#walt the wanderer

[drocerx]

WIP, This is my Clean Up, Tomorrow color and render

[signor-signor]

So the other day, I picked this up from Craig McCracken’s Tweet when TheKinglyKoopa asked him if he was planning on retiring:

“Though I’m not currently working anywhere at the moment I’m definitely not planning on retiring. The industry is just in a weird place right now. Studios are afraid of new ideas and all they want now are pre-existing IPs.”

Know what this means? He’s no longer working for Netflix (I can’t say for sure, though), and not that it’s highly likely, but if the Disney bosses finally come to their senses, he MIGHT have a shot at returning to the company to give WOY real closure.

Now, I don’t blame Craig for leaving Disney on account of favorites being picked and others being downplayed. I also don’t blame him for leaving Netflix on account of the cancellation situation. We’d best not count our Cluckons before they’re hatched, because like I said, Disney coming to their senses is not highly likely. We gotta keep sending those letters to Disney lest Craig takes his plans for S3 to his grave.

[desertlillian]

“Afoot & lighthearted..

I take to the road.”

[baptst]

the most interesting thing i wish i’d picked up on as a youngster about my parents hyper americanized christianity is that God and America were always on the same level. the way they’d speak about flag burning back in the day you would assume something truly blasphemous that goes entirely against god had happened. christianity in the west is hollow, it’s a political movement used to further white supremacist agendas and its really sad how blind so many people are to that here.

[frequentpondcrosser]

[thyme-in-a-bubble]

the brie

buttercup, chapter two

a/n: i was originally gonna go into more detail and dive into and actually write the traumatic moments, but i decided to go a little bit more easy on myself, just focus mostly on the healing part and regaining the good.

summary: “well, we’re going out to our usual watering hole, or it’s not just us, Karen, who works with us, is also tagging along. Would you wanna join? Might be fun… might tear the city up, dance all night and watch the sunrise or whatever kids do these days.”

warnings: matt murdock x baker!reader, neighbours to lovers, rape recovery, ptsd, wingman foggy, reference to croissant theft, alcohol consumption, drunk munching on cheese, kissing, crying, retelling of trauma (if it gets too much for you, then please feel free to just skip the last part of this chapter)

word count: 4978

∼ gentle reminder that feedback, but especially reblogs are the way you support writers on here ∽

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Scooping one divided lump of dough closer with the bench scraper in your grasp, you put it down before first folding the bottom of the blob over itself, then the sides and then stretched the top down as well before you rolled it all up to create that much more tension in the loaf. As you plopped the soft mass into one of the nearby dusted bannetons, nippily pinching the seam and giving it a few stitches, the ingrained dance only kept on as your fingers moved on to shape the next loaf of sourdough. 

To your left, not at the central table where you worked, stood your uncle Howard, a piping bag of vanilla-flaked cream in his grasp as his rotund frame bent over rows and rows of delicate, flaky little pastries, filling the sunken centre up before he could top them off with little chunks of crimson berries. 

“Are you alright, cupcake?” you glanced up to see Walter leaning against the doorframe that led directly behind the counter, “you look like you’re about to nosedive into the dough and use it as a pillow.”

“I’m alright, just didn’t sleep much last night,” you blinked back down at your work, noting how your weary eyes stung slightly from the lack of rest, “I had a nightmare that was really, really not fun, and immediately when I woke up I started crying and shaking, like instant panic attack, so I couldn’t really fall asleep again after that,” you glanced back up at him and offered a tight-lipped smile. 

“Oh, I’m so sorry.”

“I just don’t get why it has to feel so real,” you let your hands halt their waltz as you shared, Howard too glancing over in your direction, “why my body needs to remember it so vividly when I fall asleep. It hasn’t forgotten it while I’m awake, so I don’t feel like I need the reminders… sorry…”

“Don’t apologise, it’s–…” instead of uttering the painful truth, Walter instead let a heavy sigh flow and offered, “…do you want me to make you a cup of coffee? Maybe that could be nice, just a little bit?”

“Yeah,” you exhaled, “thanks,” before clapping the worst of the flour off your hands, briefly wiping them against the chocolate brown apron that partially covered your t-shirt and jeans, and wandered around the table, shadowing Walter as he fiddled with the espresso machine, making it hum and puff, till he handed you a steaming mug that had a little heart in the frothy foam floating on the top. 

“Here you go.”

Bringing it up to your lips, you offered him a genuine smile, “thank you, Walt.”

Staying behind the counter as Walter disappeared into the back, the chime of the small bell above the door brought your attention to the pair that then strolled in. Setting down your latte and expecting it to be just any other customer, your eyes instead went wide as you saw who it was.  

“Heya, neighbour!” 

“Y/n, hi,” Matthew smiled as both he and the floppy-haired man beside him came to a stop on the other side of the stocked display case, “uh, Y/n, this is my friend Foggy Nelson,” he gestured to the friendly looking fellow, “Foggy, this is my new neighbour Y/n.”

“The pastry goddess!” Foggy exclaimed excitedly, “I bow to the.”

“Goddess?” you giggled, feeling the heat rise in your cheeks as you glanced over at Matt, secretly in hopes that he’d gotten that nickname from him, “oh, I don’t know about that. My uncle’s the one who oversees most of the pastries. He studied in Paris back in the 70’s, so in other words he’s a bit of a control freak. But, he is getting better! Slowly letting me take care of more things that I’m more than capable of doing… I’m talking a lot, aren’t I?” you sucked in a sharp breath as you noticed 

your rambling, “I’ll shut up. The point was just that he is the one who makes most of the pastries here, not me. He’s the goddess.”

“Well, I tasted one of your croissants the other day–”

“Actually,” Matt raised a hand and interrupted his friend, “you stole it.”

“I did not–”

“You came over and I turned away for two seconds and the next thing I knew you’d obliterated the entire bag.”

“That sounds more like your problem,” Foggy joked, managing to keep a straight face as Matt chuckled, “you’ve known me how many years now? You should know not to trust me with baked goods unless you mean for me to enjoy them,” turning his attention back to you, he leaned his folded arms against the tall section of the counter, “anyways, Y/n, that croissant was properly one of the best things I’ve ever tasted.”

“Really?” your face lit up with a bright grin. 

“Yes, it was so buttery and flaky and urgh!”

“Well, if you liked that, you might like today’s special…” your feet began to carry you further to the left to the very far side of the counter. 

“Oh, please do tell me,” he followed along like a magnet.

Pointing down to the pastry row on the other side of the glass, you explained, “it is this rhubarb danish that also has a little base of pastry cream at the bottom to balance out the tart compote.”

“Oh… my… god…” Foggy nearly salivated, his hypnotised gaze never straying from the treat, “you gotta be some angel sent from above.” 

Busting out a laugh, you grabbed a brown paper bag, “should I take that as confirmation?”

“Yes, please,” he nodded as you plucked one up with a set of tongs. 

“Will that be all?”

“I don’t know if it ever can be all, but slowly but surely I’ll get through your spread, and that is a promise,” Foggy accepted the bag into his waiting fingers, “but for now, yeah.”

“Matt, do you want anything?” you asked, feeling the flutter of butterflies wake up within your stomach as you returned your attention to him, “do you want me to describe the options for you?”

“No, I’ll just have the same as Foggy, as well as–, do you sell coffee?”

“Oh,” the scent wafting off your half-empty mug probably caught his attention, “yes, we do.”

“Then I’ll have a cup as well.”

“Oh, one for me too,” Foggy interjected. When you’d packed up another pastry and filled up two to-go cups, the shaggy-haired man pipped up as they were paying, “hey, what are you doing later tonight?”

