cock that was placed in your mouth. You loved the feeling of deepthroating him like this, and every little grunt of pleasure you heard from him made you more eager, despite your jaw aching from taking in his cock. Every thrust into your throat was a challenge to control your gag reflex. You looked up at Stephen and could see his head thrown back, a look of intense pleasure plastered across his face. He became even more forceful in his manipulation of your head, until with one rough shove, he held you in place, his cock as far back your throat as he could get it. You could feel the cum shooting deep into your oesophagus and struggling to swallow it all without inhaling some. You made sure to suck every drip of cum from his cock.

Leaning forward you gripped his shoulders tightly and then brought your hips forward as well. The feeling of your wet cunt sliding teasingly up and down his still aching shaft made him groan both in delight but also frustration. An exquisite sensation tinged with that deep frustration. You slowly moved your hips and he felt his muscles loosening, his tension evaporating and so lost that he didn't notice you raise your hips slightly and with one hand guided him inside you.

The moment he felt your tightness around his girth, it was like a lightning bolt through his body, one that radiated out and was felt from his toes to his scalp and his breath hitched. He ran his hands up your thighs to your hips and held you as you slowly lowered yourself down even more. You closed your eyes and bit your lip as your breathing became deeper. You started to rise back up before sliding back down, repeating this movement but each time taking a little more. Stephen ran his hands gently up and down your thighs, squeezing occasionally, feeling the soft flesh under his fingers that only drove his desire further.

When you finally came to rest at the base of his cock, you slowly exhaled and he took your arms and pulled you down to kiss him. This time it was much gentler than it had been before. Not because that hunger had died down, far from it, but more that it had evolved.

While you kissed him, you began to carefully grind your hips back and forward. Stephen’s hands held yours against him, one at the base of your back, the other happily lost in your hair as you continued to kiss. At the best of times you were all that mattered but in that moment you were all that existed as far as he was concerned. Your feelings, your comfort, your pleasure, everything that could affect how you enjoyed that moment with him, that was all he needed to think about.

Your pace started to increase and soon your lips parted with his as you placed your hands on his chest again. Bracing yourself as you start to rise up before coming down and grinding your hips forward. You threw your head back as Stephen savoured every sound you made. Each movement of your head caused your hair to twist and jump like silk in the wind. He couldn't help but marvel at you as he drank in the sight of you.

The intensity of your moans had increased and now you alternated between staring at him intently and screwing your eyes shut as you cried out in pleasure. Stephen could feel you starting to clench around him. Your fingers curled again and your nails dug in a little more so in response he squeezed your thighs tightly. Your eyes shot open and a wicked grin flashed across your face. Your nails dug in a little more, a direct challenge, daring him to act.

Stephen held your gaze for a moment long before grabbing you, half rising as he rolled and before you could say anything you were on your back as he used a hand to balance himself above you. Stephen’s hips didn't break the rhythm as he continued where you had left off. Arching his back down to kiss you as you moaned into his mouth. Feeling the changes in your body that told him you weren’t far from cumming. Reactions he’d seen and felt so many times before and yet they never ceased to be a heady medley to him.

Stephen’s lips moved down your jaw and to your neck again, a favourite spot of his for so many delectable reasons. Only as he felt you so achingly close did he realise he was as well. He admitted to himself that a momentary panic shot through him at the idea he might come before you did. A thought rapidly silenced by the knowledge that even if he did, you would come as well, he would ensure that.

He needed not have worried as that thought had barely finished as you tensed and cried out all of a sudden. Swiftly burying your face in his shoulder as you quivered, trying to grip him with shaking thighs. Your body twitches before eventually relaxing as your head falls back into the pillow.

"Please." Comes this soft voice in a mixture of need and serenity.

Stephen kisses you again and your lips have barely met before it was his turn to tense as he came deep inside you. Your arms are wrapped around him, your hands spread across his back as those last tentative thrusts see him utterly spent.

Grabbing you again Stephen rolls back to the way you were before. Your head rests against his chest. His heart is still hammering that he could feel his pulse throughout his body. After a few deep breaths he raises his hand and starts gently stroking your hair. Reaching down, Stephen grabs the kicked off duvet and pulls it up around the both of you, kissing you lightly on top of the head. As his breathing and heart rate return to normal he notices your fingertips trailing across his chest and he couldn’t resist taking your hand into his own.

“Take a few more minutes, sleeping. I’ll take you to work.” He whispered against your ear as he continued to brush his fingers through your hair. After a few minutes Stpehen could tell that you had drifted off, “I love you, (Y/N).”

“I love you Stephen.” You mumble in your sleepy state, causing the man to chuckle as he securely wraps his strong arms around you.

TAGS: @simp4fictional @praetorrara @poor-unfortunate-soul-85 @elicheel @stanny-uwu @frostandflamesfanfic @jamiethenerdymonster @rbymoon @zdhunn @justsomecreaturewandering @soiopathicdetectivekid @fan-of-fic @gaitwae @shit-post-things @seasonofthenerd @patbrdac @evelynrosestuff @singhfae @severuined @mischiefmanaged71 @farfromjustordinary @spideyyhoe @lovecleastrange @samisubi @mochuchi @faithinhome @ohchoices @junkertown-princess @sigyncevans @dragonqueen89 @the-royal-petals @hiddlechive @peachypie97 @ghost-lantern @sleutherclaw @the-mouse27 @zelspktr @bobateadaydreams @lykaonimagines @valbensherstep @strangeobsessed @calsjack @romanvffa @hobimysolecito @strangeions @jyessaminereads @tis-vereon

#stephen strange #benedict cumberbatch imagine #stephen strange x reader #stephen strange x you #benedict cumberbatch x reader #benedict cumberbatch #benedict cumberbatch x you #doctor strange imagine #doctor strange x you #doctor strange #doctor strange x reader #dr strange x reader #doctor strange smut #stephen strange smut

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siremasterlawrence · 1 year

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Masks Hotel # 3

Chris Hemsworth has no idea he is about to do the most amazing thing in his life once he waltzes in here.

The locks kick leaving him stranded and the air vents make a ruckus promoting him to call for help.

The gas seeps in to the room, down his long throat he is left agape as blurts out soon it is a flood of it.

“Why am I laughing so hard ?”

“Hahahahaha”

“What do so funny?”

“Hahahahaa”

“Oh lord! It’s hurts “

“FUCK”

“A giggling fool”

“Oh! Finally “

“Not…..hahahaha “

“Oo oh it so painful “

“Yet..feels so good”

“Ssssoooo gggggooooddddd”

“I am tough”

“Stop this”

“Bbbbsssstttt”

“Hahahaha “

“Tough my ass”

“Pussy”

“Yes….hahahaha…I am a pussy”

“Wow!”

“I am in such a good mood….bro”

Picking up a cellphone he dials the number of his brother Liam to entertain for a party they will be a main show.

“What’s that smell?”

“Did you fart?”

“No! Did you ?”

“Hahaha”

“Kidding”

“Are you ok ?”

“Yeah! Why ?”

“You are acting strange “

“Take a seat”

“Let go of ten stress l

“We have everything a guy could want”

“That smell so repulsive “

“Yet mmmm”

“It’s good right?”

“Haha “

“Yes! I love it”

“I am so dumb “

“Me too bro”

“Bro”

“We are real bros”

“Very funny bro”

“Are we high”

“Yes, no or maybe so”

The end

Mask Hotel # 4

Stephen Amell is worst kind of celebrity is that type of guy who exudes confidence to

a fault unfortunately he can’t handle the heat thrown back at home.

He slams the door sighing, wiping the sweat off of his brow, and he face plants forward on to the bed in a scene worthy of a Oscar performance.

A grows erupts from his mouth rising back to his feet then makes his way to the door taking a knob and slid the door open to see a bell hop.

“What do you want? I am about to…..” he says.

“Don’t worry….sleep” the bell hop adds lifts a spray bottle in the air.

