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thedawningofthehour · 1 year ago

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I really don't want chapter 33 to come, thanks to a certain birthday present, I can more or less get an idea of what will happen and ARRGG!!! no fair!!!! Why the heck are you giving us hope if you're going to close the door on us at the last minute and break our noses in the process!!!!

I'm still firm in my opinion that Doth is more painful than lemonade leak, because you really don't know what's going on until the middle of the fic and when you finally realize it there are only like ten chapters left for the pain to end, here you know perfectly well what's going on and you have to wait until DOUBLE the angst to get to the comfort part, and I know for others it's not like that but I really can't enjoy the galois parts because of all that's behind the curtain.

Sometimes I have to remind myself that there is a happy ending and that donnie will be reunited with his siblings, but sometimes they are hard.

So much so that I've been tempted to ask you for a look at the outline just to ease my worries, but I haven't gotten to that point yet, and I emphasize yet.

Seriously, if the author wasn't so fucking charismatic I would have paused and waited for book three to be complete. But no~ my desire to hear this person talk about her bird is beyond me.

Fuck, now I want a birdie too!

I was actually thinking of posting today, but then I remembered that school is back in session. I want to try to post on the weekend so you high school fucks don't read in class. Also September 20th is kind of a bad day for me. I dunno, it just felt like bad luck to post a big deal chapter on that day.

I have redone a lot of what I sent you, so it doesn't really sound like that anymore? It's slightly more comical now, but that was never the angsty part lol.

My outline would be incomprehensible to anyone other than myself-hell, it's incomprehensible to me half the time. The siblings will be reunited, they'll heal, and the world doesn't end. I'm not pulling a Game of Thrones here. I believe in happy endings.

DO NOOOOOT GET A BIRD. Especially just because you see something cute online! They are extremely loud, messy, and require a ton of work and attention. Many of them are ridiculously smart too, and will get bored as such. They need to be out of their cages most of the day-Angel spends probably 8-10 hours out with me, and he actually spends more time in his sleeping cage now because he's old. They need to be constantly entertained and are always in your face, especially if you're doing anything with food. Like, half the time I have to imprison Angel in the bathroom while I eat, because despite giving him his own portion he will climb onto my plate and eat off it. Or sit on my shoulder and steal bites as I bring it to my mouth. It's like having a flighted toddler with a can opener on its face. They're incredibly destructive-I made a joke earlier about him eating my mom's plants but we seriously have tons of furniture with little beak marks in them.

And Angel is a cockatiel. They're fairly small, considered relatively low-maintenance birds. Sun conures are the loudest things you'll ever hear. A cockatoo is smart enough to open their own cage and speak using human words. A macaw once reached over a plucked a button from my mother's sweater, snapping in clean in half in a flat second. That was over forty years ago and that macaw is probably still alive, many big birds have lifespans that rival or even exceed a human's. If you get one of those birds you are putting that bird in your will.

I say all this because neglect and abuse is a huge issue with pet birds. People get them thinking they're a pretty decoration and many end up shoved in a room somewhere not getting what they need, and many of them start doing stuff like plucking their own feathers out of boredom. (had one feather-plucker myself, it's absolutely heart-breaking) If anyone here is thinking about getting a bird, do your research. Hang out at a bird rescue, talk to birb owners about what you can expect. There's tons and tons of birds who have been surrendered because they were more work than their owners thought they'd be. (and they can't be released back into the wild because they're all bred in captivity) I love birds and I think they can make great companions-for some people. They are not for everyone.

