#subject matter: protest

[absmarchive]

Women's March brings protesters to campus in support of women's reproductive rights

[daxite]

i thought we realised that policing and chastising people for the media they consume (unless it is literally illegal, but i shouldn't even need to specify that) is fucking weird, invasive, achieves nothing and just makes you look like a gigantic twat lmao

[irlwakko]

Just a reminder for people who may not know, in light of protestors at UCLA being shot in the face with rubber bullets— rubber bullets are not bullets made of rubber. They are metal bullets encased in rubber.

Despite being called “non-lethal” or sometimes “less lethal”, they are well known to cause death and permanent disability.

Here’s a photo showing their size— these are actual rubber bullets used during the Black Lives Matter protests in 2020.

Do not let them downplay the severity of what they are subjecting this students to for standing against genocide. Stay safe and stay educated.

EDIT: Twitter banned @/nosferatusexgod, the student shot, whose tweet I linked to (as a primary source) at the top of the post. Screenshots of the tweet I originally linked to can be found here.

[headspace-hotel]

I full understand that it is not appropriate as response to talking about the various roles of christianity in colonialism and Christofascism,

However as its own thing, I think its an interesting subject how the Bible is supposed to be the fundamental source of Christian doctrine, BUT most of the "traditional values" of christian conservatives and ideas that are powerfully associated with christianity...just Are Not In There, or are only mentioned as brief, isolated side notes amidst much longer and more detailed passages discussing something different

Whereas many ideas that are emphasized HUGELY in the Bible are just totally and completely ignored by these rightwing political folks 

Much of Christianity is not actually based on the Bible, but instead on a bunch of traditions and later writers, but protestants have problems with admitting that.

And as someone who was raised very "sola scriptura" i don't even get why church tradition matters for anyone. Who cares what Augustine thought about abortion. He was literally just a guy

[soulprompts]

THE MANY MEANINGS OF "HEY.": A PROMPT LIST.

i often have these ideas that have no real origin, but i can actually tell you precisely why my brain wanted this: i was listening to "hey, soul sister" by train on a loop and i got thinking abt the fact that we really do just say "hey" for so many reasons. and i wanted to make that your thought of the evening! so happy november, bon appetit, wrap up warm, DO NOT ADD TO THIS LIST, and enjoy your writings!

[ GREETING ]: sender says "hey" as a greeting to the receiver.

[ ATTENTION ]: sender, having just noticed something strange or remarkable, calls for the receiver to get their attention.

[ REASSURE ]: in a bid to steady the unsettled receiver, the sender lightly says "hey" to help them calm down.

[ ANGER ]: the sender sharply snaps "hey" at the receiver, clearly angry about something the receiver has just done or had done in the past.

[ IDEA ]: having been presented with a predicament, the sender suddenly unravels a solution, introducing it to the receiver by saying "hey…".

[ GUILT ]: having just done something that they know the receiver won't be pleased with, the sender sheepishly greets them once they arrive to see the damage.

[ GOSSIP ]: the sender turns to face the receiver conspiratorially, clearly eager to share some new gossip with them.

[ URGENT ]: the sender rushes to the preoccupied receiver, desperately shouting "hey!" to get them to focus on a far more pressing matter.

[ SOOTHE ]: after finding the clearly distressed receiver, the sender pulls them into a careful embrace, gently murmuring "hey…" to try and soothe them.

[ SMILE ]: the sender (who hasn't been smiling up until they actually see the receiver in front of them) lights up with a smile as they greet the receiver.

[ TEARS ]: the sender greets the receiver while very clearly in tears.

[ FAKE ]: alternatively, the sender (who has just been crying in private) hastily wipes away their tears and tries to greet the receiver casually (to varying degrees of success).

[ WARNING ]: when the receiver begins to say things about subjects that are off-limits to the sender, the latter gives them a warning by saying "hey…".

[ LAUGH ]: having found the receiver to be decidedly unhappy, the sender lightly catches their attention before doing something to make them laugh, or at the very least, grin.

[ PROTEST ]: after the receiver does or says something that the sender deems to be unfair, the sender tries to exact justice by saying "hey!".

[ BREATHLESS ]: having clearly just sprinted down to the receiver, the sender tries to catch their breath while greeting them.

[ SAVE ]: after just saving the receiver's life in a very heroic fashion, the sender smoothly greets them while helping them escape.

[ FLIRT ]: the sender meets the receiver in a social setting, and attempts to flirt with them with the very traditional pick-up line: "hey.".

[ APOLOGY ]: the sender, having recently done something that hurt or upset the receiver, reunites with them and addresses the elephant in the room by greeting them with a sincerely apologetic tone.

[ AWKWARD ]: after a particularly rough first encounter, the sender meets the receiver again, and awkwardly greets them with more than a touch of embarrassment.

[ GENTLE ]: having found the receiver in an emotionally compromised position, the sender closes the door and approaches them carefully, gently saying "hey…" to try and get them to communicate what has upset them.

[ HARD ]: preparing to deliver what they both know will be bad news, the sender tries to prepare the receiver by quietly greeting them in a solemn tone.

[ WAKEN ]: walking into the receiver's bedroom, the sender gently shakes their shoulder to waken them, and whispers "hey." to encourage the process along.

[ WHISPER ]: the sender gently whispers "hey" to the receiver to discreetly get their attention without drawing the attention of others.

[twisted-beez]

"Goodness, aren't you just the most handsome boy!"

You coo at the purring bundle of fluff sprawled out at your feet, rolling happily amongst the leaves that have settled on the cobblestone pathway up to Ramshackle. Your fingers thread through a black-furred tummy, nearly caught by the playful cat that wriggles excitedly each time he catches you on your way home.

Your companion, who you were about to set off on a walk with, is slightly less pleased. He says nothing, but his lips are pulled into a pout. Tsunotarou seems to be more focused on you than the cat you're showering with affection. Something unfamiliar tugs at his chest. A childlike envy that a prince ought to be ashamed of having.

But something just felt wrong with your words. More specifically, the subject to which they were directed.

The heir to Briar Valley is cautious to reign in his emotions. That doesn't stop the light drizzle that begins to pour. You, ever-observant, are broken from your trance with the playful cat and look up to him. Your smile falters from worry- then quirks back into place as you snicker, noting the turn of his lips.

"Tsunotarou- are you jealous?"

"No."

Thunder booms. You can't help but laught at how silly the situation is, and the charm of your delight- no matter it's direction at him- makes Tsunotarou's chest flutter. He thinks to protest, insisting you not tease him, but thinks he'd be sad if you stopped, too.

"Sorry, I know I'm supposed to be spending time with you right now. Shall we get going?" Your consideration warms his heart. His tantrumous moods never last long when you're involved. Your company melts any dissatisfaction or distress he has away like his own fiery breath melts ice cream in his mouth. The delight thereafter is similar as well. Better, maybe. Definitely.

"You have done nothing wrong," he answers, smooth and cordial, relieved that you've given him a way out of the question so easily. The sun shower is over in moments as steady conversation settles in.

A troublesome little cat trails along behind, not quite ready to give up his source of affection to a dragon.

[legalkimchi]

Please learn more than just a Phrase.

I don't expect people to be subject matter experts on issues of global politics.

But false equivalency is rampant in online discourse regarding three major conflicts in the world today. I am using the word conflict in this post, however, when applicable, i will use other words to describe specifics. (Nuance folks... it's a thing)

So i start off with an assumption that most people don't understand the basics of most international events. As an american, i only know some of the stuff that is happening within my own nation. This is not an insult to you, dear reader. Rather, it is a position we all must realize we are in. You do not understand most world issues.

You just don't.

you aren't there. it isn't your life. you don't have the academic background.

I saw a post recently calling for "freedom for Palestine, Sudan, and Congo."

And it bothered me. Not because i am opposed to peace, (how is asking for ceasefire a bad thing?) but rather because i believe simplifying the conflicts with this wording showcases the ignorance of the differences.

Not all conflicts are the same.

In palestine, we have a convoluted mess where two groups claim a territory as home. getting into the in-depth story of this conflict takes time. Foundational elements of it take place thousands of years ago, but the conflict itself is only about 75 years old. So it is a long and short story. Currently, the sovereign state of Israel is engaging in a genocide in Gaza. Asking for freedom for palestinians makes sense. they live in an apartheid state and would like a state of their own. they wish to be free of occupation. you can argue with the details, be pro-israel, or whatever, but that is the basic ask of palestinians. (if you want to get into anti-semetic regional sentiment or the desire of certain groups to eradicate the israeli jewish population or Israel as a nation that's a different topic, not the point of what i'm talking about.)

In the Congo and Sudan, it is a different story.

Let's start with the Congo. First of all, Which Congo?

