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#But they got away!
james-p-sullivan · 3 months
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the older i get and the closer i am to reaching 30, the more the people around me try to deny me my age. it’s a constant ‘oh you’re just turning 29 again teehee 🤭’ or ‘dont tell your SO that, he’ll leave you for a younger model 😉’ and i just???? hate it?????????
i spent my entire teenaged years fighting for my life. i crawled through the deepest pits of my depression to cling to the promise of a life beyond that pain. i was so convinced that i was going to die young, that i would never see the grace of my age starting with a 2, let alone 3.
so im going to turn 30, and there’s not a damn thing anyone can do to stop me from loving it.
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fandomsandfeminism · 11 months
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Yall wanna hear a kinda funny, kinda sad story about my grandmother and hetero-normativity?
Ok, so... when my grandmother was in her 50s (I was an infant), she met a woman at the Unitarian Church. And, as can happen when you meet your soul mate, this event made it impossible for her to deny parts of herself that she had fiercely hidden her whole life.
All the drama- their affair being found out, the divorce with my grandfather, the court battle over who got the house, happened while I was a baby. Even in my earliest memories, it's just Mama Jo and Oma, and my grandfather lived elsewhere (first his own apartment, then a nursing home, then with us.)
But here's the thing- no one ever explained any of this to me. No one ever sat down and was like "hey, Rosie, so do you know what a lesbian is?" It was the 90s. It was Texas. I think my mom was still kinda processing all this, and just assumed that like... I was gonna figure it out. Don't mention it, let it just be normal. Like I think my mom thought that if she explained the situation, she would be making it weird? I dunno.
But like. In the 90s, in all the movies I had seen and books I had read, do you know how many same sex couples I had seen? Like. 0. Do you know how many "platonic best friend/roommates" I had seen? A lot. I had no context, is what I'm saying.
I literally thought this was a Golden Girls, roommates, besties situation until I was like...I dunno, 11? 12?
It was actually their parrot, an African Grey named Spike, imitating my grandmothers voice saying "Johanna, honey, it's getting late", that triggered the MIND BLOWN moment as I realized that *there's only one master bedroom and it only has 1 waterbed* when all the pieces finally clicked.
Anyway. I think it's a real important thing for kids to know queer people exist, for a lot of reasons, but also because kids can be clueless and it's embarrassing to have your grandmother be outted by a parrot because everyone just thought you'd figure it out on your own.
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Anyway, here is my grandma and her wife, my Oma, after they moved to Albuquerque to be artsy gay cowboys and live their best life. They helped run a "Lesbian Dude Ranch" out there (basically just with funding and financial support. As Oma has explained "traditionally, most lesbians don't have a lot of money" so they wrote the checks and let the younger ladies actually run the ranch.)
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arodabi · 2 years
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Sometimes i feel like younger queer kids are getting a bit to bold with openly talking to people they don’t know In The Context Of:
More than once i have had a younger/same age queer person come up to me in public settings and say something about “finding other gays” or clearly clocking me as nonbinary and I’m like :)))))))) hey buddy I’m here with my conservative parents can you fucking not out me :))))))))
Just say you like my outfit or hair and move on, fuck even tell me you like my shoelaces. Don’t call me gay and limp your wrist at me when you don’t even know me? Especially when there’s a bunch of ppl around?
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hansoeii · 7 months
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stede bunnet
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thedreadvampy · 1 year
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people seriously pretending EEAAO is overrated suddenly bc it swept awards? it swept awards largely because it is very very very good. I cried like someone who's just had a religious revelation BOTH times I watched it bc it touched something raw and real and beautiful but it was also just very, very funny. everyone's performance kills and the concept is creative and interesting and doesn't distract from the emotional core. you guys are just contrarian.