“Wwwwhhhaaatttt ttthhhee….cough…cough “ he starts to explode with heat.

“Ffffuuuuccckkkk” falling back to the floor of the room.

“This is body now” the bell hop kicks his legs in to the room.

“Mwahahahahaha” he laughs his voice is at an all time high.

“Oh Stephen! You are all mine.” I whisper in to his ears.

“The door is locked and we are all alone.” He adds.

“I am your Master Lawrence “ he says then kiss them.

“Mind if I sit on your lap” he asks laying down on him.

“God! You are fine” the bell hop continues.

“Of course you don’t mind” he adds.

“Feel my ass riding your lap.”

“My hands groping your body”

“Forcing you to inhale my scent”

“You love my scent “

“I love your scent “

“You crave my scent “

During the next hour and a half his mugged mind controlled Stephen Amell is propped up on to a chair.

I place his arm down on the table laying his head on to it, turning his body to face me he has a empty expression:

Quick the young man hides behind the door of the closet waiting for the keys as they are entering the rooms

It is only his cousin Robbie Amell who enters the room dropping his jacket on to the chair he passes the mirror unaware of his cousin’s presence.

He stops cold seeing Stephen and a deep breath of release as he approaches him taps his should to no surprise as he does not move.

The young man drops a massive gas bomb on to the floor letting it roll behind Robbie hitting her feet and the bomb explodes next to him.

Robbie is left to be fucked the gas rises to the top of the roll covering every inch over the room.

I back out of the room catching his body in my arms then kissing down his neck as he moans a bit.

Dragging him to the bed I throw him on to it with a smile feeling him, undoing his belt in heat and grope his cock.

“Mmmmmmm….”

“Come now Robbie”

“Be a good boi”

“Hear me”

“I speak the truth”

“You are my sole property “

“I am your leader”

“My happiness is your goal”

“Your body is my playground”

“A staircase is now in front of you “

“Take a step “

“Take five more”

“One at a time “

“No escape”

“Dropping deeper”

“Free falling “

“In me”

“You are connected to me”

“A external extension”

“A fire “

“Immobile”

The end

#chris hemsworth #luke hemsworth #liam hemsworth #Stephen amell #robbie amell #Colton Haynes #mind control #hypnosis #reprogramming #Mask Hotel

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thistheaterishaunted · 8 months

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It would be tempting, perhaps seductively so, to shoot a Talking Heads live show from multiple angles and train every camera on David Byrne. His sudden jerks and lurches and twitches never fail to catch the eye, as they should, but with Stop Making Sense, Jonathan Demme is solely interested in capturing the totality of this performance, and this band, and these songs, and these people. Byrne’s unstoppably jagged performance is a huge part of this, running laps of the stage, dancing with a floor lamp, performing in an enormous grey business suit, but it’s just one layer of dozens, each happening at the same time in the same place in total harmony. The alchemy of live music. Even split into its constituent parts and pieced back together, it’s impossible to see how it all comes together.

A year later, Demme took a similar approach with his music video for New Order’s single The Perfect Kiss, shot in the band’s practice room in Manchester as they perform the song from start to finish. The video cuts between close-ups of each member individually, either playing their instruments or waiting to play them, with the camera mostly trained on their faces. Demme isolates each person in a frame of their own and emphasises their individual contribution to the song: Bernard Summer singing and playing guitar and hitting a cowbell; Gillian Gilbert and Stephen Morris turning the dials and pressing the keys of various synthesisers; Peter Hook playing a bass riff and hitting some drum pads. Each close-up underlines a certain sound visually as a single layer among dozens of others, created by one of four people and their instruments, and by focusing on the means by which these layers are constructed, Demme finds the same thing he found in Stop Making Sense: that music is alchemical. It’s water into wine, lead into gold. It’s a thousand individual noises thrown together to create something dense and magic and unknowable.

#jonathan demme #talking heads #new order #stop making sense #the perfect kiss

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stuckybarton · 2 years

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Busy Bee

SUMMARY: Being the workaholic that you were, you forgot to realize that you were neglecting not only your husband, but your little girl that was missing her mother more than anything. PROMPT(S): “i didn’t realize I was such an inconvenience.” CHARACTERS: Stephen Strange x Wife!Reader. OC!Daughter (Donna); Tony Stark WARNINGS: Slight Angst. Fluff. WORDS: 1,066 REQUESTED BY: none A/N: Just back to finish some request and a few things I've written. Anon who requested, I had to change the angst to something a little more positive since Stephen has been through so much in the last few request on him. lol.

MASTERLIST || JOIN THE LIBRARY ||

"Mommy!" The voice of Donna had echoed the halls before you caught sight of your daughter, followed closely behind your exasperated husband--it was his turn to look out for your daughter after school and from the looks of it, he had been catching up to her antics for the entirety of the day. "Happy birthday!"

For a moment you looked at your husband and the sight of a box in his hand had you turning away from the both of them and checking your calendar to see it was in fact, your birthday. You had promised Stephen to spend time with the both of them on your birthday but as it was now close to nine in the evening at this point. Looking at your husband and still too excited daughter, all you could do at this point was wipe away the tears from your eyes and accept your daughter's hug. Peppering her cheek in kisses, you lingered and all of the changes in your daughter, she was growing up more than you would have wanted and you were barely there to see it happen.

"Me and Daddy spent the entire day looking for the perfect gift for you Mommy…" Your daughter began and your attention was solely focused on her, your arms wrapped around her as she continued on and on with the story of their misadventure and your husband almost getting into a fight because of your gift.

As your daughter continued on with her story, your eyes finally lingered on your husband, the sheepish smile that rested on his lips and the sadness of you finally realizing you've allowed your work in the compound to take over--forgetting your own birthday because of it too.

"Why don't you, me, and Daddy spend the rest of the week doing whatever you want?" You offered as a decision was finally made for your family's sake. "Just let me call Tony for something, okay?"

You had ignored your husband's confused look as you pulled out your phone to dial Tony. In a few rings, the sound of your ever annoying boss greeting you and questioning you possibly still being in the office--which was true.

"Listen Tony, I know it might be last minute, but I need the week off."

'Consider it done, it's your birthday and you should spend it on your daughter and your douche of a husband.'

"And after I get back, I might need to talk to you about reducing my hours."

'Again, this is something we've discussed before. Even Pep is begging you to cut off on the hours. Consider it done too and we'll discuss the hours when you get back from your trip.'

"Trip? What trip?"

'Have fun and see you next week.' Tony had hanged up on you without answering your question. Finally turning your attention to your husband, the sight of plane tickets in his grasp alongside your birthday gift was there to greet you.

"So, I may or may not have already asked Tony to give you the day off so we could head somewhere as a family." Stephen finally explains.

You nod allowing him to continue. Donna was placed on your lap as you waited for your husband to say what he needs to say.

"You've been busy with work so much to the point of forgetting your own birthday and I know you might not like it, but I was going to insist on you taking a few days off, not for me, but for your own sake as well as Donna's." he explained.

You smiled kissing your daughter once again before standing up and pulling your husband into a kiss. Donna squished in-between the both of you.

"I'll make it up to you two, I promise." ~ “I didn’t realize I was such an inconvenience.” Stephen could only smile as he truly didn't mean what he had said at the sight of his far too overworked wife, and far too clingy daughter that was wrapped around you like a koala. He was ignored, but he was fine with it, for the most part. Just the sight of you and your daughter bonding after the weeks of you working nonstop to keep the Avenger's Compound in tiptop shape.

"Don't say that, Ste." You giggled with your daughter still very well clinging to you and very much ignoring your husband at the moment. "We want you here too."

"Doesn't look like it." Your husband pouted as he joined you in the hotel bed you three would be sharing for the next few days for your impromptu vacation.