Let's please understand that there is the Republic of the Congo and the Democratic Republic of the Congo. The Republic of the Congo is a former french colony. Then there is Democratic Republic of the Congo. Some of us might remember this country as Zaire.

the DRC is the congo we are talking about in the news. This was a former belgian colony and the atrocities committed by the belgians there rival any genocide in human history. i've seen estimates between 5 million and 20 million deaths. some estimates state the population of native congolese were cut in HALF. since the turbulent start of the country after their independence in 1960, the country knew relative peace until the 1990s. Then a mixture of a weak central government and the Rwandan Civil war (which had it's own genocide you may have heard about) spilled over into what was then Zaire. Zaire dissolved, and the DRC took it's place, But the wars have been raging off an on since then. earlier this year, more civil war violence erupted AGAIN. This displaced millions, AGAIN. while the DRC is a bit of an autocratic and repressive regime, the rebel groups are groups with ties with the Rwandan government and the other group with ties to Isis. It's awful all the way down.

Sudan has had an ongoing civil war for over 20 years. I remember this because i helped lead some anti-genocide protests regarding Darfur when i was in college 20 years ago. I've been following this conflict for nearly my entire adult life. you may have heard about this with regards to the Save Darfur coalition regarding the genocide in Darfur. Well, that genocide has continued (albeit with less intensity) for 20 years. the civil war lasted until 2021, but restarted in a different form in late 2023. the conflict is now between two different sides of the military government fighting each other.

It is an awful conflict full of awful leaders. Sudan's government suffered a revolution in 2019 from a dictator, only to have that government overthrown in a coup by the current dictator. The Sudanese military is supported by folks like Russia and North Korea. you might see that among the other countries that support sudan, bunch of communist countries, and you might think "hey, maybe al-Burhan is a leftist".

no... no he is not.

He is a military despot. He has no ties to any real ideology. He just runs sudan as a military dictator.

So who is opposing him?

The Rapid Support Forces. and you may be thinking "ok, so they are the good guys? trying to overthrow the dictator?"

No... They are the ones that instigated the Genocide in Darfur.

This is a situation is "no matter who wins, the people of Sudan lose."

So when folks claim these are all the same. Or wonder why folks talk about one and not the other.

there are reasons. These are very different conflicts. Please learn about them. It matters more than spouting some 4 word slogan calling for "freedom."

Find out what the people of these areas actually need. Learn more about what is happening. My description above is incomplete. I may even get some things wrong. I am trying to keep informed, but I am not an expert, nor do i live there. Raise voices from the region and find out if there are ways to help.

[sayruq]

Yemeni, Iranian, and Palestinian authorities have spoken out in support of US university students and faculty members who have been targeted by brutal police repression for the past two weeks during mobilizations calling for an end to the genocide in Gaza. The leader of Yemen's ruling Ansarallah movement, Abdul Malik al-Houthi, said during a speech on 25 April that the US government “does not respect their laws, their constitution, or any headlines they raise and brag about,” stressing that there is a “concerted effort” from Washington to silence a movement that “has begun to wake up to the horror of what is happening in occupied Palestine.” “With the demonstrations and sit-ins at prominent US universities, the US support for the Israeli enemy became clear, as authorities dealt with the demonstrations and protests … in a bad manner that goes beyond all considerations,” the Yemeni resistance leader added.

Iranian Foreign Minister Hossein Amir-Abdollahian also condemned the crackdown witnessed across several universities. “The suppression and violent treatment of the American police and security forces against professors and students protesting the genocide and war crimes of the Israeli regime in various universities of the United States is deeply worrying,” Iran's top diplomat said via social media, adding that this repression is an extension of “Washington's full-fledged support for the Israeli regime and clearly shows the double standard policy and contradictory attitude of the American government towards freedom of expression.”

In Palestine, officials from Hamas and the Popular Front for the Liberation of Palestine (PFLP), as well as student organizations in the Gaza Strip, issued statements supporting the grassroots movement that has taken over about two dozen university campuses in the US. “We, the students of Gaza, salute the students of Columbia University, Yale University, New York University, Rutgers University, the University of Michigan, and dozens of universities across the United States who are rising in solidarity with Gaza and to put an end to the Zionist–US genocide against our people in Gaza,” a statement from students organizations in Gaza reads. “From here in Gaza, we see you and salute you. Your actions and activism matter, especially in the heart of the empire, in the United States … It is clear that a new generation is rising that will no longer accept Zionism, racism, and genocide and that stands with Palestine and our liberation from the river to the sea,” the statement adds. For their part, the PFLP called on Palestinian and Arab students to “rise for Gaza following the example of American universities.” “Palestinian and Arab universities must take the initiative and break the barrier of silence, following the example of American universities which have ignited an intifada within the campus for the victory of the blood of our Palestinian people, and in rejection of the continuing American support for the zionist entity,” the PFLP statement reads. In a similar vein, Hamas politburo member Izzat al-Rishq said that the government of US President Joe Biden “violates individual rights and the right to expression, and arrests university students and faculty members because they reject the genocide that our Palestinian people are subjected to in the Gaza Strip at the hands of the neo-Nazi Zionists, without the slightest feeling of shame about the legal value represented by the students and university professors.” “The Biden administration, which is a partner in the brutal war on our Palestinian people, does not want to acknowledge that [the US public has] discovered the truth about the Nazi entity and is siding with human values and standing on the right side of history. Today’s students are the leaders of the future, and their suppression today means an expensive electoral bill that the Biden administration will pay sooner or later.”

[ransomnote]

crossposting from my instagram. text and link to original article under the cut.

in response to a tweet from SYSCAbout (shit you should care about) saying "hi just letting you know it's now illegal to protest in Mississippi, Louisiana, and Texas. this is not good 0_0" referencing the article linked here.

clarifying because i read the article: it is still legal, but it is no longer safe, specifically to ORGANIZE a protest. the 5th circuit court ruled that if any one attendee of a protest does something illegal (even something arbitrary as throwing stones, as was the cause for the case), the organizer (s) of said protest could face legal and financial ruin. this is still horrific and a threat to the livelihood of so many people, but for the love of god do not stop protesting for one minute. to only protest when it's safe (or legal) is no protest at all. free palestine and hands off iran 🇵🇸🇮🇷.

and frankly, shame on you SYSCAbout, for blatantly fearmongering. how many people are going to read this and assume if they show up to a protest, they will be arrested no matter what? how many people is your wording going to stop from mobilizing? oh but did you get your clicks? did you get your engagement? shame.

continue to mobilize, continue to organize, but do not do it under your personal social media account, legal name, or attached to your visage. if you weren't already (why???), mask up at protests and cover any tattoos/peircings/dyed hair. carry no identification if you are able. if the state governments think the people, the angry, fed up, those fighting for their own right to exist, the people who have been subjected to the conditions for marginalized people in these states, are going to roll over and take it, they are dead wrong. if they think giving those same people nothing to lose is going to stop them, they have another thing coming.

[absmarchive]

Student organizations gather in protest or support of Roe v. Wade ruling

[psychedelic-ink]

𝐑𝐀𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐎𝐔𝐒

pairing: joel miller x webcam model!f!reader

genre: no outbreak AU, explicit smut (like very explicit), minors dni

word count: 7k

summary: you and joel continue to see one another, no matter the distance. And finally, you two breach the subject of "what are we".

warnings: joel is still bi in this, minor angst in the beginning, live stream sex, piv, messy titjob, dirty talk, possesive!joel, squirting, a hint of jealous joel, good girl/sir, praise kink

a/n: this work was commissioned by the lovely @trauma-dol 💜 thank you so much for commissioning me, I appreciate it lots!

part two of ravish

There are a lot of things you don’t like. The smell of roasted chickpeas, for instance. While others might find it inviting, it's just an odd scent that doesn't sit right with you. Then there's that annoying feeling of needing to pee right after you've gotten all cozy in bed. The list just goes on. You can think of a million things that annoy the heck out of you. 

However, waiting for someone that you’ve been eager to see for months to arrive at your doorstep might be the thing you hate the most. 

Worry bubbles up within you, and you can't help but sigh as you reach for the phone. Joel was supposed to arrive a good thirty minutes ago. 

Excited to see him, you had spent time chopping up an assortment of fresh vegetables – plump tomatoes, vibrant bell peppers sliced into perfect rings, and red onions thinly shaved and ready to caramelize into sweet perfection.

Besides the cutting board, a bowl of freshly shredded mozzarella cheese sits in fluffy mounds, ready to meld and melt into gooey goodness. Fragrant basil leaves are waiting to be scattered over the final creation. The pizza dough had been carefully prepped and now resting. 

But alas, there’s still no sign of him. 

“Dammit Joel, where are you?” 

You knew you should’ve just picked him up from the airport. You should’ve just ignored his protests and gone. New York is a big city; he could’ve gotten himself lost. Or worse, someone might’ve tried to kidnap him, rob him—sure, he’s a big man, but this is New York City.

It had been a hectic month. After you moved back from your family home, the issue of whether or not the relationship should continue had been a hot topic of sorts. For a while, you both decided to embrace the idea of "not putting a label" and simply being together during your visits. However, that proved to be too complicated. Losing yourselves in each other during every visit didn’t really allow for anyone else to come in between.

Not that you were complaining. You really liked Joel and didn’t really have any desire to date anyone else. Joel had enamored you completely. It was hard to keep it casual when all you wanted was him. But clearly, Joel didn’t want anything serious. He was content with how things were. 

The thought made your heart sink painfully in your chest. 