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redsray · 2 months
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Batfam AU where Jason never dies, so Tim doesn't join the family the standard way. Instead, he continues pouring most of his time and energy into his photography, eventually becoming known as a popular photographer for events and all that. So now, picture this: Tim gets hired to be a photographer for a Wayne gala. Obviously, he's ecstatic, because he can take pictures of Batman, Robin and Nightwing and be in their presence for a whole night. Since Tim is so naturally talented in stealth and taking pictures unnoticed, the second one of the fam realises this they're like: this kid is good. Tim manages to go unnoticed by all 3 of them (all bat-trained, one literally batman) multiple times during the night, and even when he is noticed, he disappears before they can manage to get a good look at him; to the sheer amazement of Dick and Jason.
Jason, (very discreetly putting snacks in his suit pocket): i know you're under the table, kid.
Tim: don't mind me, Mr. Todd-Wayne, sir, just taking a few pictures
Jason: right... Jason's fine, and what pictures were you taking from under the table?!
Tim, showing him perfectly good shots of him: these.
Jason: how did you get that. it looks like you took it from the rafters
Tim, nodding: I did.
Jason, glancing at the ceiling: ...what?
Tim, gone:
Jason: no fucking way.
Dick, hearing a very, very faint camera shutter from behind him:
Dick, turning around and finding no one there: what the actual...
Dick, getting the feeling of being watched and whirling around to find Tim staring at him from across the room: ... huh.
Jason, pulling Dick aside: you see that kid too, right?!
Dick, nodding: the camera kid, yeah?
Jason: who is that.
Dick: he's one of the hired photographers, apparently. one of the best in his field, despite his age.
Jason: he's good. like, really good. snuck up on me 4 times already, the little bastard.
Dick: you too? i swear he's constantly watching. it's creepy how well he can sneak past both of us.
Jason:
Dick:
Jason: you don't think...
Dick: no. B would've told us.
Jason:
Dick:
Dick: did he get another kid and not tell us somehow
Bruce: what do you mean another kid?
Jason: you heard us. did you adopt another kid and not tell us?!
Bruce: no?? how would I even?? ... what's this about?
Dick: one of the photographers has managed to sneak up on both me and Jay multiple times already
Bruce: what.
Jason: he also can't be more than like. 15 or 16. so forgive us for assuming you took another one in.
Bruce: do you know his name?
Dick:
Jason:
Bruce: really?
Dick: in our defence, he's very hard to catch. i wouldn't be surprised if he's snuck up on you, too.
[camera shutter noise]
All of them, whipping their heads toward the sound only to find nothing but air:
Tim, smiling from the other side of the room:
Jason: do you see what we mean?!
Cue an entire night of shenanigans where it's just Dick, Jason and Bruce trying to catch Tim and learn about him. Upon finding out who he is and where he lives, Dick immediately asks to keep him as an honorary member of the family. Jason is hesitant at first but at some point Tim calls Bruce Batman instead of Mr. Wayne on accident and Jason laughs so hard he's basically won over. Bruce can do nothing but watch as Tim proceeds to come over almost every night for sleepovers and is coddled by both of his sons. And he can't deny, the kid's investigation and stealth skills are top tier. By the time Dick and Jason both start referring to Tim as 'their younger brother' Bruce has just accepted his fate.
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onebug · 4 months
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sableeira · 3 months
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And Dazai is like: omg how did he figure it out?!?!?!?
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lazylittledragon · 3 months
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Hello I love your bg3 content and your Dorian is so lovely! Can we get like an alternative reality with Dorian and Ascended Astarion? What would your headcannon be for them? 🙇
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something like this, probably
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applestruda · 2 months
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Gem color practice
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inkskinned · 1 year
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"the curtains weren't blue on purpose. why should we care?"
my love! let me ask you this - did you eat breakfast today? this tiny moment in your life. just think about it. did you?
for some of you, the answer is yes and for some of you it is technically and for some of you it is does coffee count. some of you reached for cereal or gmo-free overnight oats or frozen waffles or 3-day-old pizza. sometimes we eat the same thing, every day, for weeks. i get tired of eggs randomly, only to go back to craving them desperately. i'm cuban; i take my coffee like my father showed me, very milky and sweet.
