#they go back 170 million years

[butchsquatch]

it’s the time of year when everyone learns what a ginkgo leaf looks like

[jarofstyles]

Leather & Lace 3

Hi loves! This is the last official part of leather and lace but I’m open to doing some one shots and blurbs for them if you want (send requests for what you’d want to see)

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WC- 6.3k

Warnings- smut, unprotected sex, soft dom H, slight degradation, praise kink, impact play, light choking, etc all the good stuff.

Y/N padded out of his bedroom with his shirt hanging down on her form. Standing in his kitchen, he placed the glass down with a clink, watching her as she came closer. Glasses on her nose, makeup freshly off, hair tossed on top of her head, and something in her hand. “There she is.” He smiled, leaning against the corner of his countertops. “Took a minute didn’t you? Cinnamon rolls are almost done”. The stock he kept in his fridge for her favorite treat was put to use tonight. 

“Amazing.” She beamed, coming up to him. “Sit on the stool, please. I brought a makeup wipe so I can get your eyeliner off, cause I know you’re gonna whine that you’re tired later and then you’ll whine when you get a stye.” Y/N had been through this before a million times. 

“Always thinking ahead, aren’t you Butterfly?” He laughed, tapping her nose with his fingertip and not bothering to argue. It was true. He would definitely do that, and it wouldn’t be the first or last time he did. “Alright. Be gentle with me please, m’delicate”. 

Closing his eyes, he felt her warm fingers angle his face where she wanted before the cool wipe made contact with his skin. 

“So delicate with your bruised and split knuckles, hm? What did the poor punching bag do to you this week? Does he owe you money?” One of his favorite things about Y/N since day one had been her banter. They could go back and forth and she was quick to respond. It was playful, always, but she did tend to get more out of him when she approached it this way. She was asking why he’d been upset this week and been hitting the bag so aggressively and without gloves. 

Considering they had just made it official 2 hours ago, she was the best girlfriend ever. She wouldn’t push if he didn’t want to say it and he knew the girl would just nod and move on if he said he didn’t want to talk about it, but he found himself wanting to spill every single thought that crossed his mind to her. Y/N just didn’t have a clue. 

“Mm. My father called me.” He said softly into the cinnamon scented air. The sweetness made the bitter notes of his words a bit easier to tolerate. “Just same old shit, y’know? Nothing I do is gonna be good enough. Even though I’m successful in my own right, he’s always got to add those digs in.” The tumultuous relationship between Harry and his father had always been a sore spot. They weren’t enemies and he didn’t hate him, no, but their relationship had been rocky since Harry had gone to uni and not followed in his footsteps. He tried to be supportive in his own way but it was obvious that he disapproved.

Even though he was a grown man and he had plenty of other people proud of him, it always stung. “Sucks sometimes, that I want his approval. It’s the tiniest bit in me, a speck, but I can always feel it when I talk to him. It’s been a few years since the whole blowout and it’s gotten better but I just have to get over it, I guess. I don’t think he ever will.” Even though his sister had done what he wanted Harry to do, it wasn’t the same in his eyes. 

“I can only imagine.” There was a delicate pause as she got underneath his waterline. “But it’s okay to be upset about it, you know?” She always tried to tread lightly while also being truthful. It was a sensitive subject and the girl knew it. “He’s your dad. It’s going to bother you because we’re literally wired to want our parents' acceptance. It’s human nature.” Gentle swiping over his eyes got the pencil liner off, but she was thorough with it. Besides, she had a feeling he’d prefer his eyes closed for this sort of talk.  “I’m sorry that it’s like that for you, H. I know my words won’t replace his but I’m extremely proud of you and all you’ve done. Hopefully he’ll come around and see all that the rest of us do but… if he doesn’t? That’s a him problem.” 

Harry didn’t know how she managed to always say the right things. The knot in his throat shrunk from the comfort she gave him, her tender handling of both his physical being and his heart. This was the reason he wanted more with her. Almost anyone could get him to nut off, but not a single other person made his heart feel like this. Just as she’d said earlier, he felt completely safe with her in a way he didn’t even know he needed. Before her, he hadn’t realized how uncomfortable he was around people, but she showed him a brand new point of view. 

In the past, he’d opened himself up slightly to one girl. One girl who had used him and fucked his best mate, who he caught in the act. It had walled up the rest of his emotions in iron, not wanting even a crack to get into him because why would he? He’d never thought she or he would do that to him, never had any suspicion until about a month before when he saw glances across the room- but it turned out it wasn’t just his birthday outing they’d been planning. 

Then this girl had come along with her warmth and rusted the iron, getting it worn and cracked until there was a Y/N shaped hole for her to fill. She was understanding of his somewhat snarky nature, never took it personally and had stuck by him even when he’d tried to push her away. 

There had only been one time when he had been somewhat successful and it made his stomach twist and chest ache when he thought about it. It was far earlier on In their friendship, a few weeks in actually. She’d caught him on a bad day, coming up to him outside with her chatterbox open and running asking if he wanted to go to the cafe with him and that she had a surprise- and he’d snapped at her. He’d been rougher with his words than he meant to, honest, but he wanted to be alone and said as much in a not as nice manner. He’d watched her shoulders drop and the sparkle quite literally leave her eye as she looked towards the ground with a nod as even then when he least deserved it, she tried to be understanding.

 Something in him cracked when he heard the slight quiver in her voice when she apologized for being annoying and he’d looked up to see tears in those eyes and… fuck. His stomach dropped to his feet, watching her bottom lip quiver as she reached into her bag and grabbed the candy bar she’d grabbed from the vending machine after her class had ended, handing it to him before she scurried off. It was clear she hadn’t been tearing up for attention from how quickly she had left him, and with a candy bar in hand he felt completely nauseous over how he’d treated her. 

He couldn’t shake the feeling even as he gathered his things and called out for her, throat thick as his bad day got worse only by his own accord. Her lack of presence was felt, coldness settling in his bones when he realized what he’d truly done. It was then that he vowed to never treat her like that again. Y/N had been the sweetest thing in the world to him, got him his fucking favorite candy and was excited to study with him and he’d gone and fucked it all up. Made her fucking cry. She’d been long gone by the time he stumbled back into the pathway but he was already trying to make it right.

In the end he had showed up at her door with a teddy bear in hand along with her favorite candy and some take away, feeling like a kicked puppy as she opened her door and he had seen her swollen eyes and lips. It had been the most heartbreaking thing he ever saw and he apologize profusely when she let him in even when he didn’t deserve it, hugging her on his own accord for the first time and running fingers through her hair as she insisted she forgave him. ‘Everyone has those days and I’m sensitive, I know.’ Is what she said. 

Some days even still he thought about that as he watched people take advantage of her and it made him even more motivated to take care of her. 

In these sort of moments it felt hard not to think about loving her. Even in his rough and tumble sort of persona, she treated him tenderly. Held his arm, brushed his hair back, fixed his tangled necklaces, Y/N had treated him with a delicacy that he didn’t know he needed. 

As soon as the makeup wipe was pulled away, he opened his eyes and cupped her cheek to pull her in for a kiss. It had already been hard to keep his lips to himself, but this situation… it was his new obsession. “You know you’re perfect, right?” He asked against his current addiction, pressing another kiss to them. “Just… I dunno how you always know how to say the right shit. It scares me sometimes, y’know? Sometimes it feels too good to be true, that you… that you’re some sorta dream, but you’re not. And now you’ve told me you’re mine, and M’really fucking nervous about fucking it up but I’m going to do everything I can to be the best for you. Alright?” 

The emotion had slipped off his tongue without his permission but for one of the first times in his life he didn’t regret it. Her lips curled against his in that breathtaking smile he adored, tossing the wipe to the side as she wrapped an arm around his neck. “Harry… I don’t expect perfection. I know relationships… they take time to build. You aren’t some sort of build-a-boyfriend to me. I like you because you’re you. I like the grumpy, sarcastic, scowly bits of you. I always have. You’ll fuck up, I’ll fuck up, it’ll be a whole thing and then guess what?” Pulling back, she took in his face with her soft gaze. “We’ll fix it up again and it’ll be stronger. As long as you don’t cheat on me? I’m yours. And we both know you really aren’t capable of that.”

Harry would rather saw his hand off than cheat. He’d seen what it had done to him, so putting anyone else through that would be disgusting on top of hating the concept to begin with. He’d cut off people he knew for cheating on their partners and wouldn’t hesitate to do it again. “M’glad you know.” He sighed. In a weird way, this talk was making him aroused. Hearing how she liked him, that she knew they’d work, it just… it did something to him. “You look perfect in my clothes.” That too. Yeah, that had something to do with the thickening happening in his pants.

“I like wearing them. I always have. I’ve had a bit of a crush on you for a while, you know.” She teased, leaning into his body and letting her tits press up against him as she kissed his jaw lightly. “It always made me feel like yours when you let me wear them.” 

“You’ve been mine.” The dark grumble of his voice was a telltale sign that the words had pleased him. “Regardless of title, you’ve been mine for a while.” It was true and the both of them knew it. Harry’s eyes had been blind to anything but her for a long time and it had been painfully obvious when he hadn’t been able to get it up for other people not too long after meeting her.  Or had to think about her in order to nut off. 

“I know.” The confirmation was warm as she felt his hand travel down to rest above her ass. “And I was hoping you’d been mine for a bit but I’m pretty sure I was. You like to talk when you’re getting head, huh?” The smile was teasing and maybe he should be flushed at that but it was just another layer of arousal for him to remember her on her knees with his cock tucked between puffy lips and drool down her pretty chin. 

“No, actually. Jus’ with you.” He said truthfully. “I was… more of a hit it and quit it with the other people if m’honest. Know I babbled a bit but it felt really fucking good.” They could both feel he was hard now and the awkwardness of the last encounter on his end was gone. “Never expected you to be filthy, though. Thought you’d be a bit more shy but… I like that you were gagging for it just as much as I was.” Over the fabric of his shirt he gripped her ass, a nice handful as he squeezed and watched her eyes flutter shut at the feeling. “I can’t wait to get my hands on you properly. I’ve been dying to taste you,’to feel you. But I need t’know what you like.” 