#for context for the first part i sent dd maybe a page of chapter 33 #because i wished her a happy birthday and then FORGOT it was her birthday and i felt very stupid #and my dude i did not think anyone would ever refer to me as charismatic but here we are

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le-velo-pour-dru · 1 year ago

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My emotional state is so weird right now. Like, I'm really happy rn just so long as I don't think about the stuff that's stressing me out XD

#dru speaks #like i'm stressed rn #but it's currently being overshadowed by happiness because it's one of my fav show's birthday and I Love My Friends :] 🫶#the unfortunate thing is that i'll have to think about the stuff that's stressing me out sooner or later #because it's actually really important :'3 #but for now i'm just trying to be happy :DD 🩷

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snickeringdragon · 1 year ago

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oh my fucking god i almost forgot. happy birthday steven universe from steven universe

#snick snickers #AUGUST 15TH :DD #and a special treat for those of you who Know (two people(one is me))#happy birthday twoie 💖

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mobbothetrue · 2 years ago

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i’m struggling to get to sleep a little, so i’m going back over childhood memories and stumbled across one that was almost a one hit KO.

I read a lot as a kid. My parents encouraged this, and got me a lot of books. Enough that, at one point, early in the morning and the only one awake, I was able to cover nearly every square inch of our living room in books. This probably led my parents to the realization that I, perhaps, had too many books, and we should get rid of some.

I was fine with that. I didn’t like to read books twice, you see, because I already knew where they were going and they didn’t entertain me anymore. That’s a philosophy that has changed, somewhat, with age, but that’s besides the point— there were a few books I wanted to keep. Strawberry Shortcake and something to do with mermaids. The few issues of the Beano I had. The Tin Soldier.

My parents boxed up a ton of books, and handed them in to my first grade classroom. Multiple large boxes of books. A comical amount of books. My teacher, Mrs. B, was very appreciative, But.

I don’t remember how this was uncovered. I don’t remember how I realized it, but… the tin soldier had been given away too. I didn’t mention it a paragraph ago, but it was my favourite book. I loved that book. It was about a tin soldier, missing a leg, in love with a princess or a ballerina. He got lost, or dropped, or maybe went on an adventure, I don’t recall, but in the end found his way back to the princess and was happy.

We did look through those boxes. Didn’t find it.

In sixth grade, I moved.

Well— technically, it was the summer between fifth and sixth grade that I moved. Still. In the years between, we never found that book. I had honestly forgotten about it. Sure, I had cried, but I did eventually find other books.

I guess word got around that I was moving. It was… something like the last day of school— not quite the end, but close. I remember snow on the ground, grey and slushy and mostly gone. I was just getting on the school bus to go home when Mrs. B came bustling out of the school.

She caught my backpack handle to get my attention, and I stopped on the steps of the school bus, looking down at her for what may well have been the last time I ever saw her. She had a book in her frail hands. The Tin Soldier.

She had never forgotten. She kept looking for that book. There was an apple sticky note on the front, addressed to me. It said some incredibly kind things, though most of the words are lost to memory. Encourage your creativity, I think, was the gist of it.

I just. Four years. She kept looking for that book for me for four years. I still have it, now, over a decade later. She must have had other, more important things to do. Four years! Where on earth had it been? I still don’t know, can’t imagine what could have possibly happened to it in the interim short of it slipping into a dimensional pocket. I loved that teacher.

