You don’t get to accept her submission and then run for the hills as soon as she needs something more than orgasm control and dirty talk.
I will reblog this until I am dead.
h
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KIROKAZE
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@demoniclex
You don’t get to accept her submission and then run for the hills as soon as she needs something more than orgasm control and dirty talk.
I will reblog this until I am dead.
Lit
Ohmygod I’m in love
You know what’s next Princess, time for the glow sticks. Your pretty little pussy is going to be stretched.
How do you care for your subs after a rough scene, Sir? Also I 💓 your blog and captions sooo much
Hey lovely! Thanks for your complimentary words ☺️
In answer to your question, it’s a fairly easy answer. It’s all about grounding her, reassuring her, looking after her, and trying to prevent too quick a drop from the emotions and chemicals within her body, that have been released during the scene. Every person is different, so firstly I’d want to learn about her, individually, and what she needs. Aftercare should be solely based around what the submissive partner requires to feel good and achieve what I’ve already described.
That said, some common ways to apply aftercare are as follows:
• Gently massaging arnica cream into her body where I have chosen to spank her (making sure that if there are any skin breaks, these are avoided and have already been cleaned with an antiseptic of some sort).
• This is the time to be super caring and lovely, telling her how freaking amazing she is, calling her by her sweeter pet names, telling her how proud I am of her, and how much she means to me. Reassurance is a big thing, especially if one uses degrading terminology in play.
• Ensuring she drinks some water and has a sugary snack, because kinky shit is hard work, goddamnit. She’ll need some hydration and a little energy boost!
• Cuddling her, caring for her, showing my softer side, because you can’t and shouldn’t have the tougher side of play without the softer follow up.
• Tucking her into bed and just generally looking after her, reassuring her with my words and delicate touches.
Thanks for your question, lovely 🖤
Send me asks
I’m both pro herbal medicine and pro vaccination because you can treat burns with aloe vera juice and sore throats with lavender infused honey but you can’t rid a country of polio with plants.
Don’t forget kids, jewelweed is a natural counteragent to poison ivy rashes but it won’t do shit against whooping cough
Mint for nausea, valerian and chamomile for sleep, antibiotics for fucking infections.
I’m in love with this post
it’s okay to eat
it’s okay to have fat, because it’s natural and it doesn’t make you ugly or unlovable
stretch marks, scars, moles, etc are totally ok
your body is wonderful exactly the way it is
please be kind to yourself
i love you so much
Someone needs to hear this today. Whoever you are, I love you.
when guys grab your chin to make you look up at them?? wowie
me when i get my student loan
this is the money cat. reblog in 30 seconds and you will find yourself with more wealth
#this is the only money cat i will reblog because it’s actually doing the manekineko pose151,646 notes (via lolwhutninja)
OMG YOU’RE RIGHT
and it has its right paw up! the correct paw for this. and from the markings on its ears, it looks like it might be a calico cat. which is the luckiest kind!
extremely lucky cat
I don’t even care if it actually works, I’m mostly reblogging because it’s freaking adorable.
cute cat and need money, good post, 10/10
in case anyones interested in the other versions
http://www.namaii.com/manekineko/maneki-neko-types.html
Y’know I reblogged this a bit ago and was saved from financial probation and getting kicked out of school because of it, just mere months from graduation. Got a call from the financial aid advisor telling me that they made a mistake with filing my account (or some other sort of clerical error) and said that, basically, they owe me money. Welp.
Last time I reblogged the money cat, I won two $100 gift cards at work.