“A bit of leather and lace.” Was the answer. Long lashed eyes peered up at him as she tipped her head back to look at him. “Sweet and spice. Nice and mean. Be sweet to me and call me a slut again. Spank me and kiss it better. That’s what… it’s what I’ve always imagined with you.” Her words were slightly more hesitant now but she didn’t back down. “You can be a little rough with me as long as you baby me later. I’ve never been…” she paused for a moment as she bit her lip. “I’ve never been fucked right. People treat me like I’m some delicate little toy which, I can be and I like sometimes but… I’ve always known you’d be able to give me the deep one I want. The type to make me lose my breath. Right?” Her fingers curled around his wrist that still rested on her cheek and trailed it down to have his hand rest against her throat. “You can throw me around a bit and make me take it. I can still be a doll for you, but maybe one you use a little bit.” 

Jesus fucking Christ. 

Harry’s mouth was torn between being dryer than the desert and watering down his chin at her descriptors of what she wanted. His hands held her ass and her throat and she was handing herself over on a silver platter as his cock twitched in between them, eager to get to work on her. “Fuck me…” he whispered hoarsely, thumbing over the side of her neck before giving a tiny squeeze. Just a bit, watching her face as he did so. She melted almost immediately and it was then he got the confirmation that she'd been hand crafted for him. Eyes glazed over and a weak, precious whine escaping her mouth and vibrating against the hand covering her throat, he couldn’t hold himself back from kissing her hard. Gathering her as close as possible with his hand keeping its grip for half the kiss before releasing it and using it as a guide to keep her close. “You’re going to ruin me, and M’gonna love every fucking second of it.” 

—-

It had happened quite quickly. The buzz of the oven interrupted them, the only reason Harry even slightly entertained it was so he didn’t burn the place down. He had been quick to toss them on the counter and lost the oven not before picking her up and bringing her into his bedroom. 

“If I died right now, I’d be okay.” He whispered as he looked at her bare cunt. The panties had been discarded and his lips kissed her inner thighs, nosing over the sensitive skin and watching her react to him. “You’re so gorgeous. Smell so fucking good, Butterfly. Gonna have t’tear me away from this pussy.” It was not a joke. 

Kissing over the mound, he spread her open and gave a long lick over the expanse of her slight and yeah- yeah. He was addicted. Licking deeper into her, he felt himself melt into a frenzied version of himself as he let his tongue explore her. Fingers buried in his hair as she gripped him, stomach jumping as she panted at the feeling of his mouth on her. 

Harry had enjoyed giving head before, was no stranger to eating pussy, but this was different. There had never been this all encompassing need to make her cum over and over again on his tongue, that greed that settled in his gut as he heard her moan his name and spread her legs further for him. Welcoming him and his touch. 

He didn’t hold back. Y/N had told him what she wanted and he knew her well enough now to understand. 

“Sweet.” He mumbled against her. “So fuckin’ sweet. Course you are, Butterfly. Fuckin’ perfect, every inch.” Kissing her clit he felt her jump, chuckling as he did it again before licking over the sensitive pearl. “M’gonna make you cum on my tongue, and then M’gonna give you the fuck you needed. I’ll be so nice to you, baby. So sweet, get you nice and fucked out the way you need. Promise.” 

Harry was going to fulfill that promise. Wrapping his lips around her clit, he gave soft, pulsing suckles as he slipped a finger inside of her and felt her hips buck off the bed. 

It was only a introduction, a sneak peek of what he’d feel around his cock but he had to remind himself not to blow too early as he felt her clenched around his digit. Tight and hot and silky against his hand, he groaned against her cunt and nuzzled deeper into it as he settled in. 

“H-Harry… oh my god.” She sighed out, slowly grinding against his face. “Oh my god, you… you’re so good at this. I’ve never….” Never came from this, which was something that pissed him off when he put the pieces together but he knew he’d wear the title of the first one to be successful proudly. Ideally, no one else would ever have it again. He had no plans on giving this obsession up. 

He hummed against her, meeting her eyes as she looked down at him with her messy hair and her bitten lips, mouth opened in the cutest little ‘o’ shape and her brows furrowed. Her clit was throbbing against his tongue and he couldn’t get enough, sucking a bit harder as he added a second finger inside of her. 

“Oh fuck, oh- just like that. Your fingers are big.” She whimpered, making him chuckle against her. Of course they were compared to her own. He had imagined that exact thing in this bed, imagining her in her own room with her fingers stuffed inside her drippy cunt and his name peeling off hers lips as she made herself orgasm. 

Making himself pull back, he fucked his fingers into her and enjoyed every bit of the noise it made. He’d made her wet like this, he’d gotten her to be a sopping mess and he enjoyed every single second of feeling it on his fingertips. “I know, baby. But my cock is much bigger and I need to get you prepped for it. You’re plenty wet…” he purred, leaning over her and keeping her eyes as he pursed his lips and spit right over her clit. “Just need to make you cum and you’ll be nice n’ready for me.” 

There wasn’t a hint of hesitation as he went back in, spreading his spit with his tongue before returning to his motions. He could feel it in her actions, how she clenched around his fingers, pulling her clit into his mouth over and over again as she got more and more wet around his fingers with difficulty not bucking into him. 

“I want it, I need it. I’ve been thinking a-about it for so long. I need you to fuck me, H.” Her voice was different than he’d ever heard it. More whiny, a tinge of desperation to the sweet sound he was obsessed with, and every bit of hot as he knew it would be. 

“I will, baby. Promise. Jus’ let go for me. I can feel you’re close.” He coaxed, curling his fingers just so and watching as her head fell back against the duvet as his lips continued the pull of her clit. 

It was hotter than he could’ve imagined. When she came a few minutes later, he watched her hand grip his hair and the other her own breast as she let out the prettiest noises and whines of his name as she trembled, hips bucking again into his mouth as she tumbled over the edge.

He held her steady with a happy noise, pulling off her clit with one last soft suckle and a kiss but kept his fingers inside of her as he moved back up her body to kiss her mouth. She welcomed it, both hands grabbing his face and not minding the mess she made on his chin and nose from his healthy exploration of her. Mumbled of praised were echoed between their kisses, slow pumps of his fingers working her through the orgasm as she rocked her hips into his hand. 

“Harry, I need it.” Her eyes met his. “I’m clean, I just- I need it, I need you inside me now.” Her neediness wasn’t something he’d been privy to before and it was more than satisfying, but he had to admit that what made him feel even better was knowing she wanted to go bare. He’d

Gotten tested just a few weeks ago at his appointment which was a bit of serendipity, he supposed, because now he was going to get what he had been stroking off to the most. 

“Yeah? Y’sure?” He whispered, watching her nod as he slowly pulled his fingers from her cunt and quickly cupped over it, soothing her. “You’re a dream. Y’know that, baby?” A laugh of disbelief echoed from his chest as he slowly pulled his hand back and slipped his pants off. His shirt had been tossed in the midst of things and he wanted hers off too, even if the idea of fucking her in his tee shirt was appealing. Later. 

She was receptive to it, letting him tug it off and exposing her to him again. 

He had to take a moment to simply enjoy her. 

Harry had always appreciated how beautiful she was but he also had to take a second to be thankful that she let him see her at her most vulnerable. That he got to see her in the most delicate state, one he was going to be the only one to see. Spread thighs and bare tits and soft tummy, all his. His, his, his. 

“M’so happy you’re mine.” He whispered, running a hand over her stomach as his other fisted his cock. “You are the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. Not jus’ your body but your whole being. And I hope you know how much it means t’me that you’re letting me be yours too.” It hit him then, watching her peer up at him. He was being entrusted with a damn near golden heart and there were no plans on doing anything but cherishing it. 

“H…” she whispered, motioning him to come to her. He did, as he always will, buttoning their lips together as he nudged his tip through her wet slit and felt her sigh, wrapping her legs around his hips. “You are perfect. I adore you and- and I’m happy you’re letting me be yours too. You make me feel so good in all the ways possible and I just want to be as close as I can get.” 

There was no room left for debate. 

He began to push into her, watching her face as he filled her. It was slow at first, letting himself pace themselves considering he knew very early on that this would have to be a multiple round night because there was no way he’d be satisfied with just one. Y/N had been the object of his affections for a long while now and finally getting to be with her in the way he’d craved had lit him up. 

“There we are…” he whispered as he was fully inside of her. “You feel so good on me, Butterfly.” A kiss pressed to her lips, slow rocking into her for the beginning of this. The man fully intended to give her what she wanted but the first few moments would be tender and soft, show a true appreciation of her. The soft yellow light of his lamp next to his bed lit up the side of her face, shadows across the other side. Her hand held his bicep and the other on the back of his neck as she let out a shuddering breath, eyes fluttering shut as he pressed kisses all over her face.

It was a high, feeling her heat on him. She was everywhere, capturing every bit of him yet again. Tugging him deeper into a trap he had no plans on escaping from. The slow rocking of their hips garnered a hitch in her breath, still sensitive from her orgasm moments ago but taking in every moment she could. Every second felt special and precious. 

“You don’t even know….” He breathed. “Don’t even know how much I think about this. Made me feel like a perv for a bit, seeing you in my shirt last week… then you crawled into my lap and you ruined me.” It was hard to keep it from spilling out.  “I couldn’t run anymore from how you m-make me feel. And then y’put your mouth on me, near begged to, made me feel fucking crazy. I’ve been waiting all week to get my hands on you again… but this is the best day.” The fact that she was officially his and she was holding on to him, letting out a sweet sigh as he began to pull out the slightest bit and pushed back in. 

“I thought about it too.” She admitted, though it felt hard to talk. “I wanted this and-and I wanted you and m’so happy right now.” Her eyes watered a bit and fuck, fuck, fuck.  He cooed, shaking his head as he kissed her again. His sweet girl, crying because she had wanted him just as much as he had wanted her. 

“M’yours, Butterfly. All yours, and… M’not gonna let you go. Promise. You can have me as many times, as many days, as you want.” The man doubted that she’d ever truly understand how much this meant to him, how much she meant to him. That she’d look past his shitty attitude and stuck by him long enough to see the real parts, the softer ones. Hell, she made him want a relationship when he had never thought he’d want one again.

Harry was unequivocally hers, body and heart.

It stayed slow for a while, deep kisses and soft moans, but he could feel her start to get restless. He was very aware of part of his appeal to her- the rough and tumble. So when he felt her start to squirm, he took her throat again and held her back down, keeping his slow pumps as he watched her eyes hood and a soft mewl fall from her lips as she clenched around his cock. “Impatient girl. You’re tryin’ to rush me, hm?” He whispered, squeezing the sides of her throat momentarily. “I told you I’d fuck you right. But I wanted to appreciate you, make you feel how much I adore you. Is that not enough for my girl?” 

