#like seriously y'all fucking get over yourselves

[xxlovelynovaxx]

The whole point is you don't know if they're fem cis men. You don't know if they're trans men. You don't know if they're trans women deeply closeted for their safety. You don't know if they're trans women whom misgendering will drive them further AWAY from their egg cracking and harm them. You. Don't. Know.

Misgendering is bad. "Clocking" someone is bad. Making assumptions about someone's identity and then turning it into a "joke" is bad. What's funny about misgendering someone?

Also, this discourse is literally in the context of the queer community. It's literally in the context of the queer community having an antimasculinity and gender essentialism problem. It's also in the context of gender stereotypes and the fact that smelling like flowers or painting your nails making you a girl doesn't become less of a harmless stereotype because it's a trans woman saying it. Like oh wow we went full circle from "girls play with dolls and like pink" to "trans girls play with dolls and like pink". Congrats on alienating every non-femme trans woman and femme trans non-woman.

It's not fucking transmisogyny to tell you not to misgender people or assume liking frilly things makes someone a girl. It's not fucking transmisogyny to tell you that the QUEER and especially TRANS communities have an issue with valorizing femininity while demonizing masculinity. It's not fucking transmisogyny to acknowledge this while acknowledging that actual transmisogyny demonizes transfemininity while infantilizing and erasing transmasculinity.

I'm putting the word transmisogyny on a high shelf until the rest of y'all learn what it actually fucking means. Transmisogyny isn't when an entitled white trans woman gets called out for doing actual harm. Like "joking" about misgendering someone. Or "joking" about being racist and going through a "nazi phase". Or "joking" about "raping cuntboys". It might be affirming that some queer people take your white woman's tears at face value, but here's the thing:

You're lovely women who deserve to have every access to transition, to resources, to be treated equally to cis people. You're just really fucking shitty people. You're bigots, you're cruel, you're cliquey, and you're like every boring high school mean girl who never grew out of pettily bullying other vulnerable people to get over the pathetic inadequacies of your own life circumstances.

People like that deserve community and kindness too. They also deserve not to have their behavior tolerated and to have to deal with compassionate rehabilitative justice. Those things can both be true, especially when the people they are hurting explain until our throats are raw how they're hurting us and they just keep doing it. Because the thing is, it's not actually about any "societal pressure to transition", and the fact you think it is shows you haven't listened to a single actual criticism anyone has had of the whole "egg discourse".

Other people have already explained more patiently and eloquently than me what exactly the problem with calling someone an egg is. I'd think you'd be concerned minimally with how it hurts actual transfem eggs more than anything, even if you don't care about how it very much does hurt transmascs and GNC cis men and the movement of transfeminism as a damn whole to insist "haha liking fem things=woman".

Explain what's funny about that. I'll wait.

Anyway, this was reblogged from someone I long ago considered a friend, someone I thought was better than this. I really thought most trans people were better than this when I first entered the community. I still hope some are. You deserve to be told that this is wrong, because you deserve to be reminded that you're better people than this kind of bullshit.

-your utterly over it neighborhood intersex transneufemmasc

#I AM a fucking trans woman and you'll never fucking convince me that joking about misgendering people is okay #regardless of their actual identity #or that joking about clocking people is okay #or the harm this does to actual eggs is okay #or the harm this does to transmascs and GNC folks is okay #or the ways this sets both cisfeminism and transfeminism back to the fucking 90s at least is okay #y'all are as bad as bigoted comedians clinging to the same unfunny jokes and crying bigotry just bc people tell you it's bigoted #like seriously y'all fucking get over yourselves #discourse cw

[macfrog]

ride it, cowgirl cowboy like me chapter ten

hey dudes. anyone up for some dbf? i seriously can't thank you guys enough for all the love y'all show this series. blows my mind every time. i have been super excited for this chapter for a WHILE. might be my fave so far. who knows. you can grab chapters 1-9 on my masterlist and also my ao3 if ur feeling fancy. love u all sm!!!!!! ✨💘💫

pairing: dbf!joel x fem!reader

summary: joel picks you up from a girls’ night. you’ve plans for when you get home

warnings: 18+ (minors dni!!!) reader isn't an astrology girlie (sorry), more pining beCAUSE, alcohol consumption + a mention of the devil’s lettuce, very quick bit of unwanted touching, even quicker bit of protective joel, soft!joel, softdom!joel, one tiny mention of daddy, protected piv sex this time (feeling conservative slutty max will return), reader rides him into the sunset, age gap (reader is 23, joel is 48), cursing

word count: 6.7k

series masterlist | main masterlist | playlist

You lazily drag yourself over and over Joel’s dick, each stroke drawing you nearer and nearer to your high. When your body starts to falter, you feel him shift, and open your eyes to see him leaning over to the nightstand. His fingers grip the rim of the black cowgirl hat you’d worn that night. He lies back, flat against the mattress, and reaches up, placing the hat on top of your head. You smile. Joel speaks in a low, gentle, but commanding whisper. “There you go, cowgirl. Show me how it’s done.”

You never believed much in the power of the universe. Astrology, moons, manifestation. Whatever. None of it ever really meant much to you. You knew your star sign, knew which cool little symbol resembled you, and that was about it. Everything past that was…confusing and, frankly, a little overwhelming.

However.

If the universe were to send you a sign, one huge, fluorescent, multi-colored, in-your-face sign, that it was on your side…this weekend might just be it.

Your dad’s downstairs, finishing up packing for his work trip. His departure is imminent. Sarah’s been in Nashville since last night. A series of texts she sent you at 3AM riddled with spelling errors and heart emojis tell you she’s been having a pretty good time so far.

You are Joel are…alone. All by yourselves. For a whole…twenty hours.

Can’t have it all, I guess.

Your eyes skim down the texts you sent him this morning, texts he is yet to reply to.

You: Merry Christmas!!!

You took his non-reply for confusion – he is almost fifty, maybe he doesn’t get the joke? It’s a pretty lame joke, anyways. Very lame. If your thumb hovers over the send button before you press it, it’s probably not that great a joke. And your thumb had most definitely hovered. So, you’d followed it up.

You: As in, today’s the day

You: I don’t mean it’s actually Christmas

You: I mean like, happy ‘we’re finally gonna be alone again’ day

You: Never mind

“Hello?” Anna’s voice cuts through your train of thought. “Are you even listening to me?”

You drop your phone, shaking your head clear of Joel. “Yep. Sorry. Just didn’t catch that last part. You froze.”

The image of her on your – pretty fucking dusty – laptop screen rolls its eyes, knowing you’re lying. “I don’t know whether to go with the pink or the black boots,” she says.

“Ain’t your dress yellow?”

Her head falls into her hands. She throws herself down onto her bed and slides her laptop closer. “That was, like, ten minutes ago. I’m goin’ with the pink strappy one now.”

“Pink does say rodeo.”

“Fuck you,” she snaps through a giggle. “Remind me what you’re wearin’, again.”

“Black hat, black boots, black dress.”

“You’re so boring.”

“Thanks. Really looking forward to our night out.”

Anna snorts and then stands back up, strides over to her closet and resumes rummaging. “Black jacket, too?” she calls over her shoulder.

“Uhuh,” you reply, glancing back down to your phone. “Although – it has rhinestones. And tassels. Not so boring after all, huh?”

Anna’s silence drags your eyes from the text thread back to your laptop screen. She’s frozen in place, twisted around with a dress in her hands, jaw on the floor. “Show it to me. Now.”

“Hold on,” you roll over and off your bed, your shoulder stiff from the position you’d been lying in, “I think I left it downstairs.”

“Tell your dad I say hey!”

You pad down the carpeted stairs in your socks, toward the sunlit hallway.

“Dad, have you seen my– Oh, fuck.”

As you round the corner at the bottom of the stairs, glancing over your left shoulder to the front door, your chest knocks into something hard. Steady. Strong.

Something you recognize the feel of before you’ve given him a proper look.

“Mind your step, baby,” Joel says, and your heart leaps.

“What the fuck are you doin’ here?” you whisper, peering around his body to look for your dad.

“He’s out front,” Joel tells you, then takes your shoulder and reels you in against his chest. “’m just here to help ‘im with his GPS.”

He plants a kiss on the top of your head and gives you a squeeze. Your head rests safely on his chest, arms link at his back. If you didn’t have plans tonight, and if your dad wasn’t, like, ten feet from you guys right now, you’d never let him go. Just follow him around, vice grip around his waist, surrounded by the smell and feel of him.

Not that that means anything. You’d do other stuff, too. You’re not…you know.

Your dad’s voice streams in through the open door and Joel releases you.

“It ain’t for workin’, Joel, I’m about to throw it at the f– Hey, kiddo.”

“Hey. What’s the matter with your GPS?”

You lean in to the tiny device in his hands. Joel’s elbow comes up to rest on your shoulder.

“Just won’t connect to the car. Every time I plug it in, it just…” He lifts his hands, screen loose in his fingers, and hands you a bewildered look.

You look at him, expressionless. “Why don’t you just use your phone?”

“Because I paid almost a hundred bucks for this thing, and I’ll be damned if I’m– Alright,” he stops himself, eyes shutting in exasperation, “I already explained this to him. I ain’t justifyin’ myself to the two of you.”

Joel’s laughing behind his hand, pretending to scratch his nose when your dad stalks off to the kitchen and throws the device down, snatching the instructions off the table.

