starring… dani. she/her. twenty-two. soulaani. this oscar-winning actress has made quite the name for herself in various roles starring alongside the usos and the smokestack twins.
movie selections. taglist form.
recent films: back of the club - elias ‘stack’ moore , a dose of act right - elias ‘stack’ moore
followings, likes, and asks from me will show up as @taureanstargirl
do not copy, translate, paraphrase, or feed my work to ai. i do not give my consent and I will hex you.
#thinking about how in the beginning of dandelion!reader and countrybf!stacks relationship it was hell for her.
stacks busy schedule and her living with a strict father. it felt like everything was working against them. everytime she tried to text him she would be left on delivered or read for days and he will follow up with "i'm sorry, i got busy."
of course she never complained, would only say "thats okay!" because she loved stack so much that the thought of them not being together was worse than what she's putting herself through.
until she ran into stack and his ex in town. days prior she reached out to him asking if he would like to go too the farms market this weekend but of course he told her he was busy.
she saw mary before stack, the other girl was in a pink floral dress that flowed softly with the breeze. she was standing out front of the chows shop. dandelion!reader walked behind her swiftly hoping she goes unnoticed but fate has other plans.
"omg! ♡?" marys voice rang out, surprised to see the younger girl. dandelion turns around softly saying hi, before mary could start up a conversation stack comes out the shop "so they didn't have white lilies-" he stops in his tracks seeing dandelion.
dandelion facial expressions are enough to make stack sick. mary speaks unaware of the situation unfolding in front of her "♡, you should join us for lunch! stack was talking about this-" mary noticing the unwell expression on her face "oh my, you don't look so well are you okay?"
dandelion!reader rushes out a quick "just ate something that doesn't sit well with me. i have to go!" stack tries to call out for the younger girl but she ignores him.
I’m going to say this once and never again. If you don’t agree with me, you’re more than welcome to unfollow and block me. I’m also not a chicken and will be tagging exactly who I’m talking about because this is honestly ridiculous.
I’m going to preface this by saying this isn’t to cause drama or get likes. My account is garnering plenty of engagement from my writing and my personal posts already. This is merely for educational purposes and to shed light on an issue that’s infested the internet for years. This is also NOT just about the MJ fandom but I’m using it as an example because it’s happened here. Again, if you don’t agree with me, unfollow or block me!
I recently followed an account under the impression that they were a black owned blog. Their layout, use of AAVE and black oriented reaction pictures made me believe that I found another black writer to support. But I learned that the owner is a white women.
I want to follow more black writers here to uplift them in a space that is heavily biased against black fans. Situations surrounding belittling black writers in the MJ community have been rampant for a while now so I take it upon myself to support and follow fellow black writers who represent me and many black MJ fans who have felt underrepresented in the fandom.
Back to the issue. Finding out that this account is a white woman behind the scenes upset me quite a bit. I genuinely believed she was one of us and was combating the racial problem within the fandom. That being said, I’d like to point out why this is more than just a ‘I feel scammed’ situation and more about digital dishonesty.
Digital blackface is a massive issues in online communities across the internet. It’s a conversation that has been ongoing for years now, even before I was on the internet. Many people outside of the black diaspora have downplayed it as a problem, stating that free speech shouldn’t be considered black fishing or harmful towards black communities. However, I would like to point out that Digital Blackface is more than just using ‘black media’ to express yourself, it directly impacts how the world views black peoples as a whole.
Accounts on Tumblr and other platforms have popped up pretending to be black people since conception of social media. They use Ebonics and black reaction pictures/gifs as a means of communication which often time leads to real black-owned accounts believing that they are interacting with black people. In hindsight, one would merely say “well it’s not their fault you thought they were black,” and that is exactly the problem.
As I said before, I follow black blogs to uplift my people. The internet is riddled with racism directly impacting black communities. We get called the hard r, monkeys, ghetto, nasty, undesirable etc and platforms don’t bat an eye. Racism towards us is so normalised that it’s bled into every internet fandom. So you see why black people online gravitate towards each other? Because we want a safe space for ourselves. We want to appreciate each other, dote on each other, love, respect and support each other’s art.