#mobbtalks #not really a story with a point I suppose #my parents dd find another copy of the tin soldier for me after accidentally giving mine away #but the art was different and the story was slightly changed #other memories in this cycle include: spending recess stored away in a corner making an entire city out of little wooden blocks #attempting to do so again another recess only to have the teacher assign me as the buddy to the special needs kid. by which I mean she put #him in the same corner as me and told me to look after him #I remember being annoyed at having to share my city but he actually brought some really neat ideas to it #never really interacted again afterwards though.#I hated the teacher who was supposed to look after him though. she was an ass #like one day I came into school smiling and happy and kicked the snow off my boots Onto the Kick Snow Off Your Boots Mat #after like 30-40 other children had already done so- I was in the back of the line #and she came up to me and honest to god went ‘Why are you smiling.’#so I said ‘today’s my birthday!’ because it was. I was probably turning seven #but that’s just a guess #and she said ‘I don’t care. do you think just because it’s your birthday you can get snow all over? I don’t want you to come to class until #you pick this all up’ and she like gestured at All the Snow tracked in by (again) 30-40 children (a lot of snow)#I remember scooping a couple handfuls outside and then shoving the rest under the mat because I’d be in trouble if I was late to class #went from smiling to tear streaked #… well that’s a sour spot to leave off a post about good memories on #uhhh what else can I recall #I used to get up super early but I’d get up even earlier for Christmas #one year I got up so early. I don’t know how early but I do know it was like WAY earlier than I had ever gotten up before #stared at the tree and the gifts underneath. considered if I could open one (just one!) secretly. decided against because my parents would #be so sad to miss any. stare at tree. stare at tree. vents make weird noise. oh shit the house is haunted and the ghost is gonna get me #ended up on the other side of the house wedges under a lawn chair (???? lawn chair = safety apparently) on top of a vent #(!?? the thing scaring me?!?)#and all three of our cats came out of the woodwork to square up around me. snooks who was honestly just the best no notes 10/10 cat #simba who’d wake me up on other days to beg for pets and then follow me around the house until other people got up #and Missy who Hated me and Hated Children and probably Hated Simba too (but not snooks because snooks was an Angel)

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urbeatlemaniac · 4 months ago

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happy bday to my fav beatle dhani!!!

Happy birthday to Dhani!

“The name ‘Dhani’ actually came from my study of Indian music: from the scale of Sa-Ri-Ga-Ma-Pa-DHA-NI-Sa.” - George Harrison, Raga Mala (1997) “You mean doing the school run? [George] did. He used to be there handing out oranges at half-time. Being a dad was something that he loved. He just loved that time.” - Olivia Harrison, The Times, September 2014 “On the SATs for those American universities, he seemed to handle it quite easy and got very high scores. And they accepted him in [to Brown], and they also loved the idea that he’s a coxswain with the rowers in Henley, because Brown is a big rowing school. […] [H]e has to deal with that thing of being ’the son of,’ which isn’t easy either.” - George Harrison, 1996; published in Billboard, 2001 “Seeing how amazing, sweet and talented Dhani is, and how cool and amazing Olivia is — you can tell a lot about a person by who their friends are and who they love. […] They’re such incredible people, and they love him so much, and you can see how much he loved them. I love his art, his gardens and his home, and all the incredible things he’s written, but I think my favorite moment of George’s is Dhani and Olivia.” - Regina Spektor, Filter, Fall 2011 “I wouldn’t change my life for anything, I love being who I am. And I feel a lot of my dad, the way I sound now to myself, the way I whine on about stuff and bang on about the music industry, and this that and the other — I sound just like my dad. And now I know why he was so bitter about (laughs)… because having seen what my dad showed me, he was just so not impressed by anything (or) anyone that was anything but real.” - Dhani Harrison, KSHE95, September 2014 “He was one of the most extraordinarily complicated and intense people you would ever wanna meet, and yet one of the most perfectly simple and innocent people you could ever meet.He did everything with a big, open heart, with a lot of love. I think the best lesson he ever taught me is: anything can be accomplished, as long as you set out to do it with love.” - Dhani Harrison, Grammy Lifetime Achievement Award for George, February 2015 (x)

#i lov them all btw dont get me wrong #but dhani has a special place in my heart #HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!!!#happy birthday dhani!!!!!! :DD

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joelsdagger · 5 months ago

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intermission || joel miller x f!reader

shout out to @dinandwhiskey for feeding into my delusions for this one and to @skrunkly-scrimblo for the beta <33

pairing: daddy dom!joel miller x f!reader summary: movie night with joel doesn’t go to plan, or joel fucks your mouth while you’re sleeping. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ rating: 18+ MDNI warnings: [No Outbreak], established relationship, age gap [reader is 24, joel is late 50’s] , dd/lg dynamics, daddy kink, somnophilia [no explicit consent in this fic but she’s cool with it, therefore dubcon], oral [m receiving], face fucking, deepthroating, finger sucking, praise kink, pet names [little bug, little angel, baby, the works lol], references to tummy bulge, references to unprotected p in v sex, mentions of creampies, cum eating, reader can be carried [tho in my mind joel is huuuuuge so size kink as well], Joel’s POV. word count: 2.3k a/n: happy father’s day (iykyk) :3

series masterlist | masterlist | ao3 | playlist

dividers by @saradika-graphics

He shouldn’t. He knows he shouldn’t.