Y/N shook her head, panting as her legs tightened around his waist. “M’sorry.  I’m not trying to rush you, promise. I just feel so good n’I want more.” 

“Of course she does. Pretty little doll wants some more.” He crooned, clicking his tongue. “Being stuffed to the brim and stretching that tiny cunt isn’t enough for you. You told me about this, warned me. Told me you liked a bit of both.” Pulling out a bit more, he slid back in with a bit of force that caught her breath. “So you’re tired of being my sweet girl… you want to be a whore?”

There was something about the delicacy in the way he said it, the way it was silky and smooth and so unlike how the word would usually be delivered that had her moaning out loud. He was so, so nice to her and she loved it but it was clear she needed some more. Thankfully she had come to the right place. 

“Okay, okay. You want t’be a cute little slut. I see how it is, my darling.” He grinned, containing the slightly rougher pace. “Jus’ let me look at this gorgeous face a bit longer, and then I’ll flip you on your hands and knees so you can bury your face into the bed while I make you cum.” 

Harry had a hard time controlling himself knowing that she wanted to be roughed up. His angelic Y/N, wanted to be pounded out into the mattress. The original thought was that he’d have to work her up to that and see if she liked it, maybe a spank or two, but here she was. Gushing on her cock from the mere mention of being fucked harder. 

“Do you want me to spank that pretty ass?” He questioned, listening to the squelch of her cunt with each pass inside of her. His personal heaven. “Make it hot? How much do you want, Butterfly?” 

“I want anything.” She promised. “Please spank me and- and choke. I want to feel it tomorrow.” It was apparent now that she really did crave it, bucking into his thrusts and getting wetter the harder he got. He was going to have such a good time learning her body. How it ticked, what got her off, what made her squirm. It was a whole new facet to their relationship that he was giddy to explore. 

“I’ll give you anything you want, my gorgeous girl.” He promised. “Make the prettiest fuck doll out of you.” 

Harry kept his promise. 

Y/N squealed as he pulled out, flipping her over and hissed at his hands spreading each side of her ass open. “Look at you… you piece of art.” He sighed. “M’gonna mark this canvas up. Never imagined bruising you before but… what my girl wants, she gets.”

The first spank was a quick one, making her yelp as he stuffed himself back into her needy hole. It was exposing her, letting him have access to her cunt and ass and it was obviously exhilarating from how she clenched before pushing back into him for more. “You liked it.” The man smirked, squeezing the soft flesh in his hands. “We’re going to get on perfectly in the bedroom, aren’t we Butterfly?” 

From there, Harry let loose. Keeping a hand on her hip and the other holding her ass, giving swats to the skin as he fucked into her deep and thorough. He watched in awe as her ass rippled every time it met his thighs, the sound of skin slapping and her whimpers filling his bedroom. Her cunt was hot and so fucking wet he was surprised he hadn’t slipped out yet, creamy and soft but keeping him in tight. 

He’s heard Y/N babble before, but all she could come up with was whimpers and whines of his name, more, and again when he smacked the round of her ass. It was unexpected, but he was eating up every single movement, every noise she squeaked out. It felt incredible to know he was the one doing it. He had been the one to make her lose that soft shell and got deep into the underbelly, literally and metaphorically, burying deep inside of her with each tuck. “That’s my girl, taking it so well. I adore you, y’know that?” He cooed. “Love this hot cunt. Think M’gonna stay inside of it for a while, what do you think?” There was no answer but a punched out breath from his cock. “Mmm… I think so too. You did say you wanted t’be my whore.” The tone was slightly condescending but it was evident quickly that she reacted well to that. 

For all the time he’d been thinking about this, reality was much sweeter. With her taste on his tongue and her arousal smeared all over his cock and forming a creamy ring around the base of his cock with each squelching fuck into her needy and willing hole, he couldn’t have imagined something better. Something so unfiltered and raw, going bare inside his candy sweet girl who had overtaken his life. 

What really set her off, though, was his fingers tucking under her and finger her slippery and swollen clit, rubbing over it firmly, she moaned loud and clear, panting into the air as she clumsily grabbed his wrist as if to keep it there. Like he’d pull it away. “I see it baby, I feel it. You jus’ needed that clit played with. You’re gonna cum for me.” He breathed in an amazed chuckle. “Gonna cum all over my cock so I can fill you to the brim and keep you full and warm.” 

Y/N didn’t need much more than that. His cock in her tummy and his fingers at her clit, ass burning slightly from his swats. He felt it the moment it began, the fluttering around his prick and her hitch of breath as she got his name falling from her mouth and the slight tense of her body before she fell apart on him.

The prettiest sight he’d ever seen in his life. It was then that he swore he’d do his best to see it as many times as he possibly could, which would be a blessing or a curse depending on what the girl underneath him thought of overstimulation. 

Which was why even as he growled out, spilling into the perfect cunt that milked him, he kept thrusting. Slow and sloppy now, feeling his load dripping from her and onto the bed, he continued with his fingers on her clit as she squirmed. His cock fucked the cum right into her, massaging it into her walls as he kissed her skin. “‘Nother one. Gimme another one, my baby. Show me how much y’love being my sweet little whore.”

The sensitivity was probably to blame with how fast the second one came, shaking slightly as she let out the weakest whine of his name before pushing his hand away. Even though he could’ve done it over and over, he hummed and listened to her cue, turning them onto their sides and kept himself snug inside of her. He’d clean her up in a bit, bring her to the shower, make sure she was fed her cinnamon rolls, but for a little bit he wanted to bask in the bliss of having a dream come true. 

“S’okay, Butterfly. I’ve got you.” He nudged his nose against her neck, placing another chaste kiss there as she folded their fingers together. “Now you can fly home to me.” 

—-

It was far too late for cinnamon rolls if a normal person had any say, but thankfully they didn’t. Y/N sat on the counter with her hair placed back into that messy updo and his shirt on her torso while he had been convinced to wear his boxers while in the kitchen, dipping the microwave reheated cinnamon rolls in the icing. 

“I’ve got to teach you how to make them from scratch.” His girl sighed, kicking her feet as they dangled off the counter. 

“What, is my store bought hot food enough for you?” He pouted in faux offense, but luckily she didn’t fall for it. 

“You know that’s not the case. I love that you buy me some to have when I’m here.” A sugary kiss was given to his bottom lip, but she pulled away too fast to deepen it. A shame if you asked him. “It’s just, y’know, it would be fun to do together. There’s plenty of time to… hang out while the dough rises, and stuff like that.” 

Harry’s brows shot up at the insinuation, the unexpected laugh barking through the kitchen as he lowers his half ripped cinnamon roll to the plate. “I’ve created a little monster, haven’t I?” The shit eating from on his face showed no sign of regret, though. “One fuck and I’ve corrupted you. Sweet little thing turned into a needy pup in heat.” He paused before pointing a finger smeared with cinnamon sugar on it in her face. “Or have I just uncovered something that was in front of my face this whole time? Innocent act?” 

Y/N answered by leaning forward to take his finger into her mouth, sucking on it slowly and flicking her tongue over the tip before pulling back on it. 

There was no doubt now he’d found his perfect match, even if it was his complete opposite. Maybe they weren’t as different as he thought.

[hungermakesmonsters]

(Once Bitten) Twice Shy

Chapter Eight

Plot summary : Desperate to get away from your controlling family, you take a job in New York as a wealthy vampire's blood source. A million dollars awaits if you can make it through a year, but life with Billy Russo is not going to be as simple as you think.

Pairing : Billy Russo x Reader

Story Rating : R  Chapter Rating : R

Warnings : [This is a fic for 18+ only, minors DNI] Mention of periods (don't worry, we're not doing Saltburn), smutty behaviour, use of toys. More sickening cuteness. All chapters will contain mentions of blood. Please check the warnings on each chapter if you choose to follow this story. 

Word Count : 5k

A/N : It's not exactly a cliffhanger but I get the feeling people won't like where it ends... Oh also spoilers for Jane Eyre (but it's 170 years old so I'm assuming people know the twist?)

CHAPTER ONE | CHAPTER TWO | CHAPTER THREE | CHAPTER FOUR | CHAPTER FIVE | CHAPTER SIX | CHAPTER SEVEN

MASTER LIST

Chapter Eight

The gentle touch of his fingers on your cheek woke you and, for a few seconds, you weren’t sure where you were. Billy was crouched in front of you, smiling softly. Your eyes threatened to close again, feeling exhausted and like all of it was just a dream.

“Hey,” he muttered softly, his fingers still tenderly caressing your cheek. “Are you okay?”

Finally, you managed to wake yourself up enough to realise that you weren’t dreaming, and that you’d fallen asleep on the sofa beneath the yellow blanket Billy had bought for you.

“I’m fine, just tired,” you told him, slowly sitting up.

Billy remained crouched in front of you, tenderly cupping your cheek and looking almost concerned.

“Did you draw too much blood again?”

“No, it's not that. I did that hours ago. I'm just really tired.”

“Just tired?” He pressed the back of his cold hand to your forehead, checking your temperature.

“And my head hurts a little.”

“When is, uh -” he hesitated, almost looking uncharacteristically embarrassed, “- when is your next period due?”

Your cheeks warmed with both the realisation and the fact that Billy had figured it out before you. That was why you felt so awful. “Soon, I think? I-I lost track of the days after I moved in,” you explained, “and I've never been very, uh… regular…”

Thankfully, Billy just nodded and sat himself beside you, an arm around you pulling you into his side.

“Do you need to go lay down?”

“No I - I want to spend time with you,” you told him, resting your head on his shoulder. “We didn't really get to finish talking last night…”

“Was there something else you wanted to say or ask?” Billy asked softly, shifting a little so you could get comfortable against him. 

You stayed silent for a few moments, thinking over all of the things you wanted to ask, wondering what you had the right to ask. “What causes it? What makes you feel like everything is... too much? I’ve only ever seen a vampire lose control from hunger...”

“Sometimes it’s hunger,” he offered reluctantly, “other times it’s just... I don’t know. Even before I was turned, I was never any good at controlling my emotions. And, now, I feel like I’m constantly fighting myself. When I’m with you, I feel like I’m drowning. Everything about you; your scent, the taste of your blood, the way your heart races... it’s a lot to try and ignore.”

Although the words were spoken to you, about you, you knew better than to read too much into them. It was the constant proximity, he probably felt that way around any human after enough time. It wasn’t because he felt anything for you.

“That sounds exhausting.” 

“It is,” he admitted, waiting for a beat before asking; “why did you apologise? I lost control but you apologised.”