How do black folk know that an account is black owned? We use Ebonics, black media and black phrases that only we would know. So you can imagine how disheartening it is to find out that an account using such media would be a white woman behind it.
Nonblack POC or white person reading this might not understand the gravity of this situation but I implore you to read up on it and take time to fully understand why it’s upsetting.
Terms like ‘the saxophones are getting louder” “goofy ahh” “I’m crine” “unc” “Deadass” are AAVE/Ebonics. Finding them on TikTok and incorporating them into your online vocabulary when you’re not apart of that community is a form of digital blackface and cultural appropriation. It’s not Gen Z slang or TikTok slang and it’s not a funny audio just for vibes. It’s BLSCK AMERICAN language.
I’m not BA and I do use Ebonics here and there but I avoid incorporating it into my speech when I don’t understand how to use it properly. And I don’t use much of it because, again, I’m NOT black American. Black Americans have been kind enough to even let black people outside of the United States use their language and I don’t even want them to think that I’m being irresponsible with that privilege.
Now in regards to this situation. I don’t want to hear things like “Michael was for everyone.” Although that was true, you would be really stupid to believe that Michael didn’t understand that black people were/are the most marginalised and racially abused people on the planet. This man grew up in undoubtedly the most racially divided time in USA history. He even spoke out about the industry steals from “especially black artists”. He was aware that black art is abused for white financial and political gain. Black media (whether it be music or simply reaction photos) is art.
So why position yourself in a way that make you appear to us as a black woman @michaelmuse ? Your entire aesthetic is based in a way that draws in a black audience. You use black faces as reaction pics and Ebonics but you draw the line at reblogging black fanfics when you know that this site favours reblogs over comments and likes.
Your previous username (ebonymuse) in itself is indicative of the issue I’m discussing here. ‘Ebony’ is a term primarily used to describe black people. Urban dictionary defines it as “the essence of dark skin that is enriched and plentiful with melanin. greatness. beauty”. It’s even a common term used to define a porn category for to black people. Now the term itself is constantly being critiqued for bordering on being a fetish term, however, you see how it’s for black people? Dark skin people to be exact?
So why is a white woman with white ass skin using that term in their username? I’m a black woman with albinism and even I wouldn’t use that term. Why? Because it isn’t not for my pasty self.
I’ve read some of your fics and this has nothing to do with me wanting diversity or inclusion from you, nor is it to hate on your work. You do use Ebonics in your work so I’m sure you knew that your fics would attract black readers to your blog. Your behaviour (whether you did it intentionally or not) was deceptive and potentially harmful to my community. You need to educate yourself on the contents of this conversation to fully understand how bad this situation actually is. There’s no way you’ve been on the internet and didn’t know that black Americans have been begging nonblack (especially white) folk to stop using their media as your own or as ‘a silly tend’ or to be relatable.
I’ve seen a few black British blogs come to your defence and I’m bewildered to see them pandering for a white woman about something that affects black people as a whole. I myself am not Black American but I will stand by them when their culture and language is diluted and turned into a ‘trend’ for everyone else to steal and appropriate. It’s wrong and it impacts us all. White people (even other POC) don’t separate us. They see one fake black account say stupid things and assume that’s how all of us feel/act. I understand that the UK is differently set up but your low racial self esteem is affecting us all. You let white Brits walk all over you and your culture and you just laugh along like it’s funny. This is why racism there will never end. You let white footballer wear braids, let white folk use AAVE and flat out call your Afros messy and you think it’s not that serious. Stand up. Immediately.
You guys really need to do better. Stop misconstruing Michael’s words to get away with disrespecting black people. You’re becoming just as bad as those who racially attacked him.
The body of 18 year old Nolan Xavier Wells has unfortunately been found after he went missing from Horn Island, Mississippi. Wells went boating with a group of boys — the rest of the party being white — on July 4th, but he was the only one who didn’t return to shore.
It is becoming increasingly dangerous to be the only black person in a group. Rest in peace, Nolan. You deserve justice.
