#me normally: we suck at everything who cares

[wicked-yarn]

I live in Oklahoma Currently all mainstream porn sites are required by law to register our Government issued ID's in order to access them. This is very obviously going to be used against people if/when the coming storm. The only places where one can still access porn without getting on a list that the government won't monitor is social media and blogging platforms. Just taking a moment to say that before the porn ban I was able to scroll through tumblr and ethically source all of my smut from independent artists like I was at a Farmers market of pussy and dick. I was able to find stuff made by artists who were the same as me and I could make sure they were the kind of person within the fetish community I was okay being around too. Now that almost all fetish content is being painted with the same degenerate brush, I have seen the people I was comfortable with disappear out of shame.....and you left me with a bunch of fucking assholes. On that note, here is a list of things that count as fetishes or kinks. Large breasts Small Breasts Skinny Fat Muscles Short Tall ShortxTall(size diff) Being a Housewife(trad wifing is a fetish, it is a kink lifestyle sorry not sorry) Clowns Getting hit with a pie/mud/slime (It's called Splat) Turning into something else (Anything, yes anything, yes any form of transformation at all is under the transformation fetish umbrella) Being under the Command of someone with more authority than you Getting insulted Having to wear clothes that don't align with their preferred gender Being treated younger than you are Not having to do anything Having to do everything for everyone. If you're looking at some of these and going "That CAN'T be a kink! That's a normal every day situation!" Congrats. That's a kink. "B-but that's in cartoons for kids!" Yep, and someone thinks it's hot. "That is disturbing and their mind is broken!" Hey that's just like, YOUR opinion man. "Well I want to write a story that's 100% fetish free!!!!!!" Good fucking luck buddy, In the world of fetishes being made to do anything at all in fiction can be a fetish. "You sound like YOU'RE a pervert!" I am, I am an open Kinkster who uses the BDSM concepts of roleplay and power dynamics to understand the world better. Unlike those weirdos who don't know about their fetish and thinks everyone wants to suck on toes all day and write every speech they ever write refering to the innate desire we all have to suck on toes. My point is that Fetishes and Kink can arise from normal situations and when you're writing fictions you will eventually rub up against a fetish noo matter what and you have two options to do about it. "Okay Pervert, I'm barely listening to you but tell my your crazy idea about how we need to be okay about perverts." Either stop caring that perverts exist, cause pervs are gonna perv, you can't control them or stop them. Just ignore them, shove them off to the side and just write. OR weirdly, listen to them You might be surprised by what you learn. If Someone who's thing is watching a power stuggle between two strong personalities ADORES your power struggle story...maybe learning a little of the tropes and desires of that fetish can punch up your stories Person with a hand fetish that likes music? They'll notice what cords your character is playing on the guitar. EMBRACE THE PERVERTS!!!!!! A Pervert can be a friend who can warn you about an oncoming storm......I mean if you're not busy calling them a pedophile for having sex while also enjoying a cartoon.

“Why are you so upset about adult content bans? You don’t even post that stuff. can’t you just look at porn somewhere else?”

Well, you see, I have this small problem where my very existence is considered adult content by a small but very powerful group of people and I actually rather enjoy being able to exist in public without restriction so uhhhh put that in your bong and smoke it kiddo.

[lostintransist]

The Real Problem With The Trolley

Coffee Shop Meet Cute | Part 4

Part 1 here. AO3

Kyle wormed his way into your life with the skill of an abuser isolating you but inversed; mint spreading from the single pot on the porch only to be found halfway across the yard two weeks later. When you finally allowed him to add you on Snapchat, months and months into texting about, well, everything, you saw the women who rolled through his days home. None looked like you. Conventionally attractive, makeup never out of place or sweated off from work, all of it confirmed what you thought. Platonic, philosophical conversations were all this friendship would allow.

He had met some of your friends after they asked to meet him. You spoke about him often enough that your bestie would no longer be satisfied with stalking his Snapchat when you hung out.

“What’s wrong with him?”

“What?” Her question pulled you from the overabundance of videos she had sent you to work through. “What’s wrong with who?”

You were both lounging on her couch the quiet sounds from your phones only interrupted by the purring of her cat between you.

“Your Kyle,” she flipped her phone around showing you a picture she had taken from her phone of his recent snap.

Sitting up you fight back the panic that hits like a hammer to the back of your ribs.

“He’s not my anything. And I don’t like you insisting that he is.”

