#wet brain

[thrumydarkness]

How has come to me being the CAREGIVER when I’m the one on disability? I have mental illnesses and physical issues. I lovingly cared for my grandfather and father…. Now I’m STUCK…STILL taking care of my non-functioning ALCOHOLIC mother. She acts like a martyr…telling people how hard it has been for her, caring for 24/7 and my father with cancer (all over)! But she hasn’t cared for anyone and she told my Dad she couldn’t wait for him to die-everyday for the last few years. I hate her for that!

[caroleditosti]

'Wet Brain' by John J. Caswell, Jr., a Review

'Wet Brain' at Playwrights Horizons has fantastic elements making the work a unique must-see.

Julio Monge in Wet Brain (courtesy of Joan Marcus) A family in crisis with no way out except love and forgiveness, is the focal point of the play Wet Brain by John J. Caswell, Jr. Directed by Dustin Wills (award-winning director of Wolf Play) the drama is presented by Playwrights Horizons and MCC Theater until June 25. The production reveals the knotty human condition in all its raw, ugly,…

[rendevok]

Skirting the truth

(aka i saw this meme and laughed so hard i lost my sense self control)

[violetren]

The great thing about the White Collar OT3 is that at no point does the introduction of Neal into El and Peter's everyday lives never feels like a threat to Peter and El's marriage.

Like from the moment Neal shows up at their house in episode one he and El hit it off.

Within the first 5 episodes Neal and El have figured out they have similar knowledge and interest in the finer things, they're sharing looks over how Peter talks about and will react to things, El is telling Peter to trust in Neal a little, Neal is helping make sure they have a lovely anniversary, and El is calling Neal in to mediate/help prove her point in mini arguments to make Peter do stuff.

They also work really well because while Peter, El, and Neal might all be slightly different flavours and intensities of hyper competent adrenaline junkie weirdos, all three of them are intensely loyal to "their people" so the second El and Neal recognised that they both trust Peter as someone who will always try to do the right thing and respect them they were like "oh green flag."

[cwazytvthings]

Hi I've been very dead. Here's a Harvey I doodled to dust off the rust

[deadbutnostink]

alcoholic ex wive

[call-me-strega]

Dc x Dp Prompt # 12: Wanna Help Me Win a Bet?

So our scene opens with an older team Phantom (Everlasting trio, Jazz, Val, and Dani) at a bar/club of some sort in New York. They're all catching up on how their lives are going (college, work, internships, milestones, travels, wacky happenings, etc.). Somehow the topic shifts to romantic relationships and the gang begins ribbing Danny for his awkward teen romances. He was an absolute disaster at flirting even if his exes found it charming at the time. It's all good-natured and fun.

Then Danny's like "Hey well least I've improved now" which earns him an eyebrow raise or two. The gang goes "Oh yeah? Prove it. Bet you 100 bucks you can't get that person's number" *points to an attractive black-haired individual sitting at the bar*. And of course, since Danny isn't one to back down from a bet and has his pride to defend he goes off to flirt with a stranger.

On the flip side, we have a Batfam member (or other black-haired DC character) of your choosing (you already know my fav is Jason) sitting at the bar. Why are they there? Idk maybe it's for a case? Maybe they wanted to meet up with friends outside of Gotham? You decide. Anyways, the point is that their minding their own business when a fairly attractive twunk walks up and starts hitting on them awkwardly. And man, this guy is not smooth in the slightest but he's dorky and awkward and kinda cute. They talk to him a bit, teasing and doing some light flirting back. They aren't taking him too seriously, really they're more amused than anything else.

Finally, the guy kinda just gives up trying to be smooth and sighs. He looks at them with a serious look on his face and goes "Look I'll level with you, my friends over there bet me a 100 bucks I wouldn't be able to successfully flirt with you. I'm gonna lean over and whisper in your ear and if you could just agree laugh like I said something witty and give me your number then I'll split the cash with you."

Then he leans over and whispers "Whaddya say, wanna help me win a bet?"

And they let out a genuine laugh and go "You know what? Sure, why not. You're not half-bad and I won't say no to an easy 50" and they grab a napkin, pull a pen out of seemingly nowhere, and give Danny their number (and their Venmo/PayPal/cash app or whatever). They hang out a bit more that night before going their separate ways. A day or two later they get a notification that someone sent them $50 and a message "wanna get coffee/lunch/dinner sometime?"