I’ll be honest my adhd has been getting so bad that I haven’t really written much😭 I’m looking into finally getting medicated for it so I can fully dive back into writing because it is my passion and I truly miss writing and sharing community with you all <33 I’m going to trial run some drabbles perhaps to work my brain a lil and see how I feel but I did want to pop in and say I missed you all sm!!
𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬◞﹒୧. Onyankopon was a bit foolish to introduce his cute autistic sister—you—to Connie. You were a literal princess who deserved all his care. The most beautiful girl ever in his eyes, and he had no shame breaking Ony's rules to make you his girlfriend. Ony thought he had managed to protect you from his criminal friend, but for years Connie had been secretly coming at night to make love to you. Like tonight.
𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬◞﹒୧ . 2.5k words, black!fem!reader, plus!size!reader, hyperfeminine nonverbal autistic reader, sign langage, hispanic!connie, plug!connie, fluffy smutty fic, established relationship, forbidden love, stoner!connie, tattooed!connie, pierced!connie, affectionate!connie, check ins, sensory seeking needs, hyposensitivity, ‘mami, baby, princesa’ pet names, feet kissing/toes sucking, fingering, cunnilingus, choking, vaginal penetration, missionary with legs on shoulders, kisses.
𝐤𝐫𝐲𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐥'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬◞﹒୧ . first mini connie fic, i wanted something cute!!!! i have a longer one in my wips, hehe… hope you will like this <3
The sounds of the game Detroit Become Human lulled Connie into a high. Even Eren's grunts when he made a choice that would negatively impact the story were like a sweet melody accompanying him as he floated, staring at the ceiling with glazed over eyes. Everything was perfect; he was so relaxed he wasn't thinking about the addicted clients he'd have to serve tomorrow, or how hard Ony would beat him if he knew how he was going to make his sister cum tonight.
He glanced down the stairs, alerted by your footsteps, as if you were divinely connected. His eyes followed you down with your tablet, wearing a pale pink leggings and vest set from I AM GIA. No one in your family knew, but Connie had bought it, and he felt hot just thinking you were wearing it on purpose because he was there. You looked like a pilates princess, and your vanilla scent filled the room as you approached your brother's group of friends, making Connie intoxicated, as always.
Everyone greeted you except Connie, who must play it cool as if his dick wasn't making regular in-and-out motions inside you at least four times a week. As if his heart wasn't beating, his body wasn't breathing for your beautiful, sparkling brown eyes.
You glanced at Connie, smiling shyly as if he were a stranger and not your boyfriend of several years. It was a shame your overprotective brother was in the room; you would have loved to get down on your knees to kiss the tattoos on his stomach and take his pierced dick in your mouth, turned on by his dark streetwear outfit, contrasting with your pink one. He looked like a bad boy, but the only bad guy here was Eren; Connie was a loverboy. He returned your small smile by discreetly patting the spot next to him. You sat down next to him, pleased because you thought he was looking at the drawings you were making on your tablet, but the truth was that Connie was staring at your thick thighs, which had tripled in size in your seated position. He remembered what it felt like to have them trembling around his head and adjusted his sweatpants so his erection wouldn't be noticeable. He took out his phone. You had to know.
“I want to be inside you.”
Concentrated in your digital art and oblivious to the tension, your stylus stopped drawing, your eyes rereading the message in confusion.
‘In a food, stabbing, or sexual way?’ You sent.
Connie giggled softly when he received the notification. You and your autistic brain that takes everything literally. Dirty talk was a pain in the ass with you.
“All three. Your beauty stabs me, I want to eat you up to have you inside me, and I want to fuck you.”
“That’s something Chikage from Hakuouki would have said.”
“Who is this nobody from another otome?”
“Speak of my husband with respect.”
“Your real future husband is right here, princesa,” he whispered in your ear. You shivered at the sensual intonation of his voice, as close as you were, your body overheating at the thought of tonight. You checked that no one was looking in your direction so you could sign “I hope so, but you know it’s not possible.”
Connie didn’t lose his sweet expression, still a playful glint in his eyes. He placed his hand on your thigh to grasp the soft flesh. “Ony will have to kill me with his own hands to prevent our future together. Even my spirit will haunt him. He can’t do anything to me.”