I’m just reblogging for the facts about lucky cats
it’s ninety-nine degrees outside, four fuck-thousand percent humidity, and my husband was like, “i’m gonna go for a bike ride.” and i was like “why. no. why. don’t put us on the news like that. local fool collapses on unnecessary journey. don’t do it.” so he says he doesn’t want to “hide in the house” because the sun is shining. bruh. honeybruh. “the sun is shining” does not cover it. its hot outside. its motherfucking hot as fuck outside. our outdoor plants have been crying into their hands all week. whole cars are melting into the sewer. our fucking patio umbrella developed sentience to ask me for lemonade this morning
@robotmango, you need to work for the weather forecast - this was both hilarious and so vivid it made me stand up and get some iced tea.
this is a great idea, thank you. here goes. my audition tape for the weather channel. dearly beloved. we are gathered here today to have a fucking funeral for the outdoors. it had a good run, with all its creeks and clouds and shit. pretty great. now it’s ten-thirty at night but still ninety-two asshole-sweating degrees and humid as fuck. everything is hot and slimy, like being a “borrower” that got trapped inside a bottle of shampoo and then accidentally microwaved. you can see on my doppler radar that nothing is moving around out there because everything is probably dead. the only alive thing is the mosquito currently trying to drill a hole in my leg. no surprise that all the shitbag mosquitos are fine, since the thermostat of hell is always at the devil’s preferred temperature. this forecast has gotten away from me a little, but in conclusion fuck the sun
I think I’ve reblogged this before, but “the thermostat of hell is always at the devil’s preferred temperature” is fucking poetry
ninety nine???? thats IT????????? buddy here in the 7th circle of h*ck, California, we get up to at LEAST 110 degrees every single gosh darned summer. the bugs seek revenge. the sun wreaks havoc on the mere mortals it surveys. every plant has turned brown in its thirst for water. the very air itself has been sucked dry of every drip of moisture it ever had.
ninety nine degrees. you weak fool.
well since you asked so politely, let’s talk about something very important vis a vis weather-hotness that you clearly ain’t ever heard of, called
humidity
oh alas, you say. oh papa, whatever shall i do, it is ever so hotte and drye in california. the very air hath been sucked of all its moisturey droplets and whatnot.* one hundredy and tennith desiccated degrees!
*(yo, drought is serious. i am pretty obviously not making fun of that.)
alright. let’s check it out. here’s a random california city, right about now:
thirty-two percent. and here’s a random mid-atlantic city located somewhere in the wet fleshy crease behind a demon’s knee*:
*(confession: i do not live in dc, but several years ago i spent three weeks steaming like a tinned ham in arlington in august. none of the pants i took with me could ever keep a crease again.)
huh! funny thing! “see, dc’s actually seven degrees COOLER,” you say, because you’ve obviously never gone outside and taken a deep lungful of wet sock trash air in your life. and now for added bliss, here’s what early wednesday morning’s gonna be like for these poor clowns:
that’s right! eighty-two percent humidity! the point at which showers no longer matter, because you’re all caught in God’s grease trap! just stressed human eels miserably slip slidin’ their way through a damp melty bathwater-flavored hellscape that feels like it’s actively sous viding their top layer of skin! a hundred thousand people packed into public transit breathing air that feels like deepthroating swamp thing! and you wanna talk to me about fuckin california!
[cue science voice]: human bodies cool through evaporation, a process by which the body sweats and sweet invisible angels towel us off, whisking away our unwanted moisture into the air and literally chilling us out. (it’s also why air conditioned air feels so fucking deliciously refreshing: it’s not just being cooled, it’s being conditioned, aka, dehumidified. it’s cool dry air.) but. if the air is already made out of fucking chowder and can’t absorb shit then guess what the fuck our bodies can’t do.
so is this weak fool gonna remain indoors and hydrated through this only medium-hot but fuckoff-humid season? you bet your dried out ass.
This is poetry.
I fucking laughed till I cried so hard I had to take my glasses off. Jesus Christ that’s one of the funniest things I’ve seen all week.
What do you need to hear right now?
Tell me what you need to hear, I'll say it to you!