some of us ate in a hurry. some of us hate eating breakfast but if we don't we will get nauseous later. some of us took our meds first or took our meds after. some of us have a kitchen 5 feet wide and sometimes it's the biggest room in the house. some of us are confident there will be food in the pantry and some of us flinch and say well, the paycheck is coming. some of us turn on a podcast while we eat or we scroll our phones or write in our diaries.
some of us are choosing, specifically, not to eat breakfast. some of us are too busy. some of us are pretending we "just forgot," but we are ignoring the warning signs that everything feels too-heavy. some of us are so consumed with anxiety or grief that we can't eat. some of us can't stand up long enough to make our coffee. some of us have no table to sit down and eat.
i cannot tell you what an artist "meant" by their choices. but they did have to make a choice, conscious or otherwise, to give you information. to give you a little bit more light. each of these choices are little stars of data; connecting speckles for you to weave through, drawing a line.
you cannot use a mirror in a dark room. for some of us; we will not care that the curtains are blue, because that will just be a data point and not enough light to see by. for some of us, the blue curtains will be the same as our childhood bedroom. it will make us seasick. for some of us, blue will be the color of frostbite. it might look like a pixel up close; but from a distance, oh! the picture blooms.
i cannot tell you what will stick out for you. what will carry meaning. some of you will read the sentence "i didn't have breakfast today" and say "this means nothing." some of you will read that and say "oh, me neither." some of you will say "this means the character is probably a little grouchy." some of you will say "oh, i wonder if they're okay. why didn't they eat anything?" ... art is a mirror. i am holding hands with you, over space and time, and asking you to feel something with me.
i want you to read my work and find a blue pair of curtains. i want you to read my work and find things in it that i never imagined placing. i have no way of knowing what will resonate with you, that's true. and maybe i just was hungry while i wrote this, and thinking about the eggs in my fridge. but if you found meaning, that meaning is yours. it cannot be erased just because i didn't "intend" it. you created a different world by interpreting my work. it's collaborative! that's beautiful! that's stunning!
just! imagine looking at the night sky and saying - it's stupid to have a favorite constellation or a favorite star. they're just there.
because here's the thing - across centuries and cultures, we look up. we still find meaning in the stars. these beautiful, lovely scattered accidents. are you looking? they call. and we look back and say oh! of course we are!
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bluegiragi · 3 months
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open wide.
early access + nsfw on patreon
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i like the idea that bruce just shows up to league meetings with his birds with absolutely no explanation offered
i mean this man frequently stalks his coworkers and knows everything that's happening in their personal lives and i think he'd forget that HE is the weird one for doing it and not everybody automatically knows when he's acquired a new child
so he just shows up at the watchtower with a new bird and literally says nothing about it . just sits at his chair with the latest robin standing next to him and literally doesn't acknowledge that anything is different and it gets even more confusing when they change their costumes and names 😭
like
20-something bruce: and containing this may be a matter of-flash did you have a question
barry: uh. yeah. sorry, what is that?
20-something bruce: (glancing at 9 yr old dick who has been next to him for 45 minutes) that's robin. obviously. as i was saying,
-
early 30s bruce, who hasn't shown up with a robin for a few years, entering with a nightwing and a jason todd robin:
barry:
diana:
hal:
j'onn:
bruce: what.
hal:
hal: do you like clone them or
-
mid 30s bruce, quietly talking with a clearly-not-sixteen-years-old robin in the corner after being without one for two years:
hal:
diana:
barry:
j'onn:
clark:
bruce:
tim:
bruce: this one followed me
-
late 30s bruce zeta-beaming in with a nightwing, a slightly older robin, and an absolutely BUILT man in a red hood:
barry: did you hire a bodyguard
bruce: no.
barry: whos mr red over there
bruce: you don't remember my second one???
barry:
hal:
diana:
j'onn:
clark:
barry: did. did that one not die
jason: got better
-
later 30s bruce, quietly showing around a blonde robin:
hal:
bruce: don't ask.
hal: i didn't say anything
-
40 yr old bruce, making intense, unbroken eye contact with a black shadow:
clark, leaning over to talk to tim: what are they doing
tim, not looking up from his fancy ipad: do i look like i know that
-
red robin popping in unnanounced in the middle of a league meeting: batman is alive.
barry: who the FUCK are you???