You quickly brushed his hand away, heat rising to your neck and burning your cheeks.
Your relationship consisted of three things: acting like goofy fools together, him playing the hero of forbidden romances, and him making love to you passionately and tenderly.
Being with Connie was like living a real rom-com, even though he was a drug dealer.
You were writing a new message. “I’m going to leave you, you make my head boil.”
He laughed softly. “Since when does my girl understand metaphors like that?”
You playfully punched him and signed “I’m not a walking autistic cliché.”
“Yes, you are. Look at what you sent me a few minutes ago.”
You ignored him and went back up to your room and once at the top of the stairs you gave him the finger and he just gave you his stupid smile with his red eyes because of the weed.
──────── 𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭,
Connie walked into your room, immediately ripping off his hoodie and t-shirt and throwing them on the floor, revealing his fully tattooed chest and abdomen. Filled with designs you'd done, like the rose that started its stem on his hip and whose petals touched his ribs, the soft style of the tattoo contrasted with the harsh lines of the ink. But Connie loved it. It was like having you and him inside him, on him, for him.
'Heaven or Las Vegas' by Cocteau Twins played softly in your room as you sat at your vanity. The dream pop song made Connie, who was stoned out, drift even further into the psychedelic atmosphere. You detangled your hair with hair milk, separating it into four twists—two in the front on each side, two in the back—so it would be easier to manage tomorrow when you went to get your hair braided by your favorite braider, who didn't charge an entire month's salary for long knotless braids. Connie admired the goddess who was his girlfriend for a long time, licking his lips as he noticed you were wearing that Savage X Fenty pale rose nightgown, which was sheer, with a ribbon bow at the center of your chest.
“Mami, I missed you,” he whispered, wrapping his arms around your neck and burying his face in your scalp, inhaling the scent of rosemary mint from your Mielle hair oil, castor oil, and shea butter from your Skala leave-in conditioner. He bought that one for you after seeing a TikTok about a Brazilian influencer with the same curl pattern as you recommending it.
With your hands manicured in a French manicure, you used sign language to communicate “We saw each other earlier,” with a roll of your eyes.
“I know, but I’m obsessed with my princess.” He kissed the back of your neck, his cuban accent adding charisma to his voice.
His desire, love, and passion for you, dripping from his voice, made you feel all giddy and fuzzy in your stomach. You smiled shyly at him in the mirror of your heart-shaped vanity.
“Don’t smile like that,” he said softly, almost desperately, his red eyes and dilated pupils even more affected by your little smile. “You’re so gorgeous in this.” He played with the thin straps of your nightgown. “But I’m sure you’re even prettier without them, aren’t you, baby?”
Shyly, you ignored his compliment and finished styling your hair before protecting it with your satin bonnet, the same color as your wardrobe, before getting up to hug Connie. Thinking he wanted to make love now, you led him toward the bed, but Connie spun you around.
Chuckling, you understood he wanted to dance and followed him, as the dream pop song stopped to make way for “Punch Drunk” by Sade. A wordless jazz track, purely instrumental, that made you feel like you were in an old jazz bar with your secret forbidden lover.
His hand on the small of your back, Connie made you dance, roaming around your room, laughing when you bumped into furniture because the space was small, kissing you when the saxophone was more intense than ever. He took advantage of the kisses to move his hands up and caress the voluptuous curves of your chubby body. Your fat ass, which he gripped even though you tried to push him away, the pudginess of your belly that he loved to feel under his fingers, and your ample breasts that rose and fell rapidly before him because of your barely concealed desire.
“Use your voice, what do you want?” he teased, knowing damn well you had nonverbal autism.
You glared at him and tried to push him away, but he threw you onto the bed.
“Aww, I’m such a bad boyfriend, I have to make amends for my crimes.”
He removed the rest of his clothes, keeping his black boxer briefs on for now. He stayed on his knees on the bed as you lay there, resting on your elbows.
You nodded at what he said and lifted your legs to place your French-manicured foot on the center of his collarbones. Connie smirked, knowing what you wanted.