“Uh, I don’t know. Properly just head home and rewatch some series for the billionth time,” you said, putting the cash they’d handed you away in the register, “why?”

“Well, we’re going out to our usual watering hole, or it’s not just us, Karen, who works with us, is also tagging along. Would you wanna join? Might be fun… might tear the city up, dance all night and watch the sunrise or whatever kids do these days.”

A laugh then rumbled within Matt’s chest, “we’re not gonna go dancing, Foggy.”

“You never know,” Foggy sang, “I’ve got moves like you wouldn’t believe!” he snuck a small sip of his steaming coffee before meeting your eye, “so, Y/n! Please tell me you’re coming?”

“…and then Karen was like what’s that? Turns out a giant piece of glass had stabbed my side,” Foggy clutched onto his drink as he told his dramatic tale, “I nearly died.”

Cutting her sip of beer short, the golden-haired woman sitting beside him at the round bar table objected, “you did not nearly die.”

“Oh yeah?” Foggy squinted light-heartedly back at Karen, “says the person who barely got a scratch. I single handily rescued both you and Mrs. C from that building and got a sick ass scar to prove it.”

Their voices faded away like grown-ups in a Saturday morning cartoon as you glanced back down at your drink and let the radiating heat of the man next to you seep into your bones. As your fingers brushed down the sides of the glass and played with the condensation, Matt suddenly reached out for his own, though in his search for the stout glass that stood ever so close to your own, his touch briefly grazed against your skin. But if that wasn’t enough to spike your heart rate, when his long fingers enveloped his short glass, the back of his hand pressed up against yours at the proximity.

You weren’t sure how long it persisted before he raised his dark drink up to his lips, but it didn’t seem like he was in a rush to let the contact fade. Your breath managed to grow ragged in the chunk of time you got to stare down at his hand, it looking so massive up against yours. Though the light in the dingy bar was low, you could still manage to make out the dizzying pattern of prominent veins that cascaded off the back of his hand like a calm rainfall rolling down a windowpane. 

For a moment there, assisted by the few drinks in your system, you let yourself dream, just for a little while, just until Foggy’s voice cut through your haze and stirred you from your fantasy. 

“… I mean, am I right? I’m right. Come on, Y/n, back me up here!”

“Huh? I’m sorry, uhm…” you blinked, in some ways feeling more drunk than you had a minute ago, “wha–what did you say?”

As Foggy then began to explain what you’d missed, Matt leaned down close to your ear and whispered, his hot breath tickling your skin and causing goosebumps to erupt. 

“You okay?”

“Mhm,” you hummed fuzzily. 

“You sure?”

“Yeah,” you glanced down and noticed how rapidly your chest was rising and falling. 

“Do you wanna go home? I can walk with you if you want,” he offered quietly. 

“Uhm…” you blinked up at him before uttering, “sure, but I don’t wanna end your night before you want to.”

“No, you’re not,” he reassured you, “I’m ready to go home myself.”

“Alright then,” you nodded before Matt turned to the others. 

“Guys, we’re gonna head home.”

“No!” Foggy boomed, “really?”

Throwing her hands up, Karen added, “but we haven’t even gone dancing yet!”

“Sorry,” Matt got up from his tall stool, “another night.”

“Thanks for inviting me,” you tugged your jacket back on, “I had a lot of fun.”

To your surprise, they both got up and hugged you in return.

“Thank you for coming!” Karen gave you a tight squeeze before Foggy took over. 

“And we’ll be seeing you for the next one, right?”

“Uh, sure,” you gave his back a light pat, “if I have time and stuff the day that it happens, then I’d love to tag along.”

Casting his glance upon the other lawyer, “bye, Matt,” Foggy then yanked him into an embrace, “I love you, you know that?”

“Yeah,” Matt chuckled, clapping his friend’s spine, “I know, buddy.”

“You love me too, right?” Foggy pulled back, though still kept his hands fast on Matt’s broad shoulders, “don’t leave me hanging, it’s bad for a man’s health.”

“Foggy, I started a firm with you. Of course, I love you,” Matt smiled back at his sloshed pal, “good night.”

“Night, night,” Foggy patted his scruffy cheek before letting him out of his gasp, though adding as you turned to exit the bar, “night, Y/n! I love you too! I just met you today, but I love you!”

Soft giggles bubbled out of you as the door slammed shut behind you. 

“So, those are your friends...” you smiled into the night, “I like them. They’re nice.”

“Yeah,” the corners of Matt’s lips turned further up till dimples bloomed, “they’re good eggs.”

As the two of you began to move along, the silence didn’t last very long at all. 

“This is really nice of you, walking me home like this,” you uttered, “I know it’s just because we’re neighbours and headed in the same direction, but–”

“It’s not.”

“What?” your eyes found him.

“It’s not because we’re neighbours. It’s just, you know, the decent thing to do.”

“Right,” you exhaled, casting your glance back down onto the sidewalk as you momentarily got your hopes up. 

“And you know how this city can be,” Matt went on, “it’s not smart for anyone to walk alone at night.”

“Yeah,” you nodded, trying to keep your tone nonchalant, “of course.”

When a street then appeared before you, slicing the path you journeyed on, and even though there wasn’t any traffic in sight, your hand still instinctively shot down to grasp Matt’s forearm before the two of you could cross.

Realising what you’d done, you quietly muttered, “sorry,” though couldn’t find the strength to withdraw your touch just yet. 

“It’s okay,” his low voice slid from his lips like silk. 

“I just didn’t want you to walk straight out into ongoing traffic...” you tore your gaze away from him and forced yourself to look at the road before you, “but there aren’t any right now, so we can cross the street…”

Guiding his palm up to the curve of your elbow, he accepted the gentle aid as you began to cross the lane. 

Once you’d reached the other side and his grasp slowly began to drift back down. When his palm reached the height of your own, you softly caught it before timidly testing, “…do you mind if we–…”

“Hold hands?” with a gentle smile, he filled in before you might wonder if he could even sense your shy touch at all.

“Yeah…”

“No,” you felt him weave his fingers with your own, “not at all.” 

His touch somehow felt even better than you’d imagined. Though surprisingly gruff, with harsh calluses all throughout, he cradled your palm with such care, like he’d held it a thousand times before, occasionally swiping his broad thumb over your knuckles, presumably just a subconscious gesture from his end that still caused shivers to trickle down your spine every time he did so. 

You wanted the latter part of your walk home to last forever, engulfed in the comfortable silence of endless possibilities. But alas, when you did reach your building’s front door and then climbed the steps all the way up to your respective apartments, you couldn’t get yourself to let go just yet. 

“Are you hungry? Because I kinda am,” you weren’t really, but anything to just stretch the night a little longer, “or maybe it’s just my subconscious taking care of me and lessening my hangover by giving me a sudden craving for cheese.”

“I don’t think I have any cheese.”

“I do,” you said maybe a bit too fast, “do you want some?”

Exhaling lowly, a soft smile twitched at his lips as he then uttered, “sure.”

As you unlocked your door, you finally let go of his hand, “make yourself at home!” you placed your keys down on the slender entry table before kicking your shoes off and peeling off your coat, hanging it up on the row of hooks, “oh, do you want me to, uh, describe the layout for you? Or just plant your down on the couch?”

“Just tell me the direction and I think I’ll be fine.”

Facing him, you haphazardly explained, “alright, the hallway goes on for a few steps and then it’s to your right–, no, wait, my right, that’s your left. It’s to your left.”

Whirling around, you delved deeper into your home till you reached the kitchen. Ripping open the fridge, you snatched up a block of half-eaten cheese before seizing a clean butter knife from the dishrack and a roll of seedy crackers from a cupboard. 