"Stephen we will always need you. I will always need you." You assured him and even as the tears slowly begin to riddle your eyes, you know just as much that you needed him after neglecting them both for prolonged days at a time because of your job. "And I've been ignoring you both even when you both need me."

"Stop that, Y/N." Stephen was quick to stop your guilt-ridden train of thoughts and you will forever appreciate him for it. "You did what you need to do for your career and I will forever be grateful for you because of it. Holding the fort when I'm the one that needs to be gone for prolonged periods of time. This is the least I could do, knowing the mess Stark had done to the compound after the another one of his robot creations had attempted to take over."

You rolled your eyes knowing what he meant and it was a nightmare to say the least. But with things finally dying down, it was also time for you to keep do you part for the sake of your family. A family you would have never thought you would have for yourself after everything that had happened in your life. You had been lucky to have met someone like Stephen that as arrogant and much of an asshole he could be, he was the most understanding and caring man you had the fortune of calling your husband and the father of your daughter.

"I love you, Doctor Strange."

"And I love you and Donna, Mrs. Strange."

It's Y/L/N-Strange." You spoke smartly giggling as your husband lightly pinched your side.

"Smart ass, I married a fucking smartass." He muttered.

"Daddy said a bad word!" Donna announced.

"Oh so now you know I'm here?"

#stuckybarton 2k celebration #stephen strange fanfiction #stephen strange one shot #stephen strange one shots #stephen strange oneshot #stephen strange oneshots #stephen strange fan fiction #stephen strange x reader #stephen strange x you #stephen strange x y/n

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wwwillowsimagines · 2 years

Text

Perfect (Dr. Strange Imagine)

Summary:

“I know you're twisted, but baby, I'm twisted too”

based off this song X

Rated: PG-13

tags; sad, cheating, multiverse

The moon lit up the room through your sheer curtain falling into the darkness your back turned to the side of Stephen's bed, the promise ring on your finger felt like it was burning your skin. You knew knowing the time would just make it worse, you didn't know why you bothered staying in here it's almost like getting your heart broken was your kink. If only you could get off on heartbreak. You can't remember when Stephen stopped sleeping next to you, sharing a bed seemed like a dream like it never happened all of the bad memories were steadily erasing the rest.

You've tried running through every scenario tried to fix everything that could be mended, maybe it was because you were so busy at work? You had already cut back on your hours even though it made you happy to work overtime to make your own living and not rely solely on his income. So during the extra hours you had in the morning you started to prepare breakfast for you both but he would rush out the door claiming he didn't have much time taking one bite of french toast kissing your forehead after a few mornings it was just a kiss and no small bites of your very large breakfast then eventually no kiss just out the door with a rushed goodbye falling from his lips.

Then you noticed you were gaining weight around your hips and arms perhaps from all the breakfast you were left to eat alone so you started hitting the gym. After lots of sweat and tears you toned up. Still nothing.

The first night things finally clicked in your small brain was when he came home unusually late especially since he had a real early start to his day. His eyes a little wild an extra pep in his step you smiled seeing this side of him was refreshing you pulled him into bed and he happily fell on top of you kissing you feverishly but when his tongue entered your mouth you tasted it. You tasted the wine, the very white wine. The kind of wine Stephen hated to indulge in. The kind you used to always keep around until you moved in with him and went to red because who wanted to drink wine alone? You started to notice when you would throw his clothes into the washing machine you would smell jasmine lingering on the fabric. A smell you knew all too well considering it was your best friend's favorite scent in high school. Every sleepover her room was drenched in the scent that is why you never wore it, you couldn't stand the smell anymore. You tried curving your back deeper, falling to your knees faster worshiping the man you were losing with no avail. You wanted to know what she did that you couldn't you were scared to know at first but now you were begging for the answers. What about her was so special, what was better than you?

As you thought this the light from your window that spilled into the room turned purple; a bright violet shade. You jumped from the bed legs wobbling you looked at the bright light outside of the window walking quickly to it, you gasped at the sight in front of you. The sky was a violent purple lightening weaving through the clouds like veins, people cried out on the busy New York streets even though it was like 4am. There was no thunder oddly enough you never heard this storm coming just then the door banged open you jumped and turned around to reveal your lover he was panting eyes half crazy.

"Stephen what is hap- what did you do?" You asked watching his face grow pale, just then a bright circle appeared in the room as another Stephen appeared a few years younger alongside him a chubby man and a young woman.

"The fabric of this reality is falling fast" The other Stephen stated. "I didn't know it would be this bad" Your Stephen cried out.

"What did you do?" The chubby man asked your Stephen. "I couldn't live without her, I refused to-" "So bringing her from another universe was your solution? Was destroying the fabric of this reality worth it?" New Stephen asked your Stephen. "What the fuck is going on?" You demanded they all ignored you, just then a woman with blonde hair rushed in the door.

"Stephen, I need to go back home" She cried clinging to his arms. Then it hit you as her jasmine perfume tainted the room, this was her. "It's too late for that" The young woman who appeared in the room from the portal thing told her rushing to stand beside you to look out the window. "At least we're together in our last moments" Stephen wrapped her in his arms, like he had completely forgotten your existence. This was to much the screams flooding the streets, the man you loved clinging to a woman you've never met the room started to spin then your vision faded to black. ______________ You opened as your eyes were greeted to a bright room with exposed brick, books were scattered everywhere. The leather of the couch you laid on squeaked as you sat up your head pounding like you had rocks in your head weighing it down, you heard footsteps approaching you from behind you turned to see Stephen… but not your Stephen.

"Are you alright?" He asked standing a few feet away look apprehensive.

"Hell no" You snapped at him then glancing around at the unfamiliar "Where the hell am I?" You demanded. "Somewhere safe I promise" He took a few steps forward resting his hand on your shoulder, his touch felt electric. You relaxed under his hand. You had no idea what the hell was happening but at least you had a familiar face even if it wasn't the real Stephen.

#stephen strange #dr. stephen strange #stephen strange imagine #dr. strange imagine #stephen strange x reader #marvel imagine #reader x marvel

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laurasimonsdaughter · 2 years

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David Cotterson (David Husmandssøn)

A Danish folktale collected by Jens Kamp around 1879.

Summary based on the translation by Stephen Badman in “Folk and Fairy Tales from Denmark – Stories collected by Jens Kamp”.

Two poor cottagers try to get their son David to become an apprentice, but all he wants is to become a sailor. After he runs away from the cobbler and the tailor they finally let him go to sea.

He happily goes from crew to crew, earning money and immediately spending it, and the years fly by. One day his ship gets caught in a storm off the coast of England and sinks, leaving David washed up as the sole survivor. He stays at an inn until he runs out of money and his forced to go out begging.

He goes to the seafront and considers drowning himself, when a large, black shaggy dog comes swimming towards him. He tells David not to despair and gives him a purse with five hundred ducats, telling him to pay double for everything he buys, and to come back and whistle for him if the money ever runs out. David does just that and when he returns the dog gives him a thousand ducats. Again he spends it all and when he whistles for the dog again, he gives him two thousand ducats but asks him to commission the building of a ship. When it is done, the dog instructs him to hire a fearless crew. This done, David becomes captain, but takes orders from the dog as they set sail.

After three years at sea the dog orders David to drop the anchor and to keep everyone below deck that evening. When darkness falls a storm hits and terrible noises are heard until the sun rises, the storm dies down, and the dog crawls into the cabin covered in terrible injuries. It hands David a small flask of oil to rub him with and the dog is healed.

Now the dog explains to David that in the morning he has to go out in a longboat, go to a specific spot and jump overboard. He would then sink down into a beautiful meadow near a golden castle. There he would meet a beautiful woman who would attempt to seduce him and make him follow her, but that he must be on his guard because if he would give her so much as a kiss all would be lost. The dog gives David a sword and instructs him to cut her down, take her keys, and go to the castle where he will be waiting for him.