“I’m sorry”
I don't know who hurt you friend, but I'm sorry they did. 💙
That I'm capable of making it
You can definitely make it. You have everything inside you you need to be okay in this life. You do have the strength to heal your wounds and the tenacity to recover. 💙
that i deserve love too
All human beings deserve love and that includes you. you deserve to be loved by others and you are allowed to be loved by yourself. 💙
El mundo no se detiene
Lo siento, no hablo español lo suficiente como para responder. 💙
that i’m not a failure despite how much i fail..
There's no such thing as failure, just learning. You are not a failure because you are learning. 💙
that i'm not a bad person for leaving my abusive mum..
You are not a bad person. Not sticking around for abuse is healthy self-care and self-love. It means you are a strong person who can take care of yourself. 💙
This entire thread is beautiful and you are all badass people <3
That I am not repeating her mistakes with my own daughters. That I can escape the cycle and be happy.
You can break the cycle of abuse because you want to. You are strong in heart and you will do whatever you feel is important for you to do. You can be happy and what's more, you can pass that happiness on to your daughters. 💙
That they know now that his actions and attitude is not okay. That he's being kicked out for real since he doesn't like being here that bad. That being stressed is not an excuse to emotionally abuse all of us.
Not only is stress not an excuse for abuse, literally nothing on Earth is an excuse for abuse. 💙
That it's okay that I don't want to forgive them.
That I'm going to be okay.
That I'm going to be safe.
My friend.
You do not have to forgive them.
YOU DO NOT HAVE TO FORGIVE THEM.
In fact, you are allowed to focus on yourself and not think of them at all for a very long time or if you want, never again. They are not important. You are important. Your needs and wants are important and they matter. You are allowed to give yourself the love they didn't give you and you are allowed to completely ignore them in this process. You will be okay because recovery is entirely possible. You will be safe because you will create the boundaries that you need in order to make yourself safe. Even if it takes some time, you have it inside you to do this and you will do it if that's what you want. 💙
This is normal.
It’s ok to have emotions. The only way to heal is to go through and process it.
Denial of being abused by people you trusted will keep you sick.
Emotions are a normal, healthy aspect of the human condition. It is okay for you to feel. In fact it's necessary and unavoidable and totally normal. Recovery does require some emotional exploration, but there's no rush. You're allowed to take your time and to go at a pace that is not too painful for you. You are strong enough inside to tolerate and integrate the difficult emotions and traumatic memories. You are strong enough to face the fact that you were abused and betrayed. You are a Survivor. You were strong enough to survive the heartbreak of abuse and you have the strength to do whatever it takes to heal it. 💙
It's not my responsibility to fix my mom. It's not my responsibility to make it all better. She's making the choice every day to stay in the abusive relationship and I'm not required to make up for the pain she's in. Those aren't my eggshells to walk on.
It is your Mom's responsibility to fix herself and her life. It is every parent's responsibility to do the parenting and to not foist the parenting onto the child. It is not your job to parent her in any way. 💙
I didn't want it
It wasn't my fault
I did nothing wrong
Golden tortoise beetle transforming from gold to red
@gayterenus
When your 24 hour premium skin wears off
Alright, y'all. Bug nerd here. Yes, this is real. This is Charidotella sexpunctata. It’s able change color like this by filling and emptying its elytra (the wing covers) with water. The mirror-like gold effect is caused by it forcing water into separate layers of its elytra, smoothing them out to the point where they actually reflect light. By drawing the water out, the red pigment beneath is exposed. They do this whenever they’re disturbed as a defense mechanism, likely to mimic foul tasting lady beetles.
So, there’s a fun fact.
A spy
high school teachers: if you don’t show up with a dress and full makeup or a fitted tuxedo to class everyday to college your professors will execute you
college professors:
I once had a professor SLAM a thermos down on his desk and say to us “there’s more pressure in my sinuses right now than there is at the bottom of the sea. This thing’s full of NyQuil. I’m going to drink it while I teach, and when your heads are replaced by swirling rainbows, I will cancel the rest of class.” The class ended up being 17 minutes long.