“Because I -” you stopped yourself before the lie managed to leave your lips. It hadn’t been your fault, as difficult as it was for you to accept that fact, you knew it was true. “Because I’ve always been made to feel like it’s my fault when bad things happen to me. The night we met, you asked me what I was running from, and that’s part of it; I was raised to feel ashamed and believe I deserved everything bad that happened to me.”

You heard him inhale sharply before he pressed a kiss to the top of your head. He was silent a moment before speaking again.

“Who left you?” He asked softly. You lifted your head, frowning. “Last night when you asked why I was leaving you it just… you sounded hurt, like someone had left you before…”

“My sister,” you answered, “she left home when she was eighteen and my parents disowned her because of it. She said she'd come back for me, but she never did.”

“Why did she leave?”

“My parents wanted her to marry a guy she didn’t want to marry.”

“Is that why you left?” He asked and immediately seemed to regret it when your gaze dropped. “Sorry, you don’t have to answer that.”

A moment later, you snuggled back into his side and closed your eyes. “How long until you have to go to work?”

“I can stay another twenty minutes,” he told you softly, slipping his arm around you. He was silent for a few minutes, before letting out a slow exhale. “I’m not going to be able to see you for a few days, it’s not safe for me to be around you while you’re...”

He didn’t have to say it for you to understand and, as much as you wanted to argue with him, you knew it wouldn’t be fair to try and force the issue. Now that you had some idea of how he felt and how much of a struggle it was for him to be around you sometimes, you knew Billy needed space.

“It’s okay, I understand.”

You stayed that way for another twenty-five minutes until you gently reminded Billy that he was going to be late for work. He didn’t seem to want to leave you and it made your heart ache to think about why that might be. Though, rationally, you understood that it wasn’t you; he was just tired. You were finally starting to understand just how difficult and exhausting it was for him just to get through a day.

He gave you a soft kiss and told you that he’d see you again soon.

The next morning when you woke up cramping and feeling terrible, until you found that he’d left a gift basket in your kitchen, filled with things you might need over the coming days; painkillers, chocolates, a new smart-watch with a cycle tracking app, a heating-pad, various toiletries and a large teddy bear with a note pinned to his chest.

I thought you and Bill the Beagle might want some company.

Take care of yourself. I’ll see you soon.

B.

Butterflies filled your stomach at the thoughtfulness of the gifts and, later that afternoon, when you left blood for him, you couldn’t resist leaving him a note of your own.

Thank you for your considerate gifts. William the Bear is a wonderful addition to my growing stuffie collection and the chocolates were lovely. Hope you have a good night at work.

xoxo

The next day you felt even worse but, again, you were pleasantly surprised when you managed to drag yourself to the kitchen to get breakfast and some coffee. There was another box of chocolates and another note waiting for you.

William is a terrible name for a bear. I didn’t expect you to get through the chocolates so quickly, remind me to stock up next month. I hope you’ve not been watching Black Sails without me.

Take care

B.

And, of course - of course - you had to reply, leaving your note with his blood again.

I happen to like the name William. I think it suits him. He looks like a William. I hope you’re not trying to shame me for enjoying the chocolates, truffles and caramels are my weakness. Don’t worry, I’ve not been watching anything without you, I’ve been reading. You were right, Jane Eyre was a very apt choice.

xoxo

His notes became your reason to get up in the morning, though they were a bittersweet reminder of his noticeable absence in your life. It filled you with a strange yearning and an uncomfortable sadness to think about him out there on his own. But that was a silly thought. You didn’t know anything about his life outside of the penthouse, about his work or his friends, maybe he wasn’t even noticing your absence.

(Or maybe he felt it just as much as you did.)

Okay, I have to ask; what does a William look like? Of course I’d never shame you for enjoying the chocolates, but now you’ve told me your weakness I might have to use it to my advantage. I hope you’re enjoying Jane Eyre more than you enjoyed Dorian Gray.

I hope you’re not feeling too bad. I miss our talks.

B.

Your heart stuttered as you read and reread those four little words; I miss our talks. He missed you. Maybe not quite in the same way that you were missing him but, still, it made you long for him even more.

Well, in my experience Williams tend to be cute and cuddly, even though they look a little dark and brooding at first glance. Oh no! Please don’t use my weakness for chocolate truffles against me!!! (The extra exclamation marks are so you read that in a sarcastic tone.) Yes, I think I like Jane Eyre more than Dorian Gray - Mr Rochester kind of reminds me of you.

I’m feeling a bit better today, I should be fine in a couple of days. I miss spending time with you too. I hope you’re not too lonely without me around.

xoxo

You doodled a little picture of the teddy bear he’d given you on the corner of the note but gave him a grumpy looking face and a tag that read ‘my name is William’. 

There was a strange feeling of embarrassment when you left the note and you almost changed your mind about it halfway back to your room, and you spent the rest of the evening wondering if it was a little too much.

So, the next morning, you felt a little reluctant to go into the kitchen, and had to take a deep breath before reading his note.

Dark and brooding?? I think you might have to elaborate, but I’ll let you save that for when I see you next. I hope that there will come a point in the book where Mr Rochester doesn’t remind you of me quite so much (I don’t know where you’re up to and I don’t want to spoil it).

I’m glad you’re feeling better. The penthouse isn’t the same without you. It’s strange, you’ve only been here a couple of months yet and it already feels empty without you. I miss you.

B.

P.S. Is the doodle supposed to be me or the stuffie?

It felt like your head was spinning as you read, reread, and read again. 

He missed you.

Billy missed you.

You spent half the day writing and rewriting your note to him, in one attempt confessing your feelings, in another acting completely blaise about his confession. Nothing you came up with felt right but the thought of not replying seemed worse.

I see what you mean about Mr Rochester... though I don’t know if I can completely rule out the possibility of you having a strange woman tucked away somewhere in the penthouse. It would certainly explain where all of the chocolates have been going.

I miss you too. I know what you mean, I feel the same way, like I’ve been here longer. But I suppose that’s how things feel when you get close to someone. Hope to see you tomorrow.

xoxo

P.S. I’ll never tell. An artist never reveals her secrets.

There was no end to your relief the next morning when you woke up finally feeling better, knowing that you’d be able to see Billy again. Part of you expected not to find a note, but there it was, waiting for you on your kitchen table, just like the others had been.

I can think of a less mysterious explanation for the disappearance of your chocolates, little hummingbird.

I’m not used to missing people. I’m not used to being close to them either. Some days I feel like my whole life has turned upside down since I met you. I can’t wait to see you again.

B.

P.S. I think it’s magicians that never reveal their secrets, not artists.

Again, he left you searching for deeper meaning in every word, your heart aching for a man who seemed so lonely and alone, a man who didn’t deserve that life at all.

After breakfast you showered and washed your hair, wanting to look your best when you saw him again.

Slowly but surely, over the course of the day, your nerves started to eat away at you; what were you going to say to him? Were you going to pretend that the notes hadn’t happened and that their contents was just idle talk to help the other feel less alone?

You couldn’t sit still as you waited, counting down the hours before sunset, perched on the edge of the sofa and watching his door. The moment it started to open, you were on your feet.

Before he had the chance to even realise that you were there, you’d cleared the distance between you, throwing your arms around his waist and pressing your face against his chest. Billy let out a breath but, for the life of you, you couldn’t tell if it was a sigh of relief or simply because you were squeezing the air from his lungs.

“Hey,” he muttered, his arm slipping around you and holding you almost as tight as you were holding him.

A minute or two passed, neither of you moving or saying anything, until he pressed a kiss to the top of your head and your grip on him started to loosen. You didn’t pull away, but gave yourself enough space to look up at him, smiling shyly as your cheeks started to warm.

“Hi.”

“Hi, hummingbird.”

Neither of you seemed to know what to do or where you were supposed to go from there so, again, you both fell silent, still holding each other. Finally, you dared to reach for him, placing your hand on his cheek. His eyes closed and he leaned into your touch, and butterflies began to swarm in your stomach. Before you could talk yourself out of it, you lifted onto your tiptoes and pressed your lips to his.

It was a soft, chaste kiss, nothing at all compared to some of the kisses that you’d shared, but you felt his lips pull into a smile against yours before his eyes finally opened again.

“I missed you,” he admitted in little more than a whisper. 

His hand moved to rest on your neck and you found yourself glad of his cold touch after what seemed like so long without it.

“I missed you too,” you confessed, “I - I missed you more than I probably should have.”

If Billy understood what you were trying to tell him, he didn’t show it. Instead, he just shook his head and smiled before kissing you again.

You sank against him letting him deepen the kiss and turn it into something else, something new. Normally when he kissed you it felt explosive and desperate, like he was laying claim to you, but this kiss was tender and filled with longing, like he was savouring being with you again. It stole the breath from your lungs.

“I missed you,” he muttered again.

“You already said that.”

“I know, I just -” his head shook, and he let out a huffed laugh, “- this has felt like one of the longest weeks of my life.”

“Have you been okay? Was it -” you hesitated, not sure you wanted to ask the question, “- was it easier without me around?”

Billy pulled back a little, frowning. “Why would it be easier?”

“The other night, you said you feel like you’re drowning when you’re with me,” you shrugged a little, letting your gaze drop for a moment.  

Before the notes, you’d assumed that everyone made him feel that way, that it was just part of being a vampire for him. But, now, after his last note and after that kiss, part of you longed for him to admit that it was more, that it was you, that he felt something for you, that he cared.

“I was wrong,” he told you, waiting until you looked up again to continue, “I feel like I’m drowning without you.” 

“Oh.” Whatever you’d expected, it hadn’t been that.

“It’s a lot. I know it’s a lot -” 

“No,” you shook your head, “no, it’s not.”

“I wish I could’ve met you in another life. I wish it wasn’t like this.”

The words caused your chest to ache, understand what he was saying and why because you felt the same way; the situation was a mess and all either of you could do was make the best of it.

There was more you could say - more you wanted to say - but it didn’t feel like the right time, and it wasn’t fair for you to try and push anything when you had every intention of leaving him once you’d finished your year. So, instead, you pressed yourself against him and hugged him tight.

Once you’d managed to pull away from each other, you spent the next hour sitting with him on the sofa, talking while he drank, trading gentle touches and kisses until he needed to leave. You followed him to the elevator, not sure if he was keeping hold of your hand or if it was the other way around. 

It took a couple of weeks for things to start to return to some sort of normal between you.