The pair of you follow, both still trying to swallow your laughter. Joel wanders around the table and sits down beside your dad, fumbling with the screen. You dive into the coat closet at the bottom of the stairs and fish out your bejeweled, tasseled jacket.

“You lookin’ forward to your girls’ night?” Joel asks, eyes flitting up and down the leather jacket in your hands.

“Mhm,” you reply, opening your mouth to continue when your dad butts in.

“S’posed to be a girls’ night, but that boy Sam’s crashin’ it, ain’t he?”

“Well, we asked him.” You shrug. “It’s his night off.”

Your dad scoffs, shaking his head to Joel, who looks up to you with a confused expression. “’s the big deal with that?”

“Oh, wise up, Miller. He’s only goin’ ‘cause of…” He wags a finger in your direction, and a smirk peels across Joel’s lips.

“Is he, now?”

“Uhuh,” your dad replies, intense stare still on the instructions in front of him. “Makes no damn sense. I plugged it in using the cable they gave me in the box. Stupid thing…”

You shake your head to Joel, who’s still looking at you, bemused. He knows you and Sam are just friends. Also knows your dad is the most oblivious theorist to walk the planet. Just aiming his gun at the wrong target, is all.

“I’m gonna let you two get back to…that,” you say, turning to head back upstairs. “Anna says hi, by the way.”

Your dad’s eyebrows rise once, his eyes never lifting from his GPS. “Hi, Anna.”

“Hey, Anna,” Joel echoes, smirk on his lips.

“Not to you,” you throw back, hopping up the first step. You hear his chuckle as you disappear.

----------

Anna’s reaction to your jacket in person matches that over Facetime: a deafening squeal. A squeal which she repeats almost every damn time she sees you throughout the night.

“So – fucking – cute!” she exclaims for the fifth time, fingers dancing through the tassels. “And it goes so well with your hat.”

You sip on your cocktail, nodding enthusiastically, pushing your eyebrows up underneath the brim of the black cowgirl hat on your head. Trying to match her energy. Your mind’s elsewhere.

Joel texted you a few hours ago. Told you to have a good night, said something about Sam, but you were stood right next to the dude, so you quickly locked your phone and slipped it back into your clutch.

Now, standing with your back against the wall of Franks, watching Sam play pool with Eve, you feel safe enough to read over the message.

Joel: Have fun baby. Be safe. Tell Sam good luck from me.

You squint at the screen, pulling it away from your face and leaning back in to read it over. Good luck? The fuck does he mean –

You: Good luck??

He replies almost instantly.

Joel: Yeah. Good luck winning you over. Took me, what, a week?

Oh, fuck off. You roll your eyes and throw your phone facedown onto the table where Anna and Kara sit, about twenty minutes deep into a conversation you missed the beginning of.

Your attention turns to the room before you – brick-walled, metal dome lightshades hanging over each pool table. Glass-paneled door to your left leading back through to the main bar. For being a tiny bar on a backstreet, Frank’s is pretty lively. There are bodies everywhere, bumping by each other, drunken arms slung over shoulders, hips swaying with the soft rock song blasting from out front.

You imagine your dad here with Joel, maybe Hank and Bill, too. Playing pool, beer bottles resting on the felt while they take their shot. Or sat on the rooftop, sipping on a whiskey. Talking about you and Sarah. What does Joel say about you when you’re not around?

And what does he want to say, but can’t, ‘cause it’s your dad? What does he think, and bite back when it bubbles to the surface?

Your straw gargles, slurping up the last few sips of your drink. You lean over to Anna and Kara, holding your empty glass up.

“Another?”

They both shake their heads, and you nod, turning on your own back to the bar.

You squeeze between two older women, both dressed smart and sharp. One of them – clutching a Manhattan – shifts out of the way as you pass.

“…one more conversation with him about squash,” she tells her companion, “and I am gonna blow my brains out…”

You edge over to the bar and slot into a free space, propping your elbows up on the wood. One of Sam’s coworkers – her name escapes you – notices you and shuffles over, smiling sweetly.

“How you doin’?” she asks, running a damp cloth inside a tumbler.

“Good,” you reply. “Could I just get a Bud, please?”

“Sure thing,” she says, and reaches behind to grab one. You slide her a note and she hands you change, and then you’re on your way back to the pool room.

As you slink by the two women, a weight knocks into your shoulder, almost sending your beer flying out of your hand.

“Sorry,” a rough voice sputters on your left, and you glance in its direction. Some broad dude in a tight t-shirt.

“’s fine,” you mumble, clutching your hat; a smell of weed choking your throat.

He passes by behind you, one hand lingering a little too long on your waist, and you saunter back over to Anna and Kara.

“That dude stinks, right?” Anna whispers behind a cupped hand, and you snort.

“He smells like he’s having a good night.”

“We’re talking about Romeo and Juliet over there. We’re basically third, fourth, and fifth wheeling,” Kara says, nodding over to Sam and Eve, who’re finished their game of pool and have now graduated to darts.

“I don’t…think that’s a thing.”

“Eve asked me if Sam was single earlier,” Anna says, lifting her straw to her red lips.

“What?” Kara spits out, choking on her drink. “Eve has a boyfriend!”

Anna giggles. “He’s kinda an ass, anyway. Look at them, they’re so sweet.”

“You say sweet, I hear morally wrong.”

“Who says it’s morally wrong?” you chirp, alcohol pushing the words over your lips before your brain’s had time to stop them. Your fingers clutch your phone, still laying on the table where you left it. “You?”

“Uh, it’s cheating, dude. What if Nick found out?”

“’s not that big a deal,” you reply, phone screen lighting your face in a blue hue, “they’re just having fun.”

Anna points to you, lifting her glass. “Here’s to havin’ fun, I guess.”

Kara lifts her own reluctantly and they clink, but you’re distracted. Already typing a message to Joel. Bored. Drunk. Morally wrong.

You: What you doing?

Joel: Watching TV. What you doing?

You: What ya watvhin ?

Joel: None of your business. Go get another drink. Looks like you’re not drunk enough.

You lift your head with a giggle, almost ready to turn your phone around to Anna and Kara and say, look what the dude I’m sleeping with just text me. And then, thankfully, your good sense kicks in and you bring the screen closer to your chest.

You: Kinda bored. Wanna come home now please

Bored, horny. It all means the same.

Joel says he’ll be at Frank’s in twenty minutes. You rest your chin on your palm and watch as Sam cheers Eve for hitting bullseye.

“I think they’re cute,” you whisper.

Anna and Kara are already preoccupied, taking photos of one another across the table. Kara leans into you and you smile, flash blinding your hazy eyes for a few minutes afterward. A few more pictures, couple boomerangs of your glasses cheersing, and then your phone’s vibrating.

Joel: Outside. No rush.

That last part is where he’s wrong. There most definitely is a rush, and it’s in the form of the heat that starts to pool between your legs.

“Alright,” you shimmy off your barstool and stretch your back. “My ride’s here.”

“What?” Anna almost screams, her hand slapping down on the table. “You’re leavin’?”

You nod. “Sorry, babe.”

“Don’t babe me, traitor. It’s, like, midnight.”

“Uh, it’s, like, almost 2AM. I’m tired. I don’t know how y’all do it.”

She sighs, conceding, and agrees to walk with you to the front door. Kara and Eve stop off by the bar to grab another drink. Sam holds the door open for you and Anna and you’re hit by a wave of cold night air, instantly cooling your hot, sweaty skin.

“Is that…Mr. Miller?” Anna asks, mouth falling wide open.

You glance down the street and notice his black truck, parked up by the curb. “Mhm,” you reply, “my dad’s out of town, so he’s picking me up.”

“Can he take me home, too?”

Sam snickers. “Wow, Anna. That’s just…Wow.”

She shrugs, lips closing around her straw as she stares at Joel’s truck. Something inside you lurches at the idea of Joel sitting there, his eyes glued on you, watching everything you do, everyone around you. And then again at the thought of Anna and her doting gaze on him.

“Alright, I guess that’s my cue to skip.”

Anna pouts. “One more drink?”

“I’m good, thanks,” you scoff, patting her head affectionately. I got business to attend to.

You give her a quick kiss on the cheek and Sam wraps an arm around your shoulder, giving it a squeeze before you’re wandering off toward Joel’s truck.

“Hey.” Something – someone – hooks around your elbow, and you turn back. It’s that same guy who stank of weed.

“Hi,” you reply, as sweet as you can, but trying to loosen his grip.

“Saw you inside, you out with friends?”

“Mhm. I’m just leavin’, my–”

“Few of us are headed upstairs. You wanna come?”

You glare at him a few seconds, before yanking your arm from his grasp. “Nah, no thanks. I’m leaving. Have a good night.”

You stagger off, feeling his eyes on you as you go. Joel’s truck headlights switch on, dazzling your eyes, and you quickly click around to the passenger side, throwing yourself in beside him.

Joel doesn’t say hey, doesn’t squeeze your thigh, doesn’t even look at you when you settle into the seat. Just asks –

“Who’s that kid?”

“Uh…not sure. Bumped into ‘im in the bar.”

“He give you trouble?”

“No,” you lean over the console, pulling your seatbelt over your body, and flash him a tipsy grin, “thought that was my job. Givin’ trouble.”