Everything happens as the dog foretold. As soon as he kills the woman he hears his crew shout, because suddenly the land has risen to the surface again, because the woman was an evil witch who had sent the land to the bottom of the sea.

Once arrived at the castle the dog meets him and guides him to a trap door where an old lion is chained up in a tiny room. He instructs to hack off the lion’s head and tail and switch their places. Reluctantly, David does as he is told and the lion is immediately transformed into an old man, the king. Now the dog tells David to do the same to him and as soon as he complies, a handsome young prince stands before him.

They both thank David and explain that the evil witch had been the king’s second wife, who sank the kingdom and turned her husband into a lion and her stepson into a dog. The dog could not be bound like the lion, however, and roamed the world looking for a man that could resist the power of the witch’s beauty so the spell could be broken.

The king offers David half the kingdom as a reward, but David wants to go home, so they fill his ship with treasure instead. David says goodbye to the prince and the king, sails home to England, sells his ship, shares the riches with his crew, returns to his overjoyed parents a wealthy man and settles down with them to live a long, happy life.

#danish folklore #laura retells #folktale #fairy tale #if you want to read this fairy tale in full but are not in a position to buy the book #please send me a message

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ddagent · 2 years

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GOLLIF the fluffiest of fluff! Married or not ;)

John/Delenn Weekend Promptathon | Read at AO3

N.B. "valer’sa" is basically the Minbari version of goddaughter.

Delenn entered her quarters only to be caught in a war zone. When she had left the quarters she shared with John and David that morning, they had been pristine: a few old trinkets of John still left on shelves, cushions neatly pressed, David’s toys stacked in the wooden toy box his grandparents had given him. Delenn was not prepared for the state of her quarters after only three hours away at a trade meeting. Cushions had been upended; debris from the battle littered the floor. The sofa and chairs were placed at two separate ends of the living area, providing cover for the warring factions. This is what happens when your father is left to his own devices.

“David?”

A head popped above the parapet; David’s familiar brown curls jostling as he dodged the paper ball thrown from the enemy camp. “Mama! We’re trying to rescue the President!”

“I see. And who is we?”

On the left side of the battle was David, Susan’s daughter Sofie, and Ambassador Varenn’s son Rasaan. Sofie was wielding a paper mâché denn’bok that solely proved a threat to the few remaining trinkets John owned. Rasaan, displaying his Worker Caste heritage well, had created a suitable base of operations to rescue the President. On the right side of the battle was JJ, Lon, and Na’Leth. The young Narn was holding a plastic K’tok, similar to the one her father owned. Lon, who had his father, Vir’s, temperament rather than that of his namesake, was nevertheless still throwing balled up paper at Delenn’s son and valer’sa. JJ’s throw bumped against Delenn’s ankle.

“Jeffrey.”

Michael’s son flushed. “Sorry, Aunt Delenn.”

Drawing in a calming breath, Delenn returned her attention back to her son. “Where is your father?”

“The President is in an undisclosed location!” Delenn stared at her son. He pointed towards the bedroom. “The hostages are in there.”

Removing herself from the line of fire, Delenn crossed the living space and opened the sliding doors to the bedroom she shared with John. Behind her, the rescue attempt continued to wage. In front of her was a blanket fort; the bedding she had slept under the previous night now propped up. Underneath the linens sat the President of the Interstellar Alliance, cradling Stephen’s infant daughter, Julie, in his arms, while he read her a story.

“And the young boy climbed to the top of the hill. His gok stayed by his ankles with each step; four little paws accompanying his big feet. There, at the top, was the crystal spires. He had never seen so much colour before.” Julie’s hand pressed against the illustrations; John chuckling as she ran her small fingers across the splashes of colour. “Hey, maybe when you’re big enough, you can see the real thing, Sweetheart.”

Julie’s gaze shifted and her hand waved in the direction of Delenn. She quickly joined the pair under the blanket fort, her lips stealing a quick kiss from John as she sat beside him. “Enjoying your afternoon?”

“Well, it’s my favourite kidnapping so far.” John turned another page and let Julie marvel over the illustrations of Tuzanor. He then turned and kissed Delenn once again; his free hand reaching up to stroke her cheek. “Have you come to rescue me, Entil’Zha?”

“I am afraid I have been captured as well, Mister President.”

John beamed. “We’ll just have to make the best of it, I suppose.”

Delenn had every intention of spending some uninterrupted time in her husband’s presence. Unfortunately, it was at this point that the daring rescue mission turned dangerous and the sound of a glass breaking brought both John and Delenn to their feet.

“The President is going to make a daring escape attempt and check that there are no Ranger casualties.” John kissed her once, quickly, before opening the sliding doors. “Entil’Zha, I will come back for you.”

She beamed. “You better.”

As her husband instructed the children to be more careful, listing the ways they could have been hurt, Delenn settled underneath the blanket fort with Julie and continued to read. Soon after, with a shaking head, President Sheridan returned. They were not rescued for another hour, when Captain Ivanova made a final assault and took Sofie home for dinner.

#john x delenn #babylon 5 #ship: john x delenn #dd: prompts #dd: fanfic #stardustinthesky

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menalez · 2 years

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like i find it hard to believe that lesbians simply didn’t exist among feminists lol- I didn’t say that (I said solely or mainly neither of these words imply that I think lesbians weren’t involved in significant capacity) nor did I say they weren’t created in response to hetfems homophobia I literally said I’m not arguing against the point you brought them up in. On Martha shelley, she was in a relationship with Stephen, Direct quote from her interview with Kelly Anderson “because we were willing to be publicly gay, they didn’t care what we did in private. We were willing to stick our necks out for the gay movement.” and “ thought, well, maybe I’m bisexual. I didn’t know, because when I did kiss boys, it turned me on. And I would have dates with boys and hang out in the movies and you know, we’d kiss and stuff and it was physically exciting.” getting homosexuality out of the dsm alongside the other prominent lgb activists at the time would still be in her interests bc she’s ssa

oh wow 😩 it seems despite that she never officially came out as bi cause i couldn’t find any of that when reading about her. i guess with political lesbianism being so huge back then, there’s bound to be a lot of women who were in lesbian spaces. my original point about homophobia in feminism and the intentional pushing out of especially lesbians but SSA women overall for being SSA still stands but ill keep this info in mind

#it can’t be more blatantly ‘I’m not a lesbian’ than ‘kissing men turns me on’ tho #anonymous

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hellsitesonlybookclub · 4 months

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It Can't Happen Here, Sinclair Lewis

THOSE who have never been on the inside in the Councils of State can never realize that with really high-class Statesmen, their chief quality is not political canniness, but a big, rich, overflowing Love for all sorts and conditions of people and for the whole land. That Love and that Patriotism have been my sole guiding principles in Politics. My one ambition is to get all Americans to realize that they are, and must continue to be, the greatest Race on the face of this old Earth, and second, to realize that whatever apparent Differences there may be among us, in wealth, knowledge, skill, ancestry or strength—though, of course, all this does not apply to people who are racially different from us—we are all brothers, bound together in the great and wonderful bond of National Unity, for which we should all be very glad. And I think we ought to for this be willing to sacrifice any individual gains at all.

Zero Hour, Berzelius Windrip.

BERZELIUS WINDRIP, of whom in late summer and early autumn of 1936 there were so many published photographs—showing him popping into cars and out of aeroplanes, dedicating bridges, eating corn pone and side-meat with Southerners and clam chowder and bran with Northerners, addressing the American Legion, the Liberty League, the Y.M.H.A., the Young People's Socialist League, the Elks, the Bartenders' and Waiters' Union, the Anti-Saloon League, the Society for the Propagation of the Gospel in Afghanistan—showing him kissing lady centenarians and shaking hands with ladies called Madame, but never the opposite—showing him in Savile Row riding-clothes on Long Island and in overalls and a khaki shirt in the Ozarks—this Buzz Windrip was almost a dwarf, yet with an enormous head, a bloodhound head, of huge ears, pendulous cheeks, mournful eyes. He had a luminous, ungrudging smile which (declared the Washington correspondents) he turned on and off deliberately, like an electric light, but which could make his ugliness more attractive than the simpers of any pretty man.

