#money pieces

[sirenadeloceano]

Miss this hair! Look at me studying like the good little girl I was 🤣 this was REALLY 4 years ago. TIME FLIES

[winterholidae]

[alotofgecs]

An attempt at rose gold

[montanabohemian]

if i see a single one of you pissed that your faves canceled an event or a con appearance because they're striking for fair wages then imma come for you in your sleep 🔪🔪🔪

(direct that fury where it belongs: AMPTP and the execs)

[inkskinned]

you have to go to work so you can pay for your doctor, who is not taking your insurance right now, and if you say i can't afford the doctor's you are told - get a better job. it is very sad that you are unwell, yes, but maybe you should have thought about that before not having a better job.

(where is the better job? who is giving out these better jobs? you are sick, you are hurting - how the hell are you supposed to be well enough for this better job?)

but you go to the doctor because you had the nerve to be hurt or sick or whatever else. and they tell you that it is because you have anxiety. you try your best. you are a self-advocate. you've done the reading (which sometimes pisses them off worse, honestly). you say it is actually adding to my anxiety, it is effecting my quality of life. so they say that you are fat. they say that all young people have this happen to them, isn't it a medical marvel! they say that you should eat more vegetables. they say that you probably just need to lose a little more weight, and that you are faking it for attention.

(what attention could this doctor possibly give? what validation? that's their fucking job, isn't it?)

there is always a hypochondriac, right. someone always tells you about a hypochondriac. or someone who is unnecessarily aggressive during the worst days of their life. or someone looking "for a quick fix". or some idiot who wasn't educated about how to properly care for themselves who just abandons their treatment. and again, the hypochondriac, the overly-cautious hysteric. these people don't deserve to be treated like humans (right), and since you might be one of these people, you also don't get treated like a human. because those people can really fuck with the system, you now have to pay for it. and besides. you're actually probably faking it.

(more often than not, you find a 2:1 ratio of these stories. for every "hypochondriac", there are 2 people who knew something was wrong, and yet nobody could fucking find it. the story often ends with pointless suffering. the story often ends with and now it's too late, and it's going to kill me.)

you are actually just making excuses. someone else got that procedure or that diagnosis and he's fine, you should be fine too. someone else said they watched a documentary about other inspirational people with your exact same condition, maybe you should be inspirational, too. you're just too morbid. your pain and your experience is probably just not statistically concerning. it is all self-reported anyway, and you're just being a baby.

(once, while sitting down in the middle of making coffee, you had the sudden, horrible thought - i could kill myself to make the pain stop. you had to call your best friend after that. had to pet your dog. had to cry about it in the shower. you won't, but that moment - god, fuck. the pain just goes on and on.)

you know someone who went in for routine surgery and said i still feel everything. they told her to just relax. it took her kicking and screaming before they figured out she wasn't lying - the anesthetic drip hadn't been working. you know someone who went in for severe migraines who was told drink water and lose weight. you know someone who was actively bleeding out and throwing up in the ER and was told you're just having a bad period.

in the ER there are always these little posters saying things like "don't wait! get checked today!" and you think about how often you do wait. how often the days spool out. you once waited a full week before seeing the doctor for what you thought was a sprained wrist. it had actually been broken - they had to rebreak it to set it.

but you go into the doctor. the problem you're having is immediate. the person behind the counter frowns and says we're not taking your insurance. you will be paying for this out-of-pocket.

they send you home with tylenol and a little health packet about weight loss or anxiety or attention deficit. on the front it has your birthday and diagnosis. you think about crying, and the words swim. it might as well say go fuck yourself. it might as well say you're a fucking idiot. it might as well say light your money on fire and lie down in it. and the entire fucking time - the problem persists.

it's okay. it's okay, it's just another thing, you think. it's just another thing i have to learn to live with.

[sassypantsjaxon]

There's just something about Zoro sleeping half in Sanji's bed while Sanji's mostly on the floor

[chalkrub]

do you think it’s a friendly wolf

[lousysharkbutt]

setting the tone for 2024 by making this my first post thank you for your attention

[nin-nyan-ve]

बारा.