Karen noticed the first time she saw you, mentioning that you seemed distracted as you walked through Central Park together (thankfully with no sign of Madani in sight), but she didn’t bring it up until you were sitting together a week later, having lunch in a little coffee shop.

“Is everything alright with you and Billy?” She asked, deciding to just go for it.

“Yeah, it’s fine,” you answered. And it was fine. You were happy. You just could stop thinking about what he’d said to you and how you wished that things could be just a little bit different so you could both be happy.

“I know Billy’s my friend and you don’t really know me all that well, but you can talk to me if something’s bothering you. Or if he’s done something to bother you.”

There was something in her voice, something knowing that you really didn’t like. But how could she know what was going on with you and Billy, when you didn’t even know yourself?

“Everything’s fine, honestly. It’s great, actually. We’ve been really getting on lately; we’ve been hanging out talking about books and I’ve been making him watch Black Sail on Netflix,” you told her.

Karen nodded, though it didn’t look like she believed you, but she let it drop, leaving you with the sneaking suspicion that she knew a little more about the way Billy was than she wanted to let on.

Your quiet evenings with Billy slowly started to become a little more physical again, though neither of you seemed in a rush to try and push for sex again. Instead, most evenings he’d end up with his head between your thighs, or you’d slip your hand into his pants while you made out. And, even though you found yourself longing for more, you didn’t want to push him. No, you wanted to take things slowly, wanted to make sure that he wouldn’t get overwhelmed again before you took that next step.

Time seemed to fly by and it wasn’t long before the whole penthouse was being turned upside down in anticipation of Billy’s big party; live music, caterers, decorators and, of course, more blood than you felt comfortable seeing in one place. The whole place was transformed over the course of three days and, when the night finally came, you felt almost sick with nerves.

Even Billy had a strange energy about him, checking and double checking every little thing, including a security team from his company whose presence he seemed reluctant to explain to you. You watched from the sofa as he led them around the apartment, explaining where he wanted them and which areas of the penthouse were off-limits. He introduced you to one of them, a human man called Curtis who would be spending the night near the door to your quarters if you needed any help during the night (and, again, Billy didn’t explain what that meant).

A couple of hours before the guests were due to arrive, you went to shower and draw blood before doing your hair and makeup, and getting changed into your dress and shoes. For a few minutes you found yourself staring at your reflection, hoping to find some of the confidence you’d had that night in the dressing room with Billy.

When you stepped out into the penthouse, it only took a moment for his eyes to find you, his jaw threatening to drop as he took in the sight of you. His appearance had the same effect on you; his well tailored tux had you biting your lip.

“Wow, Russo, you really know how to pick them,” Curtis called across the penthouse, earning himself a withering look from Billy and causing your cheeks to heat.

Billy made his way towards you, not bothering to hide the way his eyes were taking in every inch of you. When he reached you, he placed a hand on your hip and kissed your cheek.

“I got you a present,” he told you, using his hand to start guiding you towards the library, pausing momentarily to tell Curtis and his team that they could go take a break before the party started.

Your heart was hammering in your chest as he led you into the library and towards the seldom used desk by the window. Waiting for you were three boxes, each beautifully wrapped in silver paper and tied with black ribbon. Without thought, you found yourself gripping Billy’s arm as your legs threatened to turn to jello beneath you.

He smiled softly, picking up the first box and handing it to you.

“Open it,” he instructed, managing to sound as excited as you felt about this whole exchange.

It felt wrong to destroy the immaculate wrapping, so you took your time, carefully untying the ribbon and peeling open the paper to get at the box. You removed the lid and there, in amongst black tissue paper was an ornate black and silver mask.

“It’s for the party tonight,” he told you when you looked at him for clarification, “we wear the masks until midnight and then take them off. It’s supposed to symbolise vampires being seen by society, but really it’s just an excuse to have fun while no one knows who you are.”

You laughed, head shaking. “Thank you, it’s beautiful.”

But he didn’t give you time to linger, gently taking the box and mask from your hand before offering you the next present, seeming to get more eager with each passing second. He was practically vibrating with excitement.

Your breath caught as you opened the second box. It was a beautiful choker style necklace with diamanté detailing - at least, you assumed that it was diamanté because you couldn’t even start to imagine how much it would have cost if they were real diamonds. For a few seconds you were lost for words.

“Here, let me,” he offered, pulling the necklace from the box before you even had the chance to answer him. Billy stepped behind you, gently draping it around your neck and fastening it for you.

Your fingers immediately reached up to touch it; it felt a little heavy around your neck and you’d never had a choker style necklace before, but the feel of it would be a constant reminder of Billy and you loved that. 

“Thank you, Billy,” you finally managed, turning and wrapping your arms around him before pressing a kiss to his cheek.

“There’s one more.” He reached for the last present but seemed a little more reluctant to hand it to you. 

And once you’d opened it, you understood why.

“Oh...” said somewhere between shock and confusion. 

You weren’t sure what you’d been expecting, especially not after the mask and the choker, but a new sex toy certainly wasn’t it. Your cheeks heated as you looked at the box, trying to make sense of it, the words discreet and remote play only confused you more.

“I want you to wear this for the party,” he told you, a hint of nervousness in his voice, “if you want to, I mean. If it’s too much, I get it. I just - I thought we could have some fun. And there’s going to be so many people, I guess I want to know you’ll spend the night thinking about me...”

Your cheeks continued to burn, part horrified by the notion, but a much larger part couldn’t help but find the idea interesting, arousing even. And, after everything that had happened between you, part of you was still longing for more.

“You want me to spend the night thinking about you?” You asked quietly.

“More than anything,” he answered in little more than a whisper, like he knew it was something he shouldn’t say.

It felt like your heart leapt into your throat for a few seconds and you struggled to swallow around it. All you could think about was that night a couple of weeks ago, how he told you it felt like he was drowning when he wasn’t with you, and you knew that you couldn’t say no to him. (You didn’t want to say no to him.)

“Okay,” you finally answered, “how do I...?”

“Let me,” he offered, perhaps a little too eagerly, taking the box from your hand, muttering something about how he’d cleaned it and charged it ready before wrapping it.

You bit your lip, watching as he pulled the purple silicone toy out of the box, knowing that he could hear your heart pounding. Then he kissed you, slipping his tongue between your lips and enjoying you for a few moments. When he pulled back he began to trace your lips with the tip of the toy before slipping it into your mouth, causing your cheeks to burn hotter.

You watched him suck his fingers, leaving them glistening with saliva before dropping to his knees and slipping them beneath your dress and into your panties. His free hand nudged your knee and you parted your trembling legs a little further while his fingers stirred between your folds, wetting you before slowly slipping into you.

You moaned softly as his fingers slowly started to pump inside you, twisting and bending, easily finding that special spot. 

Your hands gripped his shoulders, feeling like your legs were going to give out. Another soft moan escaped you when he looked up at you, holding your gaze as his fingers filled you, over and over. You clenched around him as he licked his lips, knowing that he was imagining the taste of your arousal on his tongue.

“You can come whenever you need to,” he told you, smiling up at you like he was in awe of you.

“Billy...” you moaned, your voice muffled by the toy in your mouth, hating how close you were to falling apart.

Your walls clenched and tightened around his fingers again, but you were already so wet that you couldn’t hold onto him or make him slow. There was something about all of this that seemed so obscene, so dirty, and it just made you want it ever more. His fingers hit that sweet spot one more time and it was enough to push you over the edge. Your legs started to tremble and your thighs pressed together, trying to keep his fingers inside you.

And, all the while, Billy smiled up at you.

A needy whine slipped out when he pulled away his hand, but you soon fell silent when he took the toy from your mouth. Your eyes fixed on the bookshelf behind Billy as he inserted the toy, suddenly feeling embarrassed despite everything you’d just let him do. Once he was done, he straightened your panties and made sure your dress was perfect.

Shifting your weight between your legs, you tried to get used to the feeling of the toy while Billy stood up and took out his phone.

“Let’s give it a little test,” he said with an almost mischievous grin on his lips that caused you thighs to clench. Something told you he was going to enjoy this. A lot.

A sudden whimper was pulled from you as the toy started to vibrate.

Billy’s grin grew as his finger swiped on his phone, causing the vibrations to intensify. As good as it felt, a mixture of shame and concern threatened to ruin the moment.

“What?” Billy asked, stopping the vibrations the moment he noticed your discomfort. “If it’s too much, you don’t have to do this.”

“I want to,” you answered shyly, a little embarrassed by just how much you wanted to, “It’s just... what if someone realises?”

He offered a soft smile, placing a hand on your cheek. 

“They won’t,” he told you with confidence. “It’ll be too noisy for anyone to hear it, and you’ll be good; you won’t come until we’re alone together and I give you permission.”

His thumb tenderly caressed your cheek as he leaned in to kiss you, his tongue slipping between your lips and wiping away any misgivings you might have had. You wanted to do this. You wanted to give Billy the comfort of knowing that you were thinking about him all night. And you wanted to do it for yourself too. You’d wanted to have new experiences and this was definitely new for you.

“Come on,” he said, slipping his hand into yours, “let’s go have a glass of wine and wait for the guests to arrive. It’s going to be a long night...”

Chapter Nine

End Note : So, originally, this chapter and the party were going all be one chapter, but then I got carried away with the cute notes between reader and Billy. That means next week will be a whole chapter of party shenanigans.

As always, thanks for reading/commenting/liking/reblogging, hope you're enjoying this as much as I'm enjoying writing it! Have a great weekend!

Let me know if you'd like to be tagged in future chapters! If tagging doesn't work for some reason (aka Tumblr being dumb) I post most Fridays around 7:30 gmt.

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[onlydrawnbad]

Do you ever read 570,000+ word, 130+ chapter fanfics that were started nearly 8 years ago and have current year updates, and as you get to the end of certain chapters along the way, you keep going "wow, I would have hated to be here in 201x and have to wait for THAT cliffhanger, those poor readers, those sad, desperate historical souls" and you're just so glad for yourself because you know you don't have to stop until chapter 139, and you arrogantly assume that's probably just extended epilogues or something (because you were previously conditioned by another fic to believe that), so everything will be fine?

Only to get to chapter 139 and SCREAM OUT LOUD because you jinxed yourself right into THE NEWEST WAVE OF CLIMATIC PLOT CHAPTERS WHERE ALL THE SHIT IS GOING DOWN and now you, too, have become the reader you felt such pity for?

Wait, you don't?