His hair was so coarse and black and straight, and worn so long in the back, that it hinted of Indian blood. In the Senate he preferred clothes that suggested the competent insurance salesman, but when farmer constituents were in Washington he appeared in an historic ten-gallon hat with a mussy gray "cutaway" which somehow you erroneously remembered as a black "Prince Albert."

In that costume, he looked like a sawed-off museum model of a medicine-show "doctor," and indeed it was rumored that during one law-school vacation Buzz Windrip had played the banjo and done card tricks and handed down medicine bottles and managed the shell game for no less scientific an expedition than Old Dr. Alagash's Traveling Laboratory, which specialized in the Choctaw Cancer Cure, the Chinook Consumption Soother, and the Oriental Remedy for Piles and Rheumatism Prepared from a World-old Secret Formula by the Gipsy Princess, Queen Peshawara. The company, ardently assisted by Buzz, killed off quite a number of persons who, but for their confidence in Dr. Alagash's bottles of water, coloring matter, tobacco juice, and raw corn whisky, might have gone early enough to doctors. But since then, Windrip had redeemed himself, no doubt, by ascending from the vulgar fraud of selling bogus medicine, standing in front of a megaphone, to the dignity of selling bogus economics, standing on an indoor platform under mercury-vapor lights in front of a microphone.

He was in stature but a small man, yet remember that so were Napoleon, Lord Beaverbrook, Stephen A. Douglas, Frederick the Great, and the Dr. Goebbels who is privily known throughout Germany as "Wotan's Mickey Mouse."

Doremus Jessup, so inconspicuous an observer, watching Senator Windrip from so humble a Boeotia, could not explain his power of bewitching large audiences. The Senator was vulgar, almost illiterate, a public liar easily detected, and in his "ideas" almost idiotic, while his celebrated piety was that of a traveling salesman for church furniture, and his yet more celebrated humor the sly cynicism of a country store.

Certainly there was nothing exhilarating in the actual words of his speeches, nor anything convincing in his philosophy. His political platforms were only wings of a windmill. Seven years before his present credo—derived from Lee Sarason, Hitler, Gottfried Feder, Rocco, and probably the revue Of Thee I Sing—little Buzz, back home, had advocated nothing more revolutionary than better beef stew in the county poor-farms, and plenty of graft for loyal machine politicians, with jobs for their brothers-in-law, nephews, law partners, and creditors.

Doremus had never heard Windrip during one of his orgasms of oratory, but he had been told by political reporters that under the spell you thought Windrip was Plato, but that on the way home you could not remember anything he had said.

There were two things, they told Doremus, that distinguished this prairie Demosthenes. He was an actor of genius. There was no more overwhelming actor on the stage, in the motion pictures, nor even in the pulpit. He would whirl arms, bang tables, glare from mad eyes, vomit Biblical wrath from a gaping mouth; but he would also coo like a nursing mother, beseech like an aching lover, and in between tricks would coldly and almost contemptuously jab his crowds with figures and facts—figures and facts that were inescapable even when, as often happened, they were entirely incorrect.

But below this surface stagecraft was his uncommon natural ability to be authentically excited by and with his audience, and they by and with him. He could dramatize his assertion that he was neither a Nazi nor a Fascist but a Democrat—a homespun Jeffersonian-Lincolnian-Clevelandian-Wilsonian Democrat—and (sans scenery and costume) make you see him veritably defending the Capitol against barbarian hordes, the while he innocently presented as his own warm-hearted Democratic inventions, every anti-libertarian, anti-Semitic madness of Europe.

Aside from his dramatic glory, Buzz Windrip was a Professional Common Man.

Oh, he was common enough. He had every prejudice and aspiration of every American Common Man. He believed in the desirability and therefore the sanctity of thick buckwheat cakes with adulterated maple syrup, in rubber trays for the ice cubes in his electric refrigerator, in the especial nobility of dogs, all dogs, in the oracles of S. Parkes Cadman, in being chummy with all waitresses at all junction lunch rooms, and in Henry Ford (when he became President, he exulted, maybe he could get Mr. Ford to come to supper at the White House), and the superiority of anyone who possessed a million dollars. He regarded spats, walking sticks, caviar, titles, tea-drinking, poetry not daily syndicated in newspapers and all foreigners, possibly excepting the British, as degenerate.

But he was the Common Man twenty-times-magnified by his oratory, so that while the other Commoners could understand his every purpose, which was exactly the same as their own, they saw him towering among them, and they raised hands to him in worship.

In the greatest of all native American arts (next to the talkies, and those Spirituals in which Negroes express their desire to go to heaven, to St. Louis, or almost any place distant from the romantic old plantations), namely, in the art of Publicity, Lee Sarason was in no way inferior even to such acknowledged masters as Edward Bernays, the late Theodore Roosevelt, Jack Dempsey, and Upton Sinclair.

Sarason had, as it was scientifically called, been "building up" Senator Windrip for seven years before his nomination as President. Where other Senators were encouraged by their secretaries and wives (no potential dictator ought ever to have a visible wife, and none ever has had, except Napoleon) to expand from village back-slapping to noble, rotund, Ciceronian gestures, Sarason had encouraged Windrip to keep up in the Great World all of the clownishness which (along with considerable legal shrewdness and the endurance to make ten speeches a day) had endeared him to his simple-hearted constituents in his native state.

Windrip danced a hornpipe before an alarmed academic audience when he got his first honorary degree; he kissed Miss Flandreau at the South Dakota beauty contest; he entertained the Senate, or at least the Senate galleries, with detailed accounts of how to catch catfish—from the bait-digging to the ultimate effects of the jug of corn whisky; he challenged the venerable Chief Justice of the Supreme Court to a duel with sling-shots.

Though she was not visible, Windrip did have a wife—Sarason had none, nor was likely to; and Walt Trowbridge was a widower. Buzz's lady stayed back home, raising spinach and chickens and telling the neighbors that she expected to go to Washington next year, the while Windrip was informing the press that his "Frau" was so edifyingly devoted to their two small children and to Bible study that she simply could not be coaxed to come East.

But when it came to assembling a political machine, Windrip had no need of counsel from Lee Sarason.

Where Buzz was, there were the vultures also. His hotel suite, in the capital city of his home state, in Washington, in New York, or in Kansas City, was like—well, Frank Sullivan once suggested that it resembled the office of a tabloid newspaper upon the impossible occasion of Bishop Cannon's setting fire to St. Patrick's Cathedral, kidnaping the Dionne quintuplets, and eloping with Greta Garbo in a stolen tank.

In the "parlor" of any of these suites, Buzz Windrip sat in the middle of the room, a telephone on the floor beside him, and for hours he shrieked at the instrument, "Hello—yuh—speaking," or at the door, "Come in—come in!" and "Sit down 'n' take a load off your feet!" All day, all night till dawn, he would be bellowing, "Tell him he can take his bill and go climb a tree," or "Why certainly, old man—tickled to death to support it—utility corporations cer'nly been getting a raw deal," and "You tell the Governor I want Kippy elected sheriff and I want the indictment against him quashed and I want it damn quick!" Usually, squatted there cross-legged, he would be wearing a smart belted camel's-hair coat with an atrocious checked cap.

In a fury, as he was at least every quarter hour, he would leap up, peel off the overcoat (showing either a white boiled shirt and clerical black bow, or a canary-yellow silk shirt with a scarlet tie), fling it on the floor, and put it on again with slow dignity, while he bellowed his anger like Jeremiah cursing Jerusalem, or like a sick cow mourning its kidnaped young.