Nihilism and Absurdism

one/?

[beanghostprincess]

Nami's guard dog <3

[nellpose]

🍊⚔️

[mscota]

@bamsara I'm ready for the Joe route

[bokutosbiceps]

so much fun

gear five!monkey d luffy x afab!reader | smut | ~1k words

warnings: smut. it’s smut. also mild cursing LOL

a/n: okay, i wrote this impromptu smut as soon as i saw the gif @ the end of this post from one of @meeplaws posts. it was just so gorgeous i had to write something about it. wrote half of this on the toilet.

luffy had you backed into the corner of your shared quarters, pink irises trained on your heaving chest. his hair was glowing white and whipping wildly around his face, while yours lay still against the nape of your neck. there was no wind.

he’s grinning and giggling at you, and you’re unable to tear your attention away from the way his pink tongue hangs out of his mouth. or the way his adam’s apple is bobbing up and down, strained against the skin of his throat. you gulp.

“where do ya think you're goin’, sugar?” he bounced closer to you and took you by your waist, pressing your abdomen against his and leaning forward to effectively fold you backwards. “don’t’cha wanna have some fun with your captain?”

“l-luffy, you're…”

“so what?” luffy knew you were going to mention how he was currently using gear 5. how he was currently sending things around him flying and billowing without a second thought. how dangerous and completely inviting the glint in his eye was. “s’gonna make it so much more fun, right?”

in an instant you were laying on your back with luffy’s hand still wrapped around your waist, his hips digging into yours while he sat so radiantly in between your thighs.

“hey, y/n…” he giggled, seeing the mixture of apprehension and desire etched into your features. “you love me, don’t’cha?”

you could only nod, feeling the delicious pressure of something pressing against your clothed cunt. you'll indulge your lover, you decided. even in this state. it was just that he was normally rough and unbound, never hurting you, but always leaving you breathless.

you wondered what would happen if gear 5 was added to the mix.

and you kinda wanted to find out.

“then play with me, sugar!” he giggled again, taking this opportunity to rut his hips down against yours. you moan, earning a satisfied whine from him.

“okay, lu, what do you wanna—oh, shit…” all luffy needed to hear from you was your “okay” and he let himself loose. his palms, warm and sweaty immediately pressed against the curve of your ass, gripping and pulling your shorts down in one fell swoop, giggling wildly while he did this. he pushed your shirt up to your chin, irises turning into little pink hearts at the sight of your pillowy tits, wanting nothing more than to bury his face in between them.

the warmth radiating from in between your thighs called to him, though, and he looked down at your cunt, licking his lips and smiling.

“ahh, you were just playin’ with me earlier, huh?” luffy took two fingers and swiped up from your vagina to your clit, gathering the slick that had been leaking out in a steady stream since he first approached you. “you’re wantin’ me real bad right now, ain’t’cha?”

“y-yeah…” you managed to huff out, arching your back as he continued to toy with your cunt. he was fascinated with how your slick stretched and hung in a silvery line between his two fingers. he caught the string of your arousal with his tongue, staring at you with wild eyes as he sucked his fingers clean. once he’d finished, he closed his eyes and grinned, as if he'd just ascended into bliss.

“you always taste so good, sugar. my favorite treat.” his eyes snap open and in one swift movement, he hikes your thighs over his shoulders and presses his face to your pussy. his nose prodded at your clit while he stretched his tongue inside you, as far as your anatomy would allow, and then some. his tongue lapped at your soaking wet walls, toying with the gummy spots, the ridged spots, and the spots that made you tangle your hands in his hair and pull.

after you had cum on his tongue nearly three times, luffy abruptly left your pussy aching and cold, clenching around nothing. you chanced a glance at him between your thighs. he was leaning back on his heels with his shorts unbuttoned and unzipped, stroking his cock and staring at you. he was shuddering and shimmering at his own touch, though his eyes were focused on you and you can tell he's thinking.