You tried to visit each other once a month, although most of the time it ended up being once every two months. He still joined your live streams. And when your viewers realized you were more than happy to indulge in JMiller’s requests, they started to get suspicious, commenting and teasing relentlessly. That meant you had to ignore him for a bit, which you hated doing. 

You did enjoy the punishments that followed though. 

A sudden buzz pulls you away from memory lane. Looking down you see a text from Joel, prompting your smile. 

Almost there, honey. You weren’t kidding about the traffic. 

“Dork,” you grin. Your head falls back against the back of the couch. You’ve missed him and now that he’ll be here soon makes you all giddy. Dormant butterflies erupt in your chest. Just the thought of him is enough to excite you. For an entire week, Joel Miller is yours. You had planned out everything. Not a minute will be wasted. Not on your watch. 

Twenty minutes later, there’s a knock on the door. You practically jump off the couch and run toward the sound. When you open it, you’re breathless, the tiny hairs at the back of your neck standing with attention. 

It’s him. 

He’s here. 

His eyes are tired, the crinkles you love to kiss deepening with his wide smile, “Hey there, sweetheart,” he says. “Miss me?” 

You jump towards him and wrap your arms around his neck. You hear the “oomf” that vibrates from his chest as you tug him impossibly close, forcing him to lean over you. Joel’s hands find the dip of your waist, squeezing tenderly, his nose bumps affectionally into the crook of your neck, and heat gathers under your skin. 

“God I missed you,” you say, voice trembling. Desperately you hold his face and bring him to your lips. His tongue traces the seam of your mouth, the movement dripping with a need for authority and control. You happily give it to him, opening wide. He sucks the air from your lungs and swallows your moans. Slick gathers between your legs, the fabric of your underwear clinging to your cunt and asking for the stretch of his cock. 

Joel guides the roll of your hips, chuckling darkly into your mouth when you desperately rub yourself against the denim. A shudder rolls up your spine. His cock firming under his jeans, “Honey,” he rasps. “Maybe we should close the door first?” 

“Why?” you say with a hitch of your breath. You drag your lips down his neck, nip at his racing pulse. “I know the neighbor wouldn’t mind. He watches my streams.” 

You’d said it without a second thought, which might’ve been a mistake on your part. His muscles grow rigid under your palms, the heat melting quickly like ice under the hot summer sun. “Is everything okay?” you ask, cupping his cheeks and forcing his gaze up. 

His gaze stays on you only for a moment before he drops his eyes to your lips. Your brows furrow at the reaction. His eyes are clear like a sky before a storm. Obviously, he has the question he wants to ask already locked and loaded but refusing to pull the trigger. He lifts his hands, the width of them blanketing yours as he pulls them down. 

“Just tired,” he sighs. He’s saved by the loud grumble of his stomach, the tension breaking. “And hungry,” he adds with a crooked smile. You force a smile and ignore the trembling of your bottom lip. Joel’s tone might be playful but it does little in calming your nerves. Moving away, the chill you feel on your skin is instant. 

“I prepared most of the ingredients,” you say. “I thought pizza and wine?” 

“We’re in the birthplace of the dollar pizza and you made it homemade?” 

You giggle at how comically wide his eyes are. “Well forgive me for not wanting to feed you the cheapest thing available,” Joel’s lips touch your temple, warmth blossoming where his mouth brushes against. “And I thought it would be fun.” 

“It will,” he murmurs. “I’m not used to bein’ pampered I guess. Only Sarah cares about what goes down my gullet.” 

“Hmm I don’t recall saying it was due to the consideration of your health,” you tease, fingers tiptoeing from his arm to his shoulder. He shivers at the touch. “Maybe, I just want to see what these strong hands can do with some dough.” 

His mere grin manages to send ripples of pleasure down your spine. Something dark and wicked crosses his face and you let out a shaky sigh. “Brat,” he teases. 

With a cat-like grin of your own, you close the door. 

Joel stands before the kitchen counter, the soft glow of the overhead light accentuating the contours of his figure. His sleeves are rolled up, revealing sinewy forearms that glisten with a slight sheen of flour. The muscles beneath his sun-kissed skin ripple as he reaches for the dough, his biceps forming a subtle bulge with each purposeful movement.

With a focused expression, he takes the smooth, slightly elastic dough in his hands. The material yields to his touch, supple yet resilient. As his strong fingers sink into the dough's yielding embrace, you can't help but admire the way he handles it. His touch is both firm and gentle, his hands a testament to years of construction work that have endowed him with strength and dexterity.

The dough stretches and folds, responding to his guidance with grace. His hands move with an almost mesmerizing rhythm, kneading and pressing, coaxing the dough into a state of perfection. The occasional wisp of flour dances in the air as he works.

You watch, entranced, as Joel's fingers work their magic. The concentration etched on his face, the way his lips quirk up in a faint smile as he loses himself while doing so makes your heart race.

As he works, you find your own fingers involuntarily tracing the outline of your wine glass.

"Enjoyin' the view, honey?" Joel's voice rumbles, breaking through the silence. You quickly set the wine glass down and begin to babble something in response, your words stumbling over each other. But before you can complete your sentence, Joel grips your wrist, pulling you toward him. Your back is flush against his solid chest.

His scent of pine and undeniable masculinity, surrounds you, intoxicating your senses as effectively as the wine you had been sipping. The shift in the atmosphere is palpable, charged with an electricity that sends shivers down your spine.

Joel's hands find yours, and he guides them to rest above the dough, his touch sending a jolt of awareness through you. “I’m the guest why the hell am I doin’ all the work?” His fingers intertwine with yours, his calloused skin brushing against your more delicate touch. Your heart beats in sync with the rhythm of his kneading.

Kneading the dough together, you feel a growing pressure against your lower back. It takes a moment for you to realize – his erection, firm and unmistakable, pressing against you. The realization sends a rush of heat to your cheeks, and your breath catches in your throat.

His hand drops to your waist, guiding the grind of your hips. You feel him as the dress you’re wearing dips between your asscheeks, clothed cock parting the two gently. A soft growl rumbles in his chest, the tremble of it felt against your back. Your focus has shifted. The dough forgotten entirely. 

“You’re makin’ cookin’ really hard, sweetheart.” 

You manage a breathless chuckle, "Oh, and whose fault might that be, Mr. Master Dough Kneader?"

He snarls into your ear, hot breath causing goosebumps. “You really are bein’ a brat today. Is there a special occasion for that?” 

Honestly, being a brat really wasn’t your objective. It just. . . sorta came out. You reveled when Joel took control, be it face-to-face or during streams. There’s always something primal lingering under his touches, his words. You roll your hips, cutting his breath short, you feel the length of him being dragged down between the plump flesh of your ass. 

“I just want to make you happy,” you say surprisingly soft. When you attempt to rub against him once more, he stops you, both hands now on your waist, squeezing you in warning. 

“You do make me happy,” he breathes out. His voice is deep, slivering down your back. Heat pools between your legs and you lean into his warmth. “Why would you say that?” 

“Forget it,” You hadn’t expected him to take it so seriously. Worry begins to inflate your chest, heat rising to the tips of your ears and making you short of sight. You attempt to reach for the tomato sauce, making sure to drag the plumpness of your behind against the heft of his cock in order to eradicate the moment. You don’t want him to think too much about it. Or decide that what you have—whatever it is—isn’t worth it. 

The pads of your fingers brush against the smooth surface of the bowl but you can’t reach it. Not quite. Joel turns you over, hands between your waist and the sharp edge of the counter. Frustrated, you fill your cheeks with air and shoot him a glare. “Seriously, it’s nothing, Joel.” 

“No it ain’t,” he snaps silently. “Why would you stress about makin’ me happy?” 

He scoffs at your silence, “What? You think I’m just passin’ the time by comin’ here? That if it’s not worth my time I’ll just leave?” he asks, baffled. Your gaze drops to the granite floor, bottom lip sucked between your teeth. Joel’s eyes go wide, bushy eyebrows almost touching his hairline. “Wait you actually think that?” 

You remain silent. 

“Sweetheart. . .” he shakes his head and pinches your chin, pulling your gaze back up. He looks concerned. Remorseful. You try not to think about your pulse skyrocketing under your skin, try to ignore the skip of your heart. “You really think I’m that shallow?” 

“No,” you answer suddenly, the need to defend him to himself burrowing in your chest. “It’s not that. I just. . . I don’t know. I’m confused I guess.” 

“‘bout what?” 

His thumb draws slow circles on your cheek, you close your eyes, heart and chest suddenly light as air. You could float if you had the capability. You nuzzle his hand like a hurt animal, begging for more of his touch. 

“I really really like you, you know.” 

“I really like you too, honey,” you ignore the way his words and smile make your skin prickle with delight. “But that doesn’t really answer my question.” 

You sigh, you’re stuck between the constant worry and the comfort he’s providing. Despite being known as a chatterbox, you’re having trouble finding the words. 

“I know that me streaming isn’t. . . conventional but I’m not seeing anyone else. I don’t even do private streams anymore,” your eyes flit between his eyes, trying to get a read of whiskey-colored eyes. Fear coats your tongue upon noticing his lips are a thin line—definitely not a good sign. “And well. . . I don’t plan on seeing anyone else either because. . .” 