Joel doesn’t reply. Doesn’t take his scowl off the dude outside Frank’s, either. Your eyes meander across to his hand, locked in a tight fist around the wheel. Your smile drops.

“Joel. It’s fine. Can we go?”

When you lift a hand to the crook of his elbow and he feels your warmth on his skin, he tears his gaze away and it lands on you. Soft, gentle. His lip isn’t curled anymore. His brows lift.

His eyes watch your lips as you whisper the words to him.

“Want you to take me home.”

“’s go, pretty girl.”

----------

Joel refuses, no matter how many times you ask, how hard you bat your eyelashes, how many promises you make, to stop by a drive thru.

“Please?” you ask one last time before he’s pulling in to his neighborhood.

He shakes his head. “Look at that, we’re already home.”

“I ain’t takin’ no for an answer, Miller, not until the engine’s off. We’re still driving.”

He doesn’t reply. Just pulls up in his drive, cuts the engine, and looks at you. Shrugs. “Oops.”

“Fuck you,” you groan, sliding down in your seat. “I’m starvin’.”

“Make you a big breakfast in the mornin’, how’s that sound?”

“Wanted a Big Mac, but whatever.”

Your fingers fumble for the door handle, clicking it open. You roll out of the truck and stroll around to meet Joel at the driver’s side. He snakes an arm around your shoulders, steadying you as you walk up his porch steps and into the house.

“I’m fine,” you murmur, glancing around his living room.

“Alright,” he says, tossing his keys and kicking his boots off.

Your eyes settle on the TV screen, paused. Probably around the time you text him. There’s a crowded hospital room onscreen, doctors in dark blue scrubs, all surrounding someone lying on a bed, someone who looks pretty familiar…

“Is that…fuckin’…Grey’s Anatomy…?”

Joel chuckles, peeling your jacket from your shoulders.

“That’s Meredith! When she–”

“She fell in the damn river,” Joel mutters, placing the tasseled leather over the back of his couch. “Derek had to go in after her. Intense stuff.”

“Right? I told you it was good!” You smack his arm. “I can’t believe you’re watchin’ it without me.”

“I ain’t watchin’ it,” he protests, “it was just on, ‘n I needed something to keep me awake. I’m still rooting for Meredith ‘n George.”

“We can watch it from the beginning.”

“Yeah?”

You nod, moving over to him. “And then I can be over here all the time, and you can make me all the grilled cheese I want, and we can lie in bed and…do stuff.” Your chin rests on his chest, flashing him a toothy grin. Hands swinging in his at your side.

Joel’s eyes narrow, but there’s a smirk on his lips. “You’re drunk.”

“I’m not drunk. I had a couple drinks. I’m not drunk.”

“H’many fingers am I holdin’ up?” Joel asks, raising his fist. You punch it away.

“Ha-ha,” you say tonelessly, and wander away from him.

“Baby,” he calls you from behind. Sure, you’re tipsy, and he can be a cocky asshole – especially when he has to take care of you, but that’s a sound you’ll never get tired of hearing. Baby. You’re his darlin’, his sweet girl.

You spin around, very nearly losing your footing, and he’s standing with an arm out, ready for you to take.

You smile dumbly. Meander over, and take his strong hand in both of yours, wrapping your fingers around two of his to let him reel you in against his body.

“C’mon,” he whispers, as you lean against his frame. “Let’s get you upstairs.”

You follow him up, knowing where he’s leading you. You’ve spent more time in there the last few weeks than you have your entire life.

His room is cool, not cold, but comfortable. It’s Joel all over; the muted colors, the décor, the smell that calms you as soon as you stumble over the threshold.

He sits you down on the edge of his bed and kneels, pulling your boots off one by one.

You giggle.

“You laughin’ at me?”

“You’re like my own personal tr…No, not trainer. Wait. Personal ch–”

“Chef?” he says, snorting. “Not chef. Try again, soberhead.”

“Oh, I dunno.” You throw your arms up as he sits your boots against the wall, then stands and takes your hat off.

“This,” he says, placing it on the nightstand at your side of the bed, “is very cute. I like it.”

“I’m cute, too, y’know,” you whisper, pouting.

He smiles, and leans down to give you a quick kiss on the lips, pointer finger under your chin.

“The cutest.”

“Ha!” you roar. Joel twists around you to undo the zipper at the back of your dress. “Joel Miller thinks I’m the cutest. Take that, Anna…”

He laughs. When he unzips you, he pulls the dress off your bare chest and down your legs. You don’t shy away, used to the idea now of him seeing you naked. Used to the idea of him seeing you in any vulnerable state; drunk, or naked, or in a sobbing mess on day two of your period.

You notice, even though you’re a tad dizzy with what alcohol is left in your system, that his eyes linger on your panties a moment before he turns and grabs a tee from a chair.

And something inside you ticks.

“Joel?”

He’s pulling the shirt over your head. It smells like him. Intoxicates you much more and much quicker than any drink you could order from Frank’s.

“Mhm?”

You feed both arms through the sleeves, swallowing the question you were about to ask. He’s standing up now, telling you to get into bed.

He walks over to his dresser and begins removing his own clothing. He only sleeps in boxershorts. Your eyes track him as he yanks his t-shirt up over his toned shoulders; fingers undo his belt, unzip his jeans. Everything is discarded to the side for now; he has something more pressing to attend to.

His best friend’s daughter, laying in his bed, a pool of wet forming in her panties.

He just doesn’t know it yet.

As he slips under the covers beside you, you pull off your underwear in one quick movement. Joel doesn’t seem to notice, or so you think; his arms immediately take hold of your waist and pull you against his body. You’ve gotten into the habit of sleeping pressed against his torso, his thigh between your legs. Joel settles comfortably with you draped over him, and lets out a deep sigh.

“Joel?” you whisper again into the darkness, growing braver.

“Hm?” he replies, starting to fall asleep.

You toss ideas over in your head. None of them good, you’re sure, but you’re getting desperate. How he can’t feel your damp core on his thigh, you’ve no idea.

But then, maybe he can? Joel doesn’t miss anything, especially not where you and your…arrangement are concerned. Can he feel you? Is he deliberately ignoring it?

Maybe he has something up his own sleeve?

“I…was just wondering…”

“Wondering what, darlin’?” His voice is muffled, spoken through unmoving lips. You glance up at his face. His eyes are closed.

You grow more desperate.

“…wondering what your body count is?”

You ask it as innocently as you can, your voice wavering on the words body count. It gets him, though, as his eyes blink open a few seconds after you say it.

“I ain’t tellin’ you that. Go to sleep.” He closes them again.

“I wanna know.”

He ignores you.

“Joel,” you moan.

He calls you by name now, and you’re not sure if you’re pissing him off or turning him on – or both.

“Go. To. Sleep.”

“I’m not tired, though. Not yet.”

In response, Joel lets go of his hold on you and rolls over without another word. It’d sting if you weren’t soaking wet right now, and didn’t have a strong hunch he was hardening under the sheets.

“Joooel…” you whine, sitting up on your elbow. No use.

You take hold of his shoulder and tug him back toward you, rolling him onto his back. Like a deadweight, he remains frozen.

“Ugh,” you groan, and drag yourself on top of him, knees either side of his waist, ass hovering. When you sit back onto him, your core lining up with his crotch, your suspicions are proven right.

He’s hard.

Not as hard as he can get, as you’d like him to be, as you’ve felt him before…but he’s hard.

“Joel…” you mewl into the darkness, starting to grind your bare center over his boxers. The friction feels good, so you apply more pressure.

“If you don’t stop that,” Joel’s voice finally grumbles, “I’ll be sleepin’ downstairs.”

“Sex in the living room sounds good to me.”

His eyes open. “We,” one hand comes up to point between the both of you, as if he doesn’t expect your sobering self to understand which pairing he means, “are not having sex. No sex tonight.”

You sigh, shoulders dropping dramatically.

“Huff all you want, baby, it is not happening.”

“Why?”

“Why? Because you’re a few drinks too deep and it’s three in the morning. I’m tired, it’s been a long night waitin’ for you, I–”

“So let me make it up to you. I ain’t even drunk anymore.”

“No?”

“Nuh-uh. Could count any number a’ fingers you put in front of me.”

“Funny.” He closes his eyes.

“Joel.” You drag your hips again. If anything, he’s harder than he was when you first sat down on him. “I had a few drinks, I’ve sobered up. C’mon…”

You bend your waist and lower yourself to align your lips with the side of his head, peppering the skin under his ear with soft kisses.

“I wanna ride you, daddy.”

This gets him. His eyes open again, staring up at the ceiling. His hands slowly come up to rest on your hips.

“Don’t– That’s low, even for you, kid.”

You giggle and straighten up. When your hands lightly trace down his chest, onto his midriff and follow the trail of hair to his boxers, he doesn’t stop you. Just watches from beneath hooded lids, tensing at each point your fingers touch.

You raise your eyebrows, watching his expression for any sign to stop, and it never comes. He remains in place when your fingertips hook around the waistband of his underwear, slowly pulling down.

Joel breathes in deep when you reveal the tip of his cock, springing up to rest on his lower stomach. You feel your core clench. If he’s not inside you in the next five minutes, you might scream.

Well, you’ll be screaming either way.

You look back into his eyes and tilt your jaw, asking for permission.

“Go on,” he whispers.

Your hands take him eagerly, pumping up and down his shaft, and his head falls back onto the pillow with pleasure.