He took your foot in his hands and kissed it all over, from heel to toe, appreciating the softness of your skin as you had just come from the shower where you had exfoliated. He wrapped his tongue around your toes, then sucked on them, his gray eyes fixed on you, a fire igniting from your core and spreading through your body.
You wanted this, you needed this. You gave him your other foot where he did the same, little shivers running through you at the movements of his tongue on your skin. Your breathing quickened as his lips moved up your leg, venturing under your nightgown. You couldn't see Connie because of your chubby belly, so you lay fully on your back, staring up at the ceiling. Not being able to speak or see him should have made your sex life difficult, but it was quite the opposite. Connie regularly checked for your consent and comfort; your nonverbal communication wasn't an issue. You tugged at his hair to let him know you liked what his tongue was doing, and you patted his shoulders to tell him to pause because the wave of overstimulation was near. As for the details—how fast or slow to use his tongue, which spot to lick—Connie paid close attention to your breathing and the way your thighs clenched around his head to gauge whether he was doing a good job.
“I’m gonna keep this on you,” he breathed, liking the lacy pink panties you were wearing. He pushed it to the side, his warm breath on your cunt, in need for attention.
The music switched to “Iceblink Punk” by Cocteau Twins, and the combination of the psychedelic sound and Connie’s tongue plunging into you was surreal. You felt like you were floating high in the sky.
Connie was truly gentle, slow, and calm when he was eating you out. Eating pussy was an art, and he was the Mozart and Shakespeare of the field. He took his time pleasuring you, smiling because even when you couldn’t speak; you didn’t fake your panting. The warm metal ball of his piercing kept rolling around your throbbing bud, just to feel your legs tremble, but his tongue explored every corner, collecting your arousal in his mouth. He was even disappointed you'd just showered, because it lacked flavor. He was a perverted loverboy like that, yeah.
Lapping through wet folds, he groaned every time he felt the pulse of your pussy in his mouth. His hands gripped your thick hips, making them grind against his face, to guide you, to show you it was okay to do that, because your autism sometimes made you a motionless robot during sex.
“You’re okay, baby?” he asked softly, reassured when you stroked his scalp to say yes.
After a comfortable rhythm of hip movements settled in, he removed his hands and sank his fingers inside you, all the while sucking your clit. A searing, burning sensation in your lower abdomen, almost setting your whole being ablaze, as you pulled at his short hair that had grown since his buzzcut to indicate to him that the combination was perfect.
When you reached your peak, there were no dramatic expressions or noises, just Connie nearly choking as you pushed your pelvic floor into his head and painfully squeezed your thighs around him.
“Still in a hyposensitivity mode?” he whispered, as he managed to pull away from your grip.
You nodded, catching your breath. Connie was always attentive to your autistic sensory needs, especially when you were in a sensory-seeking mode, or a mode where your sensitivity was low and you needed a lot of stimulation, like now.
He removed his underwear, nudging your entrance with his pierced tip as he laid down on you, putting all his weight on you. You were crushed by him, but it was perfect. To further satisfy your sensory needs, he wrapped his hand around your neck, squeezing comfortably. It was the perfect combination of pressure for you.
“No tits touching?”
You shook your head. Sometimes, you needed a lot of stimulation while simultaneously hating stimulation somewhere.
He leaned down to kiss your neck. “Okay, mami. Gonna take of you, now. Do you feel my piercing?”
He slid his pierced dick through the folds, still not entering for the moment. Your hands caressed his back, digging your nails into it to communicate that yes, you feel it, and you like it. He groaned, placing more passionate open-mouthed kisses on your skin. He pushed his hips, your warmth welcoming him like a king. He smiled against your skin hearing your usual gasp when his full size was inside you.
“Can’t handle these inches, huh?” he teased, sucking your earlobe. “You’re gonna take this dick anyway. Too bad for you, princesa.”
He leaned back to see your eyes widening every time he penetrated you. He moved his hips backward to let you breathe and pushed back in.
“Why is she wetter than usual?”