You melt in relief when his lips finally crack into a small smile, “Because you really really like me?” 

“Precisely,” you say a bit loud and excited. “And of course, I don’t want you to feel pressure but. . . are you seeing anyone?” you clear your throat. “B—Besides me, that is.” 

“Well. .  . sometimes I watch CammingBravo when he’s streamin’.” 

“Joel!” you huff out a laugh and playfully smack his chest. “You know that’s not what I meant.” 

Adoration dots over his face, the corner of his eyes wrinkling with his smile. You love it when he teases you. Love it even more when he just stares at you with blatant amusement. The expression doesn’t linger long though. Like a small flame under rain, it sizzles out, his demeanor changing suddenly. 

His brows furrow, a crease you so desperately want to kiss away forming between them. Joel’s jaw ticks, the muscle above it twitching. He inches closer until your foreheads are pressed together, snug. Your heart is beating with rapid thumps, your breath caught in your throat.  

“I’m not seein’ anyone else either,” he says, voice thick with emotion. “And I’m not planin’ on seein’ anyone else either.” 

“R-Really?” 

He nods, “I want you, sweetheart. Completely. I don’t care what you do on your streams as long as you’re mine when the camera shuts off.” 

Your smile is instantaneous. It’s not like you planned on streaming for the rest of your life, arrangements could be made to make him more comfortable. And you had stopped collabing with Dieter ever since Joel came into the picture—though, now that you knew Joel watched the fallen-from-grace actor’s streams. . . you were getting ideas. 

Joel nudges you with the tip of his nose, smiling, yet still hesitant, “Say somethin’ will you?” 

“So, we both want to be exclusive?” you grin. “That’s what you’re saying?” 

“Reckon, I am,” he answers with a snort. He parts his lips to say more but you beat him to it, covering his mouth with your own. The kiss is long and sweet. It feels like a first kiss in a way, even though you have kissed Joel many many times before.

“Come on now, let’s get these ready and pop them into the oven,” his grin is wide as he pinches your ass, you jump with a yelp and he laughs. When you fix him a half-hearted glare, he only winks. The simple action makes your insides clench. “I’m starvin’.” 

The next day, you take Joel to your favorite coffee shop. They make the best bagel sandwiches and you’re eager for him to try them out. He gets the classic bacon, egg, and cheese, and you order the avocado BLT. You offer to pay, but Joel being Joel, he quickly distracts you by dragging his lips from your temple to your cheek, swiftly taking out his wallet.

You give him a look of pure betrayal. If you were wearing pearls, you’d be clutching them by now. “Joel Miller,” you say, aghast. “How dare you use your charm for evil?” 

His laughter fills the air as he hands his credit card to the barista, his broad chest rising and falling with each boisterous sound. Your lips twitch into a smile as he cups your waist, pulling you close. His lips touch your ear and heat warms your cheeks. “Sorry, honey. I can’t always use my powers for good.” 

All you can manage is a short nod. Your senses narrow on the way his breath ghosts your skin, warm and soft like a summer breeze. For a second you forget about the bagels and the coffee shop, all you can think of is him; his body, his voice, his scent—arousal pulses between your legs. If you were positive the two of you wouldn’t get arrested for public indecency, you’d let him take you against this very counter for everyone to see. 

“Come on now,” he teases, reading your expression easily. “I got the goods, let’s find ourselves a good table.” 

Alas, he really was holding a tray in his hands. You have no idea when the barista finished making your order. Either you’d been fantasizing for too long or you had one hell of a barista. 

The two of you stand awkwardly in the middle of the coffee shop and look around. You notice a couple of people staring you down, their gazes fixed on you, some of them even being bold enough to do the old-fashioned up-and-down. You quickly divert your gaze and point toward a table right next to the large windows. Frankly, you’re used to the staring. They rarely came up to you since no one wanted to be the one known for enjoying porn. Especially in public. Most of the time they’re harmless. 

Walking towards your table, you cheat a glance at Joel. If he did notice the looks, he didn't say anything. He made no indication of discomfort or anything of the sort. Relief sprinkles over you, maybe the looks weren’t as obvious as you initially had thought. 

Joel took a seat and you sat across from him, he shot you a look before reaching for his black coffee, “Everythin’ alright?” 

“Yeah,” you clear your throat, trying to keep your nerves in check. “Why wouldn’t I be?” 

Just as he opens his mouth, you notice someone approaching in your peripheral. You hold your breath, eyes dropping to the bagels. The person, whoever it was, just stands at the end of the table. You feel the stranger’s eyes eating you up. Fuck, of all the times why now? 

“May we help you?” you hear Joel say, his tone the complete opposite of his words. When you look up at him from between your lashes, he’s staring at the stranger, the look dancing on the line of being a full-on glare. You take a slow breath and turn. 

It’s a young-ish man with blonde hair and brown eyes. Your first expression of him is that he seems kind. He doesn’t acknowledge Joel’s presence at all which you find impressive. Even across from him, you can feel the heat of his stare. 

“Hi,” the man says kindly. “S-Sorry to bother you but are you Honeysuckle? On Ravish?” 

Joel visibly bristles at that. And, despite your better judgment, it turns you on. 

“Yup, that’s me,” you let out an awkward chuckle. He extends a hand and you quickly take it, wanting this to be done as soon as possible. 

“I love your streams!” 

“Thank you,” you smile with tight lips. “I appreciate your support.” 

“Can I get a picture?” 

Briefly, your gaze flits to Joel, a shadow crosses his face, eyes dark in warning. Your breath hitches a bit, skin prickling, some part of you wishes the hardened gaze was directed at you instead. 

You turn back to the man, “Sorry I don’t do pictures,” he seems visibly heartbroken by that so you quickly add. “But I can give you an autograph if it’s all the same to you.” 

Oh god, you hate when you have to put it like that. It makes you sound so full of yourself. You’re not a movie star. 

His eyes sparkle, “Thank you!” he pulls out a small notebook and hands it to you. “Can you make it out for Alex?” 

“Sure.” you quickly sign your name—well, not your name name but your stream name; Honeysuckle. You add a little heart next to the name and return the notebook. 

“Thank you!” he repeats, his genuine glee spreading in the air and caressing your skin. Your stomach does a small somersault as he walks away, clutching the notebook close to his chest. 

“Well, at least he was nice about it,” Joel grunts, finally taking a sip of his coffee. You’re not sure what to take from his response, or expression for that matter. Is he mad? You don’t think he is. You nearly jump out of your skin when his focused gaze suddenly snaps to you. “You alright?” 

“U-Uh, yeah,” you wave your hand in dismissal. “This kinda stuff happens. Most of the time they don’t say hi though.”

“So they just stare at you like a piece of meat?” 

“Pretty much, yeah.” your voice is uncaring. Honestly, you’re used to it by now. It’s not like you had the most respectable job, at least, not according to most people. You can only imagine the comments you would get if you had Instagram, or if Ravish didn’t have a tight-proof system that allowed you to ban people on sight. You reach for your sandwich and take a bite, you chew slowly. 

Joel snarls, “Assholes.” 

“I was hoping you didn’t notice,” you smile around your second bite. He seems almost offended by what you said, crossing his arms over the expanse of his chest. 

“Of course I did,” he huffed. “And why wouldn’t you want me to notice?” 

“I don’t know,” you truly didn’t. “I guess I didn’t want any hiccups to happen right after we decided to be. . . exclusive.” 

“Honey. . .” he gives you the tiniest smile, eyes full of care. “Don’t worry, people starin’ ain’t gonna get me packin’. Don’t you. . . don’t you know my feelings run deeper than that?” 

Joel's words hang in the air, his gaze searching your eyes for any sign of reassurance. The last thing you ever wanted was to make him feel like he was the source of your worry, the reason for your unease. Yet, here he was, looking like he believed he was to blame for your discomfort.

You lower your gaze to your sandwich, suddenly feeling a weight on your chest that has nothing to do with the bagel. It's not that you doubt his feelings for you, but you've carried the weight of your own insecurities for years, and it's hard to let go of them all at once.

Tears threaten to well up, and you quickly blink them away, not wanting to appear vulnerable in the middle of the coffee shop. You take another bite of your sandwich, chewing mechanically as you try to compose yourself. The flavors of avocado and bacon mix on your tongue, but they seem tasteless compared to the swirl of emotions within you.

Joel's hand finds yours on the table, his thumb rubbing soothing circles over your knuckles. When you finally muster the courage to meet his gaze, you're met with eyes that hold a storm of emotions. Concern, understanding, and a vulnerability that mirrors your own.

"You're not alone in this, you know?" he murmurs. 

You let out a shaky breath. You're not used to showing this side of yourself, not after so many years of self-preservation and guarding your heart and yourself.

"I guess I’m still not used to this yet" you murmur, your voice barely above a whisper. "It’s not your fault at all, it’s just been so long since I’ve been with anyone. . . emotionally. I'm sorry if I made you feel responsible."