Your professor was trying to fight God
I would marry this man
guys we broke another post because this one’s not showing any notes
When I liked it, it flashed “0 notes”
It’s showing -1 notes
i’m gonna keep reblogging this and you can’t stop me
I liked it and it said ‘1 note’
tf is this crap?
1 NOTE I’VE ONLY COME ACROSS 3 OF THESE POSTS IN MY LIFE
ITS STILL SAID 1 NOTE WTF?????
legendary
What the fuck
YES BUT DID HE GET HIS CAMERA BACK?? WE NEED TO KNOW!
WE WILL NEVER KNOW… =((((
IT still says 0 notes?? WTF!!
This is the first thing I saw on my dash
I’m shook
WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS FUCKERY
SAME HERE!!! I JUST GAVE IT A LIKE AND IT DIDN’T STAY
1 note WTF.
@foolishly-snowy
3rd time and it’s still broken. This lovely cursèd post.
THERE IS ANOTHER ONE?????
still not-works
still + notworks = stotworks.
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still + notworks = stotworks.
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A day will come when i won’t reblog this…
But it is not today
What the fuck is even happening with this post??? Also it’s got 1 note again.
I got a notif saying I was mentioned in this post but I clearly wasn’t
HeY tumblr what the FUCK
Hahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha
Did the man get his camera
I have seen posts that broke the notes. But this is the first time I’ve seen a post that broke the bots.
Me, arriving with an angsty moxiety teenager AU on my hands, and a smoothie: Oh you guys are going to LOVE this-
While putting your favorite condiment on a sandwich, you accidentally make a magical occult symbol and summon a demon.
You silently take two more slices of bread out of the package and make another sandwich. You put it on a plate with a handful of potato chips and hand it to the demon. He takes the sandwich, smiles and vanishes in a puff of demonic smoke. The next day you get that job promotion you were after. There was no contract. No words spoken. You owe nothing. But every now and then, another demon pops in for lunch. Demons don’t often get homemade sandwiches.
Can I keep this going? I’m going to keep this going.
It would be a little annoying, if they weren’t so nice about it. You don’t know what you expected demons to be like, but you certainly didn’t expect them to be nice about it. There’s no demands, no voices like wailing babies, no blood on the walls (well, there was that one time, but Balthazak was very apologetic about the whole thing and cleaned it up right quick). Just the occasional demon stopping by for lunch. In fact, you could almost forget that they weren’t just ordinary people, the way they act. Nice people, too.
You start talking with them, as time goes on. In the beginning you carefully pick your words so they couldn’t be spun to even imply a contract or reference a soul, but when they seem politely eager to have a normal chat, your words become a bit looser. You even begin gossiping with them - turns out, demons have breakroom gossip just like anyone else. You listened to Rek’ththththtyr’s account of Drokyarix’s torrid affair with Irkilliz, and Ferkiyan didn’t even know what Drory was doing behind his back, poor dear, and you kept quiet and let Ferkiyan cry on your shoulder after Drokyarix finally broke up with him (the shirt was a bit of a loss, demon tears are ruinous to cloth, but Ferkiyan’s a good sort and you couldn’t just turn him away). You even managed to talk him down from going and starting a fight with Irkiliz, who didn’t even know that Drokyarix was in a relationship, and who was almost as horrified as Rek’ththththtyr.
After that event in particular, you start to get a sort of a reputation as a place where a demon can come to relax, talk, and - of course - get a sandwich. Your sandwich-making skills have really improved since this whole thing began. Your luck seems to have improved too - you’re not sure if you can attribute the whole thing to the sandwiches and the reputation, but you don’t really want to know anyway.