THEN GO OVER THERE AND DO WHAT I DID SO I DON'T HAVE TO BE ALONE IN MY HUBRIS. It comes with art. So. Much. Wonderful. Comic. Art.

I would like to stress (as I have done before) that I have never played this game. Not once. I had never even heard of it originally. Yet this is now the second absolutely massive Sans x reader/OC fic I have read in this fandom. Everything I know about Undertale, I learned because one day on a whim I decided to read a 480,000+ word, 170+ chapter fanfic because I liked the way @tricktster used words on some tumblr post (don't ask me which one, I've forgotten). I have re-read that fic at least once a year, if not more, for multiple years in a row because it's like a favorite book to me now.

If anyone needs me, I'll be comfort-reading it, again.

And then probably going back and re-reading JoAT, because oh my god that fic. I'm just so in love with it for a million reasons.

(Yes, it took me this long to see there was another glorious treasure in plain sight under @capnhanbers despite following @mod2amaryllis and it's just really embarrassing to be confronted by that kind of obliviousness, okay? Can I blame it on how, multiple times now over the years, I've gone months and months without looking at this app unless it notified me of something specific?)

I swear, I have never read fic in any other fandom where it was this easy to immerse myself in it with nothing more than some light googling along the way (the first time with CoBC), and the googling was just because I'm me and I like to know all the things. In both cases, you don't have to come to the table with anything other than an interest in supernatural-elements stories (monsters, magic, etc) and a love for snappy dialogue and funny (dad) jokes and HEART-WRENCHING FEELS and watching the author having a life journey in the notes.

(And yes, sure, an open mind about a skeleton monster and a human having magical sex, but if you know you're in a rated fic about monsters and humans, you must know that's going to be a thing.)

[starlightshadowsworld]

This is not a war.

A war implies both sides are equal.

Israel has the backing of the top western powers, it has one of the most sophisticated and well funded militaries in the world.

They've cut off the water and electricity in Gaza, things they control and Gaza does not.

Israel controls Gaza's, air space, land and sea.

They've blockaded 2 million people in an area that is a 1/3 the size of Los Angeles.

Bombed the only airport.

Israel started this all in 1948 in an event called Nakba, where they expelled 750, 000 Palestinians from their own homes and settled in them.

Homes that the Palestinians have yet to be able to return to.

That are occupied by settlers.

And many Palestinians still hold onto their keys, because they always intend on going back, passing them down the family line.

There are over 5000 Palestinian prisoners in Israeli jails.

170 of which are children.

Prisoners which the Israeli government have not allowed trials to.

Which they've been doing since 1967.

There was a peaceful protest in 2018 called the Great March of Return. Where unarmed Palestinians walked to the border every Friday for a year.

And Israel shot them.

Over 200 were killed.

With thousands injured

This didn't start on the 7th October 2023.

This started 75 years ago and is ongoing.

They've bombed hospitals, schools, ambulances, churches, mosques, refugee camps, routes they deemed safe and bombed anyway.

All places where they knew civilians were inside.

They dropped 6000 bombs in a week on Gaza.

That is almost as much as the US dropped on Afghanistan in a year.

In a smaller, densely populated area.

This is a genocide.

45 families, whole bloodlines have been wiped out by Israel.

Israel has violated so many international laws.

Hell, Israel violates international law by simply existing in the first place, because it's an illegal apartheid state.

[slamdunkhcs]

the success of slam dunk

Something I often hear from others is that “Slam Dunk is underrated”. To an extent, this is true. The series isn’t very talked about among younger fans of manga, and newer sports series such as Haikyuu are mentioned more by younger fans. However, Slam Dunk is not underrated in the slightest. Its numbers of copies sold worldwide (170 million copies, making it the seventh best selling manga of all time) speaks for itself, but in this essay I want to break down both the numbers and impact that truly show Slam Dunk’s success.

During the time of the series' publishing in Shonen Jump, Japan had been going through an economic fall. The Japanese economy suffered a prolonged recession that followed the collapse of the economic success of the 80’s. Corporations had stopped hiring new employees in order to maintain their current ones. This meant that many people were out of work, and it led to high unemployment. While this doesn’t directly affect Inoue, it puts lots of pressure on his manga to do well. After all, if he couldn’t make something that sold, he was out of a job. He had also stated that his editors were against him making a basketball manga due to it being unknown in the country, yet he did it regardless — despite knowing that he could easily be out of a job and face the financial difficulties many others were facing throughout the 90’s.

Throughout the 90’s, basketball wasn't very known in Japan. The NBA was at its peak in popularity, but this popularity didn’t translate to Japan. Baseball and soccer were far more known sports in Japan, and so Inoue was faced with the task of introducing basketball to his readers. (He did a good job of this). Slam Dunk starts off more comedic and casual compared to an intense sports series, and this was done to appeal to a wider audience. In fact, some of the most popular chapters and episodes at the time had been the gym fight arc, which didn’t exactly have much to do with basketball. But as the series progressed, Inoue was faced with two choices; to continue with the writing structure that was selling, or to double down on the basketball aspect of the series and risk alienating and losing his audience.

But instead of backing down, Inoue decided to take the risk. The story became more and more basketball focused, but he didn’t alienate his audience. In fact, the story was becoming more and more popular. At the time, it contended with Dragon Ball Z, and at times was even outselling.

The apex of the series’ popularity had been towards the end of its serialization in 1995-1996, throughout the Shohoku vs Sannoh match. And then… it ended. Inoue’s editors wanted him to continue the series as it was one of the magazine’s best selling, but instead, he just left. A complete power move. The series had lots of material that could have been used to continue the series, such as what happened to Shohoku (particularly Sakuragi) after the Sannoh match, him getting the girl, him becoming an even better player. I think that Inoue knew the series could have been even bigger if he had continued, but I also believe that it ended where it needed to. If Slam Dunk had been dragged longer, it may have gotten stale, and it might not have been as beloved as it is right now. Additionally, Inoue’s other big titles such as Vagabond or REAL don’t have endings due to long hiatus, and it’s possible that Slam Dunk may have faced similar treatment.

Aside from its overall sales, another interesting metric that encapsulates Slam Dunk’s success is its sales per volume estimate.

Slam Dunk being second only to One Piece (the best selling manga of all time) highlights just how successful it is.

Additionally, here is a sales chart of the best selling manga in September 2022. The fact Slam Dunk places here despite being a series that has been completed for over 25 years speaks for itself.

The series is very impressive sales wise already, but another component on just how successful Slam Dunk is its cultural impact in Japan. I already stated Inoue was forced with the task of introducing basketball to Japan. And to say he introduced it to them would be an understatement; it can be said that Slam Dunk popularized the sport.

Around the 90’s, while basketball was at its peak in popularity due to the NBA, Japan didn’t pick up on this. Baseball and football were still far more popular. As I said before, Inoue was tasked to introduce basketball to his readers.

Introduced is an understatement, and Inoue’s story actually increased enrollment in basketball among Japanese youth. In fact, throughout 1990-1995, around one million Japanese high schoolers were playing basketball as an extracurricular. And when Slam Dunk ended its serialization, this number dropped again.

Additionally, when the NBA came to Japan during the time the series was being published, the stadiums for their games were packed. This adds onto just how much more popular basketball was getting in Japan. And even now, it can be said basketball is a much popular sport in Japan.

But he didn’t just introduce the game itself; he also showed the culture surrounded by basketball.

Basketball culture is another prominent thing shown in Slam Dunk, from the boys hooping in Jordans, the baggy clothes they wear, to the sneakerhead culture. Inoue bridged 90’s American culture to Japan, and he made it a thing among Japanese youth.

Something else I want to note is that Nike allowed for Inoue’s use of their products in the manga. On my initial read, this surprised me, since I figured that Nike would have copyrighted the series. However, the reason they allowed for Inoue’s display of their products was because it essentially advertised their products to the Japanese market. In fact, Jordan’s and Nike’s sneakers had a massive increase in Japanese sales throughout the series’ publication (particularly the shoes worn by Sakuragi and Rukawa). Additionally, Nike also had a collaboration with Inoue to make red Jordan’s with Slam Dunk’s panels.

The series wasn’t known in just Japan, but throughout other Asian countries such as South Korea, China, and The Philippines. And as a result, basketball got popularized in these countries as well. If you were to ask anyone from there from around the 80’s-90’s, it’d be difficult to not find a Slam Dunk reader.

Throughout all this, I firmly believe that Slam Dunk isn’t underrated. It is arguably one of the most influential mangas, and easily one of the most successful.

[william-r-melich]

Tik Tok on the Chopping Block - 04/25/2024

Yesterday, Joe Biden signed the Tik Tok Divest-or-Ban bill into law. I covered this bill extensively in my post, "Tik Tok Bill/HR 7521" back on March 16th of this year. This bill forces ByteDance to sell Tik Tok within one year. It's clear to me that this Chinese owned company is controlled by the CCP and is using it to gather information on US citizens and influence children toward committing self-harm and suicide.

Tik Tok's CEO, Shou Zi Chew released the following video statement yesterday. "Make no mistake, this is a ban, a ban on you and your voice. We are confident, and we will keep fighting for your rights in the courts. The facts and the Constitution are on our side, and we expect to prevail again." He was referring to how they circumvented Trump's executive order to ban the app in the U.S. back in 2020. Tik Tok's position is that through China's Counterespionage Law, its customer data is stored in Virginia and backed up in Singapore. They claim that they have never or ever will share U.S. data with the CCP. Yet the owner of ByteDance previously issued a letter of apology to the CCP about failing to follow the CCP's directives. It's obvious to me that they are more of an arm of the CCP than a private company and we should not trust them. At the same time, I'm also conflicted about trusting our own government. Regardless it's now signed into law, like it or not.

Tik Tok and ByteDance together spent over $7 million since the beginning of this year on TV and digital ads in an effort to stop legislation from passing the bill. A Tik Tok spokesperson said this, "This expenditure reflects work we do to educate policy makers about how legislation could affect our community of 170 million American users." Tik Tok officials lobbied Congress and Biden's executive office last quarter. Biden's executive office contains the National Security Council, the Office Management and Budget, the Office of the U.S. Trade Representative, and other divisions.

As I mentioned in my previous post on this bill last March, Donald Trump and Elon Musk both came out against it. Trump is concerned that it could expand government powers on other platforms, and Musk is concerned about censorship. The bill is intended to remove any foreign influence and investment in social media platforms and websites here in the U.S. The government would have to prove that a foreign entity is directly involved and then initially force divestment, and then later if necessary deplatform the app and shut down their operating websites.