There came to him stockbrokers, labor leaders, distillers, anti- vivisectionists, vegetarians, disbarred shyster lawyers, missionaries to China, lobbyists for oil and electricity, advocates of war and of war against war. "Gaw! Every guy in the country with a bad case of the gimmes comes to see me!" he growled to Sarason. He promised to further their causes, to get an appointment to West Point for the nephew who had just lost his job in the creamery. He promised fellow politicians to support their bills if they would support his. He gave interviews upon subsistence farming, backless bathing suits, and the secret strategy of the Ethiopian army. He grinned and knee-patted and back-slapped; and few of his visitors, once they had talked with him, failed to look upon him as their Little Father and to support him forever.... The few who did fail, most of them newspapermen, disliked the smell of him more than before they had met him.... Even they, by the unusual spiritedness and color of their attacks upon him, kept his name alive in every column.... By the time he had been a Senator for one year, his machine was as complete and smooth-running—and as hidden away from ordinary passengers—as the engines of a liner.

On the beds in any of his suites there would, at the same time, repose three top-hats, two clerical hats, a green object with a feather, a brown derby, a taxi-driver's cap, and nine ordinary, Christian brown felts.

Once, within twenty-seven minutes, he talked on the telephone from Chicago to Palo Alto, Washington, Buenos Aires, Wilmette, and Oklahoma City. Once, in half a day, he received sixteen calls from clergymen asking him to condemn the dirty burlesque show, and seven from theatrical promoters and real-estate owners asking him to praise it. He called the clergymen "Doctor" or "Brother" or both; he called the promoters "Buddy" and "Pal"; he gave equally ringing promises to both; and for both he loyally did nothing whatever.

Normally, he would not have thought of cultivating foreign alliances, though he never doubted that some day, as President, he would be leader of the world orchestra. Lee Sarason insisted that Buzz look into a few international fundamentals, such as the relationship of sterling to the lira, the proper way in which to address a baronet, the chances of the Archduke Otto, the London oyster bars and the brothels near the Boulevard de Sebastopol best to recommend to junketing Representatives.

But the actual cultivation of foreign diplomats resident in Washington he left to Sarason, who entertained them on terrapin and canvasback duck with black-currant jelly, in his apartment that was considerably more tapestried than Buzz's own ostentatiously simple Washington quarters.... However, in Sarason's place, a room with a large silk-hung Empire double bed was reserved for Buzz.

It was Sarason who had persuaded Windrip to let him write Zero Hour, based on Windrip's own dictated notes, and who had beguiled millions into reading—and even thousands into buying—that Bible of Economic Justice; Sarason who had perceived there was now such a spate of private political weeklies and monthlies that it was a distinction not to publish one; Sarason who had the inspiration for Buzz's emergency radio address at 3 A.M. upon the occasion of the Supreme Court's throttling the N.R.A., in May, 1935.... Though not many adherents, including Buzz himself, were quite certain as to whether he was pleased or disappointed; though not many actually heard the broadcast itself, everyone in the country except sheep- herders and Professor Albert Einstein heard about it and was impressed.

Yet it was Buzz who all by himself thought of first offending the Duke of York by refusing to appear at the Embassy dinner for him in December, 1935, thus gaining, in all farm kitchens and parsonages and barrooms, a splendid reputation for Homespun Democracy; and of later mollifying His Highness by calling on him with a touching little home bouquet of geraniums (from the hothouse of the Japanese ambassador), which endeared him, if not necessarily to Royalty yet certainly to the D.A.R., the English-Speaking Union, and all motherly hearts who thought the pudgy little bunch of geraniums too sweet for anything.

By the newspapermen Buzz was credited with having insisted on the nomination of Perley Beecroft for vice-president at the Democratic convention, after Doremus Jessup had frenetically ceased listening. Beecroft was a Southern tobacco-planter and storekeeper, an ex-Governor of his state, married to an ex-schoolteacher from Maine who was sufficiently scented with salt spray and potato blossoms to win any Yankee. But it was not his geographical superiority which made Mr. Beecroft the perfect running mate for Buzz Windrip but that he was malaria-yellowed and laxly mustached, where Buzz's horsey face was ruddy and smooth; while Beecroft's oratory had a vacuity, a profundity of slowly enunciated nonsense, which beguiled such solemn deacons as were irritated by Buzz's cataract of slang.

Nor could Sarason ever have convinced the wealthy that the more Buzz denounced them and promised to distribute their millions to the poor, the more they could trust his "common sense" and finance his campaign. But with a hint, a grin, a wink, a handshake, Buzz could convince them, and their contributions came in by the hundred thousand, often disguised as assessments on imaginary business partnerships.

It had been the peculiar genius of Berzelius Windrip not to wait until he should be nominated for this office or that to begin shanghaiing his band of buccaneers. He had been coaxing in supporters ever since the day when, at the age of four, he had captivated a neighborhood comrade by giving him an ammonia pistol which later he thriftily stole back from the comrade's pocket. Buzz might not have learned, perhaps could not have learned, much from sociologists Charles Beard and John Dewey, but they could have learned a great deal from Buzz.

And it was Buzz's, not Sarason's, master stroke that, as warmly as he advocated everyone's getting rich by just voting to be rich, he denounced all "Fascism" and "Nazi-ism," so that most of the Republicans who were afraid of Democratic Fascism, and all the Democrats who were afraid of Republican Fascism, were ready to vote for him.

CHAPTER X

WHILE I hate befogging my pages with scientific technicalities and even neologies, I feel constrained to say here that the most elementary perusal of the Economy of Abundance would convince any intelligent student that the Cassandras who miscall the much-needed increase in the fluidity of our currential circulation "Inflation," erroneously basing their parallel upon the inflationary misfortunes of certain European nations in the era 1919-1923, fallaciously and perhaps inexcusably fail to comprehend the different monetary status in America inherent in our vastly greater reservoir of Natural Resources.

Zero Hour, Berzelius Windrip.

MOST of the mortgaged farmers.

Most of the white-collar workers who had been unemployed these three years and four and five.

Most of the people on relief rolls who wanted more relief.

Most of the suburbanites who could not meet the installment payments on the electric washing machine.

Such large sections of the American Legion as believed that only Senator Windrip would secure for them, and perhaps increase, the bonus.

Such popular Myrtle Boulevard or Elm Avenue preachers as, spurred by the examples of Bishop Prang and Father Coughlin, believed they could get useful publicity out of supporting a slightly queer program that promised prosperity without anyone's having to work for it.

The remnants of the Kuklux Klan, and such leaders of the American Federation of Labor as felt they had been inadequately courted and bepromised by the old-line politicians, and the non-unionized common laborers who felt they had been inadequately courted by the same A.F. of L.

Back-street and over-the-garage lawyers who had never yet wangled governmental jobs.

The Lost Legion of the Anti-Saloon League—since it was known that, though he drank a lot, Senator Windrip also praised teetotalism a lot, while his rival, Walt Trowbridge, though he drank but little, said nothing at all in support of the Messiahs of Prohibition. These messiahs had not found professional morality profitable of late, with the Rockefellers and Wanamakers no longer praying with them nor paying.

Besides these necessitous petitioners, a goodish number of burghers who, while they were millionaires, yet maintained that their prosperity had been sorely checked by the fiendishness of the bankers in limiting their credit.

These were the supporters who looked to Berzelius Windrip to play the divine raven and feed them handsomely when he should become President, and from such came most of the fervid elocutionists who campaigned for him through September and October.

Pushing in among this mob of camp followers who identified political virtue with money for their rent came a flying squad who suffered not from hunger but from congested idealism: Intellectuals and Reformers and even Rugged Individualists, who saw in Windrip, for all his clownish swindlerism, a free vigor which promised a rejuvenation of the crippled and senile capitalistic system.