“Uhuh,” you mumble, focusing on his solid dick, but desperate for more. You give him a gentle squeeze and a groan passes his lips, his grip tightening on your body.

You let go of him and grind your hips along his length, folds coating his shaft in your wetness. Joel’s humming, watching as you pull yourself up and down him.

Then, you lean forward, and your hands take hold of him again. You give him a couple more strokes, eliciting a deep groan, and then line his bare cock up at your entrance, practically foaming at the mouth to sink down on him already.

“Woah, woah,” Joel takes hold of your wrist, “slow down, cowgirl. I gotta get a condom.”

You huff as he leans over to his nightstand and opens the drawer. “Don’t want one, Joel, I’m on the pill.”

“No way, baby,” he says through a chuckle, silver wrapper in his fingers. “We already did that, one too many times.”

“So just pull out?”

“Nope.”

You sigh, frustrated.

Joel holds the packet out to you, smirk on his face like he doesn’t expect you to take it.

So, you do.

You steal it from him and tear the wrapper, fishing the rubber out between your two fingers. Pinching the top, you roll it down his shaft and pump up and down for good measure.

“Ready?” you ask, head tilted, cocky smile on your lips.

“Wait, wait,” he whispers, shoulders lifting off the mattress. He lifts the hem of your shirt, telling you, “Off,” before pulling it over your head, exposing your bare breasts.

He stares you down; legs wide open, straddling him, completely naked, nipples hardened, figure silhouetted against the slivers of light peeking through the shades from the streetlights outside. You’ve never felt so confident, mounted on top of Joel fucking Miller.

His eyes roll back and his head falls against the pillow. “Fuckin’ – knock yourself out, baby.”

You steady yourself with one hand on his chest, the other taking hold of his cock and guiding it to your entrance. You push his head through your folds a couple times, and Joel hisses at the feeling, before you sink down.

You stop after the tip the first time, but it draws the same reaction from you both. Joel groans even louder than before, and you moan as you push yourself back up.

Then, without warning, you sink the whole way down.

He’s so deep it brings tears to your eyes, so big that he’s stretching you out more than you thought possible, hitting all the right spots already before you’ve even begun.

Joel’s eyes are screwed shut, his grip on your hips digging into your skin so tight it almost hurts. His jaw is tight, holding back what you can only imagine are the neediest moans he could sound.

So, you decide to draw them from him.

You lean forward and begin bouncing, feeling his thickness pull out and push back into you, both hands on Joel’s chest now for balance. You’re whimpering, the burn of his cock stretching your tight cunt so good and borderline painful at the same time, but you don’t stop.

“Good girl, good fuckin’ girl,” Joel moans, opening his eyes to watch you ride his dick. “’attagirl, just like that.”

“Joel…” you cry, letting him bottom out each time, feeling his balls slam into your ass with each bounce.

“Yeah? You like that? Tell me, baby, use your words.”

“So – good – Joel – oh!” you shout.

“Such a good fuckin’ girl for me, huh?”

You fight against the urge to close your eyes; the pleasure between your legs and the knot beginning to tighten in your stomach are all you can see, hear, feel, but you want to watch him some more. You want to see what you do to him.

You lean forward even further, moving your hands to the pillow either side of his head, so you’re directly above him now. One of Joel’s hands comes to the back of your head, pulling you down until your foreheads are together, moans escaping your mouths only to be inhaled by the other.

Joel speaks to you quieter, through gritted teeth.

“Like ridin’ me, do ya? Like the way it feels?”

“Mhm,” you moan back, and he brings a hand down to slap your ass. You yelp. “Fuck…”

“You look so good, baby, so good. Such a fuckin’ whore for me, hm?”

Another stinging spank pulls a whine from you so filthy, so loud that you’re sure the neighbors will hear, even at this hour. Joel smirks back, resting his hand back on your hip, where he has a grip of you.

Then, he bucks his own hips, pushing into you deeper than before, so deep you see stars. Your mouth falls open in a silent moan, panting through the searing pain so good that you never want it to end.

“Joel – I’m gonna – fuck, I’m gonna cum!”

“That’s it, sweet girl, cum all over me. Let go, baby, I’m here.”

That does it. The coil snaps, your walls clench. Joel lets out a guttural moan as you throw your head back and ride him through your orgasm. He coos you through it, squeezing your hips, whispering, That’s my girl, doin’ so good, baby as your body rocks back and forth on his cock.

When you come back down to earth, your lids heavy and breathing staggered, you swear your body can’t take anymore. You feel so fucked out that you’re not sure you can sit up straight on top of Joel.

But he’s always been able to read your mind, and this is no different. He pulls himself up and into you, propped up with one strong hand on the mattress behind his back, the other wrapping around your waist. His cock is still buried deep inside you.

“Joel…” you whimper pathetically. “Can’t do it anymore…”

“That’s okay, baby, we’re gonna do this one together, alright? I got you. Can you do that for me? Just one more?”

You link your arms around his neck and lean into him; his strong form doesn’t shift, just takes on your weight and keeps the both of you upright as he starts to bounce you on his length again.

You’re overstimulated; your cunt swollen, fucked-out, drenched in cum, but Joel makes you feel so good that it’s impossible to let him stop. Your arms pull him in closer to your chest to steady yourself, and his groans echo in your ear.

“Good girl, that’s– that’s it, so fuckin’ tight for me, pretty girl.”

When it all becomes too much to take – Joel’s hand squeezing your waist, your clit rutting against the bottom of his stomach, his fucking cock buried so deep inside you that you swear you can feel him splitting you open – you push him back down onto the bed.

Once when you still lived in New York you read something in a Cosmo about spelling the word ‘coconut’ with your hips when riding a guy. You’d tried it a couple times with hookups, and it’d never done anything for you. They’d never done anything for you.

But here you are, nearing your second orgasm, on top of someone making such a mess of you that you brain can hardly compute to spell coconut, never mind your hips being able to round the shape of the word.

You lazily drag yourself over and over Joel’s dick, each stroke drawing you nearer and nearer to your high. When your body starts to falter, you feel him shift, and open your eyes to see him leaning over to the nightstand.

His fingers grip the rim of the black cowgirl hat you’d worn that night. He lies back, flat against the mattress, and reaches up, placing the hat on top of your head. You smile. Joel speaks in a low, gentle, but commanding whisper.

“There you go, cowgirl. Show me how it’s done.”

It’s all you need. It’s all it takes, by this point.

You brace yourself against his chest again, positioning yourself just right, and bounce on him until your vision starts to blur.

The noises slipping out of Joel’s mouth each time your bodies connect at the base of his cock push you closer and closer; every groan and whimper which passes his lips makes you sink your hips down even harder, pushing him deeper and deeper with every bounce.

“So – fuckin’ – big – inside me,” you slur, and Joel moans in response.

When he takes your hips in his hands again, you know he’s there. He’s just waiting for you to fall first.

You give in to him, feeling yourself close around his length, throwing your head back in pleasure as your second orgasm washes over you, igniting every inch of your body.

Joel’s groans meet yours as you lean forward again, slowly rolling your hips to coax him through his own orgasm. Watching him release, buried deep inside, he looks so good that you feel like you could cum again just at the sight.

You feel his cock start to go limp inside you and when he opens his eyes, panting, you smile sweetly at him.

“Fuck, darlin’.”

You giggle, hips still driving gently against his. “Good?”

“So good, baby, did so well. You’re gonna be the death of me,” he whispers with a trembling breath, taking your waist in both hands and giving it a tight squeeze. You roll to the side, letting his cock slip out of you, condom full of his seed.

You tumble onto the mattress beside him, both heaving, moaning messes. Your chests rise and fall in sync, fingers tangling and untangling by your sides.

Then Joel gets up, and wanders over to the bathroom, where you watch him through the open door as he pulls the filled rubber from his soft dick. He bins it, then runs a facecloth under the faucet, dabbing it across his own forehead as he makes his way back over to you.

You can’t hide your grin as you watch his naked form approach; tan lines where his t-shirt must end, dark hair decorating his arms, legs, chest, the base of his cock. He sits at the edge of the bed, arm outstretched with the flannel in hand.

You go to take it from him, but he doesn’t loosen his grip. Just pats it over your face gently, soft gaze on yours, your fingers intertwined around his wrist. Your eyes fall closed, the cold cloth a relief against your warm, sweaty skin.

“Feel nice?” he whispers.

You nod in response. Your chest swells at how soft he’s being, how tender. When he stands to throw the flannel back into the sink, you almost find yourself reaching out to hold him down.

He climbs over you, springing back down onto the mattress with a heaving sigh.

You prop yourself up and shimmy over, positioning yourself on top of Joel, chest-to-chest. He looks down and smirks, running a lazy hand across your cheek.

“You’re so good to me,” he mumbles.

You tilt your head with a smile and lay down on his chest. You can hear his heartrate slowly calming down. His fingers twist through your messy hair.

“I have no idea what you’re laced with,” he says, “but you got me.”

You smile. “Yeah?”

Joel nods. You shift positions, adjusting your aching hips safely between his thighs. “You hurtin’?” he asks.

You nod. “Mhm. But I like it. It’s you.”

Joel’s hands run through your hair and his fingertips trace your shoulders. His touch is so light it almost tickles. You turn your jaw and kiss the back of his hand.

“My dad gone, Sarah out, free house…” you mutter.