I'm all for private companies operating platforms that allow freedom of expression, but not if they're being operated by a foreign adversary like China's CCP. Yet I'm always very skeptical of our government and their tendencies to over-reach in order to go after their political opposition. Especially with this current bunch in charge. All we can do is to stay informed and hopefully for the sake of our freedom and security vote in Republican majorities in both the house and senate, and get Donald Trump back into office, in my opinion.

[beardedmrbean]

The mass killings took place on Feb. 25 in the country's northern villages of Nondin and Soro, and some 56 children were among the dead, according to the report. The human rights organization called on the United Nations and the African Union to provide investigators and to support local efforts to bring those responsible to justice.

“The massacres in Nondin and Soro villages are just the latest mass killings of civilians by the Burkina Faso military in their counterinsurgency operations,” Human Rights Watch Executive Director Tirana Hassan said in a statement. “International assistance is critical to support a credible investigation into possible crimes against humanity.”

The once-peaceful nation has been ravaged by violence that has pitted jihadis linked to al-Qaida and the Islamic State group against state-backed forces. Both sides have targeted civilians caught in the middle, displacing more than 2 million people, of which over half are children. Most attacks go unpunished and unreported in a nation run by a repressive leadership that silences perceived dissidents.

The HRW report provided a rare firsthand account of the killings by survivors amid a stark increase in civilian casualties by Burkina Faso’s security forces as the junta struggles to beat back a growing jihadi insurgency and attacks residents under the guise of counterterrorism.

Earlier in April, The Associated Press verified accounts of a Nov. 5 army attack on another village that killed at least 70 people. The details were similar — the army blamed the villagers for cooperating with militants and massacred them, even babies.

Witnesses and survivors told HRW that the Feb. 25 killings were believed to have been carried out in retaliation for an attack by Islamist fighters on a military camp near the provincial capital Ouahigouya, about 25 kilometers (15 miles) away.

The toll of civilian deaths was higher than first described by local officials. A public prosecutor previously said that his office was investigating the reported deaths of 170 people in attacks carried out on those villages.

A Burkina Faso government spokesperson didn’t respond to requests for comment about the Feb. 25 attack. Officials previously denied killing civilians and said jihadi fighters often disguise themselves as soldiers.

More than 20,000 people have been killed in Burkina Faso since jihadi violence linked to al-Qaida and the Islamic State group first hit the West African nation nine years ago, according to the Armed Conflict Location and Event Data Project, a United States-based nonprofit.

Burkina Faso experienced two coups in 2022. Since seizing power in September 2022, the junta led by Capt. Ibrahim Traoré has promised to beat back militants but violence has only worsened, analysts say. Around half of Burkina Faso’s territory remains outside of government control.

Frustrated with a lack of progress over years of Western military assistance, the junta has severed military ties with former colonial ruler France and turned to Russia instead for security support. 

[ilredeiladri]

-scare the rich-

TW: climate catastrophe

Okay, so I'm part of the climate movement for years now and I knew the situation is bad and I also knew that we don't have time and have to act now. But today, during a talk of a marine biologist and climate scientist, I realised HOW bad it really is and that there's actually NO time left.

We can't escape the crisis. We are already in the middle of it. There's no way to go back to the times when we had fewer extreme weather phenomena. On the contrary. If we look at the prognosis of a hot summer and think 'oh damn, this will be rough! we have to get through this safely', surprise: this is the new reality. There's no going back. What's past is prologue. We will have to deal with the heat constantly. We will have to deal with floods and wildfires and storms, even if we did all that is humanly possible to fight this crisis. To lower the world temperature by a few degrees nature needs millions of years (this is what happened after the end of the dinosaurs). We screwed up over the last 170 years and it is irreversible.

The only thing we can do is to slow it down and stabilise this fragile system at a point where we as a species are still able to survive. The biggest tipping points of our system are between 1.5 and 2°C global warming. Last year we reached 1.5° for the first time. There's no time left. If we fail, we'll fail completely.

I always thought that the problem is, that rich people will always be able to escape this terrifying future. That their money will help them to continue their lives even if the rest of the world is doomed. But today I understood that I was wrong. There's no way to escape. All their money will not help them when the supply chains of their companies aren't working anymore. When the people can't afford their products. If we don't act now we will reach a point at which money is irrelevant.

And maybe that's the biggest chance we get: we have to scare the rich people. We need them to notice that they are as doomed as we are. That they can't sell their products to a dead man. And that dead workers can't do their work anymore. Maybe that's were we have to start.

Scare the shit out of them.

[lalazeewrites]

RETURN OF TAG GAMES

i know i have been gone for what in fandom time is 'forever', so thank you a million for tagging me @celestialmickey @heymrspatel @tanktopgallavich @vintagelacerosette @energievie @stocious @metalheadmickey @gallagher-milkovich

name: lala/larisa

age: 35 but i’m permanently stuck at 25 in my head, i always forget

where in the world are you? 📍 an hour north of chicago, near the wisconsin border

the meaning behind your URL: very self explanatory, i’m not creative with names hehe. but lalazee is my nickname and zee is because my last name is a z name. again, not creative lol

your second favorite color: pink!

any pets? one cat with the personality of a soft bunny & another cat with the personality of a surly dragon

favorite season: autumn!

last thing you read: ‘the only good indians’ by stephen graham jones

last song you listened to: ‘so much (for) stardust’ by fob is playing as i type! i am a true blue lifelong feral fan from ‘take this to your grave (2003) album fan onwards. i’ve already listened to this album so much that my almost ten year old knows most of the words to most of the songs lol

what are you wearing right now? grinning skeleton holding up a coffee cup w a smiley face on it that says ‘STAYIN’ ALIVE’ & pink shorts

a hobby of yours: writing! singing! hiking! camping! cooking! all things horror!

your comfort show or movie: i feel like your comfort movies & shows might not be your all time favs, but more like movies & shows that are easy on your brain to absorb when you’re skull is feeling soupy. as a true 90’s kid, i gravitate for comfort toward those big box office action or disaster films like jurassic park, twister, independence day, the mummy (and 2), men in black, jumanji, matrix, anaconda, etc. . . i have a thing for big monsters & big battles, so also count pacific rim as one of my favorite movies ever too haha

and finally, what are you up to today? it’s spring break! but my spinal surgery blah blah is still healing so i’m relaxing at home while my mom takes my kid to the arcade and candy shop! they’ve been gone four hours, so i can only assume they’ve had a good time lol

FANDOM EDITION

your first fandom(s): First fandom on the INTERNET would have been Star Trek XI. First media that i was unhinged about: X-Files, X-Men, Xena, Sailor Moon (apparently I couldn’t find another X related interest LOL)

your current fandom(s): My Hero Academia, Shameless, Stranger Things, Attack on Titan. . .I actively read for about 5 other fandoms other than those (Supernatural, Witcher, FMA, LOTR, Star Trek), but I’m currently actively writing in these.

how did you first get into fandom? Back when I was living in Glasgow, Scotland, it was my 21st birthday, and my friends and I were going to see a horror movie. Turned out, the tickets were sold out, so we decided to see Star Trek XI. I’d NEVER watched Trek in my life, didn’t know a thing about it, and when I walked out of that theater I was a totally changed human and now I am a Trek Encyclopedia LOL

how long have you been engaging with fandom spaces? Since 2009, so like 14 years.

how often do you read fanfics? Every day, if my brain is healthy enough that day! I sometimes take breaks of a couple months and only read published books though, I feel I get a different experience from both that I can equally appreciate.

top 3 characters from your current fandom(s): Mickey Milkovich, Bakugou Katsuki, Billy Hargrove. Angry disaster babies, I guess.

have you ever written a fic for a fandom? I’ve written 167 fics, not including those on my Patreon. So, over 170 fics, at least.

have you ever drawn fanart for a fandom? No! Funny that I got accepted on scholarship to NIU for Theater & Art, partially on my art portfolio, but I never create any art for anything!

share a personal headcanon that you feel very strongly about: Ian loves his mom more than he feels comfortable saying, because he feels like it's a family and even personal betrayal. I think it’s impossible to accurately describe how to feels to grow up with an abusive parent who vacillates wildly between adoring and abusive, but there’s no feeling quite like loving and hating your parent, desperately wishing you could be what they wanted so they’d stay, and hoping you never see them again. I know we’ve seen Ian follow Monica more than any other kids, but I think that any time he curses her out to his siblings or whoever else, each bad word is also like a self-cut.

you’re trying to convince a friend to get into your current fandom(s) If for My Hero Academia, I would have them watch the Heroes Rising movie, for Shameless I don’t even KNOW where I’d begin tbh LOL

and finally, what does fandom mean to you? Fandom is family! I’ve been in fandom for fourteen years, and I have so so so many real life friends who have been with me through literally the hardest parts of my life. My divorce, my ex husband going to prison, the birth of my child, me being a single parent, moving back to America, my coma, my kidney transplant. My fandom friends from across the world have uplifted me and been my support system through every single high and low. I don’t know how I’d be here without them, quite literally.

[fuck-the-conquistadores]

The expert fuckers who broke this world never get to speak again.

—Godspeed You! Black Emperor

On March 29, 2023, graduate student instructors and graduate student staff assistants with GEO3550 (AFT) at the University of Michigan began an illegal strike for a living wage, increased healthcare coverage, workplace protections from ICE, the funding of a municipal non-police, unarmed emergency response, and an end to restrictions around the childcare subsidy. After months of bargaining with HR, grad workers seemingly had enough, and walked out of their classes and departments to march through the university campus.

Since September 2022, GEO members had adopted a “bargaining narrative” that would guide the rhetoric and basic principles behind their bargaining platform, both in their presentations to academic HR and to the public. The narrative was centered on issues of affordability: grad workers can’t afford rent, the university can afford to pay them money, grad workers should be able to afford to live in the city that their institution is in, the university can’t afford to go any amount of time without grad labor. For a labor union affiliated with the American Federation of Teachers with more than fifty years on the books, this narrative seems to work. It seems reasonable, approachable, important. Yet the narrative created a very narrow scope of political possibility for the union—a union that had previously adopted abolitionist, anti-policing demands, and had taken the radical leap of striking against COVID-19 policies and campus policing. The affordability narrative constrained the framing of our demands—what can we demand, and what kinds of actions and risks can we take when we are politically constrained by a single issue (the wage)?