Matt was already comfortable on your sage couch as you laid the humble spread out on the coffee table and joined him. 

“I hope you like brie because that’s what I got. Unless you want a single slice of american cheese, then this is all the cheese I have to offer.”

“Brie it is then,” he relaxed into the cushions as you unwrapped the snack. 

“Here, let me make you a bite,” slicing off bits of soft cheese, you spread it both on a cracker for him and one for you. Gently picking up his hand to place his snack in his palm, you then popped your own in your mouth and nearly melted into the couch next to him, “yep… that’s the spot…” you grinned hazily out the tall windows at the night sky as you chewed, “there’s just something about eating cheese when the moon is out that’s just so right in a way I can’t describe…” 

Your murmuring conjured a light chuckle to rumble within Matt, one that swayed your gaze to train on him. Resting your head against the back of the couch, you watched as the moonlight reflected in his tinted glasses. 

When the silence stretched on, Matt eventually cocked his head, “…what?”

Not tearing your eyes off of him, you breathed, “nothing…”

“You’re quiet,” his dark brows furrowed gently, “what’s going on?”

“Nothing,” you repeated, feeling almost like you were floating in a calm sea. 

“You tired? Do you want me to go so that you can go to bed?”

“No, please don’t, I–…” you reached out and grazed his arm, “could–… do you want to go?”

Letting his body relax once more, he breathed, “not particularly…”

Gazing up at him, your bottom lip snuck its way in between your teeth, “Matt…”

“Yeah?”

“You–… you’re–… I–…” your pulse pounded in your ears. 

“Mhm?”

“I really, really wanna kiss you right now…” you uttered thickly before you had the chance to chicken out. Like a wave crashing a shore, you didn’t even think as you let yourself dive in and press your lips to his. The kiss however didn’t last too long as you swiftly drew back as soon as your brain turned back on and you realised what you’d done, an apology hastily rushing out of your lungs, “Oh my god… I am so sorry.”

“Y/n,” hearing your name on his silky tongue did not help matters. 

“I didn’t mean to just–”

“Y/n,” he repeated, trying to cut through your fog. 

“We can just forget any of that ever happened, I totally get it if you don’t–”

As he brought his hands up to cradle the sides of your face, your nervous ramble fell short. When he ghosted his thumb across your cheekbone, you swore that you stopped breathing entirely. 

“…can I kiss you?” he slowly asked, leaving you utterly dazed. 

“W-what?”

Drawing in a breath, he repeated for you, “can I kiss you, Y/n?”

Blinking back at him, you hazily hummed, “mhm,” before he leaned in and brushed his lips against your own. The kiss was soft, just as your shoddy attempt had been, but it made your limbs feel like they morphed into jelly. When the pecks soon departed, you filled your lungs with a shaky breath as you gazed back at him in total awe, “holy shit…” only staying there a moment before you had to have another taste. 

Slowly growing more confident, the intoxicating kiss gradually grew more hungry. When his fingers then weaved into your hair, you realised that up till now he’d been holding himself back, gatekeeping a kiss that caused your frame to crawl into his lap, starving for more. Your little whimpers vibrated against his tongue as he danced it against yours, growing dizzy as you melted into the heart-stopping sensation. 

But suddenly a tormenting flash stabbed your being, and you abruptly tilted your lips away from his, breathlessly uttering, “wait, wait, there’s-, there’s-, uh…”

“What,” he breathed thickly, nose grazing yours before you retracted further, “are you okay?” 

“I’m…” carefully crawling off his lap, you kept going till you were a safe distance away on your own side of the couch, “Matt, there’s something I need to–, uhm, tell you…”

Staying silent, he patiently waited as you gathered up the courage needed to jump off the cliff and tell him.

Casting your gaze up to the tall and dark ceilings above, you felt your limbs begin to tremble, “okay, alright… I have no idea how to, uh, say this, so I’m just gonna do it,” and like a band-aid, you uttered, “I-, I was raped,” your eyes squeezed shut, not daring to risk glancing at his reaction, “a little over a year ago… and I haven’t–, uhm, done or tried anything with anyone since… so yeah, I just thought that was a good thing for you to know since even though I hope for there not to be any problems, I just don’t know, I don’t know what it will be like for me, if my body will suddenly freak out, but I just wanted to tell you so that in case something does happens, that you know not to automatically take it personally...” drawing in a shaky breath, you fluttered your gaze open and waited for his response, “Matt?”

“Yeah?” he answered carefully. 

“Please don’t say that I’m scaring you away right now…” you shifted your position, turning to face him once more.  

“You’re not, you’re not,” his head softly shook from side to side, “I just–… I really, really sorry.”

“Yeah…” you exhaled slowly, feeling tears sting the corners of your eyes, “me too…” staring at him a moment, you then bared your all and uttered, “I really like you, Matt,” a faint smile accompanied the declaration, “I think you might be the only guy in all of New York that I’m not scared of,” every other man you could think of had all had at least a second, a little flicker, of something that over the past year had terrified you, “and I don’t want you to think that I’m made of glass, that’s not what I want, that’s not why I’m telling you this. Please trust me when I say that I want to, I wanna do–…” a weighty exhale flowed from your lungs as your lips remembered his taste, “I wanna do everything with you… if–, if that’s something you’d like as well… but if we do, even though I really, really want to, I think it’s probably smartest to go slow, no pressure, you know, just in case, so that my body doesn’t freak out. Also, I’d really appreciate it if I at any point indicate for you to stop or even just pause a moment, that you’ll do that, that you’ll listen to me,” you briefly glanced down at your fiddling fingers, “and you know, I’m not saying let’s only do PG things, there are so, so many wonderful steps on the way that we can have fun with… I just–, I wanted to let you know now, before, so that we wouldn’t potentially have this conversation when something did happen.”

Only parting his lips when he was sure you were done, he uttered, “thank you for telling me. Are you–… are you okay? Was what happened before too much?”

“No…” you shook your head gently, “no, it wasn’t,” taking his hand in yours, you shared, “and I’m okay, I think… I mean, some days it still feels like it just happened, and others I notice something, something small, that I’ve gotten back, that I’ve regained…” absentmindedly tracing the lines of his palm with your thumb, you asked, “do you–… do you have any questions? Is there anything you wanna know?”

“No, I–… I just want you to tell me however much or little you feel comfortable with sharing.”

“…can I tell you? About it?” you asked slowly and he swiftly offered you a soft nod. Drawing in a deep breath, you began, “It, um, it was a Saturday night… I’d just gotten back from the bakery super late, maybe close to midnight… and when I was getting ready for bed, my roommate came home, he’d been out drinking as he usually spent his weekends. I remember we stayed up a while, just talking about the mundane stuff we always did. It was like any other Saturday, really. That was until I got too tired and went to go to bed, but he didn’t wanna stop talking, so he followed along into my room while I got ready and stuff,” averting your gaze, your bottom lip began to tremble, “we were just talking, it wasn’t anything special and then the next thing I knew, he was kissing me. It just–… it happened so fast… his hands were all over me… I remember he pushed me up against my closet so hard that my back was bruised the next day, and I don’t bruise that easily. He was just so wasted that I don’t think he realised or maybe even cared what he was doing. I tried to say something, tried to make him stop, but he didn’t listen to me. If he heard me, then I don’t think he understood what it was that I was saying… I would have pushed him away, slapped and hit him, but I couldn’t, I couldn’t move my body, not even a little, I just froze…” 