“I have never seen a man as attentive to you as he was when we all went out for a drink,” she counters as if Kyle’s normal behavior was some grand scheme to get close to you.

It wasn’t. Couldn’t be. You saw him in person less than once a month and had never once expressed interest in him or caught a whiff of him sniffing your direction. Focusing down on Fiona, the cat, you lift her into your lap and begin loving on her as a way to prolong responding. Memories flooded through you.

Your friends all raved, still, about how he walked them all to their cars and made you laugh. You grumbled that it wasn’t hard to make you laugh, but made a point to bite back the laughter Kyle caused over text and in person. If he noticed he didn’t say anything.

The most he had shared with you was that he worked in the military and would randomly be unreachable for long stretches. You would have thought it a bald-faced lie if you hadn’t first met him with his team. Those men reeked of queen and country. He would tell you about his mum though, and how his sister was going through a divorce. Replying in kind you find interesting ways to gloss over the issues you had with your family. It sounded so trivial and petty compared to the depth of love and compassion he held for his.

You had only picked up his call after ten pm once.

His snaps had been full of long nails and beautiful skin flush with his on a park bench that day. You rolled your eyes and sighed when you saw them, ignoring the buzz in your chest that wished it had been, could be, you.

Tucked into bed scrolling your phone you dropped it with a squeak when his face appeared on it. It buzzed twice more before you swiped to answer.

“Hey, sorry. Did I wake you?” Tears roughed up his voice, confirmed by the sniff at the end of his question.

“No. What’s up?”

Talking on the phone whispered of danger—like the sailors of old failing to fill their ears with beeswax. The smooth cadence of his accent could convince you to wreck on the rocks. It might be more enticing if you cared to swim.

A slam of a door in the background had you wincing as it assaulted your ears.

He coughed, wet and ragged.

“Long night is all.” You had never heard him defeated before and it pricked at your compassion.

“Wanna talk about it?”

The offer is met with a small laugh and you imagine him wiping his face with the heel of his hand.

“Not really. Tell me about your day instead?”

“My day?” Your day had been shitty, interview bombed, work riddled with Karens and the awful manager had been on shift today. “It fucking sucked. Still wanna hear about it?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I do.”

So you tell him, all the gritty bits and the silly things that you do to make it through the day. He is laughing before long, sounding calmer than when the call had started.

“Ready to tell me what the door slamming was all about?”

Kyle’s teeth clicking together tells you he might skirt the issue like he does with work conversations.

Counting in your head you read forty-seven when he speaks.

“I am not a good man.” He pauses so you take your turn.

“Uh-huh.”

“What do you mean uh huh?” His tone sharp in your ears.

“Kyle, you don’t talk about work. So either you can’t or you won’t. Doesn’t really matter which. You are a soldier. A soldier who can’t talk about what he does can’t be doing good things and no one comes out of those situations without stains. So, following that train of thought, since you keep coming home you must not be a good man.” You lay the facts out, the thoughts neatly lined up in your mind. “Am I wrong?”

He takes til fifteen to reply this time.

“You’re not.”

His eyes would be boring into you if this were an in-person chat or a video call, thank god you were in bed and wouldn’t answer a video call without a bra on.

“Why do you keep talking to me then?” His question fires like a bullet through a silencer.

He expects you to end the conversation and your association with him. That happening with the woman from the snaps today would make sense.

“Do you hurt people for fun?”

“No.” His answer is swift and alarmed.

“Take things too far on purpose?” Dragging a hand over your blanket you focus on the texture.

He is slower to respond this time.

“Not…not on purpose.”

“Mmm. So you are asking me why I still talk to a man who does bad things in a world that requires bad choices for safety, is that right?” Folding one arm across your chest you hold onto your bicep that holds the phone up to your ear still.

“I guess?”

“They say when someone shows you who they are to believe them. Kyle, you have shown me honesty, compassion, intellect. Yes, you do bad things in places worlds away and that does make you a bad man. But,” continuing carefully you voice your thoughts, “you aren’t evil and until you show me something repugnant, I enjoy having you as a friend.”

“Repugnant huh? Gonna have to run that word by Soap.” He sniffs and swallows his candor and confidence coming back online.

“Soap is the scary one or the one with a hat?”

That startled a laugh out of him.

“Neither, he was Scot with the mohawk and the loud voice.”

“Aah, okay. So what’s the scary one’s name?” Unable to fathom what odd collection of sounds would make his name.