I don’t fall asleep during movies, daddy, you had sassed him.

Whatever you say, little bug.

That was an hour ago and now you’re resting your pretty little head against his belly, your hand tucked beneath your head. You look so peaceful. So pretty. So soft. So – pliant.

He really shouldn’t.

But then your hand slips from under your head and falls to rest a hair's breadth away from his clothed cock, it jumps in his sweats. You’ve practically pavloved him to react like that with just a mere graze of your fingertips.

“You got no idea what you do to me, sweet girl, drivin’ me fuckin’ crazy over here,” his voice a low rasp, reaching for your fingers and gently pulling them from his lap, squeezing your fingertips twice before resting them atop his thigh.

You’re completely limp, deep in your sleep and Joel is unable to control himself.

He snatches up the remote, hastily turns down the TV, shoves his gray sweats down to the middle of his thighs and frees his semi-hard cock. He wraps a hand around the base, gives it a firm tug, and rests the tip of his length on your lips.

He stills and swallows hard. He shouldn’t do this. He can’t do this, it feels selfish to take what he’s been desperately wanting from you — for the better part of an hour — when you’re unable to respond. He should wake you.

But then, almost as if you’ve made the decision for him; your lips part and a soft moan releases from you, mmm, daddy. His cock twitches against your lips, opaque droplets already gathering at the slit. Your lips stay parted and the glistening tip slips between your plush lips.

“Fuck– ” He groans at the sensation, eyes rolling back into his head, hand flying up to the back of yours, cradling your skull in an attempt to anchor himself as he slowly rolls his hips up into you. He stiffens fully at the feeling of your warm, wet mouth around him. It feels fucking incredible.

How the hell did he get here? A rare lazy sunday night with you on his lap, taking a man almost three times your age in between your lips, letting him use you in your sleep.

He remembers first laying eyes on you. You showed up on his porch one night, not too long ago, with sparkling eyes and a shy smile on your face. He didn’t even hear what you had said to him, too distracted by the soft skin of your exposed thighs just below the hem of your pale pink dress — barely covering the plump shape of your ass — and the flow of your hair as a wave of muggy summer heat swept past. He thinks it was something about the leftover cake from your birthday. He only guessed that from the sad, fat square slice of funfetti birthday cake held up in a flimsy paper plate before him, the letters jaggedly cut down the middle of the celebratory phrase.

Joel is a strong man; at least that’s what he tells himself. He knew you were too young for him. The split letters that barely spelled out twenty-four on your birthday cake told him as much. Trouble, he’d muttered. He still mumbles that occasionally when you push his buttons, though hours later, he often finds himself burying his length deep inside of you, tears pricking your eyes while he stretches your needy cunt.

But then you glanced up at him with wide, curious eyes and flashed him a big, toothy smile — the prettiest little thing he’s seen in all his long, hard years — and he cracked; his cement walls came crumbling down. He brought you inside his home, into his too-small bed, and fucked you until you cried, until you asked him for a break only to climb on top of him minutes later, begging him to feed you his cock again.

His cock pulses on your tongue at the memory, your voice high-pitched as you cried, Daddy, please, I want it. And Joel couldn’t resist his special girl. How could he? When you softly gasped into his mouth as he pushed the blunt head of his cock past your puffy folds — nuzzling in and making a home for himself — where he belongs. Your warm, drooling cunt sucking him in to the hilt, sheathing the entirety of his hard length inside your messy little pussy.

Joel is a strong man, but not when it comes to you.