-
batman, some minutes later, trailed by what is CLEARLY a new robin: did red robin happen to pass through here????
barry: i have several questions
-
no-longer-lost-in-the-time-stream bruce, talking to batgirl, black bat, and the signal:
hal: did you get three more.
bruce: no. just one.
hal: i shouldn't have asked, my bad
-
mid 40s bruce wayne, stepping out of the zeta tube: sorry i'm late
diana: not to worry. let's get start-
bruce: i have a few more coming behind me
zeta tube: 🌀🌀🌀
jason: hi
cass: 👋
diana:
diana: ok should we st-
zeta tube: 🌀🌀🌀
dick, holding damian like a scowling, sopping wet cat: bruce he's not feeling polite today
damian: HISSS
bruce: okay does he need to go back?
dick: he said he's fine but hes just not feeling polite
diana:
diana: is that the las-
zeta tube: 🌀🌀🌀
steph: b i need a hair tie
diana:
diana: so can-
zeta tube: 🌀🌀🌀
duke: b did i miss rolecall
diana: no, signal, you did not. let's-
zeta tube: 🌀🌀🌀
tim: b alf is mad at you
bruce: why
hal: it's like a fucking clown car
steph: you didn't eat breakfast
tim: you didn't eat breakfast either
steph: shut.
damian: HISSSS
jason: wing. if you do not keep that brat quiet-
dick: hes a BABY!!!!!
duke: you didn't eat breakfast either, timothy
jason: hes a BITCH!!!!!
tim: who the fuck told you????
cass: :)
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hal: (storming off, in tears), YOU HAVE TOO MANY CHILDREN.
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lovelyghst · 2 months
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craving consensual somno with (slightly intoxicated) simon riley and his (extremely heavy sleeper) girl. take this as ur warnings.
just him coming home late at night as usual, the bourbon in his system keeping him loosened up and tranquil, yet ever so cognizant as he enters your shared bedroom. those familiar creepy-crawlies invading his stomach with boyish excitement to see you, and quickly turning towards his dick when he lays eyes on your pretty body.
it’s nearly a routine at this point; you purposely fall asleep in these skimpy, two-piece pajamas, usually some sort of small berries, cherries, or flowers adorning the thin, white fabric that leaves little to the imagination, knowing it’ll get him all worked up. the curtains are left pulled and the door cracked open, you kick the covers off and lay with a pillow hugged tightly in your arms beneath you to give him the best view; infinite signs telling him you want it just as bad as he does. it is routine, but it gets so him riled up, each and every time.
he trudges over, as quietly as the tipsy man can manage to the end of your bed, and with tunnel-vision on your exposed thighs. even his jaw fallen slack just a bit in hunger. desperate to get his hands on you after being apart for so long, and wanting to soothe that ache in his cock he hadn’t even realized he was palming through his jeans.
you barely stir when he kneels on the foot of the bed, and neither when he crawls above you and places a kiss right behind your ear.
he presses a cold palm to your shoulder, attempting to urge you onto your back to give him a visual of your features. to let him see your curves in the raw moonlight, how the dainty material of your pajamas becomes a tad bit see-through around your tits and incidentally rides up past your bellybutton, endless thoughts running through his dazed mind as he eventually manages to flip you over successfully.
though, your sleepy hum suddenly alerts him to a standstill, his worst nightmare being to wake you from your serene rest. not now, anyway.