“Hm.”

“So, you invite your mistress over.” You lift your head, smirking at him.

Joel’s chest vibrates with laughter. “You ain’t my mistress.”

“Oh really? What am I, then?”

“I am not having this conversation at 4AM, kid. Ask me again tomorrow.”

You’d think of something to throw back at him, messing with him, but your entire body aches, and your heavy eyes are starting to fold closed with how sleepy you suddenly feel.

You pull Joel’s sheets over yourself, turning your back to him. Joel instantly follows suit, pulling up right behind you, your back tight to his chest, his thighs cupping the back of yours, then slipping one between your legs.

His arms lock around your torso under the sheets. Safe. Secure. Nothing can happen to you as long as he’s got you.

“Ten,” his voice mumbles against the back of your head.

You turn so your ear is pressed against his lips. “Huh?”

“Ten. That’s my number. Includin’ you.”

Oh.

He doesn’t ask to hear yours. You wouldn’t mind if he did, but he doesn’t. You don’t think he’s telling you to hear yours in exchange. He’s telling you because you asked. He’s telling you because, whether in attempt to turn him on or simply to know something about him that you didn’t before – something nobody else knows – it mattered to you.

He’s telling you because you matter to him.

You nuzzle back into him a little, a form of reply, and, as you start to fall asleep, you feel him place a gentle kiss to your ear.

----------

taglist: @yvonneeeee @subconsciouscollapse @leahlovestwd @peqchsoup @whorror-s @k1ttybean @whichwitchwanda @abuttoncalledsmalls @anner--nanner @jpbplvr @laysmt @ankhmutes @bookishhella @cannolighost @luvrking @mellymbee @yourwinchesterbros @nostalxgic @scottstotts @daiseygriffithx @letsgroovetonighttt @huffle-punk @unbotheredbeeeee @iluvurfather @wildcat116 @godisawomansblog @55vvaa55 @koshkaj-blog @initforthebooks @theywhowriteandknowthings @thatgirljayy@sasakipsposts @casa-boiardi @milla-frenchy @aim-formyheart @taeslarityy @lxstbxyscave23 @joelmillerxapologist @capt-rex @giixo @capricorngf @feministfanboi @fifia-writes @darleneslane @theplumsoldier @sharp-cheekbones-locked @suzmagine @endlessthxxghts @ivebeenflagged @blognametakenn @jessahmewren @nobodycanseeinsidemysoul @ranahx @pedropascalsbbg @cartoon-garbage04 @caatheeriinee07 @kngslayr @hopplessilse @vickywallace @gracieispunk @regalwhovianbrowncoat774 @casa-boiardi @earthtogrogu @sexygaypalpatine @serenaxpedro @brittmb115 @pascalpvnk @jediknightjana @mrsquill @uncassettodiricordi

(lmk if i’ve missed you out & check my taglist info for how to be added!)

#joel miller #joel miller fic #joel miller x reader #the last of us #tlou #tlou fic #dbf!joel #dbf!joel miller #dad's best friend #joel miller smut #pedro pascal #joel miller pedro pascal #joel tlou #joel the last of us #tlou fanfiction #the last of us fic #the last of us fanfiction #the last of us hbo #cowboy like me

[multi-kpop-fanfics]

tw: drug use (weed), high sex, unprotected sex, 5some, oral sex (male rec), handjob, frat!AU, sub!fem!reader, someone is possessive👀

imagine getting high with your best friends/frat boys in their dorms, everyone smoking their own blunt, the smoke filling the room.

everyone, except wonwoo who's the only one who seems to actually hate smoking weed, but loves hanging out with his frat mates and you. especially you.

it's probably the weed talking, but to say you've pictured yourself fucking the men in front of you would be a total understatement. and the worst part? they've been harboring the same feelings as well.

mingyu is the bolder one, trying to shift the topic towards that way ("god I'd soooo fuck a girl who listens to chase atlantic"), making the rest of the guys chuckle, mocking him about how he'd fuck any girl he talks to - which isn't a complete lie.

"Oh, I love Chase Atlantic!", you chirp when you hear the name of your fave band. "Wait, seriously?", Seungcheol raises an eyebrow while snuffing out his blunt. "Yeah, I've seen her playlist", Vernon chimes in, puffing out some smoke, "I've listened to her playlist - she got some real good songs in there", he smirks and sends a playful wink towards you, making you giggle.

"You may have listened to her playlist, but you haven't fucked to it, so....", Wonwoo's deep voice cuts through the conversation, his confession making everyone fall silent.

A string of "what the fuck?" and "what's going on?" are heard from the other three men, but your expression has turned impish, almost hungry.

"Guys, it was just one time", you laugh, "But a memorable one", Wonwoo retorts, "Well duh", you respond, snuffing out your own blunt in the process.

"Wow, talk about pretentious, acting like a gamer nerd who doesn't smoke and barely drinks but you're sneaking behind us to hook up", Mingyu laughs in his high stupor, "You're bold, I'll give you that, Wonwoo", Seungcheol scoffs, making the man with the round glasses smirk even more.

"Gentlemen, you could always try it now, no need to be so jealous", you moan on purpose, "Besides, y'all are too hot to not be fucked at the same time", you spread your legs in front of the men, their mouths gaping wide at the sight of your flimsy shorts and bare legs.

"Fuck it, I'm in", is what they all say.

It's not long before your clothes are gone, thrown somewhere in the room, along with their clothes, lewd, wet noises echoing in the four walls.

You're on your knees, your hands stroking Vernon and Mingyu respectively, Seungcheol's cock fucking your mouth, his hand buried in your hair to keep your head in place.

"Fuck, even her hand feels so good", Mingyu moans, his own hand clasping over yours to jerk him off faster. "Should try her mouth", Seungcheol groans, "So wet and warm, god, that tongue is insane", he bucks his hips forward when you run your tongue on the underside of his thick shaft, making you moan in return.

"Bet her pussy is fucking heaven", Vernon curses out, "If only someone wasn't a possessive asshole".

Wonwoo merely chuckles, his cock ramming your insides right underneath you, your knees touching the floor, on each side of his hips. "Consider yourselves lucky for getting the chance to cum by her", his expression turns stern, hands gripping your waist tight enough to make it bruise.

"Because there won't be a next time".

#svthub #scoups smut #wonwoo smut #mingyu smut #vernon smut #hhu smut #choi seungcheol #jeon wonwoo #kim mingyu #hansol chwe vernon #svt smut #seventeen smut #seventeen #thoughts💭

[reallyromealone]

hello if it's not much of a bother I'd like to request a bonten fic where they forget their lover's birthday, like he prepared their favourite food and even decorated their house but bc they had to deal w something important at work they forgot his birthday and even arrived home late. just pure angst pls (totally not bc of my nearing bday) have a great day/night!

It was supposed to be a happy day.

"Why am I even decorating for my own birthday?" (Name) mumbled teary eyed as he glanced at the clock it was a quarter to midnight already.

He made their favorite food on HIS birthday, he always put so much effort for them and they couldn't even attend an event he had to put together, hell Kokos birthday was all out!

(Name) wiped the tears away and tossed the food in the trash, the concept of it all sickening as he went to the guest bedroom, staring off to the wall "happy fucking birthday..."

It was three am when Bonten returned home, exhausted "what were we supposed to do again?" Rindō asked a little tipsy, the men having a few drinks at the business meeting "oh shit.." Mochi said wide eyed, immediately sobering up as they took in the penthouse, half torn decorations and thrown out food "shit..."

(Name) had locked himself in the guest room, the men knowing better than to try and break in.

Come morning (name) was silent as he came out of the guest bedroom, looking like he just survived a tornado with teary eyes and fixed himself a glass of (preferred drink) and paid none of them any mind "baby?" Ran asked the man who sat on the couch and stared at the tv that wasn't on "were sorry" Rindō said earnestly and the others nodded in agreement.

"Y'all can go fuck yourselves" (name) said simply, surprising Bonten as (name) was never the one to swear "how fucking come I am setting up MY OWN BIRTHDAY AND MAKING FOOD YOU SELFISH ASSHOLES WANT ON A DAY ABOUT ME?! SERIOUSLY WHAT KIND OF "LOVING HUSBANDS" MAKES THEIR OWN HUSBAND PUT TOGETHER HIS OWN BIRTHDAY AND THEN EXPECT HIM TO PUT THEIR PARTY TOGETHER?!" (name) was furious at this point, all his rage bubbling up to the surface as he stood up "baby calm--""don't tell me to calm down! I'm fucking furious!"

(Name) pushed them away and stomped off "we were busy!" Kakucho tried explaining "funny how you guys are always busy when it's stuff relating to me, my birthday, meeting my parents, any time I got sick... Hell our anniversary! I'm never a priority unless you guys need a good fuck!" (Name) was done as he grabbed his keys "call me when you assholes get your shit together" (name) said storming out, leaving Bonten alone.

"Oh we really fucked up" Koko said as the others nodded as a wave of realization washed over them that this may have been the final straw.

And they didn't even realize until it was too late.

#tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo revengers x male reader #tokyo revengers fluff #male reader #bonten x reader #angst

[foliosriot]

Responding to the anon that said: "Why are y’all being so hostile towards the people who got their m&g/pic experience taken away?" Y'all realize that these are human beings and not a product, right? Right??????? I just need all of the people who are complaining to understand that this band are not fucking animatronics. They are humans. I want all of y'all who are mad to put yourselves into the band's shoes for a hot second and consider the ways y'all are upset about them exercising their right to bodily autonomy because what the actual fuck, are you seriously asking human beings to do something they don't want to do with their bodies right now? Because imagine that you have a very mentally and physically taxing job that you have to (and want to) perform perfectly every single night with only a night off every 1 1/2 - 2 weeks, during which you're traveling anyway. And then imagine like an hour before you have work, you don't get your "mentally getting ready for work" hour, and instead you have to hug 2 strangers a minute and look like you're loving every second of it even if you're exhausted which you probably are. AND THEN IMAGINE going on the internet and seeing some people who were the same people who paid to get close to you saying "idgaf if I have covid or I'm sick I'm going". Like, knowingly infecting you after we just survived a world trauma event caused by a disease so every time you cough you panic that you might have this crippling disease that could shut your whole job down. AND THEN imagine being too ill to fucking perform your job for DAYS and basically cut that job short. Imagine the fear of being fucking fired from your job (label) for that. Oh and while all of that is happening, there are also "fans" who are speculating shit about your life that caused you to have to fucking move house and leave the internet. AND THEN PEOPLE ARE MAD AT YOU for choosing your own safety and personal autonomy so you can feel safer delivering music to people over their desire to take a selfie with you. God fuckin damn, when did music become not about music? Fuck these people.

this!!!!

#bad omens #bad omens cult #bad omens band #alex! ❪ 𖤐 ❫ #alex’s anons!

[mysticstarlightduck]

Character Voice Tag!

Thanks for the tag @willtheweaver (here)!!! I'll go with the main cast from Of Starlight and Beasts for this one (:

MY LINE WAS: Yeah, I deserved that.

YOUR LINE IS: I don't know what I was expecting but I'm disappointed in your decision either way - because what the heck was that?

Corah - "Well, one thing's for sure: that wasn't undeserved - I really should've seen it coming, that's on me."

Arammys - "Oh Gods, that went so wrong - I deserve what happened, that was a terrible idea, and I take full responsibility for it but still... that was such a bad plan, oh Gods."

Eidan - "I should've known that this would be the outcome but I was too hasty to notice. I deserve to face the consequences for my actions."

Nimwen - "Sorry, sorry, sorry! Oh, goodness, oh Gods that went so wrong so fast. If someone is to blame for what happened that person is me, but I still should've been more careful. I'm so sorry!"

Tomasa - "Yep, no use running from the inevitable. Time to face the outcome of my poorly planned decisions. Lay it all out for me, and don't be shy. I'm a tough cookie."

Masen - "Fuck. Yeah, I'm not sticking around to find out what that's gonna cause, sorry not sorry. So, no hard feelings whatsoever guys, but I've gotta bounce. See y'all around? (winks)"

Kyran - "Oh. That... isn't ideal. Okay. Okay, okay, I can handle this, I should've seen this coming after all. I hope I can handle this. So...here's what we're going to do: we're getting the fuck out of here, right now. Because I don't deserve whatever they've got in store for me. Does anyone have explosive powder? I think can improvise a plan."

Maryon - "That was well deserved, I will admit. I made a mistake and it caught to up to me. I guess it is only fair I face whatever comes next - running will only drag things out. It's best to just get it over with., like ripping out an old bandage"

Florynce - "(In a drawn out, wispy voice) Somethings gone wrong. (squeaks) Somethings not as it should be and it's not right and it's my fault. Should I stay and face my fate? Is it what would be proper? (gives a little vampiric squeak, clearly starting to panic) I don't know what to do anymore"

Rin - "Hells no I'm not facing the consequences of that. (pats the person next to him in the back) Sorry pal, this was nice while it lasted, but you know what they say - survival of the fittest, and all that. Oh and be a darling: do tell the guards I said hi, I'm sure you'll have lots to talk about if you still have your head after this. Don't be a stranger! (flies away)"

Elias - "Oh, sink me! (groans, exasperated) I told you this was a bad idea, but who the fuck listens to me in this fucking shithole, eh?! Where the hells is my cutlass?! I'm going to fix this mess - one you should've fixed yourselves but never fucking mind that - properly this time. That's what I get for listening to you bufoons. I deserve this one. Lesson damn well learned."

Leora - "This was the worst idea I've ever had and the execution of this plan made it even more atrocious. I admit my wrongdoing and sincerely apologize. These circumstances are to be expected after what I did - and what terrible leader would I be if I didn't admit my own mistakes. Tell me what I can do to fix this, and consider it done."

Bastien - "My actions were suboptimal and their consequences deplorable. I accept full reponsibility for whatever trouble my actions may have cause and am willing to atone for it fully, whatever your verdict should be it will have been deserved."

Scarlet - "Shit. Okay, yeah. That one is on me - I screwed up big time, I really did. That seriously didn't go the way I thought it would, I don't know why I'm still surprised."

Tagging (gently, no pressure):@littleladymab @cabbojage @lassiesandiego @little-peril-stories @oh-no-another-idea @thepeculiarbird @rickie-the-storyteller @crowandmoonwriting @steh-lar-uh-nuhs @gummybugg @forthesanityofstorytellers @doublegoblin @aalinaaaaaa @starlit-hopes-and-dreams @elshells @illarian-rambling @clairelsonao3 @conkers-thecosy @anyablackwood,and OPEN TAG

#character voice tag #writers on tumblr #writerblr #writers #my wips #character writing #writeblr #writing #my writing #my characters #open tag #writeblr tag games #wip of starlight and beasts

[hp-hcs]

rebel girl — mlm! draco malfoy & wlw/nblw! reader

prompt #8 of the slytherin boys x reader thingy i made

8) Draco Malfoy + humor + Rebel Girl — Bikini Kill

i’m so sorry for whatever this is

unspecified pronouns, but written for wlw or nblw (or he/him lesbians <3)

❕platonic relationship❕

written in the same style as the mattheo one, cause y’all fuckin loved that (aka basically just crack with some vague semblance of a plot and a gratuitous amount of completely unnecessary emojis)

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Based on these lyrics from Bikini Kill’s Rebel Girl:

‘That girl thinks she's the queen of the neighborhood/ I got news for you, she is!/ They say that she's a dyke, but I know/ She is my best friend, yeah’

~~~

“honestly, it’s kind of pathetic that l/n and malfoy still think that no one knows they’re together”

^^ you overhear in one of your classes, being whispered under someone’s breath and followed by tittering laughter

you just kinda turn to look at draco with a ‘these bitches dumb as fuck’ look on your face

he’s already giving you the same look

“should we tell them?” you ask

“nah, let’s see if we can keep it up til the end of the year” 😌

shore malfoy, that’s a choice ig 🤨

anywhore, you guys decide to fuck with everyone

((excluding your friends who aren’t stupid))

and you go to the yule ball together

everyone’s just like “OMG HEADLINES CALL UP RITA SKEETER”

all of the adults chaperoning are like 🤨🤨🤨

half of your classmates are like “(🏳️‍🌈?)”

y'all dance together the whole night, literally unable to take yourselves seriously

then draco’s like “let’s kiss just to fuck with everyone”

brilliant plan, sir

anyways y’all do that, ig

mwah mwah 😘

your friends are like 🧍‍♀️“babe.”🧍‍♂️

welp guys stop asking you out after that cause they think you’re taken 🫡

…a win is a win 🤷

making out in the name of wlw/mlm solidarity, ig

y’all play the long con

you change your ringtone to girls by girl in red and sTILL NOBODY NOTICES

on the last day before winter break, you guys take the opportunity to have a huge dramatic ‘break up’ so you can be the center of all the juicy goss over the break 😌✨

you guys think it’s funny for like a week into the break, and then immediately forget about it

when you come back at the beginning of the semester, neither of you fuckin remember 🫥

you get a girlfriend (slay girlypop ✨)

draco gets a boyfriend (cough cough harry cough cough)

everybody’s like 🤨

anywhore, that’s the story of how you and draco both came out as gay 🏳️‍🌈

#harry potter #hp #fuck jkr #gay #these bitches gay good for them #draco malfoy x reader #draco x reader #wlw #sapphic #mlm #x reader #background drarry ig

[tea-and-finalfantasy]

In regards to the weird backlash over Benn Beckman's live action casting--I'm sorry you expected a character at 38-48 to look like anything else but a legit older man. I'm sorry they cast a 39 year old in the role of an older man, first seen at age 38

In terms of looks, the trivia section of the wiki mentions that Oda said that Benn looks like a mouse. The man doesn't even have eyebrows

Like we all think he's hot, I think he's hot, he knows he's hot with that playboy attitude apparently--but please take a second to look at this beloved older man with no eyebrows and undereye creases and come back to me. Tell me you think those are subjectively sexy features and that we're not all fixated on someone who's yeah, normal, but a little strange

Yes I think he's genuinely beautiful for those reasons (among other things) but he's just some guy and I'm glad we get to see him as just some guy. He's incredibly smart and sympathetic and protective but like most of Shanks' crew, they look like normal people. I'm sorry you wanted all supermodels for the crew who camps out on an island the majority of the time. Realistically he'd smell like tobacco and alcohol, even just from proximity, even if he's absolutely one of the crew that actually showers everyday. Yeah Yasopp and Shanks are banging and Lucky Roux too--although apparently a lot of you haven't matured to the point where you realize fat people are hot--but they're all normal people with Benn being the oldest by far. If we were dealing with post-timeskip Benn here, you mean to tell me you think a 50 year old man would look any other way? Them hiring a 39 year old is fucking kind if someone ten years away from 50 is this upsetting to you

Like the one thing I'd fix is the wig styling. That's it. I feel like it needs to fit just a smidge better but this isn't RuPaul's Drag Race--I don't expect the wigs of all things to be top tier. We saw the Wado Ichimonji bend (which I'm also not taking seriously/I think it's so fucking funny) and people are irritated that Taz Skylar is more muscular as Sanji than Mackenyu as Zoro--as if Zoro wasn't a fucking beanstalk of a man in part one?

I get wanting to be picky about things, especially your faves, but they are never going to adhere to everything everyone could possibly dream of for a fancast. Hell, they don't even draw the characters the same in the manga anymore, with certain things (skin tones) being more important than other, more preferential things (hair color, type--even if those changes irritate me too)

You don't have to like the casting but for fuck's sake do you want an apology from fat people? Older people? He's not even 40! Get over yourselves. I'm thrilled that so much of this cast just looks like themselves. That they look like regular fucking people and that we can designate the entire budget to Chuu and Arlong and Buggy instead.

Plus Mihawk is gorgeous all the time and I think this is accentuated by like. Yeah the cast is hot and cute and good looking but they're also normal people. He gets to be this otherworldly beauty amongst good looking people you'd see everyday because he's this striking, chilling, strict, and beautiful presence around just, everyone else.

But if you think for a fucking second I'm personally not singing my fucking praises when a character like Benn Beckman has a round stomach like that my God like I don't know what the rest of you are doing wasting your time wishing he had abs, for fuck's sake he's on the crew of borderline cirrhosis, I think ALL of them should have beer bellies. Thank fuck for Lucky Roux and Benn Beckman in the same scene bc that was a blessing, thank fuck for fat people

Do you know how hot it'd be if someone as big as Crocodile was fat? How strange it'd genuinely be if he isn't? He's fucking massive, what do you want him to weigh, 170lbs? He couldn't support the fat titties y'all give him with that low of a weight

Do you know how hot Alvida is with her round face and double chin? For Benn Beckman of all characters to have a stomach, for Lucky Roux to be fat and endearing and cute and able to be written as an actual character and not like, a beach ball of a man, is the closest thing we're gonna get to fat people being allowed to exist normally in One Piece

And the story isn't fucking about them! One Piece has over 1000 episodes and Netflix is going to cancel this inevitably as they do with every show to avoid paying their actors and writers--we literally do not have time to give Benn more than a background role anyways. What's it matter if you don't like how he looks in the two scenes they're gonna give him

Lastly look at his IMDB pic and tell me he's not handsome

The point isn't to only respect people if they're attractive but like. He's really good looking anyways! Y'all are letting your perfect perception of Benn Beckman to overwhelm the actual performance being done, and of a background character no less. You guys are letting a cheap wig poison you into calling a real life person ugly for daring to play the role of a background character as instructed

This fatphobia and ageism (of a fucking, 39 year old man like he's pushing 100) combo is literally the mirror image of every anime fan power-scaling on Twitter, the "this is how Kaido and Big Mom will win" dudes preoccupied with their own poorly written fantasies rather than seeing what a clearly-written, the-good-guys-will-prevail story is plainly saying to the audience

You are becoming no different than the pathetic dudes (who aren't strong, who aren't doing fight choreo, who may even have the same amount of fat but who think they're immune to the same hatred for it--who could be doing all these things but still are worthless pieces of shit because they're spiteful and have no personalities or interests beyond that) saying he's not tough enough, that he should be stronger and more fit--in a show where everyone's either fit or ugly, in a show that showed him to be average size--real skinny even in the manga, as with everyone else at that point! from luffy to zoro to sanji, they all were beanpoles--in a world where no one can be normal about other people of any weight they perceive to be "fat," regardless of if that's the case or not

This is supposed to be for fun and being so irrevocably rattled by the little things is detracting from your enjoyment of something intended to deviate from the source media and that in some ways (in regards to the variety of people being casted/in regards to Luffy being Brazilian in Oda's words) is closer to the source media than we think

You don't have to have Liebenberg as your Beckman choice. You don't have to like the trimmed down storyline, even in the face of needing to cut for time no matter what. It's fine to be the type of person who wants adaptations to be as close to the source media as possible and I've felt that way about certain media too! I dislike when what I fixate on isn't the main focus of a new creation! But directing any dissatisfaction towards this dude doing the job he was hired for because you think he's ugly is ridiculous

#benn beckman #one piece live action #one piece

[flamedoesart]

genuinely the dropdsmp tag on twt is fucking pointless now.

if y'all wanna get tommy's attention, that is not the way to do it. that is just setting yourselves up to not be taken seriously at all.

i get the urgency of wanting tommy to understand what's going on, i do. but he hasn't touched dsmp since november, and vol 2 is most likely never gonna happen.

how would he drop dsmp if he's probably never gonna see it happen anyways?

ppl need to be consistent, and send the archived thread with the original allegations directly to him and under his replies. people need to be calm when trying to tell him the weight of this situation. if you go around insulting him and just saying "your best friend dream is a terrible person" yeah no shit he's not gonna take it seriously bc already enough people disliked dream (prior to the allegations) and would make up anything that had nothing to do with shit he actually did. not to mention that he knows dream. we don't. he's more likely to take his word bc he's known dream for a longer period of time, and in a more personal way.

i'm not saying we shouldn't keep fighting to get tommy's attention on this issue, as we should for every other cc, but i am saying that running a hashtag over a dead server ain't it.

#dream situation #flame talks

[evilneo]

They literally have publicly named me, the person in the callout, and harassed me for months in 2018. Y'all offer 0 actual evidence of the accusations you make, with your sources being "trust me bro" and messages from people whose named are blacked out. If you're too pussy to attach your name to an accusation that heavy, then nobody should take your shit seriously anyway. You're all pathetic. I was groomed before I ever knew Hal, and I know what grooming looks like, and nothing he did was remotely close to that. Get off the internet, touch some fucking grass and get over yourselves, holy shit.

i dont know who you are and i dont know why youre talking to me man. i dont know what you want me to say

#asks #anon #I DONT KNOW YOU! I DONT KNOW ANY OF YOU PEOPLE. #grooming tw #fucking asshole

[cyggiestardust]

While I'm nightblogging, @buzzfeed ?

Who hosts your images? I tried to read a throwback ('13) article about nightblogging and all the images are unavailable now, making the list useless, and uninformative, and joyless?

It's this crapola all the way down the article.

You take yourselves to be journalists, but didn't make sure that the content of your article would be evergreen and not just damn vanish? If y'all are keeping older articles/listicles available to read in the future, doesn't it make sense to make sure the context of the content stays put?

You didn't do it here and what it's left you with is basically a blank Word document.

I came here so I could nightblog an article about nightblogging, for the newbie influx that is undoubtedly at this point running into its first instances of nightblogging, and what I wound up doing was nightblogging about about an article that was AT ONE POINT about nightblogging (and I'm going to pause to say here that after that sentence "nightblogging" is starting to look like a fake word) but is now about nothing but dashed expectations.

On that note, listen up newcomers, here's Urban Dictionay's quick and dirty definition:

... a time when people will ‘blog strange things, sometimes deep yet completely messed up, sometimes utterly meaningless, sometimes gifs of stupid things, and sometimes bloggers will even go as far as to question the existence of humanity in those few strange hours’.They also tend to get profound in ways that even the most messed up human could not imagine.

It gets really weird. Super surreal. Like, Salvador Dali if he were a Millennial/Gen-Z kid, who was also at least a 6 on the baked scale. (10 is where it gets really weird though.) They'll either make no sense, or make a freakish amount of sense when you stop to think about them.

A good nightblog post will usually have you going "Wait wtf? No seriously I get it but wtaf?"

A good nightblog post will live quietly in your head for a bit and show up in your memory later to fuck you up all over again.