He leans across the table, his warm hand cradling your cheek. His touch is gentle, his thumb caressing your skin. "I get it, sweetheart. And you don’t need to apologize. We’re the same in that aspect, I haven’t been with anyone for a long time either. Just. . .  know that I'm here, and I'm not going anywhere. We'll figure this out together."

You lean into his hand, you’re feeling lighter already. 

Joel's lips curve into a tender smile, and he leans in to press a soft kiss to your forehead. "Besides," he mutters, sitting back. “I don’t run away from what’s mine.” 

Mine. 

One simple word. A noun of all things, is what makes you melt in your seat. It’s sobering. Waking you in a way that no amount of coffee ever could. Mine. He said that. You heard the possessive lilt laced with the word, almost daring you to object. You nearly do if you’re honest, shadows dance in his eyes, draw you in like a bunny rabbit sniffing a tempting trap. You want to take the bate. Sink your teeth into that carrot to see how he’ll react, the things he’ll do to prove just how true his words were. 

Instead, you clench your thighs together and propose something else instead. 

“Let me prove to you that I’m yours then,” you say. Eagerness caused Joel's eyes to widen, his jaw betraying his emotions with a subtle twitch. “In fact, let’s show the world.” 

No matter how vivid your imagination was, no matter how long you prepared and checked the equipment over and over again, nothing—absolutely nothing—could have prepared you for Joel walking through your bedroom door.

You had picked out a form-fitting black button-up shirt for him to wear. The fabric hugged his biceps, the seams barely holding on. The shirt stretched over the expanse of his chest, the buttons doing a better job compared to the seams in holding everything together. However, you were certain if he stretched even a little, the shirt would rip with a satisfying pop. 

That isn't all, though. Your eyes move up from the shirt, your gaze tracing the lines of his body until they land on the striking green mask he's wearing.

The mask is a deep shade of forest green, with intricate gold detailing that seems to dance in the light. Swirls and patterns weave across the surface, accentuating the gilded flakes in his eyes. 

His brown eyes peer out from behind the mask, a slight awkwardness to his gaze that seems to lessen with the hunger of your stare. The contrast between the vibrant green and the warmth of his gaze draws you in like a moth to a flame. The mask frames his face perfectly,  showcasing his strong jawline and the facial hair that clings to his skin.

"I feel dumb," he mutters, his voice a low rumble that sends shivers down your spine. “Isn’t there a way you can just make it so that my face is out of frame?” 

The mask had been his idea, he didn’t want to be recognized—rightfully so— and since he still wanted to stream. . . he bought himself a mask. 

Too bad he doesn’t realize the effect it has on you. Only if he could feel how wet you were for him, that’ll surely put him in a better mood. 

“Not really, we are going to be moving after all,” you answer. His gaze drops. “Joel, you look devastatingly hot right now.” 

His ears perk at that, eyes lifting to meet yours instantly. “Really?” 

"Come here," you manage to murmur, your voice laced with a mix of playfulness and longing. He obeys without hesitation, closing the distance between you in a matter of heartbeats. His hand reaches out, fingers curling beneath your chin as he tilts your head up. His eyes, those deep pools of honey, lock onto yours with an intensity that steals your breath away.

"Tell me," he whispers, his thumb brushing lightly over your lower lip. "What's on your mind?"

You swallow, your words catching in your throat for a moment before you manage to answer, your voice barely more than a breath. "You... the mask... everything. I can’t wait to feel you deep inside. Can’t wait for you to ruin me for everyone to see."

His lips curve into a smile, and he leans in, his breath mingling with yours as he murmurs against your lips, "Oh, don’t worry. I don’t plan on leavin’ an inch of you not clingin’ with my come, darlin’.” 

Oh, fuck. 

Fuck fuck fuck. 

Your lips part with a soft gasp and he slips his thumb into your mouth. Your tongue eagerly laps at his thumb, drawing circles, begging for him to press deeper. Heat radiates off of him, suffocating you in the best way possible. Your eyes drop to his crotch, the outline of his cock visible despite the dark blue denim.

Joel grins and shifts his hips closer, teasing you with a promise of more. You close your lips around his thumb and swallow. You’re in a trance. Body and soul bewitched by his presence. Your breasts feel full and heavy, nipples tingling. 

“Go and start the stream, honey.” 

Tingles. All you feel are tingles as you get up and desperately head toward your setup. Your legs are shaking. His eyes burning holes into your bare back. A second later his palm is on your ass, stroking the plump flesh and teasing the elastic of your panties. You sigh, the fabric sticking to your folds. 

With practiced efficiency, you start up the stream, the familiar hum of your equipment filling the room. Almost immediately, comments begin flooding in, your "hive" eagerly joining the live broadcast. The chat scrolls rapidly, filled with excited greetings and bee-themed emojis, a testament to the unique community you've cultivated.

"Hey there, my busy bees!" you greet, your voice filled with enthusiasm. "I hope you're all buzzing with excitement, because tonight we've got a special guest joining us."

You let a mischievous smile tug at the corner of your lips as your eyes flicker to the monitor. There he is, Joel, standing just behind you, his presence towering and captivating even though his head isn't visible on screen. The comments explode with excitement, the chat inundated with messages about how good he looks, how lucky you are, and playful exclamations about your "hunk of a guest” and how they can’t wait for him to “pump you full of his come”. A bit crass, but you can’t say you disagree. 

You continue, "But first, let's give a warm welcome to our newbies! Welcome to the hive, where we celebrate all things sweet and sticky." you wink at the camera and bend slightly over, wiggling your ass. Joel doesn’t waste any time moving directly behind you, hands on your waist as he pushes forward, making you feel the heft of his cock between your cheeks. A small moan escapes you, breasts swaying with his shallow grinds. 

“And now, without further ado,” you say breathless. “Let’s start the show. Our guest is an impatient one,” you hear Joel scoff behind you, the voice making your pussy bottom out. “Am I wrong, sir?” 

His nails bite into your flesh, showing you just how much he enjoys being called that. You smile as you stand up, giving one last look to the monitor to check everything is in place, you face Joel. You lean closer for a kiss, hoping that it’ll soothe his nerves. He must be nervous. 

But before you can close the distance, he grabs your chin and pushes you back, just proving how wrong you are. Your eyes widen, the pressure he applies to hallow your cheeks emptying the oxygen in your lungs. “Not so fast,” he grunts. “On your knees, honey. Only good girls get kisses.” 

Your insides pulse with a vicious throb. His voice takes on a tone you've never quite heard before. It's deep, a resonant rumble that seems to vibrate through the very core of your being. His voice, deep and resonant, like thunder during a storm and wraps around you like a velvet cloak, warming you. As you slowly sink to your knees, your pulse quickens in response. 

A desperate, hushed rustling fills the room as a zipper is lowered and briefly, you steal a quick glance at the streaming setup, ensuring that everything continues to run smoothly. Joel’s head is still out of view, which you regret because you want everyone to see how good he looks in his mask—

His touch is a sudden and deliberate pull, “Eyes on me,” he growls, the bulbous head of his cock pressing against your lips. His fingers are wrapped around his impressive length, and instead of notching the head between your lips, he smacks your parted lips with it. A drop of precome stains your bottom lip, a string of it following the tip as he holds it above your face. Your eyes are glued to the masked figure above you. Despite the tone and the roughness, they’re just pools of soft honey, internally searching your face for any discomfort. 

Joel begins to stroke himself and with a heavy gaze, you part your lips wider and stick your tongue out for him to use you however he pleases. 

His dark chuckle makes your skin prickle with need. You come closer, dragging your tongue between his balls, nuzzling him sweetly. Joel curses above you and grips your shoulder, holding you back. 

“Sir, please,” you gasp, attempting to get close but his hand keeps you at a small distance. 

He doesn’t acknowledge your pleas, “Push those pretty tits together, sweetheart.” 

Desperate and dripping, you press them together with your arms. His cock comes from under, the head piercing your tits as it pushes from between them. Joel hooks his thumb in your mouth and you obediently suck around the digit as he begins to thrust. Neither of you breaks eye contact. 

Joel pushes himself further into you, driving his hips forward. His cock slides between your tits, filling your already open mouth with vigor as he rocks in and out of your ample cleavage. You moan around his thumb, the warmth of his precum dripping over your tongue. 

Your body rocks with each stroke, the pleasure radiating through your chest with each thrust. Your nipples throb with arousal, hard like diamonds, as he slams his rigid cock into your tits. Sweat beads on his forehead and he grits his teeth, “Keep them together,” he grunts as he pulls out, with the head, he smears drops of himself over your heated skin. 

Your eyes roll back at how possessive it is, the fact that everyone is watching already forgotten. “Good,” he says, pleased. He pulls away his thumb and drags it over your bottom lip. “You’re already so dumb for my cock, aren’t you. Eager to show your viewers how badly you want to be good for me hmm?” 

God, the tremors in his voice, that southern drawl. He’s going to be the death of you. 

“Y-Yeah,” you pant, chest heaving. Ignoring the ache it causes in the back of your neck, you lean forward and manage to taste him on your skin. You moan as your eyes flutter closed, your own breath warm against you. “Want to be your good girl again, sir.” 