“I can still feel what he felt like… like my skin won’t let go of the memory…” tears rolled down your cheeks as you squeezed your eyes shut and tried to ignore how your palm tingled with recollection, “how he forced me to touch him and held his hand over mine, making it move as if he just thought I didn’t know what to do… he was my friend, you know? He wasn’t just some stranger who dragged me into an alley and held a knife to my throat. He was my friend. He would always make offhand jokes about seeing me as just a little sister and how he wasn’t attracted to you at all. Made such a big deal of it that I never thought he’d try anything… I have no idea how long it actually went on… I don’t even remember when it was that I landed on the bed, if it was before or after he–… after he–… did stuff, t-touched me… I just remember I was laying there when it happened. The masked man, the devil of hell’s kitchen, he ripped him off of me…”

“He’d somehow heard… I think maybe if I hadn’t opened the window that night to air out the room, he wouldn’t have saved me… he beat him up... knocked him out… he told me to call the police, but I couldn’t, so I instead asked my uncle to come get me… my body’s never shaked the way it did that night… I remember I was so confused because I wasn’t cold, didn’t get it till the masked man said I was in shock… it didn’t stop till the next night… when he was about to leave, I asked what if Mi–,” you couldn’t get yourself to utter Michael’s name out loud without feeling as if your whole world would crumble around you, “what if he woke up before Howard arrived, and so he just stayed there with me, right till he somehow heard my uncle walking up the stairs and then he slipped out the way he came in, right before I heard the front door unlock.” 

Letting out a long and unsteady breath, you raised a trembling palm up to wipe your cheeks. 

For a while, the silence got to encompass the space completely, your left hand still shaking in Matt’s as you eventually heard him ask. 

“Did you ever go to the police?”

“No. In the small window that I had to do one of those kits, I was just way too overwhelmed and confused and I just couldn’t think straight, I couldn’t do anything but relive that moment over and over again, so I didn’t do anything in time. But the longer time that passes and the more it sinks in what he did and the ways that I’m still paying for it, the things he ruined inside of me that I’m not sure if I’ll ever be able to get back, the more I wish that I had gone to the police. But it’s too late now.”

“No, it’s not,” his fingers squeezed slightly around yours, “I could help you, I’m a lawyer after all.”

“No, Matt,” you said firmly, “it is. I don’t wanna sit there and hear them go oh, it’s your word against his, sorry, and have them think that not enough happened technically for them to take it seriously. Enough happened, trust me. I’m eternally grateful that Daredevil saved me from whatever else he could have done to me that night, but enough happened. Just because he didn’t stick it in me doesn’t mean nothing happened. That is the kind of belief that only belongs to people who think that the only sexual act that counts as sex is when a penis is in a vagina, and that is just so incredibly wrong,” an enraged laugh tumbled out of you as you fumed, “they are the kind of people who think that someone queer, disabled or just someone who isn’t into that sexual act isn’t actually having sex when they are. Sex is about connection, it’s about pleasure and there are endless amounts of things that can give a person pleasure,” clenching your jaw, you let out a heavy sigh, “I wish it could be different, I wish many things, I wish it hadn’t had happened at all, but it did, and I hope that at the very least he learned something from it, that he changed, that he wouldn’t do it again to someone else.”

© 2024 thyme-in-a-bubble 

[apoemaday]

A Supermarket in California

by Allen Ginsberg

What thoughts I have of you tonight, Walt Whitman, for I walked down the sidestreets under the trees with a headache self-conscious looking at the full moon. In my hungry fatigue, and shopping for images, I went into the neon fruit supermarket, dreaming of your enumerations! What peaches and what penumbras! Whole families shopping at night! Aisles full of husbands! Wives in the avocados, babies in the tomatoes!–and you, Garcia Lorca, what were you doing down by the watermelons?

I saw you, Walt Whitman, childless, lonely old grubber, poking among the meats in the refrigerator and eyeing the grocery boys. I heard you asking questions of each: Who killed the pork chops? What price bananas? Are you my Angel? I wandered in and out of the brilliant stacks of cans following you, and followed in my imagination by the store detective. We strode down the open corridors together in our solitary fancy tasting artichokes, possessing every frozen delicacy, and never passing the cashier.

Where are we going, Walt Whitman? The doors close in an hour. Which way does your beard point tonight? (I touch your book and dream of our odyssey in the supermarket and feel absurd.) Will we walk all night through solitary streets? The trees add shade to shade, lights out in the houses, we’ll both be lonely. Will we stroll dreaming of the lost America of love past blue automobiles in driveways, home to our silent cottage? Ah, dear father, graybeard, lonely old courage-teacher, what America did you have when Charon quit poling his ferry and you got out on a smoking bank and stood watching the boat disappear on the black waters of Lethe?

[drdemonprince]

Weird kink: When I was a teen there were no locks in my house so no private places to jerk it. Lived near a large military training base they used for testing artillery & bombs so full of uninhabited forests and sand dunes with no roads or people. I'd sneak onto the military base and wander for hours until I was far from roads or outposts just to masturbate.

This eventually morphed into me literally fucking the natural terrain around me. I'd go tribbing with tree trunks and grind snowbanks until my junk was numb from the cold or raw from the friction. Lie down in the depressed grass and discarded hair where animals had slept and feel it against my back as I climaxed. It felt like I was a rutting animal and was indescribably sexy.

I stopped doing this when I was around 17 and an ant bit my genitals, which was hot in the moment but stayed swollen far longer than was probably healthy. I still miss living in a place where I could find truly private wilderness to do that in without risk of exposure to human observers (even if there was risk of stepping on unexploded ammunition and ticks).

walt whitman get fucking bent

[blackswaneuroparedux]

I recognise Walt Disney’s talent but it has always seemed to me hopelessly corrupted. Though in most of the pictures proceeding from [Disney] studios there are admirable or charming passages, the effect of all of them to me is disgusting. Some have given me nausea.

J.R.R. Tolkien

If Disney turned his stomach we can assume Tolkien would be turning in his grave at what Amazon Studios have done with 'Rings of Power'.

Tolkien's main objection to Disney - and something shared with C.S. Lewis - was how childish Disney treated fairy tales. For Tolkien fairy tales were serious business.

At the crux of his argument, which explores the nature of fantasy and the cultural role of fairy tales, is the same profound conviction that there is no such thing as writing “for children.” Tolkien insists that fairy tales aren’t inherently “for” children but that we, as adults, simply decided that they were, based on a series of misconceptions about both the nature of this literature and the nature of children. Tolkien deeply believe in language, myth, and Fairy, in that he recognised, they are deeply human things. Indeed, it is a natural right of humanity to produce fantasy.

And ye fail completely when we believe that Fairy is for children, Tolkien argued, noting that traditionally Fairy deals with the most difficult human problems, and children - understood as yet-to-be-formed humans - fall into the category of human, but they have no special hold or understanding of Fairy. Tolkien argued that the path to Fairy is neither the path to heaven nor to hell. It might be somewhat purgatorial, however, and certainly otherworldly. Fairy itself, far from being supernatural, is the most natural of worlds. Indeed, it is extraordinarily natural, as natural things live only as themselves. Rather Platonically, the tree is truly the tree (Treebeard), wine is truly wine, and bread (Lembas) is truly bread in Fairy. That is, there is little if any separation of the accidents of a thing from the essence of a thing. Those in fairy, though, through pride of beauty, often present themselves in disguise and as things they are not, thus befuddling the wanderer.

Words, definitions, and analyses, Tolkien warned, can offer only so much understanding of Fairy. Instead, one must not only travel to and through Fairy, but he must also recognise that fairy - like all mythology - is an expression of our deepest longings and fears.

A genuine fantasy, according to Tolkien, creates an immersive experience for the reader. In a successful fantasy, the author is a ‘sub-creator’: as Tolkien puts it, “He makes a Secondary World which your mind can enter. Inside it, what he relates is ‘true’: it accords with the laws of that world. You therefore believe it, while you are, as it were, inside.”