One day, there’s a bright flash of light from your living room. Nothing unusual in itself - most of the younger demons haven’t quite got the style of their elders, and usually just go for a materialization in a flash of hellfire over your fireplace - except that it’s white instead of the usual red. You look up, and who do you see but an angel looking at you with a spear in his hand. Shrugging, you tell him to sit down and you’ll have a sandwich for him shortly, and meanwhile he can just tell you all about what’s on his mind. This clearly is not at all what he was expecting, but after a moment’s thought, he decides to take you up on your offer and starts talking. Apparently, he’d been dispatched to take care of some demon summoner in the neighborhood, and while he’d evidently got the wrong house the right one shouldn’t be hard to find - have you seen anyone practicing satanic rituals nearby? You laugh, a little, and tell him that you don’t really summon them, they just come on their own. They do like their sandwiches, and they’re quite nice folk.
The angel’s jaw drops, and you remind him to chew with his mouth closed.
And I’m going to take this even further. Here we go.
It took a bit of explaining with the first angel to arrive. Telling him about the first accidental summoning and then how the demons just started stopping by around lunch time on your days off. But once he understood what’s been going on (and finished his sandwich) he nodded solemnly and said he would get this all straightened out “upstairs.”
You eventually start getting more angels coming around for lunch. Sometimes they bring a small dessert for you to share after the sandwiches, and the dishes are always magically clean and back in the cupboard when they leave.
You lean that angels don’t have much of their own drama, but they do know all the truths about human tabloid drama and they’re more than willing to dish on what the Kardashians have been up to.
The first time an angel and a demon show up for lunch on the same day is a little tense. You tell them that ALL are welcome for lunch in your house and that you would prefer it to be a no-conflict zone. It takes a while for them to settle, but eventually they grow comfortable enough to start chatting. Which is when you learn that because demons are technically fallen angels, you’ve been having two sides of an estranged family over for lunch regularly.
Soon, you have an angel and a demon at every lunch. Old friends and estranged siblings meeting up to reconnect over a sandwich at your dinning room table. You help the ones who had a falling out reach an understanding, and you get to hear wild stories of what the “old realm” was like.
One day, as you’re pulling out the bread and cheese, a messenger demon appears. You greet him and tell him a sandwich will be ready soon, but he declines. He is here on behalf of Lucifer to ask if it’s alright by you for him to “enter your dwelling so as to meet with his brother Michael over sandwiches.”
A little stunned, you agree. The demon disappears and you prepare three sandwiches, setting them at the table.
When Lucifer (the actual devil!) appears in small puff of smoke, you welcome him and ask what he’d like to drink. As you’re fetching the apple juice, a blinding flash of light comes from the dinning room indicating Michael’s arrival. You grab a second cup and walk back in to find a tense stand off between the brothers. You set down the cups and juice while calmly reminding them that this is a conflict-free zone, and if they are going to fight, please take it to an alternate plane of existence.
They don’t fight. They sit and enjoy the sandwiches and talk about what happened. You learn a lot about why creation started, what the purpose of humanity was and what it’s grown to be. You only have to diffuse two arguments. And at the end when it’s time for them to leave, they hug each other, agreeing to meet up again somewhere else.
In the following weeks you have the usual assortment of demons and angels stopping by. The regulars ask how you’re mom is doing and if your friend is settling in to their new apartment nicely. At some point during each visit though, they ask if it’s true. Did Lucifer and Michael really come for lunch? You tell them yes, but won’t say what was talked about. They’re disappointed, everyone likes the gossip, but they understand. Before they leave, you ask each angel and demon about this idea you have for the summer, what if you had a barbecue on the back patio for everyone who wanted to come? They think it sounds like a fun idea.
Yep, I’m picking up, here we go!
Everyone had a lot of fun at the barbecue. There wasn’t much fighting, but some sparks and noises made you grateful your neighbors were either out of town or older/deaf. There was a great three-legged race and a small football game with parties on all sides involved, you’d never fixed so much food before.
Then, two latecomers. Angels and demons alike gasped in shock and parted like the Red Sea (Which, apparently, is a VERY exaggerated story) to let them pass.