Please, please, I need to feel it inside me. All the way up here, daddy, you whined, one hand gliding up your belly, the other fisting the fabric of your lace-trimmed dress. He just couldn’t resist you. So he fucked you and fucked you deep, until he was in the soft pouch of your tummy and poking through from the other side, just as you had asked of him. He fucked you full of his spend, until your poor, tiny hole couldn’t take any more of his cum.

He’d damn himself to hell before he’d refuse you. He only hopes you don’t deny him if you wake.

His deft, roughened fingers brush the hair out of your face before settling his hand back on your head. He sits up and leans over; marveling at the stretch of your lips around him, sweat beginning to pool at the nape of his neck and the corners of his temples.

He feels filthy. A dirty old man. He’s never taken you like this before. But it doesn’t feel wrong. He’s only missing those pretty sounds you make —

You stir and let out a soft moan around him. Sweet Jesus, there you go. Your head dips lower down his belly, nestling more of his length into your hot mouth. Atta fuckin’ girl. Let me in, baby. Open up real big for daddy.

“Such a naughty little thing, lettin’ me fuck your throat while you’re sleepin’, just needed to be full o’me huh?” He whispers softly, and at that, you hum. Joel can’t help when he bucks up into your mouth in response, saliva pouring past your lips and onto his graying pubic hair.

“Fuck, baby, you like gettin’ daddy all messy? Like chokin’ on daddy’s big cock?” He taunts, a grin tugging on his face.

Once again, as if you can hear him, you hum.

You’re so damn responsive. Or maybe you just like having his dick in your mouth.

“Fuck, yeah, you do,” he pants, his voice strained with restraint. His free hand glides down to the swell of your ass — the softest skin he thinks he’s ever felt — and hikes up the frilly hem of those pink sleep shorts that he likes a little too much — the ones speckled with tiny red hearts — over one cheek, grabs a handful of your plush flesh, and squeezes. You moan, and Joel feels your tongue twitch, feather-like, beneath the heavy weight of his cock, then pressing up against the thick, pulsing vein on the underside of his shaft. He bites down on his lip to muffle the loud moan that sneaks past his lips, the back of his head hitting the couch behind him.

“Goddamnit, takin’ me so damn well, even in your sleep, such a good fuckin’ girl,” he babbles, his eyes shut tight as he revels in the feeling of himself in your mouth, the action movie silently playing on the screen flashes against his eyelids, measured shaky breaths escaping him. The strong hand on your head easing you lower and lower to take more of him, your lips now grazing the drool drenched hair at his base.

Your mouth feels like velvet around him — warm and soft and so perfect that his hips cant upwards unconsciously, the pace of his thrusts increasing. He’s losing himself in the haze of his fast-approaching release, a deep-seated tension building in his gut, teetering on the edge until—

You splutter around him and Joel’s head snaps up to peer down at you, your eyelids flutter open against the soft glow of the television.

“Shit, baby. ‘M sorry,” he rasps and quickly retracts his hand from your head. Yet, you don’t pull yourself off him, instead you curl your weak fingers into his thigh. You don’t want him to stop.

“You want me to keep going?” He asks gruffly, he knows you can take him, you’ve done it countless times since you have met. He’s trained you well. Yet, he needs to be certain he’s not reaching your limit.

You drag your lips off his cock, an obscene wet slurping sound fills the too still air, letting off him with a pop and maneuvering yourself to sit up on your knees. “Yes, please daddy,” your voice still thick with sleep, peering up at him with an innocence to your needy gaze; a mixture of drool and precum coating your pouty lips.

“Christ,” he mutters, under his breath. Such a pretty fuckin’ sight. One he reckons he’ll never get tired of seeing. He can’t deny you. Not when you look at him like that.

“Okay, baby, here,” he murmurs, his hand retakes its place on the back of your head, guiding you toward his aching cock, your lips latch onto the fat head — all angry and red — and he inhales a shuddery breath as he watches your face contort at the stretch of him in your mouth.

Your tongue flattens underneath him and he presses himself deeper into your willing mouth, filling you up and messaging the walls of your throat with the wide head of his cock.