He goes on to argue that this sort of fantasy has three essential functions: recovery, escape, and consolation. Using the metaphor of a dirty, smudged window - whose film of grime obscures what we see through it - he says that we need “to clean our windows; so that the things seen clearly may be freed from the drab blur of triteness or familiarity - from possessiveness.” Fantasy helps us with this recovery of clear vision. He distinguishes the literary escape offered by good fantasy from the negative quality of escapism. And he explains the idea of consolation by coining the word eucatastrophe. It is formed of ‘eu,’ meaning good, attached to ‘catastrophe, and it means “the good catastrophe”: the unexpected happy ending, which gives us a profound taste of joy. We see it in The Lord of the Rings with the rescue of Frodo and Sam, after the destruction of the Ring, when they are sure that all is lost; we see it even more fully in the final chapters and indeed the final pages of the tale.

[didyoutrydynamite]

Renegades: First Sight

Jaune: *Wandering the Beacon hallways, guitar in hand, having just been rejected by Weiss, again.* I spent like five hours on that song… *Notices Cardin and Russel peering out into the courtyard* … huh?

Cardin: I mean she’s… she’s something else.

Russel: Man, she’s not even on the SCALE!

Cardin: Maybe on the Scoville Scale.

Russel: Ha! Nice.

Jaune: Uh… hey guys!

Russel/Cardin: *Jump up and yelp* AH!

Cardin: Oh, its just you. Sup?

Russel: *Immediately get’s up in Jaune’s face* Yeah, man! You got a problem-?

Cardin: *Shoves Russel’s shoulder* Hey. I told you we’re not doing that anymore. Jaune’s cool now.

Russel: Oh, right. My bad. *Smacks Jaune’s hand in greeting and brings him for a quick pat on the back* How’s it going, Big-J? You doing good? You in a band now or something?

Jaune: *Looks at his guitar* Oh this? It’s nothing really. What are you guys up to?

Russel: Just checking out the Haven-Hottie.

Jaune: Who?

Cardin: Oh you have to have seen her. Look! *Drags Jaune over to their spot and point* Right there.

Jaune: *Squints until he notices Cinder sitting on a bench in the courtyard, his eyes practically bulging out upon really getting a look at her* Whoa…

Cardin/Russel: RIGHT?!

Cardin: Dude, she’s like the eighth wonder of Remnant or something!

Russel: Nah, she's beyond that—she’s the ninth, tenth, and eleventh wonder combined! I heard when she walks by, even the statues stop and stare!

Cardin: *Chuckles* I heard that she was held back a few times because the headmaster didn’t want their favorite student to graduate.

Russel: *Leans towards Jaune* And Cardin thinks he has a shot with her.

Cardin: *Blushes* I could! I’ve got the charm and the muscles to back it!

Russel: So why don’t you go and do it then?

Cardin: I would, but I’m still sore from my morning workout.

Russel: It’s 4:30 P.M.

Cardin: It was a really intense workout! Besides I don’t see you going!

Russel: Are you kidding?! A woman like that is only made for heartbreak. I can’t handle that stress, man! You couldn’t pay me to talk to her!

Cardin: *Suddenly has an idea and then slyly looks to Jaune* Hey, Jaune. You feel like making a quick buck?

Jaune: What do you mean?

Cardin: Here’s the deal, Blondie. I’ll give you 50$ if you go over there, right now, and ask that hottie out to the Vytal Festival Dance. 200$ if she says yes.

Jaune: (50 bucks? I can make myself look like an idiot for 50 bucks! I practically do it for free all the time! I could use that to buy Weiss some really nice flowers, then she’d have to go!) Deal! *Claps Cardin on the shoulder, hands Russel the guitar, and walts right out into the open* Watch and learn boys!

Russel: No way…

Cardin: Oh this is gonna be amazing.

Cinder: *Seemingly lost in deep thought*

Jaune: *Saunters right up to Cinder* Well hello~ beau-

Cinder: *Snaps a horrid glare at him*

Jaune: AHHH! *Jumps back startled*

Cinder: *Quickly switches to her signature “Just a regular happy school girl smile” that she’s become so adept at using* Oh hi. Didn’t see you there.

Jaune: *Gulps* I… um… hi.

Cinder: *Continues forced smile*

Jaune: *Awkwardly scratches his cheek* …so- uh.

Cinder: Was there something you wanted?

Jaune: *Deciding now is not the best time to ask her to the dance*…Yeah. I wanted to know… is… uh… everything ok?

Cinder: *Tilts her head* Of course I am. Do I seem upset to you? *Gives her best smile*

Jaune: Yeah, a little….

Cinder: *Her smile fades, replaced by a faint grimace of irritation.* Am I that transparent? *Lets out an exasperated huff* I'm fine, honestly. Just some personal matters, nothing you need to worry about.

Jaune: *Expression softens empathetically* Oh… Do you want to talk about it anyways? 

Cinder: *Glances at him quizzically.* 

Jaune: You know. Just to get it off your chest? If you want?

Cinder: And share my problems with a complete stranger?

Jaune: Well, my mom always said, "Strangers are friends you just haven't met yet."

Cinder: *Stares blankly* That is... a horribly naive saying. Not only is that statistically false but it's also VERY dangerous advice to give to a child.

Jaune: *Scratches the back of his head* Yeah… I kinda used to wander off with a lot of random adults as a kid.

Cinder: *Hold’s back a sudden laugh.* Snrk!

Jaune: *Smiles* But I like to think I came out alright. 

Cinder: *Faintest hint of a smile* You at least seem harmless enough. *Looks Jaune up and down.* Have I seen you around before?

Jaune: *Suddenly more nervous* Y-Yeah, maybe! *Straightens his uniform out* I’m Jaune Arc. My friends call me… Jaune. *Cringes inside.*

Cinder: *Raises an eyebrow, the hint of a smirk forming.* Jaune, is it? Well, Jaune, I'm Cinder. Cinder Fall. Pleasure’s all yours I presume.

Jaune: *Nods and smiles* Yeah, it’s nice to meet you! See? Not strangers anymore, are we?

Cinder: *Gives a small chuckle.* I suppose not. *Glances around briefly* So, you really care to know?

Jaune: If I can be of any help, yeah.

Cinder: *Sighs* It’s about a… “colleague” of mine…

Jaune: *Sit’s down on the bench with her* Like, a teammate?

Cinder: That's it, precisely. A "teammate" who's proving rather insubordinate. Now, because of that, I find myself at a loss. She refuses to undertake a task that would suit her perfectly!

Jaune: Ohhhh I see. You’re having leadership troubles. Has your teammate told you why she won’t help?

Cinder: It’d be a miracle to get a single word out of her. *Grumbles quietly to herself* That mute insect. *Continues to talk normally* She won’t do a single thing I say unless it’s conveyed through her… “father.”

Jaune: Huh. I get you. I’m a leader too, and trust me, I’ve had my fair share of trouble reigning in a certain teammate of mine. She even has a “brother” that she tends to listen better to than me sometimes.

Cinder: *Listens intently* How do you command her obedience?

Jaune: *Looks at her confused* Her what?

Cinder: How do you get her to listen to you?

Jaune: Oh, well. Whenever talking doesn’t work, I go to Ren, her “brother”, well, not really brother, but- you know it’s this whole thing that I don’t really need to get into, but the point is I go to Ren and inform him that I’ll no longer be providing them part of the team budget for pancakes until she settles down.

Cinder: *Looks at Jaune incredulously*  Pancakes???