“m’ gonna fuck you now, ‘kay?” he breathed, shimmying out of his shorts and leaning over you, pressing you into the bed with his weight. you swore you had seen stars in his eyes before he buried his face into the crook of your neck.

he panted heavily as he teethed at your neck, scraping your skin and then soothing it with a quick swipe of tongue. you could feel the remnants of your slick still on his cheeks, rubbing onto yours. you're covered in his drool and your cum, but you're happy. blissful. it feels like the sun’s rays are reaching out to you, warming you, soaking through you. 

finally, he bit down on your shoulder and let out a loud, strained whine as he reached down to grip his cock and try to shove it inside of you. he missed, feeling his cock stretch and bend to the side against your cunt. he laughed out loud, trying over and over again to just get it in and babbling about he’s just so excited to get inside of you. the feeling of the tip of his cock brushing against your clit over and over drove you into a spluttering stupor, ripping another orgasm from you. 

“okay, okay, here we go, sugar, here we go…” he calms down long enough to completely focus on burying himself within you. he lets out a mixture between a growl and a cackle as he finally plunges his cock into you and almost immediately bottoms out.

“oh, sugar, this is gonna be so so so fun. we're gonna have so much fun.” he digs his fingers into the plush of your hips as he fully hilts his cock deep within you, eliciting another delicious mewl to fall from your lips. he arches his back and pushes his chest to the sky as you clench around him, letting out a full belly laugh as he snaps his hips forward, indulging in the way you squeeze him. 

once he had gotten his fill of laughter, he leaned down and pressed his forehead to yours. “soooo much fun.” he grinned.

a/n: i need this man in my life. and i want him to call me sugar.

taglist: @kingofthe-egirls

[wilteddreamsofbaldursgate]

Overindulgent father Astarion who tells his children they’re allergic to any kind of jewellery that isn’t made of the highest grade Dwarven crafted gold. 

It’s not even because Astarion might have a certain aversion to silver, no, he just raises his children to have standards, thank you very much. 

And it doesn’t end with shiny things, oh no… 

The Ancunín brood is known to be dressed in perfectly woven cotton, silk and soft leather clothes, no matter the occasion.

They’re seen playing with expensive toys, reading artfully illustrated books that certainly belong behind thick glass, not in children’s sticky hands. 

There’s even talk that one of the children is not as naturally inclined to music as his parents claim him to be, surely his lyre must be enchanted—the instrument certainly looks extravagant enough! 

And then there’s always this air of effortless haughtiness surrounding the Ancunín children whenever their nannies and servants are parading them through town as if they were perfect little dolls; objects to show off the wealth their parents acquired in quite the mysterious ways. 

So, it’s no secret that Astarion and Tav are pampering their children—some might say they’re even spoiling them rotten. 

And maybe they are, especially Astarion.

But he doesn’t see why he should raise them any other way, nor does he want to.  

When it comes to his children, Astarion has his own standards, and as long as Tav agrees with him nothing really matters. 

Because, these people, they don’t know anything about the Ancuníns. 

They don’t know that it’s not unusual for Astarion to wash out dirt and mud and strawberry stains from comically small finery, leaving behind only the memories of a day spent playing in the garden, chasing after ducks, picking flowers, lazing in the sun…

That any holes and tears the children’s clothes might suffer are quickly mended, making them look as good as new in no time. 

Nor do they know that Astarion doesn’t mind fashioning a brand new dress to match that of a favourite doll, either. Or to embroider a pretty vest with the likeness of that stray cat the children seem to adore, although their father would rather they don’t touch the mangy animal. 

No, those people know nothing at all...

“Not tired!” Astarion’s youngest cries; the vehement denial of her father’s earlier accusation is cut short by a telltale yawn.

The room still smells of fragrant lavender oil and peaches even when the bath water has already grown tepid, just one or two degrees above what Astarion would consider too cold to be enjoyable. 

Amused, he raises an eyebrow at the protesting toddler before he lifts her out of the copper bathtub with little effort. 

By now, he knows every step of this game.

“Tut-tut, my dear child, what did mama and I say?” Astarion kneels, quickly wrapping a soft towel around the child to keep her warm. “We only tell lies outside of this house.”