[show-tunes]

Time is a flat circle

[ivomartins]

severely unwell over the fact that dmitry was ready to drown to save lane's life, survived that, threw himself in front of an infected horde to save lane's life, survived that, almost succumbed to a fucking bite covering lane's back, survived that, and is probably still gonna go on to throw himself into the jaws of death for her every 2 seconds. let's pls digest that for a moment

[merakiui]

many unholy thoughts about this specific image here. :)

[toshidou]

previously on "toshidou's horny rambles":

𝟏𝟖+ 𝐍𝐒𝐅𝐖

your jaw is aching, just barely able to feel simon's fingers as they curl around a fistful of your hair, the other hand pinching either side of your face between his thumb and forefinger to watch how your lips purse around the girth of his cock. lidded, darkened eyes staring down at you as he fucks lazily into your mouth; the slick sound of spit accompanied by the slap of his balls against your chin, wet with your saliva and precum.

and if that wasn't overstimulating in of itself, thick, strong fingers indent into the flesh of your hips, followed by the aching thud of könig's sharp hips jackhammering into the soft flesh of your ass, a cacophony of lewd, debauched sounds that shouldn't make you nearly as wet as they do.

you have little choice but to focus on trying to stay balanced on your hands and knees and take it, every forceful thrust, every notch of ghost's tip against the back of your throat, every delirium inducing drag of könig's cock, so thick it has no choice but to stimulate every nerve ending your poor cunt has to offer.

there is no holding back, no small mercies, you're fucked to within an inch of your life, pushed through so many orgasms you barely remember what year it is, unable to think of anything other than the two men that bookend your trembling body.

by the time their hips both stutter to a stop, once their cum dribbles down in flithy rivulets from your aching holes, plump flesh littered with bite marks, bruises and handprints; you're just lucid enough to make out the two men as they tower above you, twin sets of irises engulfed in black, still hungry, still not satiated.

it's fair to say you may have "voulez-vous coucher avec moi, ce soir"ed a little too close to the sun.

[ac-art-and-stuff]

Gideon Coal is the hearth, the warmth within the home, the steady heat to cook wonderful meals, the beating heart to warm the chill of a soul, the stocked woodshed, the ray of sun through a window. A protector. A guardian. A friend.

Kremy Lecroux is the stew pot, the silverware, the favorite spoon, the homemade bone broth, the smell of spices, the foundation, the walls, keeping his family safe however the wind howls. Keeping his family fed. Keeping his family.

Morning Frost is the books, the smell of sugars breaking down, the turning of dog-eared pages, the little spaces in the margins of recipes where someone has made their little touches, keeping the knowledge for those who come after, for those who are willing to learn, for those who crave to know

Gricko and Hootsie Grimgrin are the music of the home, the soft hoot beyond the window at night, the familiar creak of the floorboards, the hushed lullabies of rain on the roof, the absence of loneliness, always welcoming, always comforting, always soothing, always soft.

Torbek is the devourer, the one who consumes, the one who can appreciate the wholeness of the warmth of a hearth, the taste of a good meal, the pages he knows by heart, the knowing that he isn't alone, even when sometimes he feels himself a stranger in this house. Torbek is home with Carnival Lecroux. Torbek is home.

[nethnad]

thinking about time lords and their fucked up little society again and i just realized how devastating the revelation of the drums in the end of time is in relation to the master's character.

because of all the renegade time lords in the universe, i think it's the master who most exemplifies the philosophical outlook that the time lords have towards the rest of the universe. they're stuffy observers, administrators, yes - but this position is one they've decided for themselves because of this concept of supremacy over other life forms. imposed and upheld this idea that other species that lack a time sense are less-than, primitive. and the master buys into this hard.

and i mean... compared to the doctor, the master is good at being a time lord. he buys into these supremacist concepts, this idea that every other species (and especially humans) is practically a meaningless ant in the grand scheme of the universe. takes it to the extreme, yes, but its the same underlying principle. he's a good student (despite whatever chibnall might think) - that one time lord from terror of the autons (identity forever a mystery) (its brax) even says "he did receive a higher degree of cosmic science than you." the master could play their game if he wanted to. he's remarkably comfortable with being on gallifrey/the idea of gallifrey(in eot/tlotl) than the doctor ever is. where the doctor avoids the subject of the lord presidency like the plague, the master is like "well if you kill the president you ARE the president! and then you have all of gallifrey!" and when the doctor destroys gallifrey (nominally), the master tries to rebuild it in the sound of drums/last of the time lords. tries to emulate their society. honor them in his little fucked up way. he brings them back from the time war!

and what does he get for it? how did the time lords treat him in response?

they decide to implant the sound of drums in his head, stretching back until he's a child. puts this insufferable noise, this splitting headache, in his head for his entire life. all so that they may live while he dies. because he is diseased, because of them. he has swallowed the pill, bought their propaganda, he has followed the rules, he tried to rebuild them he tried. and in response he is chewed up and spit out like trash so that rassilon's god complex can survive while the universe crumbles.

how crushing must that be to someone? to have your whole worldview - that you are better, you are chosen, you are special - come crumbling down in a few short moments? to see the revered founder-god of the civilization you have so desperately tried to revive look at you and say "you are diseased," even though he was the one to poison you in the first place?

and as his heart is torn to pieces... when rassilon says "no more," and charges his gauntlet, the master - who has spent countless lives fighting death with his bare hands - does not move.

part of me thinks he does not want to.