If you're the one making the nightblog, it'll hit like watching someone split a forbidden corn dog cattail open—going from zero to "BOOM" (well really more like "kerpliffff") in .60 seconds into the unmistakable urge to inflict your new blurse upon the world.

Speaking of which, nightblogging isn't always blursed? but it's pretty damn common. Be prepared to say "Oh no" a lot.

Lastly, somehow most nightblogging withstands the test of time...

Unlike this article.

(Fun fact—those images are two DIFFERENT dead articles!)

Get it together already!

#cyggie ramble #nightblogging #salt water taffy hour #fyi is my nightblogging tag #tutorial aside I'm dead serious #journalists and journalism companies have a responsibility to uphold where it comes to actually keeping its content alive #and this right here was one big fail

[nsfwhiphop]

Incoming Text for Missy Elliot:

Hey, Missy! It's me, Angelo!

Listen, I don't know what you do with your time, but I want to encourage you to become a female Team Builder, what does that mean? It means you have to motivate all the talented women in Hip-Hop and r'n'b to become screenwriters and tell dope stories.

Also, make sure you tell them to dedicate their time to learn the craft of screenwriting with real professionals in the film industry, it's something doable, it's very easy to call professional screenwriters and ask them for guidance and support until you all learn to master the art of screenwriting, everything is possible when you believe in yourselves.

Here's what you should do:

Call all the dopest female story-tellers in the music industry and tell them to unite and get this money together, secure the bag, ya dig? There's big money to be made in the African-American film industry and it's all about unity, how you can organize your team, you need to motivate these lazy females in the music industry, granted, they are very talented but lazy nonetheless, we all agree on that, they can make a lot of money in the African-American film industry, if they put their minds to it, this is not a joke, I'm dead serious, there is money, lots, lots, lots of money in the African-American film industry and y'all are lazy as fuck, doing nothing to bring home that money, secure the bag for yourself or no one else will do it for you, okay? Wake up ladies!

I'm trying to give y'all a wake up call because I can't stand to see black women being poor like this, okay? Y'all should be making billions of dollars and that's why I encourage y'all to take filmmaking very seriously, if you focus and work hard together as a team, you can make so much money as a female group, a girl-gang, if you stick together, everything is possible ladies.

Fact#1:

The music business is not paying black people anymore, y'all are hungry now. It's not the 90s or early 2000s anymore, music industry is all about streaming nowadays and that's less money in the bank, you know it, I know it, we all know it. It's time to change careers.

Fact #2:

The Film business is where the money is now but y'all are too lazy to focus and put in the hard work to create these dope screenplays, get to work, this is how you feed the Black community nowadays, it's not the music business anymore, it's the movie business that will feed black people now. The film industry is where the money is, you just have to go and get it.

You have to study the Blaxploitation era, bring back that 70s film magic to our screens, there were so many prolific filmmakers back then, black people were very productive in the 70s, nowadays they became lazy.

Here is a useful tip:

I encourage you to call the old school mothers and fathers of the Blaxploitation era, tell them that you're curious and you want to learn from them, ask them to give you guidance and teach you their knowledge, how they did things back in the 70s era, they will be so happy to share their knowledge with you, some of them are still alive today, they must be in their 70s or 80s or 90s they are old but they can still share their knowledge with you, so don't hesitate to call the old school actors and filmmakers of the Blaxploitation era.

Here is the wiki page, click on the link below:

Listen, I have to let you know that I'm an angry cinephile, no one knows the struggle of cinephiles in the Black community worldwide, you do realize that the African-American film industry provides comfort to billions of black people all over the world, right? It's time to wake up and give the black people on planet earth some good quality entertainment, we can't stand the garbage they force-feed us, a lot of garbage is out there and you have the power to change the current status-quo, you Missy, yes, I said you.

You have the power to change this garbage Black film industry, you just have to get organized and call the people with power in the African-American community, there are a lot of Black people with power and they will do something about it, this can't go on any longer.

You have to hire Black scholars in the Black universities of America, these Black scholars will read the screenplays before they are produced, that way they will control what kind of movies our black audience will be watching.

I call this the "Black Scholars Method".

These black scholars will decide what movies are dope and what movies are garbage, from now on, this is how things should be done in the African-American film industry. Our qualified scholars will read the scripts and then give their opinion, if it's garbage, they won't throw money at that garbage script but if it's a good quality screenplay, then they will agree to throw money at the good script.

This "Black Scholars Method" will save a lot of time, energy, resources in the African-American film industry, the money will not be wasted anymore on garbage films, instead, it will go to our genius filmmakers who will blow our minds with their unique and dope creativity.

It's as simple as that. Our black scholars will clean up the intellectual mess in the African-American film industry.

You can do something about it, push this agenda with all the female MCs in Hip-Hop and I guarantee things will change for the better in the future.

Also, study, study, study, read the dope screenplays to learn how they did it, reading screenplays is a fun activity, it's fun, it's for nerds and I know you're a female nerd, Missy, I listen to your songs since the 90s, your lyrics are nerdy, I know you're a nerd, Missy's a female nerd.

Her songs are all about black female nerdiness.

Okay, this chat was fun! Go get'em sister!

Love you, Missy! Big hug for you!

[pleasure-paragon-art]

Within just a week, I've dealt with dick swinging, repeated episodes of disrespect from those that supposedly like me and harmful mislabeling that ultimately affects a very specific population of people. I'm glad I started this page so y'all can finally see how much shit I've been dealing with.

Fun, fun! 🥳 Makes my dick rock fucking hard 🙄.

It is surprising I have any sex drive at all half the fucking time.

I don't want to have to be a warrior all the damn time, I'm really just there to have fun, to get off, to get you off. To make us both feel good. Why the fuck can't I just DO THAT?

Last edit: I'm seriously done with the bullshit. Y'all ARE wasting my fucking time and you've been doing it too damn long already. I said I wasn't giving any more of my time to bullshit and I meant it. The next purposeful provocation from ANY of you after I've been more than clear about how I feel, I am done. Finished. I will never listen to you again. I haven't lied to you yet. I wouldn't suggest pushing me any further. I cherish you, but a damn lot of you show me over and over again you don't give a damn about me. I'm over it. Show yourselves so I can be done with you.

#personal updates

[deniedmysign]

People fr be acting like posting how they're mad about how some people ship wholly fictional ass characters that can't be hurt and throwing it in public tags isn't posting ship hate publicly and leaving themselves open for fucking comment. Kid, you walked into a room full of people and yelled it out loud. You want to not have people calling out your shit, stop tagging it. Block the fucking tags you can't stand and move the fuck on with your life.

And all y'all fuckin minority report level thought crime types need to seriously get over yourselves. I don't give a shit what ship you don't like, unless someone is actively committing a crime, they aren't fucking criminals. You think kids are gonna start trying to douse animals in radioactive slime because they watched Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles? Or maybe the crime/horror fans are gonna start going on crime/murder sprees? If you have enough fucking sense to say no to that, apply it to fucking ships too. If you don't, please, get some help! You are literally enabling censorship, and if you're queer? you're ruining shit for your own damn self bc you're just opening the doors for them to censor your existence.

Genuinely need y'all to internalize this:

If it's not happening in the real world, it's not a real crime.

Get over yourselves, you're not 'more moral' for advocating censorship.

#anti censorship #real vs fantasy #thought crime #yes this is primarily caused by my experience with the batman fandom #But I bet it's in all the others too #Sitting here with zero interest in actively pursuing the shit I read about #and shitty kids wanna act like bc I read it I've already committed the crimes in the stories I read #Already dealt with this bs with the Hayes Comic Code and ''Violent video games make you violent'' - fuck dealing with it again

[ray-moo]

I hope all women who are okay with jokes about how men's penises are small are also okay with men joking about promiscuous women with worn out vaginas***********. *Joking about worn out vaginas is still revolting slut-shaming btw

*I don't want to hear how the power imbalance between men and women justifies women being cruel to men with what little scraps of power they have. Be better.

*If you value equity between men and women, and see the lack of it as an injustice, you should not support different standards for good and bad behaviour for men and women.

*If you don't value equity between men and women and #onlysupportwomen or other radfem crap, then idk what's your reasoning behind men's shitty treatment of women being wrong is when you think there's nothing wrong with women's shitty treatment of men.

*"B-but men kill women while women only insult men so even when we're horrible to each other women are still better." Well here's an example of how both men and women are horrible to each other in similar ways on a similar scale, I wonder who's going to stop being horrible in this specific way first.

*"B-but slut-shaming isn't comparable to dick-shaming because women are hated and killed for being sex workers." 1. If you think that any men are getting angry at a woman accused of having a loose vagina and lynching her, you're living on another planet. Men are either gathering in bars to make rude jokes about those women or getting angry at the men who make those jokes and threatening to fight them because they won't tolerate insults to their property/territory. Both types of jokes are humilating and irreverent and no one takes them seriously which is the problem. 2. Radfems you're hardly better if you call yourselves SWERFs which is an inherently a name discriminatory towards sex workers and not their clientele, regardless of who you claim you're actually angry enough. Think of a better nickname for your movement then come back. *It doesn't matter if you're exclusive to which gender you insult over their body because you're still propogating the kind of culture where insulting people over their body is alright.

*Stop insulting people for ways their body is that they can't control ... just stop.

*Also, women can have tiny penises and men can have loose vaginas as well, and enbies can have either/or/both. Fuck you TERFs.

*This isn't even just a TERF thing because intersex people exist.

*Just ... be better everyone.

*I'm probably not the right person to be calling anyone out on this because I'm personally fine with any insult as long as you can tolerate any insult thrown back. But some of y'all ain't like me and feel some kind of freedom to insult people unfairly before getting on a moral high horse when someone calls you something rude back.

#equity #equality #sexism #slutshaming #be better #transgender #nonbinary #intersex #i love y'all #so frustrating

[idiosyncraticrednebula]

I think some folks genuinely believe that referring to women with the letter e replaced by either x or y somehow advances the rights of women.

#words #inclusive language #text #like #y'all really believe you are doing something #wow that's so woke #this is the most western feminist shit ever lmao #there are women out here getting raped abused and murdered #there are women being oppressed in third world/middle east countries #but no #western feminists give a shit more about LETTERS #fucking letters #this is why y'all are not taken seriously #this is why the feminist movement is so widely mocked #y'all do it to yourselves #don't get upset about people laughing at your own clownery #western feminism is ignoring the obvious patriarchy in third world countries #but getting upset over words and video game characters #this is concerning that whole shitty as womxn history month twitch video lmao #twitch is fucking shit anyways #it's for thots and fuckboys #ass**