“shhh, sweetheart,” he gently coaxes you, and he can’t help the grin spanning his lips when you mumble the first syllable of his name in that questioning, dreamy tone. he clears fallen hair from your face, slipping his pillow from your grasp as he mutters, “yeah, dovie, s’only me. you’re okay, you’re safe… jus’ go back to sleep for me, now.”
your unconscious mind obeys like clockwork, the smallest of smiles curling your lip corners in contentment, and it’s only a matter of seconds before he’s returning to his endeavors.
kissing all across your exposed collarbone, thoughtlessly slipping a finger or two beneath the strap of your little pajama shirt and carefully allowing it to glide down your shoulder as he repeats the process on the other side. peppering kisses to your soft skin, before rolling the fabric upward from the bottom so he can properly pay attention to the rest of your chest and tummy.
lips grazing your sternum with short, controlled breaths fanning your sensitive parts; aware of how easily ticklish you are and attempting not to light that fuse, equally straining himself in not turning too feverish as he takes your hardened nipple in his mouth and paws at the other in his hand.
he works his way down slowly but surely, until he’s pulling your shorts off with tender hands and unveiling your bare, soaked pussy, and he can’t even think to suppress the low groan pushed from his lungs at the sight in front of him. he inches forward with nearly crossed eyes, taking incisive ministrations in lifting your legs up and over his back.
your breathing hitches a bit in your slumber when he licks an almost reluctant yet long stripe from your hole to your clit, unable to give himself a moment to savor it before he’s diving back in for more.
“missed this pretty, little cunt on my tongue, baby… christ,” he chuckles lightly to himself, “good girl’s gonna be the death o’ me.”
he sloppily makes-out with your pussy, any and all devotions of rhythm and precision thrown far from his intentions. he only gets to be selfish when he has you like this, and he’d be damned if he doesn’t take advantage of the opportunity as it’s laid out on his bed. moaning at your wetness and taste, how your pussy drools for more and coats his chin with a slick he devours like a madman deprived.
the small whines you make in your sleep are nothing but precious to simon, burning them into his brain like any other occasion he’s pulled them from your lips. saving them for the later times like when he’s a thousand miles away, locked away in some office, and can’t possibly bring himself to bother you with a pestering, horny phone call.
you turn your head to the side with a hum, empty hands reaching for any semblance of comfort on your abdomen, which rather concerns him for a moment until he realizes just what you want.
he gives you one of his hands and you blindly accept it, wrapping your smaller fingers around his wrist and thumb to pull the appendage closer. resting just below your ribcage, satisfied and holding it close like you would a teddy bear.
“sweet thing… always loved this perfect pussy,” he mumbles right up against your warmth, quiet as to not disrupt your blissful obliviousness in your sleep. he’s utterly drunk on you and your taste, and the alcohol he had beforehand certainly contributes to his filthy, forward language.
“how easy y’get on my mouth, ‘nd yet how tight you are around my cock… fuckin’ hell—”
he watches intently as the tips of his fingers delve between your folds, gradually disappearing whilst your chest begins to heave a little heavier; a faint, broken noise of pleasure omitting straight from your throat. tightening around his digits as he pushes them further in, just as you do wrapped around his cock when you’re conscious.
he’s not thinking straight; he’s merely experimenting with you as he curls his fingers upward, prodding at that gummy spot in your cunt and greedily sucking on your clit to push you over. toying with you, rather, because the face you make when you’re first emerged from your slumber with a mind-shattering orgasm is truly priceless.
your eyes snap open as you come around his digits, squeezing his hands tight with your vision going blank. the high is strong but you don’t allow it to last very long when the dots in your brain are connecting, turning you all excited for the implications of it all.
erratically catching your breath with a huge grin on your face, matching his as he comes up to greet you. he’s stupid, shamelessly drunk on your taste, and it radiates from his expression as if he just witnessed a star being born right before his muddy eyes.
you haven’t a clue what just happened, but you fucking loved every sober second of it.
and before you know it, he’s coming back up to meet your lips with his own, which you graciously accept, taste of slick and alcohol and all. humming as he slips his greedy hands upward and behind your back, giggling when he impatiently flips over on his back and hauls you with him. til you’re curled up by his side, halfway on his chest whilst one leg slips between both of his bulky ones.