[harbingersglory]

Perhaps the Shogun Puppet and Sara (both trans) sharing the reader? The puppet offering up a volunteer (reader) as a reward for Sara’s devoted years of service, that quickly ends up with the reader getting spitroasted between them. Sara has the privilege of claiming the reader’s pussy (and by extension, their womb and eventual firstborn child) while the Shogun takes their mouth—this is meant to be Sara’s reward after all.

{☆} characters kujou sara, raiden shogun [ puppet ] {☆} notes drabble, fem reader, sub reader, transfem kujou sara, transfem raiden shogun {☆} warnings 18+ content, breeding kink, restraints, fingering, face fucking

Kujou Sara was many things– loyal, devoted and first and foremost a soldier. There was little time between a strict schedule for anything but honing herself like a dulled blade. She assumed she simply did not care for worldly pleasures, but now..

Her throat feels impossibly dry, her palms clammy as she tries to ignore how tight fitting her uniform feels all of a sudden. She cannot look away from the meek figure at the feet of the Shogun, her Archon, stripped bare and tied in an intricate display of winding ropes that accentuate your figure– she feels lightheaded at the sight, a broken groan tumbling from her lips, just barely muffled in time by her trembling hand.

"A reward," The stoic, unyielding voice of the Shogun rings in the room like the swing of a blade, cutting through the thick air with the ease befitting of such an imposing figure. "For your service, General Kujou." She gestures so easily to you, as if presenting an object to be owned rather then a person– she cannot find it in herself to dispute it. You are..beyond words. Ethereal, even as you are bound in tight ropes and left at the mercy of an Archon and a tengu.

"..I am honored by your generosity, Almighty Shogun." Sara replies quickly and stiffly, her eyes never drifting far from your body– always drawn back. "Yet you are still hesitant." The Shogun snaps back coldly, eyes narrowed– her shoulders grow stiff in tension, her mind scrambling for an excuse, yet she cannot manage to speak a word.

"If this reward is not suitable.." Sara nearly balks at that, her hands twitching and her teeth aching in an urge she thought long buried. Try as she might, she cannot ignore the desire she feels towards you..and she cannot simply refuse a reward from the Shogun herself. Archons, she is a weak woman, she realizes– her will broken by a pretty face..

"..It is suitable, Almighty Shogun."

Yet she steels her resolve like a honed blade, kneeling before her "reward" and clasping your ankles in her calloused hands– your skin is smooth, at least compared to her own, as she eases your legs apart. Archons, you are even more gorgeous up close. The satisfied hum of the Shogun, watching with piercing eyes as she claims her reward, spurs her on. She leans close to your face, cupping your jaw in her hand and taking a moment to appreciate your features. The bob of your throat as you swallow, the haziness of your eyes..she leans down further, pressing almost reverent, apologetic kisses to your jaw, exhaling heavily against your skin.

She cannot stop herself now. The sickly sweet scent of shampoo, likely the courtesy of the Shogun, fills her lungs and makes her feel dizzy. You're like a fine dessert and she wants to devour you.

Even still, however, she keeps a close eye on your face– watching the slightest changes like a hawk. She leans away from spots you seem to show discomfort from, pressing more kisses and nips to the spots that have your breath hitching in your throat. She likes it– seeing you beneath her like this..Archons, her uniform feels so suffocating now, her cock straining against it.

But she wants to take it slow, if only for her own inexperience. She wants to see your face twisted in pleasure, not discomfort.

So she takes her take unraveling you, her chapped lips kissing down your throat to your chest, the barest hint of bruises marring your skin as she drags her tongue across your nipple, a low growl building in her throat at the way you arched your back into her mouth. It's so distracting that she almost forgets the Shogun stands above her, watching like a statue as her hand slips between your thighs to sink a finger into your cunt– and how easily she does so, your thighs already sticky with arousal. She is slow in her movements, fingering you more like a lover, intimate in a way that feels foreign to her.

"You're so pretty," She murmurs in a haze, words slurred through the fog of desire, sighing softly against your shoulder as she eases another finger inside you, her tongue finding your other nipple. "Does this feel good?" Her eyes meet your own as she presses a kiss to your chest, practically pleading for the answer to be yes– she wants the validation, to know she's making you feel good, at least as good as she feels. Her touch is still uncertain and clumsy, but she has always been a quick learner.