“Ghost.”

The laugh you let out startled you into slapping your hand over your mouth.

“You can’t be serious,” you whispered once you caught hold of your laughter. “What do you call the hat guy?”

“Price,” Kyle’s smile clear in your ears.

“Okay, that’s it. Your teammates have the oddest collections of names. I can’t. I have to go to bed.” A breathless laugh and a shake of your head before you can continue, “I’m glad you’re feeling better, Kyle.”

“Thanks for taking my call, I know it’s late. Sleep well.”

“Thanks, you too.”

You had ended the call, the smile slipping from your face. You dealt with the whiplash of self-flagellation. No more late-night calls, too dangerous. After nine your phone had to go on do not disturb. Chats with Kyle after the sun dipped would leave you dreaming, and dreams like that don’t come true for people like you.

“Hey,” bestie is prodding you with her foot in your thigh. “With me again?”

Pinching the tip of your tongue between your sharpest teeth you nod.

“Sorry.” With face contorting and sighing breaths, it took you an uncomfortable amount of time to respond to her raised brow. “I…can’t let myself think of him like that.”

“Why not? He sounds into you.”

Leave it to your best friend to hold duality. Woman knew how to hype you up without understanding that you had no chance.

Running your hands down Fiona’s back with deliberate gentleness you peel yourself apart.

“You are gorgeous.” She opens her mouth in your side vision. “Do not argue with me, we are both aware of this fact.”

The mulish look she sends you tells you she will argue the point, but later.

“I am not. No. Do not start with me,” you point hard at her. “I am not pretty, I am interesting and better off for it. Kyle can’t be interested in me. You’ve seen the women he pulls; I refuse to put myself through the hurt of rejection and losing a friend over one foolish decision.”

The sadness that colors your best friend’s face is painted with the years that stretch between you. Fiona stands. Her small paw pads press to the bone as she arches in a stretch and saunters away to her feed bowl. Watching her lets you avoid the sadness you etched in your friend.

“But what about love?”

“What about it? Love is a chemical reaction and a choice, and it’s more choice than anything. If he isn’t attracted to me no amount of choosing will change that.” The stretching burn in your throat is your reminder to not cry over men but also to not let your heart reach for the impossible.

The tears come when she takes your hand.

“I love you and I’m sorry I brought it up.”

Squeezing her hard you give a small watery laugh.

“I love you too, wanna watch trashy TV for a bit?”

“With you? Watching a lecture on finance would be interesting.”

She holds your hand, head resting on yours where it touches her shoulder until you drag yourself home. The ache in your chest stays.

Coffee Masterlist | Masterlist

@soldierservant @demothers-empty-blog

[wmnylander]

SLAY 🇮🇪

[itsalwaysdark]

i like overthink everything now it makes me feel so dumb. i used 2 be able to just talk 2 ppl but nowadays every single thing im like Is that actually going to make them hate me. Yes probably. and then i just dont respond which makes ppl hate me. this is how it is

[diet-cherry-cokee]

dni

[moe-broey]

Homesick for arms that DID hold me but. At what cost.

[gaygirldoodles]

In my JD era

[megaclubdiolis]

柄本 佑 || 「光る君へ」 (2024) · 第三十八回 「まぶしき闇」 ​​​

[adios--toreador]

Augh

[todayisafridaynight]

i think i would have gone loco if jo and aoki got to meet up just once after ichi breaks through to him like. the damage to my psyche id have wouldve been immeasurable, irreparable even

[uchiha-gaeshi]

Issues with Writing a Self-Insert #1

In case y'all didn't know, I've been going through a reflective period recently, and I've noticed that fear of what others think has held me back in almost every single aspect of my life, and unfortunately fandom is no exception.

I remember when I was like 14 and I tried to write fanfiction for the first time (I don't remember even what fandom I was writing for). Unfortunately, I could barely type a single paragraph without immediately deleting all that I wrote and being overly critical of my lack of writing ability. Even at that age, in the privacy of my dorm room, I couldn't shake off the fear of failure (and I mean howw?? I wasn't the only 14 year old trying to write Wattpad fanfiction). I remember comparing myself to some of my peers who had an amazing talent for writing. For me, I didn't get jealous, but rather I got intimidated, so intimidated that instead of continuing on with something and being imperfect at it, I'd just drop the entire activity altogether.