He pulls away from you completely, heading towards the bed. You stare at him blearily as he takes a seat, only coming to your senses when he hits his thigh, gesturing you to come over.  

Just as you’re about to sit, he stops you, clicking his tongue while lifting a hand. “First strip, darlin’. Turn to the camera,” you don’t miss the way he smiles as you turn on shaky legs, staring directly into the lens. “Have you already forgotten how to stream? My poor sweet dumb girl.” 

His words send you into a haze of submission. Needles stinging your back, you peel off your panties and bra, dropping them to the floor. “Good,” he hums. “Now sit on my lap, spread those legs so they can see how wet you got just from gettin’ her tits fucked.” 

Joel scoots further back and gives you space on the bed to place your feet. With heavy lids, you spread yourself for him—and the people who’re watching at home. Your front facing the camera. To expose yourself in such a way, it’s different compared to what you normally do. You have fun with Dieter but it’s never like this, never as intense. A shaky breath escapes you when Joel places a hand on the inside of your thigh, pushing your legs further apart. He’s staring at you through the monitor, jaw slack. Meanwhile, you’re just happy people can see his mask, those brown eyes. 

“Fuck, sweetheart,” he mutters, his role forgotten. “Look at you. Fuck,” his lips touch your ear, whispering the rest of the words so it’s only you that can hear. “You never stopped bein’ my good girl. Just sayin’.” 

Your vision blurs with tears and you nod, his lips now on your cheek. He drags his mouth to your forehead and lays another kiss. “Now let’s give them a show.” 

Joel cups your ass as he helps you lift yourself, aligning himself against your sopping core, he slowly lowers you, filling you inch by inch. Your head falls back, mouth agape, you’ve forgotten how big he is, how satisfying it is to take him so slowly. His breath is hot on your nape. “That’s it,” he purrs. “Just like that, show them how good you take cock, honey.” 

 “‘S big,” you slur. “S–So big, sir.” 

He shushes you, lips moving over your cheek. “I know, honey I know,” he licks the salt off your skin. “But you’re my good girl, aren’t you? You can take it.” 

Joel rears up, slowly pushing himself into you. His hands guide your hips to the right angle to let him slide deeper, your soft cries echoing through the air. 

“I am,” you gasp, delirious, his cock completely sheathed inside. “I am. I–I’m your good girl.” 

You twist around, straddling Joel as he takes both your hands and draws you close. His lips crash against yours, and you moan into his mouth as you grind your hips against him. Heaven help you, how can you take him like this with an audience? Images of all the people watching on your live stream dance in your mind, but it makes it all the hotter.

Your body rocks up and down as you ride him, your inner walls clenching around him. You’re panting and moaning, your body shaking as you pump harder.  You feel Joel shift beneath you, his grip tightening as you take him even deeper, arching your back and pushing your breasts out. You can feel his eyes on you, as well as the eyes of the viewers watching you live stream. His cock glistens with your slick, every time you lift yourself, the light catches against it, everyone watching seeing how worked up Joel gets you. 

You can feel Joel's warmth radiating throughout your body as he slides back and forth, gaining momentum as he thrusts harder. You stifle a moan, your eyes fluttering as pleasure overcomes you, your head humming with pleasure. Your body starts to slow, your muscles aching and trembling. 

Suddenly Joel grips your waist, fingertips leaving dents in your flesh. He growls in your ear, drops of spit hitting your neck. “Who told you to slow down?” he pulls your body against him, forcing himself deeper into you. Every inch of you is shaking as Joel's hips slam against yours. His fingers find your clit, drawing gentle, quick circles around the sensitive nub. You cry out, clenching around him. “Look into the camera,” he groans. “Want them to see your fucked out gaze when I make you squirt.” 

Your hands find purchase above his knees, the coil in your stomach tight, it’s too much. Too fucking much. Your head is swimming in a lavender haze, and before you know it, your cunt is pulsing around him, gushing and slowing his thrusts. You hear the faint pitter patters of a rain-like sound. 

You barely register the liquid spraying from you, your body hot and burning while Joel’s fingers continue to move. Your drip down his length and down the inside of his thighs, and he rips another, albeit calmer, orgasm from you.  

“Shiiiiiit,” he drawls. “Shit shit, honey, fuck, don’t move—” he makes a choked-out sound and spears you down flush on his cock. The sounds you make are completely debauched. A series of sir’s dropping from your lips, tongue aching to moan his name. You feel him spilling inside, so much, you think, so much of it filling you up. He’s still throbbing when he pulls out, gripping himself and ringing the last of it over your glistening cunt, drowning it in come. 

“Oh fuck,” you murmur as he pushes it back in with the head of his length, you shudder around him. “So full,” you say, eyes dropping where you two connect through the reflection in the monitor. 

“Not done,” he mutters and helps you lift yourself over him, cock slowly softening. “Push it out darlin’. Show them how much there is to keep you satisfied.” 

“F-Fuck,” you let out a whimper, eyelids fluttering as his seed trickles out of you and drips over his length. You feel faint of heart, this probably being one of the filthiest things you’ve done on camera. 

“Good girl,” he says, eyes glued to the camera. “My good girl,” he repeats, cupping your mound and slipping one finger inside with ease. 

Joel gently lays you down on the bed, your body too weak to do anything. He walks up to the stream set up, his eyes flashing toward the camera one last time. “See y’all next time.” he taunts before shutting the entire thing off. 

He throws the mask to the ground near your discarded clothes. 

You don’t know what to think when he climbs onto the bed, mattress dipping with his weight before he pulls you to his chest. He kisses you slowly, taking his time as he tastes you. “Sorry,” he whispers into your mouth. “I think I might’ve gone overboard.” 

“No,” you sigh dreamily, still in a haze. “That was perfect. I—I don’t think I can walk for a while.” 

You let out a low chuckle and he smiles, pressing his lips into your forehead. 

“Well, good thing I’m here then.”  

[goingmerryfics]

Arguments w/ Shanks, Buggy, & Mihawk

Content: Gender Neutral reader, no NSFW. Maybe some slightly angsty stuff? Not really though.

Shanks

Arguing with him is either exhausting or it’s pointless, there’s never an in-between

Shanks doesn’t really take most arguments seriously because they’re either started by something extremely unimportant or he’s already made his decision and he’s not going to back down on his opinion

Pointless, because he’s not going to change his mind and he’s laughing at you while you’re trying to talk to him

“You’re so cute when you’re angry.”

Yup. Pointless. It’ll just make you more angry and him more entertained

The exhausting arguments are when he’s actually serious- and while he’s not mad at you, he’s mad that you can’t see his reasonings for doing what he’s doing

Especially when it comes to keeping you safe

Shanks won’t back down and it’s impossible to change his mind while he’s this pissed off, so it’s always best to just separate and come back later to talk it out when you’re both calm

While you do what you need to do in order to relax, Shanks festers in his anger and reflects on the things that were said between the two of you. His crewmates try to cheer him up- they offer him booze, they crack jokes, but he’s not in the mood for either and everyone is concerned

Truthfully, he’s worried. While he’s still not willing to change his mind, he doesn’t want to lose the relationship you two have worked so hard to build and maintain

He gets up out of his seat 3 times to pace around, mind racing back and forth on if he should go talk to you, and then convincing himself that it’s best to wait for you to emerge first so he knows you’re ready to talk

But he grows tired of waiting, and does actually end up coming to your shared room to resolve the issue

You’re still steaming just a bit. Your arms are crossed over your chest, and you don’t look up when he enters. You know it’s him, because a few others on his crew have already come to check on you, and you’d asked them politely to leave you be. But you don’t protest when he comes to sit beside you

He doesn’t touch you

It’s painfully silent for a while

Then he finally speaks up and breaks the tension

“I’m sorry. That got a little more heated than I wanted it to.”

You peek up at him just a bit. He notices how red your face is, and a strike of fear shoots through him at the thought of possibly having made you cry and then left you on your own for hours

He stretches out his hand, offering it to you to hold, and you shift in your position to take it

He goes into a rant on how much you mean to him and how he’s only doing what he has to do to keep you and the rest of the crew safe

“Because I love you. You know that, don’t you?”

You do

You also know that no matter how many times you two get upset with each other, you’ll always find your way back into his arms

Buggy

Arguing with him would come often, but the content of the arguments is what matters here

Only for the reason that Buggy is adamant about being correct in every situation, even when he is not and knows it

Everyone knows it’s best to just simply let him believe his delusions and let the natural consequences come through

But this guy seriously has weirdly good luck, and somehow all his delusions seem to come true for him in one way or another

Half of the time it’s just funny watching him be completely wrong about a subject, other times it’s a little infuriating

Arguments don’t last long between the two of you, though

Buggy craves attention, and attention from his favorite person is a must. It’s basically a necessity of life

Food, water, shelter, you. Not in that order, though

He realizes too late through his incessant rambling and gloating that he’s said something that hurt your feelings and immediately starts to backpedal

“Wait, wait, wait! That’s not what I meant! What I meant to say was-”

He’s red in the face, almost so much so as his nose

He hates to admit it, but you look really good glaring down at him like that as he tries to save his own skin

He clams up, sweating. Unsure of himself. Not sure what he was even saying a second ago

As much as you need time alone to chill out, he can’t seem to leave you be. It’s scary for him, seeing your usually smiling face so serious

He takes a seat outside of your room, and then breaks into pieces no, literally while he waits for you to emerge again

It takes you a few hours, but he’s there the whole time. His feet are pacing around, his head is whining, cheek on the floor. His hands are tapping and picking at the dirt in the wood, but every part of him lights up when he sees you again

“Aha! I see you finally caved. Couldn’t stay away from me, could you?”