Unfazed by her father’s gentle scolding, the girl crosses her arms that haven’t yet lost their puppy fat across her chest, reminding Astarion a little too much of a very displeased Tav. 

Suppressing a sigh, he leans back to consider the pouting child, wondering what could possibly be upsetting her this time—the list is growing longer by the day, after all. 

“What’s the matter, dear?” Astarion asks gently, hoping it’s something easily fixable as it’s growing rather late. 

“Want apple!”

Decades ago, Astarion might’ve rolled his eyes—he knows exactly which stupid apple the child wants, it’s been haunting him all day—but once he started to treat his children’s problems as if they were his own, his life has grown somewhat easier. 

“Why, let’s get an apple on our way to bed, then. Would that be alright, Your Highness?” 

The girl promptly nods her head, allowing Astarion to pat her hair dry before dressing her in a clean night dress. 

She rests her cheek against her father’s shoulder as he carries her first to the kitchen to grab a fragrant apple and a knife, then to her bedroom where they settle on the cosy window seat, just like they do every night.

Soft moonlight is pouring through the windows; the child giggles at the way the knife’s blade is catching the silver light as Astarion peels and cuts the apple into even pieces.

“Here you go,” he finally says, giving the slice of apple one last examining look before surrendering it to the impatient little hands reaching for it. “A sweet treat for my little sweet. Doesn’t it taste so much better when we don’t eat it off the floor, darling?” And when it’s not crawling with ants…

The appeased toddler nibbles at the juicy fruit as Astarion carefully combs through her still-damp curls. 

Her hair’s getting long, he notices, knowing that taking care of it will become more time-consuming each day. 

Once, Astarion would’ve thought this task tedious, brushing out hair that’s not his own, oiling and braiding it for no other reason than knowing his children enjoy him doing it. 

But that’s why he loves doing it in the first place, he supposes.

Astarion can tell by his toddler’s heartbeat that sleep is about to claim her. 

The half-eaten slice of apple is still clutched in her little fist as he cradles the child to his chest, slowly rising from the window seat to put her to bed. 

He’s just about to lay the child down that the fruit drops to the floor, his daughter’s tiny hand clutching at his shirt instead.

“Thank you, papa,” she mumbles, more asleep than awake.

Astarion pauses.

He breathes in the clean, yet unique scent of the little girl that is forever engraved in his brain, the same way he knows under which exact constellation she was born. When she took her first steps, what her first word was. Soon, he will have to memorise her favourite colour, and what she likes to eat when dirty apples won’t be that appealing anymore. 

By now, Astarion knows this game by heart, knows that with every year that passes, he has something new to learn about his children.

And sometimes he wonders what it’s like to grow up with clean bed sheets and full bellies. Sleep filled with naught but warmth and happy memories. Ever open doors and tears that are dried by tender kisses. Living in a house where mistakes and anger are welcomed, safe. 

He wonders what it’s like for his children to know that their father’s love comes without conditions. Not now and not ever. 

Sitting down on the bed, Astarion holds his youngest a little closer to his chest, unwilling to let go of her, yet. 

He’s often accused of spoiling his children when most people can only just grasp the very surface of his love for them, the bare minimum of what he feels for his one and only, precious family. 

These baseless accusations are as unimportant to Astarion as the people voicing them.

He’s raising his children to have standards, wants them to take their father’s love for granted, to accept nothing less but pure devotion.

It’s the only way Astarion knows how to love them, the only way that comes most naturally to him. 

Astarion looks down at his little girl, now fast asleep, a gentle smile tugging at her lips. 

After all these years—all these children—he’s still in awe watching them sleep in his arms as if no harm in the world could ever befall them.

And it won’t—not if Astarion can help it. 

“No, thank you, my heart,” he whispers, pressing a kiss against the crown of the toddler’s head. 

When it comes to his children, Astarion holds himself to the highest standard.

[muffinlance]

Oh so the clown ads are over? Too late Tumblr I already cancelled ad free uninstalled your app and discovered the power of ublock in mobile FireFox. AND tags are editable in the web version?

There's no going back

[duckytree]

nami whenever sanji exists within her vicinity