His grip in your hair tightens and a low groan rumbles in his throat, “There you go, baby, hold still.”

Fucking hell. He could keep you here forever.

“So goddamn pretty like this, baby,” Joel grits, “Love havin’ your mouth stuffed full o’ my cock, huh?”

You make a low muffled sound around the length of his cock.

“S’right, you do,” he answers for you.

His free hand trails down the length of your body, instinctively gripping the meat of your ass, dull fingernails digging into your skin, just barely grazing your puckered hole. You whine around him, the vibrations from your throat has him flexing his fingers your hair in response, and with shallow, quick thrusts of his hips, he fucks himself into your mouth.

Fresh tears begin to sprout in your eyes as you gulp hard, your throat constricting around him. Joel feels his throbbing tip choked tight at the small opening at the back of your throat. The warm walls of your throat so tight — so good for him — the muscles in his belly tighten, and the hand on your ass is quick to join the other on your head, gripping your skull. “Shit— that’s it, angel. M’comin’.” His dick pulsates on your tongue, and a loud, guttural groan spills from him as hot, thick spurts of his cum coat your throat. His hand holds you there, firmly pressing your mouth flush to his spit-smeared balls. He feels you swallow around him again, and he whines quietly. The muscles in his jaw go slack, and his head falls back onto the couch while he lazily thrusts upwards, his leaking head bruising the back of your throat as he empties the last of himself into your mouth and filling your belly, his chest heaving from exertion.

He lifts his head when he feels you pull off him; you cough softly against him, the warmth of your breath brushes against his now softening cock, and his hooded gaze meets the sight of a thin string of saliva and cum dribbling from your wet, puffy lips, tears dripping from the corner of your eyes and down your cheeks. “Oh, c’mere, little bug, lemme see.”

Just as he taught you, you plant a small, wet kiss on each of his heavy balls. Joel sighs through his nostrils. Fuck. What did he do to deserve you? You’re too good for him. You scoot over to sit up in his lap. Joel feels the slick between your legs through your tiny shorts when you press against his soft cock. He lets out a little groan; if he hadn’t just come, he’d be getting hard at the sensation.

His hand reaches to grip your jaw, angling your face up as you present him with your open mouth, the corners of his lips twitch at the sight of the walls of your little throat; empty, swollen, and used.

“My filthy girl, you did so good f’me,” he cooes, coaxing away your tears and swiping your glistening lips clean. He pushes the pad of his thumb — covered in slobber and cum — into your mouth and presses it onto your tongue. Your wet eyes lock with his as you enthusiastically suck his thumb clean.

Man alive. Maybe you’ll damn him to hell.

You release his thumb and giggle, biting your lip and smiling up at him dreamily. “Thank you, daddy, I liked it,” you rasp quietly.

“Yeah?” He breathes, both of his hands on either side of your face, thumbs stroking your wet cheeks.

Your wide, glassy eyes meet his gaze, “I like when you do things that make you feel good, it makes me feel good,” your voice hoarse and small, fingers toying with the collar of his t-shirt.

“Well – you always make daddy feel good, little angel,” he praises, leaning forward to lay a long kiss to your forehead that elicits a breathy sigh from you, your eyelids fluttering closed.

“You tired, baby?” He whispers, tucking your soft hair behind your ear, fingers stroking down your hair and twirling the end of the gathered strands between his fingers.

You yawn quietly and give him a slow, small nod, a sleepy smile to your face as you sink down in his lap, your weeping cunt throbbing against him. He’ll play with your perfect little pussy in the morning. Maybe your other little hole too.

He chuckles at that. “Alright, little bug...” he starts, tucking his soft cock back into his sweats. He scoops you up into his arms; his weak, achy knees pop, and a low grunt spills from him as he stands, “Bedtime.”

#*screeches and hides*#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller fic #joel miller smut #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller one shot #the last of us #the last of us fanfiction #daddy!joel #tw daddy kink #tw dubcon #tw somnophilia #wazoo!!!#noelle's workshop

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