You pause, and then move to go back inside before he yelps and his hands grab at your ankles. His parts come back together again, using the rest of his body to hold you in place

“Wait! I’m sorry! Please don’t go back!”

He shouts it all in a rush. He’s crying, and there’s snot running down his nose

He looks like a damn mess

It kind of makes you laugh at how desperate he is for you

he pouts up at you and you cave

He basically crawls up your body to hug you. You hug him back, petting his hair and waiting for him to relax, sitting right there in the doorway of your room. People pause as they pass, but a sharp look from you stops them from staying for very long

Mihawk

If Mihawk is actually worked up enough to argue with you, there’s a good reason for it

Usually he makes his point and that’s that. No other words exchanged, nothing more than a slight glance towards you

Mihawk is an introvert, and he gets exhausted from others very easily. He’s not trying to be rude or dismissive towards you when he does this, but that is how it comes off sometimes

He’ll turn his attention back to his book because after he’s said what he wanted to, he figures everything is fine. He understands his logic, why wouldn’t you?

But you, like a lot of people that aren’t Mihawk, are more emotional than he is

Your silence isn’t acceptance, it’s hurt

Only when you get up to leave the room does the thought cross his mind that maybe what he’d said didn’t come off correctly, and you might have just been insulted. But he figures you would come tell him if that were the case, so all is well and he returns to his book

This could go forever, really. Until he notices that you’re giving him the cold shoulder, and then he would stop whatever he was doing- even if he were in another room at the time of realization -and find you to clear things up right away

“Darling, we need to talk right away.”

Straight to the point. He doesn’t really ask you if you want to talk, because he knows if he doesn’t at least make an attempt at this it will haunt him like Perona’s ghosts all night

The thing about Mihawk that not many people know is that he’s got this cool, collected, silent aura about him because he simply does not have the energy to play nice with everyone

So when he’s just arrived home from a Warlord meeting, or somewhere that he was obligated to be present for, all he wants is time to himself to recharge

Having a relationship and balancing this need was something he was still learning

But he loves you so much and the thought of upsetting you over a misunderstanding gnawed at him and gave him massive amounts of anxiety and uncomfortability

He’s not this untouchable guy that everyone thinks he is. You’ve seen this; he laughs and cries like everyone else does

And you understand him. He couldn’t ask for someone better than you are

If you’re willing to, he’ll take your hands and kiss your knuckles.

“I apologize for my behavior. I should have given my words a second thought before I spoke them out loud. What can I do to make this up to you?”

It’s an easy thing to answer- it’s all you wanted since he’d returned, why you kept invading his space before he was ready to emerge and what lead up to the situation in the first place

You tell him you want him. His attention, to be wrapped in his arms. You just want to spend time with him, even if that’s in silence

He can work with that

He presses a kiss to your forehead and makes you promise that you’ll tell him if he ever says or does anything to upset you again. He wants to communicate, not lose out on precious time with you over something small

He goes above and beyond, though. He makes up a very romantic candlelit dinner that night for the both of you to share and even if it’s a very quiet dinner, (minus the music playing softly in the background) it’s perfect

[auggieblogs]

Curls in Singapore ₊˚⊹♡

Lando Norris x fem!reader

Author's note: Hello, lovelies. I hope everyone is doing fine. This one shot is inspired by, well, me. Tbt last week in Singapore, when Lando got a haircut and in every picture (that I saw) he had his cap on. So, I just assumed he got a bad haircut and had a whole breakdown about it on the gc.

Singapore was alive with the buzz of the Grand Prix, and Lando Norris was no exception to the excitement. He had been considering getting a haircut for a while now, especially after seeing Carlos and Max, sporting fresh trims. But there was one person whose opinion mattered to him the most – you, his girlfriend.

You adored Lando's curly locks. They were his trademark and you loved running your fingers through his fluffy hair. So, when he broached the subject of getting a haircut, you weren't on board with the idea at all.

"Lando, you can't do it!" you protested, pouting as you clung to him in the hotel room. "Your curls are perfect. Don't let anyone touch them!"

Lando chuckled, cupping your face and gazing into your eyes with all the affection in the world. "Come on, love, it's just a trim. I promise it won't be bad."

Reluctantly, you nodded, but you couldn't hide your pout. "Alright, fine. But if they mess up those locks, you're sleeping on the couch, Norris."

Lando kissed your forehead. "Deal."

Hours passed, and Lando had to rush off to his media duties right after his haircut. He hadn't seen you since he left for the salon, so when he returned to the room wearing his McLaren cap, he was met with your dramatic gasp.

"LANDO NORRIS, YOU RUINED THE BEAUTIFUL CURLS, DIDN'T YOU?" you exclaimed, hands on your hips and an exaggerated frown on your face.

Lando couldn't help but giggle, and he took off his cap, revealing his newly styled hair. As the cap came off, you were greeted by a sight that took your breath away. Lando's hair was not ruined; it was better than before. His curls had been styled beautifully, and he looked, well, pretty. Really pretty.

You couldn't help but gape at him, your eyes wide with astonishment. "Wow," you finally managed to say, your voice barely above a whisper. "You look amazing."

Lando beamed, a slight blush creeping onto his cheeks. He walked closer to you, allowing you to run your fingers through his soft curls. "You really think so?"

You nod fervently, your heart swelling with love. Leaning in, you pressed a soft kiss to his lips. "You're so beautiful, Lando."

Lando's smile widened. "Thank you," he murmured, his voice filled with genuine gratitude. "Guess I won't be needing that couch tonight, huh?", he added with a playful grin.

You giggled, your fingers still entwined in his curls. "Nope, guess the couch gets to stay empty tonight!"

[fairuzfan]

I think what really frustrates me about accusations of antisemitism when we say certain crimes are committed by the Israeli government towards Palestinians is that there is this base assumption that the individual identities of the people in the Israeli state are subject to individualization and identification but then we come across Hamas and all the resistance movements and people automatically categorize them as "good" or "bad" who either are "supported" or "not supported" by Palestinians. Aside from the fact that there are diverse political opinions within Palestine, people always seem to separate Hamas as a uniquely terrible group that only seeks to inflict violence irrespective of their current status of people under occupation not knowing how to change their circumstances and not afforded any contextualization.

When Palestinians talk about certain crimes against us perpetuated by the state of Israel we're told "that's libel" because our oppressors draw their identification as a nation-state as a "Jewish" state. In the same breath they condemn Hamas for killing Israelis and being uniquely antisemitic and not because they're actually fighting for any liberation. Forget the larger political context — the situation in which this exists is irrelevant in the short term analysis of how Hamas is "A Terror Organization".

Hamas is a result of circumstance. They wouldn't exist if the occupation didn't exist. You can't deny that hamas is the direct result of israel, and not because of the incendiary things that came out about who funded hamas or whatever — they are, at their core, a resistance movement against a colonial force.

And yeah, there are Palestinians that have said they don't like Hamas I guess but that... doesn't really matter to people who aren't Palestinian. The reasons they don't like Hamas are within their context of occupational circumstances. You can't just take quotes of Palestinians saying they don't like Hamas and frame it outside of their circumstance as a people living under an occupation. It would be dishonest not to mention that the greatest threat Palestinians face is the occupation. We (Palestinians) all acknowledge that. The differences in political opinion within Palestinian society aren't applicable to Israelis and non-Palestinians because you are not affected by Palestinian society in the same way that Palestinians are affected by Israeli and USAmerican society.

Israelis literally debate in open courts about whether or not to shoot unarmed Palestinians who hold rocks. There are no such discussions in Palestinian society. There are no systems really that can allow for Palestinians to feel like they actually have a political representative. Fatah, or the PA, is just a blatant puppet of the Israeli government. No one trusts them lol. So which avenues are we supposed to turn to when we are shot even as we peacefully protest? If our avenues rely on Israelis to decide that for us, then is that liberation? Is that freedom?

There is just a deep, deep dishonesty in people's treatment of defining what a state represents vs an individual and its almost always weaponized against Palestinians when we talk about the violence we experience and how we counter it.

[magz]

Edit: Stop send ask and tag say he native, magz have already respond here (post link) - Isaiah Merkin self-refer himself and consider himself white.

Edit 2: censoring screenshots more.

Edit 3: Turned off reblogs, but y'all can link to post.

The youtuber W*ndig*on, the youtuber, said that he was the originator of the term “boogaloo boys”. (original thread)

Which is also primarily known as the nazi alt-right extremist militia hate group movement.

He claims they strayed from his ideals by being “anywhere from antifa to fascist” instead of just about “freedom”.

He says he renamed himself from boogalooboi to his current username to rebrand.