“i‘m glad you’re home…” nearly a pout, “really missed you, si.”
you’re the first one to speak, quietly, sincere as ever as you examine his pretty face. the faint bags beneath his lids, the wetness that sticks to his dirty-blond stubble. his rough and gruff exterior that hides behind it a boy who’s absolutely and utterly whipped for you.
“that right?” he taunts, eyes remaining shut. “and my tongue, i bet?”
you shy away with a laugh. he won’t remember these words in the morning, but you’ve always loved how cocky and brazen he gets with a couple of drinks running through his blood.
“i missed all of you...”
his eyes barely have to open for him to effectively, and lovingly, judge you with a mere glance. it’s one of his talents.
“some parts more than others, clearly.”
“that’s not true,” you contest, but the humorous hesitancy and sheepishness in your voice tells him otherwise.
“sure, baby, sure.” he takes a moment to breathe, overtly proud of himself. “y’missed my mouth, n’ my hands. even with how rough they are with ya sometimes, yeah?” you hide your flushed face in his neck with a groan, praying this embarrassment is short-lived though preparing for the worst as you feel his lips inch closer to your ear.
“prob’ly missed me fuckin’ my cock into that tight, little cunt—”
“okay, fine!” you finally admit and pull away defensively, slapping his chest but only earning a laugh from him. “but i definitely don’t miss that dirty brain of yours, you big dog.”
“you love me anyway,” he states, matter-of-factly.
you give a big smooch to his forehead, then the bridge of his nose, and then down to his lips, which he returns.
“i do. a lot,” you add and he hums, feeling fulfilled.
and, oh, he’s so fulfilled with you. you take care of him by allowing him to take care of you, and it’s a two-way street. you ground each other whilst never forcing one to tether themself to earth.
you sit up to fix your top, smoothing over the fabric and shrugging the straps back into place. shimmying back into your shorts when you catch a glimpse of the large man’s dark jeans contrasting your light sheets, belt buckle glimmering in the corner of your eye.
“simon, honey, you need to change before you—”
you look over and are suddenly forced to stifle a giggle when you discover that the poor man has fallen asleep, a droopy smile still ornamenting his slick-covered face. taking your hand and swiping the apple of his cheek with your thumb, you’re pleased when he doesn’t budge one bit. dragging it downwards past his muscled chest and abdomen, landing just beneath his leather belt.
your fingertips trace his hard-on over the jeans, knowing you can’t just leave him like this, all aching and pent up and too exhausted to do anything about it himself.
maybe you could do him a favor and return the sweet gesture? <3
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padmestrilogy · 4 months
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i’m not into “who’s the most powerful jedi” “who’s the best duelist” stuff but if i was, mace windu would be my man. who the fuck defeats palpatine. in a 1v1 . every other time someone has to fight palpatine in this saga they’re like “noooo i’ll turn to dark side there must be another way 😔😔” mace just does it. he beat the shit out of that old man what the fuck
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xenasaur · 5 days
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some of you have had your perception of mommy dommes warped by the popular advent of people simply using "mommy" as a title devoid of all context. I am not that kind of mommy domme. I am the kind that Acts Like Your Mom (or, how your mom should've acted). I am going to be so sugary-sweet and gentle and kind with you. I'm going to refer to all of your injuries as booboos and offer to kiss them better. I am going to make you little snacks and make sure you're hydrated. I am going to snuggle you so softly yet so tightly and kiss your forehead so gently and tell you that you make mommy proud every single day. that you are the best kid a gal like me could ask for. that I love you. I love you.
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