Upton Sinclair wrote about Buzz and spoke for him just as in 1917, unyielding pacifist though he was, Mr. Sinclair had advocated America's whole-hearted prosecution of the Great War, foreseeing that it would unquestionably exterminate German militarism and thus forever end all wars. Most of the Morgan partners, though they may have shuddered a little at association with Upton Sinclair, saw that, however much income they themselves might have to sacrifice, only Windrip could start the Business Recovery; while Bishop Manning of New York City pointed out that Windrip always spoke reverently of the church and its shepherds, whereas Walt Trowbridge went horseback-riding every Sabbath morning and had never been known to telegraph any female relative on Mother's Day.

On the other hand, the Saturday Evening Post enraged the small shopkeepers by calling Wmdrip a demagogue, and the New York Times, once Independent Democrat, was anti-Windrip. But most of the religious periodicals announced that with a saint like Bishop Prang for backer, Windrip must have been called of God.

Even Europe joined in.

With the most modest friendliness, explaining that they wished not to intrude on American domestic politics but only to express personal admiration for that great Western advocate of peace and prosperity, Berzelius Windrip, there came representatives of certain foreign powers, lecturing throughout the land: General Balbo, so popular here because of his leadership of the flight from Italy to Chicago in 1933; a scholar who, though he now lived in Germany and was an inspiration to all patriotic leaders of German Recovery, yet had graduated from Harvard University and had been the most popular piano-player in his class—namely, Dr. Ernst (Putzi) Hanfstängl; and Great Britain's lion of diplomacy, the Gladstone of the 1930's, the handsome and gracious Lord Lossiemouth who, as Prime Minister, had been known as the Rt. Hon. Ramsay MacDonald, P.C.

All three of them were expensively entertained by the wives of manufacturers, and they persuaded many millionaires who, in the refinement of wealth, had considered Buzz vulgar, that actually he was the world's one hope of efficient international commerce.

Father Coughlin took one look at all the candidates and indignantly retired to his cell.

Mrs. Adelaide Tarr Gimmitch, who would surely have written to the friends she had made at the Rotary Club Dinner in Fort Beulah if she could only have remembered the name of the town, was a considerable figure in the campaign. She explained to women voters how kind it was of Senator Windrip to let them go on voting, so far; and she sang "Berzelius Windrip's gone to Wash." an average of eleven times a day.

Buzz himself, Bishop Prang, Senator Porkwood (the fearless Liberal and friend of labor and the farmers), and Colonel Osceola Luthorne, the editor, though their prime task was reaching millions by radio, also, in a forty-day tram trip, traveled over 27,000 miles, through every state in the Union, on the scarlet-and-silver, ebony-paneled, silk-upholstered, streamlined, Diesel-engined, rubber-padded, air-conditioned, aluminum Forgotten Men Special.

It had a private bar that was forgotten by none save the Bishop.

The train fares were the generous gift of the combined railways.

Over six hundred speeches were discharged, ranging from eight-minute hallos delivered to the crowds gathered at stations, to two-hour fulminations in auditoriums and fairgrounds. Buzz was present at every speech, usually starring, but sometimes so hoarse that he could only wave his hand and croak, "Howdy, folks!" while he was spelled by Prang, Porkwood, Colonel Luthorne, or such volunteers from his regiment of secretaries, doctoral consulting specialists in history and economics, cooks, bartenders, and barbers, as could be lured away from playing craps with the accompanying reporters, photographers, sound-recorders, and broadcasters. Tieffer of the United Press has estimated that Buzz thus appeared personally before more than two million persons.

Meanwhile, almost daily hurtling by aeroplane between Washington and Buzz's home, Lee Sarason supervised dozens of telephone girls and scores of girl stenographers, who answered thousands of daily telephone calls and letters and telegrams and cables—and boxes containing poisoned candy.... Buzz himself had made the rule that all these girls must be pretty, reasonable, thoroughly skilled, and related to people with political influence.

For Sarason it must be said that in this bedlam of "public relations" he never once used contact as a transitive verb.

The Hon. Perley Beecroft, vice-presidential candidate, specialized on the conventions of fraternal orders, religious denominations, insurance agents, and traveling men.

Colonel Dewey Haik, who had nominated Buzz at Cleveland, had an assignment unique in campaigning—one of Sarason's slickest inventions. Haik spoke for Windrip not in the most frequented, most obvious places, but at places so unusual that his appearance there made news—and Sarason and Haik saw to it that there were nimble chroniclers present to get that news. Flying in his own plane, covering a thousand miles a day, he spoke to nine astonished miners whom he caught in a copper mine a mile below the surface— while thirty-nine photographers snapped the nine; he spoke from a motorboat to a stilled fishing fleet during a fog in Gloucester harbor; he spoke from the steps of the Sub-Treasury at noon on Wall Street; he spoke to the aviators and ground crew at Shushan Airport, New Orleans—and even the flyers were ribald only for the first five minutes, till he had described Buzz Windrip's gallant but ludicrous efforts to learn to fly; he spoke to state policemen, to stamp-collectors, players of chess in secret clubs, and steeplejacks at work; he spoke in breweries, hospitals, magazine offices, cathedrals, crossroad churches forty-by-thirty, prisons, lunatic asylums, night clubs—till the art editors began to send photographers the memo: "For Pete's sake, no more fotos Kunnel Haik spieling in sporting houses and hoose-gow."

Yet went on using the pictures.

For Colonel Dewey Haik was a figure as sharp-lighted, almost, as Buzz Windrip himself. Son of a decayed Tennessee family, with one Confederate general grandfather and one a Dewey of Vermont, he had picked cotton, become a youthful telegraph operator, worked his way through the University of Arkansas and the University of Missouri law school, settled as a lawyer in a Wyoming village and then in Oregon, and during the war (he was in 1936 but forty-four years old) served in France as captain of infantry, with credit. Returned to America, he had been elected to Congress, and become a colonel in the militia. He studied military history; he learned to fly, to box, to fence; he was a ramrod-like figure yet had a fairly amiable smile; he was liked equally by disciplinary army officers of high rank, and by such roughnecks as Mr. Shad Ledue, the Caliban of Doremus Jessup.

Haik brought to Buzz's fold the very picaroons who had most snickered at Bishop Prang's solemnity.

All this while, Hector Macgoblin, the cultured doctor and burly boxing fan, co-author with Sarason of the campaign anthem, "Bring Out the Old-time Musket," was specializing in the inspiration of college professors, associations of high-school teachers, professional baseball teams, training-camps of pugilists, medical meetings, summer schools in which well-known authors taught the art of writing to earnest aspirants who could never learn to write, golf tournaments, and all such cultural congresses.

But the pugilistic Dr. Macgoblin came nearer to danger than any other campaigner. During a meeting in Alabama, where he had satisfactorily proved that no Negro with less than 25 per cent "white blood" can ever rise to the cultural level of a patent-medicine salesman, the meeting was raided, the costly residence section of the whites was raided, by a band of colored people headed by a Negro who had been a corporal on the Western Front in 1918. Macgoblin and the town were saved by the eloquence of a colored clergyman.

Truly, as Bishop Prang said, the apostles of Senator Windrip were now preaching his Message unto all manner of men, even unto the Heathen.

But what Doremus Jessup said, to Buck Titus and Father Perefixe, was:

"This is Revolution in terms of Rotary."

#Hellsitesonlybookclub #bookblr #sinclair lewis

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Kinktober 2022 - Day 3: Double Penetration with Defender Strange

Smut - Explicit content - NSFW - 18+ only!

Summary: You can never seem to get enough enough of him. Luckily being a sorcerer has creative solutions for that.

Warnings: Smut (NSFW) - 18+ ONLY - vaginal sex, anal sex, Double pentetration, hair pulling (because Defender, duh), begging, swearing, creampie

He was always so intent on being gentle with you. Treating you like a delicate piece of porcelain. His touch never too firm, his kiss never too demanding. It was a blessing and a curse at the same time. You were the sole piece of his life he wanted to remain unspoiled by the grim realities of his line of work. By the horrors he saw day in and day out trying to defend and protect the universe. The literal existence of the multiverse resting on his shoulders.