That he is what the boogaloobois model themselves after, presumably as his fans.

So it’s not that he coincidentally looks and acts with fascist dogwhistles, it’s that according to him, the fascists model themselves after him.

And still for whatever reason, he keeps wearing and saying things the Boogaloo boys are known for after supposedly renouncing them. The hawaiian shirts, the gun collection and fanaticism, military fatigues, the fixation with “freedom”, using “boogaloo” to mean ‘revolution’, etc.

He is a white devout christian man that makes those long conspiracy theory iceberg videos, as he considers conspiracy theories to be fun and interesting, but barely if ever addresses the antisemitism of most of those conspiracies.

And named himself and his Youtube channel after the taboo winter hunger spirit of the Algonquian native peoples. It is a part of a closed-off religion where you aren’t supposed to mention the spirit by name or it will notice or manifest.

It also conceptually symbolizes the imperialism and colonialism and greed - “the consuming forms of exclusion and assimilation” - that affected the Algonquian peoples. The further cultural appropriation and misrepresentation of the taboo spirit into a quirky cryptid and using it for branding and merchandise is inappropriate. (forum thread with article links about the taboo spirit)

He has also said stereotypically transmisogynistic things just because it was about Chris Chan.

He was inspired by shoe0nhead, an “anti-sjw” youtuber that claims to be a “leftist populist”, but is an anti-feminist that believes in 9/11 conspiracies, and he regularly interacts with her.

Image shown: His tweet, “step on me @/shoe0nhead”. End of Image. (Tweet Here)

And is a Kyle Rittenhouse fan. Someone who killed three people at a black lives matter protest and is affiliated and supported by the proud boys - a white supremacist neo-fascist group. He follows his official Twitter and agrees with tweets defending Kyle. (reddit threads on his official subreddit, on the subject of him following all kinds of people and his community’s political stances, like him being anti-vaxx and following alt-right people)

Images shown: First is the Official Twitter account of Kyle Rittenhouse, followed by his twitter account.

Second image is his tweet saying “The moment it was announced not guilty on all counts”, with a 42 second video showing Kyle Rittenhouse scared then relieved when the court said he wasn’t guilty and believed his self-defense claim. (Tweet here)

End of Image.

Do with this information what you will, but he does not have good politics.

[buzzkillchainsaw]

When No-one hatched, he of course wasn't given the name "No-one". No rational Skywing adult would subject a dragonet to such idiocy. No, they probably named him something nice and appropriate like Ridge, Moraine or maybe Granite. It didn't really matter through, because he didn't keep that name for very long.

He quickly learned that there was something he could do that all the other hatchlings couldn't: Whenever he really, really wanted something, it happened. When he once dropped his favourite shiny rock into a mountain crevice and wished for it to come back, it flew into his claws as if someone down there had thrown it to him. When he wanted to win a race against a fellow dragonet, a bug flew into his opponent's eye and distracted her, making her lose. When he wished he could taste a cut of meat one of the stronger hatchlings had taken for himself, a piece of it slid off as if cut by an invisible knife and slithered towards No-one. Of course, No-one was smart enough to keep this power a secret and to not tell anyone, not even to brag. He was convinced that everyone would want him to share it and do a bunch of stuff for them all the time if they knew about the power. But he couldn't keep it hidden forever.

Once Skywing hatchlings reached a certain age, they were rounded up and brought into a room. That room contained nothing but a candle and some disgruntled soldiers blocking the only exit. One by one, the hatchlings were tasked to sit in front of the candle and "wish for it to be snuffed out". No-one immediately realised that this was a test to find out who had secret powers like him, so he decided to cheat. When it was his turn, he concentrated on the opposite of "snuffing out the candle". Instead of continuing to burn as normal though, the flame shot up towards the ceiling, scaring all hatchlings and making them huddle together in a pile. The adult Skywings fixated No-one with their eyes. He realised that he had screwed up and that the adults would now force him to share his powers with everyone, so he ducked under the soldiers' grasping claws, dashed towards the scared group of hatchlings and wished he could trade places with one of them. After all, once the adults discovered that the other hatchling couldn't do magic at all, they'd probably just let him go. In the ensuing chaos, nobody in the room noticed how one dragonet's deep red scale color instantly faded into orange with yellow speckles, while No-one turned red. The now-orange hatchling was dragged out of the group, screaming, crying, protesting, while No-one and the others were ushered out of the room.

The next years of No-one's life passed by rather uneventfully. He had assumed the other hatchling's identity (whom he didn't see around anymore, for some reason – which made it even easier) and lived an ordinary dragonet life full of training, chores and school lessons. During one lesson, he was taught about animus magic and that it made the user "evil" and "destroyed his soul". This obviously couldn't be true, because No-one was using his magic daily and he wasn't evil. He convinced himself that it was just exaggerated fear-mongering. Still, there was a slight fear starting to settle into the back of his mind. He tried to be more careful with his power, but just couldn't resist using it to get small advantages here and there. No-one was smart about it, but not smart enough: the adult Skywings around him started catching on, noticing the unusual luck that seemed to follow this particular dragonet. Alas, they had no proof that they had an actual animus in their midst – thanks to no small part to their lackluster experience with magic due to their, uh, animus-related zero tolerance policy.

No-one began feeling the pressure. He was plagued by nightmares, first about the adult Skywings discovering him, then they gradually turned more scary, outlandish and violent. In one, he entered the hatchery and commanded rocks to fall from the ceiling and smash the sleeping dragonets' bones. In another, he made a wooden splinter bury itself into the soft flesh of another hatchling's belly to kill it. When he woke up, exactly this had happened to a dragonet sleeping next to him – although the splinter had stopped before causing any major damage –, but luckily everyone just assumed she had just accidentally slept on it. Still, the situation was escalating and No-one had to make a difficult decision.

His plan was simple: 1. Leave the Skywing kingdom undetected. 2. Master animus magic. 3. Find a way to offset this mysterious "damage" to his soul that the magic supposedly caused. The first step was rather easy: He picked out a young, freshly initiated soldier who would definitely be allowed to leave the Skywing territory unsupervised. No-one then took an earring and enchanted it to make the wearer appear as an exact copy of the dragon who was previously touched with it. He then sneakily rubbed the earring on the soldier's tailtip and sprinted away, eager to try out his new spell. After putting it on and looking at his reflection in a puddle, he rejoiced: The soldier, big and strong, stared back up at him. No-one promptly left towards the outskirts, tricking some guards at the border in the process (My weird childish voice? Yeah, I have a sore throat actually).

His new life had begun. It was rather lonely, though. He flew south until he reached the Mudwing kingdom and threw his earring at the first brown dragon he saw sleeping in the mud. Having copied the Mudwing's appearance, No-one felt comfortable enough to explore the territory. The other Mudwings largely paid him no mind, but he did get a few weird questions here and there about where his "sibling group" was, whatever that meant. Away from the prying eyes of other dragons, No-one continued practicing his magic. He made fish jump into his mouth and grass coil around the legs of swamp animals, holding them in place for No-one to catch. But each enchantment he did made the fear and doubt in his mind about his damaged soul worse and worse. He needed to implement step 3 of his plan, quickly. And as luck would have it, an opportunity was about to run into him.

A Mudwing dragonet, barely older than No-one, bumped into him while he was stalking some prey, frazzled and distraught. No-one immediately took notice of that and asked her what was wrong. The Mudwing, a "bigwings" named Tawny, was looking for her younger siblings who loved to run off on their own. She sighed and said that she wished to always know where those naughty dragonets were, so she wouldn't have to worry about looking for them. No-one's ears perked up, as he sensed the opportunity. After making sure no one else was around, he took off his earring to reveal that he wasn't an adult Mudwing at all, but a Skywing dragonet. Tawny was shocked, but he quickly calmed her down and revealed that he was an animus and that he wanted to grant her wish. But seeing as animus magic damaged the user's soul, he wanted to copy her appearance in return and cast the spell in this form to offset the damage to her. Since it was only one spell, she had nothing to worry about. Tawny was unsure – a wish in exchange for just a teeny tiny bit of soul damage? But it was getting dark and her siblings already had a huge head start, so she ignored her worries and accepted. No-one touched her with the earring, put it on and turned into a mirror image of her. He then picked up a rock and enchanted it to become hot when one of her siblings was nearby and then become cold when they moved further away. Tawny rejoiced and put the rock into a pouch tied around her neck. Once she was gone, No-one, still appearing as Tawny, cast a few more spells, and he really did feel different. Lighter. Better. That night, he slept without a single nightmare.

And so, the world opened itself up to No-one with endless possibilities. He travelled the lands, taking on countless appearances and granting wishes in return. Since the spell was very complex, he eventually started writing it down and presenting it to the other party as a contract they had to sign for it to work. Everything went smoothly. However, he did notice one thing: sometimes, one of the appearances in his "collection" would disappear and he was unable change his own appearance into it anymore. He had no idea what caused this, but he wasn't really eager to travel back and find out.

He kept granting wishes to keep a steady supply of appearances. His favourite place to stay was the Rainwing territory, as the weather was pleasant, the food was good and the dragons there were easily convinced to make stupid wishes.