Because of this habit, I missed out on a lot of potential opportunities for growth during this time. I guess I saw people who were amazing, assumed that they popped out of the womb like that or something, and just....gave up. If I could go back in time, I would tell young me to embrace the cringe, embrace the mess. So what if people laugh or look at you funny or immediately stop whispering to each other once they see you? It sucks, but you will find your people, and you will survive. Trying to be palatable to everyone just means that you stifle yourself.

Years later, I wanted to get back into fanfiction, but this time with very little creative writing experience. What held me back was the fear that someone would read something that I wrote and ridicule it for being something that only an angsty teen would write, except that I am no longer an angsty teen but an unfortunately angsty adult riddled with insecurity, and that reality would just make that hypothetical comment sting even more (that's another thing about me. I create hypothetical ways for people to roast me in order to talk myself out of doing stuff).

[inkskinned]

i got rickrolled today but it didn't work because i have adblocker installed, so youtube just told me i violated the terms of service. yesterday i was trying to edit a picture as a joke for my girlfriend, and google made me check a box to prove i'm human because i wasn't "searching normally".

it isn't just that capitalism is killing fun and whimsy, it is that any element of entertainment or joy is being fed upon by this mosquito body, one that will suck you dry at any vulnerability.

do you want to meet new friends in your city? download this app, visit our website, sign up for our email list. pay for this class on making a terrarium, on candlemaking, on cooking. it will be 90 dollars a session. you can go to group fitness, but only under our specific gym membership. solve the puzzle, sign up for our puzzle-of-the-month-club. what is a club if not just a paid opportunity - you are all paying for the same thing, which makes you a community.

but you're like me, i know it - you're careful, you try the library meetings and the stuff at the local school and all of that. the problem is that you kind of want really specific opportunities that used to exist. you are so grateful for libraries and the publicly-funded things: they are, however, an exception - and everything they have, they've fought tooth-and-nail to protect. you read a headline about how in many other states, libraries have virtually nothing left.

do you want to meet up with your friends afterwards? gift your friends the discord app. you can choose to go to a cafe (buy a coffee, at least), a bar (money, alcohol) or you can all stay in and catch a movie (streaming) or you can all stay in bed (rent. don't get me started) and scream (noise complaint. ticket at least).

you want to read a new book, but the book has to have 124 buzzwords from tiktok readers that are, like, weirdly horny. you can purchase this audiobook on audible! your podcast isn't on spotify, it's on its own server, pay for a different site. fuck, at least you're supporting artists you like. the art museum just raised their ticket price. once, they had a temporary exhibit that acknowledged that ~85% of their permanent art galleries were from cis white men, and that they had thousands of works by women (even famous women, like frida! georgia o'keefe!) just rotting in their basement. that exhibit lasted for 3 months and then they put everything away again.

walmart proudly supports this strip of land by the street! here are some flowers with wilting leaves. its employees have to pay out-of-pocket for their uniforms. my friend once got fined by the city because she organized a community pick-up of the riverfront, which was technically private property.

no, you cannot afford to take that dance class, neither can i. by the way - i'm a teacher. i'm absolutely not saying "educators shouldn't be paid fairly." i'm saying that when i taught classes, renting a studio went from 20 bucks an hour to 180 in the span of 6 months. no significant changes to the studio were made, except they now list the place as updated and friendly. the heat still doesn't work in the building. i have literally never seen the landlord who ignores my emails. recently they've been renting it out at night as an "unusual nightclub; a once-in-a-lifetime close-knit party." they spent some of those 180 dollars on LEDs and called it renovating. the high heels they invite in have been ruining the marley.

do you want to experience the old internet? do you want to play flash games or get back the temporary joy of club penguin? you can, you just need to pay for it. i have a weird, neurodivergent obsession with occasionally checking in to watch the downfall and NFT-ification of neopets. if i'm honest with you all - i never got into webkins, my family didn't have the money to buy me a pointless elephant. people forget that "being poor" can mean literally "if i buy you that toy, i can't afford rent."

you and i don't have time to make good food, and we don't have the budget for it. we are not gonna be able to host dinner parties, we're not made of money, kid. do you want some kind of 3rd space? a space that isn't home or work or school? you could try being online, but - what places actually exist for you? tiktok counts as social media because you see other people on it, not because they actually talk to you.

there was a local winter tradition of sledding down the hill at my school. kids would use pizza boxes and jackets and whatever worked, howling and laughing. back in september, they made a big announcement that this time, rules were changing, and everyone must pay 10 dollars to participate. when im not scared shitless, i kind of appreciate the environmental irony - it hasn't gone below 40. so much for snow & joyriding.

i saw a bulletin for a local dogwalking group and, nervous about making a good first impression, showed up early. the first guy there grimaced at me. "sorry," he said. "there's a 30-dollar buy-in fee." i thought he was joking. wait. for what? the group doesn't offer anything except friendship and people with whom to walk around the city.

he didn't know the answer. just shrugged at me. "you know," he said. "these days, everything costs money."