It does not take long before you unravel beneath her, your squishy walls squeezing around her fingers as she eases you through your climax.

Your cum sticks to her fingers when she pulls her hand back, her own breath hitching in her throat as she swipes her tongue across her digits– had she not been in such a daze, she might've been embarrassed, but the taste upon her tongue only made the fog worse. She almost considered burying her face in your cunt for a better taste, but her cock was..painfully hard. So with a hint of reluctance, she fumbled with her uniform, tugging her aching cock free with a broken groan.

For a moment she almost seems embarrassed by your stare, her hands pushing your thighs further apart– but the look of raw need..it matches her own, feeding the almost animalistic urges that urge her to claim you, to push your legs up to your chest and fill your womb till it's bursting with her cum. Archons, she wants to. Just seeing her cum spilling out of your cunt would be enough.

Her nails dig into your thighs as she aligns her cock, dragging the tip through your folds before gently sinking into your cunt. It almost breaks her– the tight, wet heat of your folds around her drags a whine unbidden from her throat, breaths coming out in shallow panting. Her grip on your thighs tightens as she presses a shaky kiss to your chest, satisfied by the moans that tumble from your own lips. She wonders what it would be like to kiss you, but the thought is swept from her thoughts as quickly as it came, her cock slowly stretching your cunt around her, forcing you to take every inch.

You've never looked prettier in her eyes.

But her moment of admiration and awe is short lived, her body falling into complete stillness as she watched the Shogun step forward– Sara can feel her stare through the back of her head, sweat beading on her brow and her throat so dry it's difficult to swallow. Rather, instead of whatever Sara expected, the Shogun kneels.

It's only now she sees the twitching cock between her own legs, stilling any protests that bubbled up in her throat. She watched, transfixed as the Shogun slid a thumb past your lips, tilting your head back enough for her to sink her cock into your waiting mouth. The sight of it makes her heart stutter in her chest, her own cock twitching inside you as she bucks her hips instinctively, hissing at the sudden burst of pleasure.

Sara doesn't dare to speak up, but she can't help but feel transfixed by the way your throat bulges around the Shogun's cock, her hands digging deeper into your thighs. The ease in which you take the Shogun makes her wonder if you were hers– the idea of fucking the Shogun's pet..she was surprised to find the idea so enticing, her hips snapping harshly against yours as she fit herself fully inside your cunt, hands clasping your thighs to the point even her hands were beginning to ache.

The Shogun was still watching her, she could feel it, but it felt less suffocating and more..curious, maybe. Whatever rhythm Sara set, the Shogun would adjust, the gentle rolling of her hips accentuated by the short thrusts into your mouth. She felt dizzy at it all, burying her face against your chest and sliding her hands up your hips, along your ribs, clutching you tightly against as she pulled her hips back, nearly slipping out of your cunt altogether before snapping her hips forward harshly, the slap of skin making her groan.

She couldn't help it anymore– she needed to claim you, to see your face contort in pleasure as she claimed your cunt, filled you to the brim with her cum..she wanted it so badly it made her feel dizzy. A part of her wonders if the Shogun would even let her impregnate you, but she didn't care– she'd try anyway. Even if she had to fill you up again and again, as many times as it took.

Sara's gentle thrusts quickly crumbled into something much rougher, all sense forgotten at the promise of claiming you– of making you hers, from your cunt to your womb, and even your mouth, if she ever got the chance. She was practically an animal in her desperation, stretching your cunt to fit her with every harsh thrust and growling against your chest, leaving visible bruises and bites on your chest. The Shogun matched her with a robotic rhythm of her own, the sound of you gagging around the Shogun's cock making her shudder, her eyes following the drool dribbling down your face.

It was far more arousing then she wanted to admit, watching the Shogun use your throat while she used your cunt, giving you no room to breathe.

It is with a great reluctance that she pulls her gaze away from you and the Shogun, burying her face against your chest once more as the pressure builds, her lips caught between her teeth until the taste of iron flooded her taste buds. But she had no time to dwell on it, pressing her hips firmly against your own with a muffled groan as the pressure exploded, her cum painting your walls, still bucking into you in short thrusts.

She could only imagine the image of your throat being filled by the Shogun's own climax, her lungs straining as she gulped down air between shaky moans, pressing a kiss to your chest.

She was far from done with you, but you deserved at least a moment of respite before she filled you all over again.

[omo-queer]

don't mind me over here thinking about how much fun it would be to train someone so they couldn't voluntarily pee without my permission