Jaune: *Nods* Mhmm, it’s her most favorite thing in the world. Literally seen her eat if for every breakfast I’ve had with her.

Cinder: *Digests the information* Withhold the budget so she can’t have her favorite luxuries… I can work with that. *Sighs* But the task is rather time sensitive, what if she doesn’t yield in time to get it done?

Jaune: Then it sounds like you may need to do it yourself.

Cinder: *Raises an eyebrow, almost insulted* Me?

Jaune: Well, if it’s crucial and she's not budging, sometimes it’s best to step in and handle it personally. I know it’s probably not ideal, but that comes with being a leader, they depend on you when no one else can do it.

Cinder: Hmph. They do depend on me, don’t they?

Jaune: *Nods encouragingly* Yeah! That’s why they put you in charge.

Cinder: *Gets pumped* I am in charge! They’d be completely lost without me!

Jaune: *Getting pumped too* Exactly! Sometimes we have to roll up our sleeves and lead by example. Show them how things really get done!

Cinder: *Jumps up out of her seat* You’re right! It’s time I take matters in my own hands, and show that little mute who is really the boss around here!

Jaune: *Gets up too* That's the spirit!

Cinder: *Nods determined* Thank you. I now know exactly what I must do.

Jaune: *Smiles warmly* Happy to help. Oh and hey, good luck, Cinder.

Cinder: *Smiles confidently* Luck is for the ill-prepared, Jaune. *Turns and saunters off* And I never need luck.

Jaune: *Watches her walk off, feeling proud* So. Cool. *Whistles and walks off*

Cardin/Russel: *Stop him immediately*

Russel: DUUUUUDE!

Cardin: What did she say?!

Jaune: Huh?

Russel: *Smacks Cardin’s arm* What do you think she said?! They both walked away all smiling and shit! Jaune, you are a GOD.

Jaune: What do you guys think happened?

Cardin: That’s what we want to know! What did she say when you asked her to the dance?!

Jaune: *A long moment of silence before he starts sputtering in disbelief and panic now realizing that he completely forgot to ask her out*

[disneytva]

‘Big City Greens The Movie: Spacecation’ Blasts Off Thursday, June 6, on Disney Channel and Friday, June 7, on Disney+

Green Family vacation 🚜🌽🚀💚 Disney Branded Television has unveiled the release date of "BIG CITY GREENS THE MOVIE: SPACECATION". The film will debut Thursday, June 6 (8 p.m. EDT), on Disney Channel and Friday, June 7 on Disney+.

Synopsis: “Big City Greens the Movie: Spacecation” follows the Green family as they embark on an adventurous outer space-bound vacation. When thrill-seeker Cricket tricks his family into taking a “road trip” in space, chaos in the cosmos quickly ensues. Despite growing frustrations between Cricket and his dad, Bill, the two must learn to appreciate each other’s unique perspectives in order to prevent Big City from being destroyed by an interstellar disaster.

Chris Houghton (Cricket Green), Marieve Herington (Tilly Green), Bob Joles (Bill Green), Artemis Pebdani (Gramma Alice), Wendi McLendon-Covey (Nancy Green), Zeno Robinson (Remy), Anna Akana (Gloria), Raven-Symoné (Maria Media) and Cheri Oteri (Gwendolyn Zapp) reprise their roles from the television series.

Guest Cast on "Big City Greens The Movie: Spacecation" include Renée Elise Goldsberry (Broadway "Hamilton") as Colleen Voyd, NASA Astronaut Scott Kelly as himself, Joe Lo Truglio (Walt Disney Animation Studios "Wreck It Ralph") as BigTech Scientist , Jack McBrayer ("Wander Over Yonder") as Farmbot.

"Big City Greens The Movie: Spacecation" - Original Soundtrack composed by Joachim Horsley and Walt Disney Records will debut Friday June 7th on all digital music platforms.

[signor-signor]

Bob Iger returns as CEO

That’s right, Iger takes over for two more years (as far as I know) as Bob Chapek steps down. So many Disney fans see this as a gropsend, so maybe we should, too.

He was CEO when Phineas and Ferb, Fish Hooks, Star vs. the Forces of Evil, the Tangled series, 2017 DuckTales, the Big Hero 6 series, and every Disney Junior through 2018 got more than 2 seasons. He was also CEO when WOY got the green light back in the early 2010s and when it got unfairly canceled just because the higher ups “didn’t see the need to make more.” Well, now that he’s back, and assuming Craig is not yet given the okay to start production on the PPG revival he’s been developing for a little while (yes, I am aware of his status), we still have a chance at making him fully aware of the show’s unfinished business so he can inform the people in charge of the television branch of the cliffhanger that’s still waiting to be resolved because one more season was planned out.

My curiosity is greater than that of just about everyone, so forgive me for coming off as persistent. Iger just has to realize that not all Disney fans demand more content from Marvel, Star Wars, or anything ubiquitous and that pandering to fans of overappreciated/completed shows isn’t the best option. Some of you might think sending him politely-written letters is a waste of time and effort, but if we do absolutely nothing to make him aware, he’ll continue to assume WOY is better off done after two seasons, which it isn’t, at least to those who saw the cliffhanger.

On another note, I recently found that Gary Marsh, the man responsible for greenlighting/cancelling shows, no longer works for Disney’s television branch. Now it’s Ayo Davis who’s in charge. If you want to make her aware of Wander’s unfinished business, it’s not too late to do so.

[swaps55]

List five topics you could talk about for an hour without prepping any material. (No one tagged me, I just saw this and wanted to.)

Equine foot management, catastrophic injuries, and laminitis. I can throw in club feet and foal deformities for fun. There will be drawings. I will do a lot of yelling.

Parking structure design and technology. My friends are known to send me photos of parking structures. Once, on a romantic getaway once with Real Life Romance Option, I dragged him to three different parking structures. Including one at 9pm because it had a cool glass spider on the facade that was lit at night.

Mass Effect, any aspect, but inevitably there will be a focus on the individual identities of all 3 games, misogyny, the different lenses through which people who played at launch vs. today view the trilogy, the Mako and the power of the UNC worlds in Mass Effect 1, and of course, the ending. If you ask a question about Andromeda you will have regrets because this just became two hours and Real Life Romance Option is on his upteenth AND ANOTHER THING because about 8 seconds into the infodump he joined in.

The Kentucky Derby/Triple Crown, which will most assuredly involve me lauding my namesake, insisting Nashua is a hack, and reciting Secretariat's Belmont race call. Also pretty guaranteed I will wander into horse racing at large and cry a lot about Serena's Song and Rachel Alexandra. Don't ask me about Barbaro unless you want this to be a double feature with #1.

Planning a Walt Disney World vacation. I literally talked to my folks about this impromptu for an hour yesterday. I have spreadsheets. And I am actually making a power point on the subject right now. The first slide header says, "Swaps, why is there a power point." Top answer is, "because it's fun."

Please feel free to share yours. :D

[april-is]

April 30, 2024: A Valentine for Ernest Mann, Naomi Shihab Nye

A Valentine for Ernest Mann Naomi Shihab Nye

You can't order a poem like you order a taco. Walk up to the counter, say, "I'll take two" and expect it to be handed back to you on a shiny plate.

Still, I like your spirit. Anyone who says, "Here's my address, write me a poem," deserves something in reply. So I'll tell you a secret instead: poems hide. In the bottoms of our shoes, they are sleeping. They are the shadows drifting across our ceilings the moment before we wake up. What we have to do is live in a way that lets us find them.