You cherished every moment you got to spend in his arms. No touch or kiss was ever taken for granted. You knew that the idea of having a normal schedule when your partner was a Defender and the Sorcerer Supreme was impossible. That there would be nights when he would be called away or when he might not come home until the sun rose the next morning.

Then there would be those nights when your mind drifted to the darkest of possibilities, that he might not come home at all. That you would never again get to play with the end of his ponytail as he kissed you. That you would never feel the way his facial hair scratched at your inner thighs. That you would never feel the tickle of his breath against your lips as he told you he loved you. That you would never again get to say it back to him.

Those times, when he finally came home inevitably bruised and banged up, the gentleness of his touch left you needy and thirsting for a more insistent kind of passion. You wanted him to devour all of you without so much as a second thought. To greedily take every piece of you for himself without holding back. You wanted him to take ownership of your body, of every inch of you, knowing full well you would give him everything he asked for. That he was the only man who could touch you that way. The only man who could light that ravenous fire within you.

As much as you loved how sweet and loving he was to you, how even your kinkier moments together had a softness to them, you wanted to see the Defender Stephen Strange that struck fear into the hearts of mystical beings beyond your universe. You knew he was holding himself back with you, and you wanted him to give you everything. You wanted him to take everything.

It was one of those nights when you feared the worst that your resolve finally broke and you found yourself pleading with him to not just make love to you, but to fuck you. You felt like your life depended on it.

He had hardly stepped through the door to your bedroom before you pounced on him. Throwing yourself into his arms as he stumbled forward toward the bed to keep from dropping you. Clawing at his red and black robes and begging him to fuck you. Grinding yourself against his quickly hardening cock as soon as you could.

Although he was slightly surprised by your actions he was happy to follow your wishes, and before long he had you both stripped bare. You on your back with his tall lean form laid out on top of you. His hands linked with yours over your head, and his forehead pressed to yours. Tendrils of his long dark hair falling around you both. Even though you could feel how bad he wanted you, how much he needed you, his thrusts stayed slow and steady. The tempo of his cock sliding in and out of you calculated and consistant. After a while it felt more like teasing than relief.

"More Stephen, I need more. Harder. Deeper. Want to feel you everywhere."

You were whining and writhing against him as he thrust into you. Wrapping your legs around his waist and rolling your hips as hard as you could, trying desperately to reach that itch for him that was just out of your grasp. Frustrated whimpers coming to the surface when his pace never faltered.

Pulling your hands free you pushed his face away as he tried to kiss you before reaching around to grip his hair in your hand. Giving it a good firm yank to get his attention. Nipping at his chin before bringing your eyes up to bore directly into his

"Stephen please. Fuck me hard. I need to feel you. Everywhere. All of me belongs to you. Take it. Take me. I love you so much. Please fuck all of me."

A single look from his crystal blue eyes making sure you really meant what you were saying. That you weren't just lost in the moment. The frantic nodding of your head as you bit down on your bottom lip answering for him. Without another word he snapped his hips back before slamming them forward. A cry of wanton need pulling from your throat at the impact. A groan of desire falling from his own lips at the sound you made.

He gave a few more experimental thrusts, each one harder and deeper than the last, before he decided on an arduous pace that had the headboard ricocheting off the wall. Even this didn't feel like enough. You still felt empty. Without even realizing it, you began vocalizing the thoughts tumbling through your mind.

"Still want more of you Stephen. I can never get enough of you. Your cock, your fingers. I wish I could have your cock in my ass at the same time."

You felt his lips curl into a smile as he kept his face pressed into your neck. Only tilting it upward just enough to whisper directly into your ear. His voice an octave lower and even more gravely than usual.

"As a sorcerer I think I might be able to come up with something similar, my love."

Leaning his weight to one side and slowing his thrusts until he stopped leaving himself fully sheathed inside you, he gestured into the air around you both with one hand. Golden shimmer falling briefly from his motions. He was casting some sort of spell or enchantment over the both of you. You weren't sure what to expect until you slowly started to feel a gentle sensation circling your other hole as Stephen stayed deep in cunt.

A mischievous grin appeared on his face as the expression on yours morphed from surprise, to curiosity, to pleasure. The feeling of a phantom digit beginning to prod and press into you. His thrusts starting again only once the sensation of what felt like a finger when it started had progressed into the feeling of his cock beginning to slip past the tight ring of muscle. The way he perfectly stretched you was unmistakable no matter where he was.

He let his thrusts resume at a slower speed before building back up to the punishing speed he had left off at. Your mewling and whimpering at the feeling of him penetrating both of your holes making a new side of him reveal itself. His physical thrusts synced up with the feeling of his cock fucking your ass at the same time.

"Is this what you wanted, sweetheart? Two of me? Didn't know you had such a naughty side in there for me. Good to know you love my cock so much."

You couldn't even form a smart comeback to his comment. He was fucking all the coherent thoughts from your body and you fucking loved it. It was insistent, it was primal, it was almost overwhelming. A symphony of sensations. It was exactly what you wanted.

The feeling of your orgasm sneaking up on you before building at a breakneck rate. Not much more than a squeak getting to fall past your kiss swollen lips before you hurdled into the throes of ecstasy. All of your nerve endings lighting up as your pussy fluttered and gripped a hold of his cock so tight he could hardly move. The phantom feeling of him still thrusting into your ass prolonging your high and making you shiver. His name moaned repeatedly broken up by little gasps and squeals of rapture.

Only then did Stephen let his own thrusts get sloppy. Only once he felt you gush and cum around him did he seek his own high, even though he knew he was already on the brink of it simply from the sinful noises you were making for him. He loved that it seemed like you could never get enough of him. Not of his praise. Not of his love. Now not of his body either.

When you knew he was about to cum you whispered against his lips how much you loved him, and how all of you would always be his. How much you needed him. Knowing it was what he loved hearing the most.

As he came down from spilling himself inside you he couldn't help but laugh to himself as he snuggled your fucked out form into his chest. Your body curling around his and latching tight to his side. He laughed because as much as you felt like you needed him, he knew he needed you ten times more.

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

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Stephen Strange Taglist: @starkiller-queen @glitterylokislut @verycollectivecreator @chatampr @maskmare931 @lovecleastrange @wheredafandomat @mkixx @evelynrosestuff @katefullerrr @littlepinknightmare @foofarny @stygianoir @moonroyalt @saturnsbabe69 @blaxdet @blackrose-92 @ironstrange1991 @rindulacre @nancy-thompsons @wolfatheartandsoul @dangerouslittlefairy @n0obmaster-69 @oliveoilthoughts @onebatch--twobatch @yourmajesty13 @blondekel77 @lil-sweater-slut @gwephen @taramaria @sinceimetyou @slashersrus @coeurgrenaty @cc13723things @just--a-magpie @supervengerslock @strangelockd @dont-feel-so-good-peter @kingsmanperfecthartwin @ghost-lantern @inlovewithloki16 @thefalconandthewinterwidowshield @itssmaugtheterrible @katherinemaximoff @veryfancydoilies @cute-angi @mochacake2016 @prix19 @alexfanficnook @anotheroddfish @mando-is-the-way @xourownsidee @baes-x @dreamingsmile @negar77rd @imaginesfreetotake @ppatricia34me @rougepetale @tis-vereon @divinearchangel @sherlux @hiddlechive @ginnykate @thatesqcrush @friendofplenti @yuugenmomo @holdmyowos @the-royal-petals @lokislov3 @captaincarmel164 @lucimorningst4r @mydearalmira @petalcranberry @singhfae @emotionsareforuglypeople @trappedinlimbo15 @veryladyqueen @icytrickster17 @kentucky-criedfricken @briefhandsstudenttoad @azu21 @calamityismyspecialty @sinisterstrange616

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