[thewritingpossum]

sometimes people on rate my professors are just wrong

[itsalwaysdark]

and also it doesnt even matter if i miraculously get a job tmrw bc we don't have a car . and im too out of shape to walk anywhere bc everything is far away . so i genuinely dont jnow what to do

[lesbianpikachu]

.

[buckyalpine]

I love Bucky loving his body. I love Bucky loved by the team. I love Bucky having his happy ending with a family. Imagine Bucky lounging around the sofa with his little baby girl tucked in his arm, her sweet face covered in frosting after smothering half of her cupcake onto her cheeks. The icing is bright red just like Tony's suit and it's his birthday party afterall, so everything is in full swing. Most of the cupcake is squished between her fingers, very little actually making it into her mouth but Bucky doesn't mind. He chuckles, watching her with heart eyes as she happily smears it onto his crisp white shirt, babbling and cooing, now sucking her thumb.

He is absolutely unbothered by this, all he sees is his happy little baby with her cheeky smile licking up all the frosting just like her mama. While Bucky couldn't care less about his shirt, a few others certainly did.

"Better get dunk that shirt into a bucket of tide pens Barnes" Clint snorted.

"Actually the quicker you get it off, the less likely it is to stain. Take it off now" Tony's voice went from fatherly advice to a seductive growl making Bucky's face twist in amusement, pink starting to color his cheeks.

"Yeah, give the little munchkin to y/n and take it off. Cause of the stain" Nat agreed, cocking an eyebrow. You giggled watching the scene unfold before you, your husband growing bashfully shy.

"Can't hurt punk" Steve shrugged and Bucky's eyes nearly popped out of his head until he realized his best friend had been nursing a rather large glass of Asgardian mead. Tipsy Steve was always a little bit of a pervert...

"I-

"For the stain"

"I think you just want me to take my shirt off" Bucky huffed while you grinned, giving his cheek a peck before taking your little princess in your arms.

"Can't blame them handsome, c'mon, show em' how lucky I am" you whisper and that sells it. Couldn't hurt and since they were all asking...

"Just take it off!" Nat howled with a wink, a bunch of whistles when Bucky sighed, indulging the team a little. He unbuttons his shirt and hands it off to a genuinely concerned Sam who would normally make sure the shirt got sent to the cleaners but this is too good so he throws it into a bucket of cold water and is back within seconds.

"Good God"

"Jesus"

"You look fuckin' good terminator"

"Alright, alright" Bucky holds his hands up, unable to stop the way his ears are bright red, shaking his head when you blow him a kiss making him blush more.

"Body shots!"

"What?"

"Yes"

Tony's eyes glimmer with excitement, and Bucky snorts, loving the way you egg him on, his daughter also squealing with excitement.

"Go on Sarge, y'know you look good"

He lies down on the bar table, surrounded by just the team, abs beautifully flexed as Nat pours a generous amount of some type of alcohol right on his belly button.

"When else will we get this lucky" She says with a playful smirk while Steve cracks his knuckles.

"Why are you cracking your knuckles, what the hell do you plan on-

"ME FIRST" He doesn't give anyone a chance, face planting himself into Bucky's tummy, his lips sealed, drinking every bit of the burning liquor with a satisfied hum.

"How much has he had to drink"

"Who cares, me next"

"I think you've licked enough of my husband"

"You get him all the time, don't be greedy"

"That cute little chubby ball of frosting and giggles is enough evidence you get him every which way, besides isn't there another one cooking, y'can't have any now git"

"Blink twice if you need help"

"Bro looks like an angel"

"Why aren't you blinking"

"Crafted by the heavens"

"You like this, don't you"

Bucky can't help but chuckle, surrounded by idiots. Drunk idiots. His wife. His baby girl. Another little one on the way. All who love him. Would protect him. Life was good.