Once I knew a man who gave his wife two skunks for a valentine. He couldn't understand why she was crying. "I thought they had such beautiful eyes." And he was serious. He was a serious man who lived in a serious way. Nothing was ugly just because the world said so. He really liked those skunks. So, he reinvented them as valentines and they became beautiful. At least, to him. And the poems that had been hiding in the eyes of the skunks for centuries crawled out and curled up at his feet.

Maybe if we reinvent whatever our lives give us we find poems. Check your garage, the odd sock in your drawer, the person you almost like, but not quite. And let me know.

--

Today in:

2023: Oral History of Insatiability, Jason Myers 2022: Try to Praise the Mutilated World, Adam Zagajewski 2021: In Defense of a Long Engagement, Mairead Small Staid 2020: Lines Written in the Days of Growing Darkness, Mary Oliver 2019: Starlings in Winter, Mary Oliver 2018: Born Yesterday, Philip Larkin 2017: Thus, He Spoke His Quietus, Thomas Lux 2016: Trees, W.S. Merwin 2015: Today and Two Thousand Years from Now, Philip Levine 2014: from For a Long Time I Have Wanted to Write a Happy Poem, Richard Jackson 2013: Tear It Down, Jack Gilbert 2012:from An Atlas of the Difficult World, Adrienne Rich 2011: Wandering Around an Albuquerque Airport Terminal, Naomi Shihab Nye 2010: from Pioneers! O Pioneers!, Walt Whitman 2009: from The Waste Land, T.S. Eliot 2008: from Five-Finger Exercises, T.S. Eliot 2007: Journey of the Magi, T.S. Eliot 2006: Preludes, T.S. Eliot 2005: A Song for Simeon, T.S. Eliot

Aaaaand that's a wrap on year 20 (!?!) of our NaPoMo celebration. Thank you for the input & sweet comments about the future of this project. For now, we'll be sticking with the current format -- daily poems for one month out of the year -- so stay tuned for next April.

Until then, you can: + Visit a random poem from the archives. + Browse poems by topic / theme.

Thanks for all your enthusiasm, poetry posse! See you in 2025.

<3, Martha

[royalsweetteaa]

Title: Addicted to your voice

Pairing: Ransom Drysdale x reader

18+ ONLY | MINORS DNI

WARNING - the following fic contains: Explicit smut, phone sex/sexting, dirty talk, daddy kink, dom/sub dynamic, horny!Ransom.

Summary: Ransom is horny and seeks reader for relief virtually.

Ransom’s POV

Working as an intern for my grandfather, - Harlan and my uncle, - Walt was more time consuming than I had expected when first signing up for it.

As it turned out, it didn’t only require showing up at the office to attend meetings and having discussions over what direction we should go with the stories.

— No, apparently we had to leave out of state sometimes to attend conferences and meet with book publisher companies to sign contracts and whatnot.

Most of those abroad business trips didn’t last more than one and a half day absence from home, but the trip I was attending this time around was in connection with a book publishing conference combined with a book signing in New York City. It would last 5 days, and already on the 1st day it was hard keeping the enthusiasm.

Thankfully my girlfriend would keep me entertained through our virtual communication.

I texted her whenever I had free, asking her how she was, - sort of hoping she would reply with an emergency so I had a valid reason to return home to her, but of course nothing was more important to me than her wellbeing.

As I was making myself comfortable in my hotel room, free from Walt and Harlan’s nagging for the evening, my mind couldn’t help but wander off while laying in the empty bed, making little efforts of reading my book which I was currently holding.

I hadn’t been away from Y/N for this long since we became official, and it had only been 3 days now. I had 2 more days to go until I would finally return home, - yet it felt like an eternity. It made me realize how easily bored and needy I could get without my girlfriend, and I itched for her touch more than I had anticipated I would when I first left.

My longing for her sweet affectionate touches eventually led me to have sinful thoughts, - the ones that made me crave her body insanely, the feel of her skin, her taste on my tongue, - her everything.

I cursed as my pants grew tighter around the crotch area. I put the book down and drew my hair back with my fingertips in frustration.

The thought of masturbating as a solution to my current problem icked me. It never feels the same without her, - always leaving me disappointed as I’m reminded of how her hands, her mouth and her cunt, - even her feet feels a million times better against my cock than my own hand. But then again, it wasn’t pleasant to ignore my raging boner.

I was in need of a release, but how was I supposed to feel satisfied without her?

I looked over at the nightstand where I had put my book down, and it was then when I eyed my phone beside it.

An excellent idea came to mind, and I smiled to myself devilishly as I reached for my phone.

I began to type as soon as I typed in the password, my conversation with Y/N 2 hours prior still open as I hadn’t bothered to close the message app.

Ransom Drysdale (Me)

Hey kitten…

Miss you…

Like a lot…

What I’m trying to say is I’m so fucking hard for you right now.

I was relieved to see she had seen the messages right as I had sent them. This called for some fun.

The three dots quickly appeared on the bottom side of her texts.

♥️ Y/N L/N ♥️

Well that escalated quickly. But for the record, I miss you too, Ran. 🥺

Want me to do anything to help with your situation, baby? I could lend you a hand…figuratively anyway.

I chuckled, but it turned strained as I squeezed my dick through my pants to give temporary relief before I began to type my reply.

Ransom Drysdale (Me)

You can help me by sending a pic of your tits first.

Can you be a good girl for me and show them?

I could practically hear her cute snort. Sexting was never her style, but she was in the process of converting because of me.

She replied shortly,

♥️ Y/N L/N ♥️

Yes daddy.

An image was attached moments later of her pair round and soft breasts with her shirt dragged up. Her nipples were almost perky, with her chin and bottom lip being bitten viewable in the picture.

I groaned audibly from the image as I added pressure on my clothed cock, having little resistance to keep my cock within the restraints of my pants any longer. As I unbuckled my belt and pulled my pants down, a wet patch had already formed on my boxers where my cock stood tall.

Ransom Drysdale (Me)

Good girl…

Mmm I’m already leaking for you, kitten. Wish I could bury my cock inside your tight cunt and have you full of me. See me bulge in your cute tummy as I fuck you hard.

Miss feeling you throb as I rub your clit. You’re my sweet, sensitive little thing, aren’t ya?

♥️ Y/N L/N ♥️

Ran, you’re going to have me touch myself if you keep this up…

Good, was all I could think, and I pulled my hard cock out and began to stroke myself.

Ransom Drysdale (Me)

Yeah? My kitten’s feeling all tingly because of my dirty talk? Touch yourself then, sweetheart. This doesn’t have to be one-sided…

I clicked on the camera icon to snap a shot of my dick, just to further tease her, but then an even better idea popped in my mind. Instead, I went on video mode, and started to film myself stroking my dick as I moaned and grunted her name. As soon as the video reached 30 seconds, I sent it to her, knowing this would really set the mood for both of us.

She began to type immediately as another 30 seconds passed.

♥️ Y/N L/N ♥️

Ran, you’re so mean…

I’m so wet right now…want daddy’s cock so bad. Want you to hold me down and use my pussy to cum.

Ransom Drysdale

Naughty little cumslut…

You want my load that bad huh? So needy, just like how I’m so needy for you. Show me how wet you are for daddy. I want to see your pretty cunt flow with that sweet love juice.

Only less than a minute later and I was provided with the most delicious view. The image of her cunt, soaked with her cream as she used two fingers to spread her pussy lips for me to see her quivering hole was enough to make me loose my breath. I tightened my jaw as I focused on not cumming just yet, - not wanting to cum without her. I didn’t stop fisting my cock though, afraid I’d loose chasing my high if I did, - but at this point I knew that would be impossible.

Another message followed after the image.

♥️ Y/N L/N ♥️

Wanna cum so bad, daddy. Please make me cum.