He looked at your slick cock, which covered his face with awe.
You pointed at his red eyes. His smile widened.
“Are you turned on by my stoner self? You’re so cute.” He kissed you, his tongue entwined with yours. You breathed softly into the kiss, overwhelmed by him, his dick, his affection.
He slipped his hands under your bent knees and placed them on his shoulders. The position you were in made it impossible for him to hide your belly rolls under your sheer nightgown. He looked terrifying with his low groan and his eyes dilated by weed and your beauty, staring at your curves as if he wanted to devour you whole. He wrapped his hand around your neck again, to your great pleasure. He increased the speed of his thrusts, panting above you, obsessed with the sight of your eyes rolling back when he touched a sensitive spot inside you.
A fever rose in your belly; you were embarrassed to come so quickly again, but every movement of Connie's was precise and deep, so he chuckled when he felt your legs clench his head once more.
He kissed your forehead.
“My baby is needy tonight.”
You nodded, cuddling him, pleading with your eyes to go even faster and harder.
He gladly spent the whole night taking care of you like he always does. Because that’s the thing about Connie: when his princess wants something, he’s going to give it to her. Even if his best friend, your brother, would kill him if he knew.
──────── ✃- - - - - - - - - - - you liked it ? please support fics you liked with a reblog or a comment ! writers never know how we impact you if you don't say anything <3 ── .✦
Honestly it boils down to reparenting yourself & rewiring your own neuronal pathways & telling yourself a firm “stop” when you notice your mind slipping down negative loopholes & being present in the moment & enjoying being mid task rather than waiting for it to end & not thinking of inertia as your baseline and natural way of living
So tempting to keep embarking on the same self destructive cycle over & over & over again . But at some point you have to put ur foot down w ur own behaviors & be the thing that truly saves u
Jonathan Joss was an Indigenous, gay man who was murdered on the first day of Pride month as well as Indigenous History Month. He died protecting his trans husband. Homophobia and racism aren’t marks of the past, and this is a heart breaking reminder of that.
Praying for a safe journey back to the spirit world, Uncle ❤️🩹🦅
Today is the anniversary of the death of Jonathan Joss (King of the Hill, Parks and Rec). Jonathan Joss was an Indigenous, gay man who died protecting his transgender husband, on the first day of Pride month. Today we remember him and how he protected his family.
i know we all love to write and view Baran as this suave, alluring older woman who romances Trinity at the bar, and drinks expensive wine, and knows how to handle her liquor, but lets keep in mind
Baran has a seizure disorder. she takes an anti-convulsant medication
if she has a seizure, it could potentially endanger herself, her son, and her patients. it would disrupt her life for at least six months because she would lose her drivers license in that time
Baran would not be drinking. ever.
alcohol can greatly increase the likelihood of seizure activity in people already diagnosed with a seizure disorder. i have known people in my life who have epilepsy, who cannot drink or smoke due to their condition. granted that person still chose to, but they did not have a license nor rely on their car, nor were they a parent with a young child, nor were they a doctor
we saw pretty clearly throughout the season, especially in the finale, how Baran's disability impacts her mental health. it influences so many of the decisions she makes, and for all her experience and capability and brilliance, her condition does still limit her. and she hates that, we see that she hates that
Baran has lived with this condition for almost her entire life. she knows the risks, she knows her disorder well. she knows that drinking could increase her chance of having a seizure, which could dramatically impact her life for at least half a year. she would absolutely not risk that, not for anything
from everything we have seen of her personality and her relationship with her diagnosis, i believe that Baran takes exceptional good care of herself. a balanced, healthy diet, more than sufficient water intake, exercise, a regular schedule, mental stimulation, good communication with her care team, proper medication and treatment of her seizure disorder, and not consuming alcohol or smoking
hell she said sleep deprivation could be a possible cause of why she had her seizure. if she thinks lack of sleep could cause her to have a seizure, something she is determined to avoid as much as possible, why on EARTH would she choose to drink alcohol??
i try so hard but every time i read a fanfic where Baran is drinking i genuinely feel my eye start twitching, like i physically cannot suspend my disbelief about this