You smile warmly and ask what they’d like. Both decline to answer that, looking at each other awkwardly. The demon bows its head to let the angel speak first.
God Himself heard the fun and wanted to come join the barbecue.
You look at the messenger demon, the same one as before, and as you insist that “Oh, you really should stay this time!”, you’re told that Lucifer ALSO wants to come to your barbecue.
You look between the two. You tell them you won’t deny one or the other, but that they must keep in mind that this is a neutral zone and you won’t have their conflicts interfere with the atmosphere.
Both vanish momentarily (after each taking a plate of food). There’s a long, awkward silence.
Lucifer arrives first, flash of fire in the firepit, coming over to get a burger. He doesn’t look… displeased. But he’s not necessarily happy.
There’s a beautiful flash of white light and a rainbow, and then God descends onto your back porch. Your long-dead flowers spring back to life in His presence. Shit, now you actually have to go back to taking care of them.
The two regard each other from across the backyard. There’s still complete silence from the crowd of angels and demons.
You clear your throat. “What do you two want to eat? I have burgers, hot dogs, chicken, and some vegetarian alternatives.”
They slowly look at you. You return each of their gazes. “This is a no-conflict zone. We’re all here to have a good time at a good barbecue.”
More silence. Then, Lucifer dishes himself a burger and goes to prepare it the way he wants. God approaches calmly and looks over your vegetarian palette (Not the best, but it would do in a quick pinch, you found out just yesterday that some of the attendees would be vegetarian), fixing Himself some food as well.
As this goes on, the others begin to relax, and soon, everyone goes back to having a good time. The food is great, desserts brought by your angelic guests really compliment the meals you cooked, nobody starts sacrificing anybody or arguements (except later there’s a massive water gun/water balloon fight that knocked Michael into the fire pit and got ashes all over his bRAND NEW ROBES, DROKYARIX! but everyone laughed it off and carried on), and as you sit on your porch, taking in the sights, you wonder to yourself if you should do this kind of thing more often, and if you would have had this situation any other way.
Nope, you decide, when God hits Lucifer with a water balloon as he’s trying to refill his super soaker, you really wouldn’t have this any other way.
This is so wholesome
She’s happy to let me die.
Six word stories! Can you write a six word story about abuse? The challenge is to imply a beginning, middle, end in only 6 words. That’s really hard so even if you can’t do all that, totally still participate!
Blades on skin leave permanent marks
He told me not to scream
He told them I liked it
Were you two just playing rough?
There's no proof, so you're lying
When I bled, he just laughed
They're your problems, you fix it
I have more, but this is all I could think of off the top of my head
Leafblowers trigger my PTSD.
It used to be all yard working power tools, because they’re loud, but I’ve worked it out so all the other ones are okay for me, but there’s something about the high whine of the leaf blower that makes me want to curl up into a ball and eject spines from my skin.
When I tell people who don’t have PTSD about this sort of thing, they really don’t receive it well. It’s hard for people who weren’t abused understand how everyday things can throw us for such a loop.
What everyday* thing triggers your PTSD?
*Everyday thing, as in seemingly inoccuous, happens all the time, ordinary stuff
Whenever I hear the name "Sean", redheaded boys, people bumping into me from behind, hearing certain words said in a certain way such as "Shut up", " If you (almost anything)... Then maybe I'll stop", people grabbing my wrist or arm a certain way even if only by accident or trying to catch me, tapping on my shoulder, loud sudden noises (like dropping a book on the ground), the end of May and all throughout June (I know that's a weird one, but I have my reasons), the name "Dave" or "David", being called a bitch in a certain, angry tone, being called my full first name.
I've learned to cope with a few of these, but they still effect me on a daily in some way, shape, or form. By family doesn't believe I have PTSD or depression or anything like that, so it's a struggle for me when they cause these things, not realizing it really effects me.