I decided then and there that I wanted to give her a call as we were working ourselves to our climax. I tapped her contact and waited for her to answer.

“Kitten?”

“Mmh, yeah?” She replied dazedly.

I turned on the speaker and put my phone down beside me to have my other hand available, using it to touch my chest beneath my sweater. “You want daddy to help you cum too?”

“Uh-huh…wanna cum with you. Ahh, I miss you…”

“Yeah? How much do you miss me?”

“Miss daddy so, - so much…” she nearly cried out through the speaker. “Couldn’t orgasm when I touched myself yesterday. I a-always need you to cum. I can’t wait till you get home..”

“Mhm, me neither baby. I’m gonna..— fuck! I’m gonna fill you up till’ you’re fucking bloating. You better be ready when I enter that fucking door, darling. I won’t let you do fuck else once I get home.” I swore, and began stroking my shaft faster, on the verge of releasing my loaded spend. My grunts were becoming louder and more frequent as I tried to keep my composure, - ultimately failing.

“Yess! Ah, don’t wanna do anything else other than have you inside of me, daddy!” She blurted, her voice trembling as I could hear the sound of wet flesh being rubbed in the background, - the same sound I’d hear whenever my cock would thrust in and out of her plump pussy. Fuck me…

“That’s it baby, use those fingers of yours…want you to cum and make a mess. Make yourself cum for me, kitten. — Shit, - m’gonna cum real soon too…” I murmured, my eyes barely open as it became too much. - my cock was growing sensitive.

“Daddy, I’m ‘bout to, - I’m gonna cum! Nghahhh!~”

Her howl announcing her orgasm was enough to make me reach my peak, and I thrusted my cock up my hand for a finale time.

“Aghh, fuck!” I moaned through my raspy voice, releasing my spend and painting my sweater with white streams.

“Shit…” I heard her mumble through the speaker, and I snickered in response.

“Felt that good, hm? For a moment I was able to imagine it was you with the help of your voice,…you have such an addicting voice, kitten.” I purred as I held up my phone again after drying my cum off my already dirtied sweater.

“The feeling’s mutual, Ran.” She replied through a giggle. “I really can’t wait to have you home again.”

“Me too…” I said, and exhaled a final time as I felt all my frustration had worn out. I felt satisfied, - only temporarily but it was still something. “You sleep well tonight, okay sweetheart?”

“I most definitely will now,” she spoke in a teasing tone. “…sweet dreams, Rannie.” She said her farewell, this time adoringly.

My face grew red and I held back a wide grin, meekly replying ‘sweet dreams, darling’ before we hung up. I put my phone down and sighed as I stared up at the ceiling.

God, was I whipped for this woman who could make my heart flutter by saying the simplest things.

N/A: I made a GIF from that scene where Ransom writes the anonymous email to Marta, and I took the opportunity to write based on it. ;) I mean look at him, he looks kinda…😳

Hearts & Reblogs are very appreciated! <3

Thank you for reading!

[disneyparksattractionstournament]

Favorite Disney Parks Attraction Showdown: Round 7/FINALS

Videos and propaganda under the cut!

Haunted Mansion: Disneyland, WDW Magic Kingdom, Tokyo Disneyland

Propaganda:

"The ride system was perfected by Bob Gurr, gay icon. Seriously, any Disney gays and Haunted Mansion gays, thank gay icon, Bob Gurr for giving us an iconic ride vehicle and system. The whole ride is iconic. It inspired modern day horror tropes, gives goth kids a cool ride to enjoy as they pretend not to enjoy their trip with family when they actually do, has that really interesting spider story in the ballroom scene, X Atencio giving us an iconic song, story, script, and voice acting in the Lemme Outta Here ghost and the break down spiel, THE FREAKING STRETCHING ROOM, THE WALLPAPER!!!!!! Hatbox Ghost being an urban legend, with his existence being argued and questioned for years until we finally got a blurry picture confirmation and him coming back years later, ICONIC! Madame Leota and Little Leota! The hitchhiking ghosts!!! GHOST HOST!!!! The freaking conveyor belt at the end of the attraction that you step off to and if your not careful, it's easy to almost fall, accidentally giving one last scare before you leave the ride and makes you realize how clumsy you are? Iconic. "

"This is a ride that I was absolutely terrified of when I was a little kid. I actually have photographic evidence of this (ask for it if you'd like). But, my goodness, this rough start only made me love it all the more as I grew up. This is such a fun and goofy ride despite the morbid theme and occasional eerie bits! It's a duality. The ghosts have such a personality and the Ghost Host is such a charming guide (and I find the fact that he abandons you to go join the swinging wake hilarious, especially because you wander into the attic with Constance when unguided). It's just such a well-crafted ride! There's so much to see and I never get tired of it. The Doombuggy itself is an ingenious way to move people through the ride with such a distinctive design. The Ghost Host raising and lowering the lap bar for you is neat (fun fact, The Phantom in Phantom Manor is a terrible host and doesn't do this for you, probably because he's too busy planning your death. Asshole.). The effects in the ride are so cool and hold up, especially the Pepper's Ghosts effect. The rooms are distinct and eccentric. The Grim Grinning Ghosts song is absolutely delightful, and it's such a nice touch that you can distinguish the vocals of different ghosts you see in the graveyard. I should also just give a shout-out to the soundtrack for the ride as a whole, which wonderfully warps the Grim Grinning Ghosts theme to match the scene you're in. The ride also does such a good job of plunging you straight into the experience with facade of the mansion (I adore the look of the conservatory) and the queue. The tombstones are so funny and I really appreciate the interactive elements they added in the exterior section. And then you get inside the mansion, hear the Ghost Host's narration, and get into the Stretching Room. How can I describe that room other than frightfully fun? So, why Walt Disney World instead of Disneyland? I prefer experiencing the changing portraits on the ride rather than in the queue. I love the library as the setting for the busts that watch you. The music room with the ghost you can only see in shadow playing a version of Grim Grinning Ghosts is captivating. And, my goodness, the staircase room takes my breath away and I love watching the ghostly footsteps on the stairs. It's even going to have the Hatbox Ghost soon (I am not weighing in on the discourse over the potential location for him).

"I love it. I love ghosties. I love the effects. I love women who murder their husbands. I love the jaunty tunes. I love having to stop for 4 minutes not even partway into the ride and having to watch the same things going on for ages. I love a good ghoul ride, man "

"Epic conveyer belt keeps the line moving (though that won't always stop the line from being long)."

Tower of Terror: WDW Hollywood Studios, Paris Walt Disney Studios Park, California Adventure (2004-2017), Tokyo DisneySea

Propaganda:

"you forget how scary it is until you watch the preshow. and then you forget how fun it is until you ride the ride. 10/10 would recommend went on it with my friends twice last time we went."

"WE LOVE HORROR MEDIA REPRESENTATION!!! ONLY PUSSIES TAKE THE STAIRS"

"This ride made me absolutely terrified of elevators for a bit. xD Anyway, the bellhop cast members are hilarious. The hotel that is covered in cobwebs and was clearly abandoned in a rush after a terrible event is so cool. The Rod Sterling Twilight Zone intro is iconic. The basement is an interesting setting for the final part of the queue. The generators, lights, and floor indicator malfunctioning helps build your anticipation. The friggin elevator moving into the hallway and into a new shaft when the electrical ghosts make their appearance and you enter the Twilight Zone is so impressive. The dropping and rising of the elevator is such fun and I love the randomized events they added. I have to say, though, that ventriloquist dummy in the unloading room still makes me uncomfortable."

"Who doesn't love a creepy dark drop narrated by the man, the myth, the legend Rod Serling himself?"