This group of rabble-rousers celebrates the strike, not just because we want a living wage (and lord knows we’d breathe more easily every month if we did), but because we want everything. For us the strike is just the beginning of our struggle: we want a life free of exploitation and work, and we want it for everyone. We want time for our families, lovers, friends, and comrades. We want to dream, conspire together, play and party together. We want a blunt in every hand and every cop run out of town. We want the end of the university as we know it, and we want to dedicate ourselves to whatever the fuck we think would be cool (for the night, for the week, for the year, for our lifetimes). We want so much more than the union contract lets us bargain for, and we want it now, not just when this strike eventually ends and we accept a contract for the next 3 years. We want everything. Everything we want is “permissive,” and we are the only ones who can give ourselves permission to take those things.

And so we strike—striking not only for wages, but for life. The picket lines breathe life back into us, after all of the breaths we’ve expended for an institution that could never love us back (and to pretend that it will is a fool’s errand). We strike against business as usual, and we strike to take back our lives:

1) We began bargaining with the “reasonable” request that the university only be allowed to steal $170 million worth of our labor from us every year ($200 million in profits – $30 million to cover our demands). What if, instead, we had asked for everything?

2) In the MIT calculator for a living wage, we live alone (one adult, no kids) and we spend less than $11 a day on food or drink ($4,010/365 days = $10.99 per day). Is that living? (and also, what does it mean to count such a value. We are not asking for all the money they can give us—although that wouldn’t be bad, but it isn’t really like a UBI demand).

3) It seems often that people want to be told they are being reasonable. This is a fear, the fear of being unreasonable. It is an old fear, a modernist fear, a fear of being labeled one of the “crazies” like the mad, like the colonized, like women, like queer folks. Often, we feel compelled to prove that we’re “not like them,” we present elegant arguments, we read books, we’re getting our PhD—we’re reasonable. But maybe we shouldn’t be. Maybe being reasonable, having reasonable demands, only means being like the University. And the University is our enemy.

4) How did they convince us that we were supposed to suffer? Was it the promise of some pretty bourgeois future in the capital? We beg those of you who believe in that future to look at academic job reports. Maybe you believe there’s some salvation in industry. We beg those of you who believe in that future to look at climate change reports.

5) We could say that there is no future. In some sense this is true. For some people, the future is bright, it’s shiny, it has flying cars, and we’re living in some miraculous post-scarcity world. But we know that future isn’t coming. The minerals required alone would destroy half the globe, and Elon Musk would need to destroy the atmosphere, cooking us with solar radiation, in his cockamamie schemes to get off the rock. But there are other futures. There are futures together. There are futures spent growing food, cooking, and building homes with people we love, like people used to. There are futures where we wake up and work together to make clothes, sing silly songs with each other’s kids, take care of each other while we grow old. There are futures where everything we make is ours. There are futures where we demanded, and took, everything.

6) What is everything? Everything is not some abstract totality, the dream of state-makers and capital. It’s always having a cool place to sleep and hang out with your friends; it’s having fresh vegetables from the community gardens and farms, good cuts of meat from the chickens, goats, and whatever else we want, and homemade wine and beer made by and for those you love; it’s clean, fresh water; it’s never being forced to do work that doesn’t directly make your or your community’s life better; it’s communities of care where no one ever gets to tell you what sort of healthcare you need; it’s summer nights with a blunt in hand, tripping on mushrooms, and watching a meteor shower with your friends; it’s working with your friends to deck out one of those beautiful lowriders and going cruising down the open road; it’s no more cops on campus, in our cities, in the world; it’s more than you can imagine. Communism is just this: skipping class to go swimming, but for a million years.

7) Demanding everything also means the abolition of the wage. It is the ending of a way of life that decides if we live or die based on how much value we generate for someone else. It is the end of a world where bargaining over wages is not necessary for our day-to-day survival. Our dignity and our lives shouldn’t be rhetorically or politically reduced to a question of affordability, nor can it be reduced to a debate on if we are deserving of anything.

8) Neither the university, nor their lawyers, nor the labor contract process, nor the specifics between permissive and mandatory subjects of bargaining, nor the distinctions between hard and soft pickets, nor the courts and their injunctions can contain or repress this demand for everything. The demand for everything exceeds the existing processes and beckons us out of these containers of repression, respectability, and rules. We can choose to heed the siren song of a life where we have everything, or we can limit our imaginations and our actions to cut ourselves off from possibility.

9) University politics cannot be understood if the university as a site of desire for common life is ignored. Herein lies its contradictory character. Especially in the humanities, the secular collapse of the capitalist economy drives anyone who minimally hates work to the university, seeking in study a respite from the malaise that infects every other job option. At the same time, here we are more overworked than most people doing what David Graeber has called “bullshit jobs.” Yet the bullshit cannot hide that in between class, teaching and research, there is sometimes a brief moment of actual thinking. It is in the strike that we seek to expand these moments—small prologues of a life worth living. Both macho chatter about weak grad students as opposed to brutish workers outside the campus, and cosmopolitan Jacobin-esque punditry about the enlightened student organizer both ignore this crucial fact.

10) “We need your ideas, we need your insights, and most of all, we need your dreams.” This is it: in the highest stage of capitalist nihilism, the biggest lies are always shouted out as they were everybody’s aspiration. This sordid little incantation is what drives the contemporary university’s factory of unwept tears. The fact that this industry works on an image of a continually extended sameness into the linear future should foment distrust—distrust felt deep in the pits of our stomachs. The appropriation of every struggle, every radical negation, every true dream to break free from this hell-world, speaks to how pernicious liberalism’s adage can be. First, it demands that every collective aspiration be reduced to whatever makes one a “decent living”. Second, it ensconces it in the puerile and sanitized language game of ambitions, dreams, in sum, change. Everything is to be made a little bit better; nothing is to be destroyed. These cowards hate above all our hatred, our anger, our force. And the wish to dismantle this war-affect will come not only from outside, but also from within our movement.

To be clear, this critique comes from within GEO, from within the university—in but not of it, if you’ll forgive the cliché. We have no quarrel with the friends we make on the picket line, nor do we have beef with the rank-and-file folks we haven’t met yet (we don’t like the reactionaries in and around the union, but who does?). We echo the calls of the disaffected communists and disillusioned anarchists in so-called California against the UC, and we salute the brave folks who ran up on and attacked rapist frat houses in Nebraska, Kansas, Massachusetts, and elsewhere. We celebrate and honor the dropouts, the proles, the fellow travelers trapped behind bars and murdered by the state. We’re hungry for more than what union politics can give us, we’re sick of the university containing our rage. Let’s take action that pushes our demand for everything to its fullest extent: let’s feed each other, whether in expropriated dining hall food or in our strike kitchen. Let’s take campus back from administrators and security. Let’s make the football field a fuck forest. Let’s have dance parties in North Quad and print zines together in Mason. Let’s take naps in lecture halls on purpose. Let’s cut class. Let’s enjoy spring. Let’s demand everything.

[l-1-z-a]

Q&A: Will Wright’s Artificial Intelligence - RollingStone

The king of the Sim Empire talks about 'BattleBots,' hungry ants and how he turns real life into video games

BY DAVID KUSHNER

SEPTEMBER 13, 2001

Will Wright RYAN ANSON/AFP/GETTY IMAGES

FOR THE PAST sixteen years, Will Wright has devoted himself to simulating the ultimate challenge: everyday life. The forty-one-year-old computer-game designer has put players in charge of micromanaging simulated farms, simulated ant hives, simulated cities and, most recently, little Sims themselves — artificially intelligent characters who sleep, eat, work and give back rubs.

The Sims won just about every major game award last year, in addition to selling more than 4 million copies worldwide and grossing more than $170 million. Wright’s gaming successes are due in large part to his fearless pursuit of the mundane: His cities have bad plumbing, his dinners need to get cleaned up and Sims must go to the john. Wright, who’s currently working on an online version of The Sims as well as some highly competitive remote-controlled fighting robots for the TV show BattleBots, hopes his games help people get a fresh view of their own lives. “I like the idea that games can change the player,” he says.

When you’re out and about, you must get people suggesting Sim games to you all the time.

You can’t imagine.

Any ideas stand out?

Sim Shopping Mall — that one had, like, fifteen types of people you’d see in the mall. It all had to do with teenagers and old people. It was pretty funny.

You’ve been competing in BattleBot tournaments lately. How’s that going?

Well, I’ve got this one I’m building now that’s going to be killer. It’s about halfway built, but I don’t want to name it until I’m done.

I’ve built a bunch of them so far. The first one was called Julie Bot. It had this talking doll’s head on the top — this was for the very first Robot Wars, and it won the lightweight division. The second year I did Kiddy Puff Puff, which wrapped the other robots in tape — that one won the middleweight melee. My daughter does robots, too; she made a Chia Bot. It didn’t do too well. It got flipped over, but it put up a good fight….

Pretty destructive compared to your games.

Yeah, but it’s really much more of a social thing. You get to meet a bunch of cool people who are strange like you. But it is cool for the robots to go in and beat the crap out of each other, too.

What kind of kid were you?

I was always building things: models, little inventions, airplanes, tanks, ships, then robots. The first robot I built was a little hydraulic arm made entirely out of injection syringes. I was probably about thirteen. A friend of mine talked me into buying a computer to run my robots, and that’s how I got interested in games.

What interested you about computer games?

What fascinates me is the ability to have a microworld inside this little box, a world that has its own rules and physics that you can interact with. The first game I made was one where you flew around and blew things up. I had to create little islands you were flying over. I was finding that to be much more fun than the blowing-them-up part. I thought it’d be cool if I could actually bring these little islands to life.

Why simulate real life?

In some sense, the computer can be thought of as an elaborate mirror when you’re running simulations on it. It’s not a perfect mirror, but, depending on the situation, you can exaggerate reality, distort reality, fast-forward through time or replay things over and over until you get them right. For me, it’s a new way of interacting with the world.

What influenced the development of The Sims?

It was the intersection of a few ideas: the work of urban planner/architect Christopher Alexander, who looked at how environmental design influences our behavior, and the behavioral modeling I learned from doing my game Sim Ant.

So humans don’t behave that differently from ants?

Surprisingly, I found that they weren’t that different [laughs]. In The Sims, if a character is hungry it will go near the strongest hunger source: the fridge, the barbecue. Ants do this, too. There was also another influence for The Sims: I started getting interested in time studies, where researchers try to map out how you spend every minute of your day. The results are fascinating.

In your games, people spend their time doing pretty ordinary things. How important is banality in your games?

In some sense, that’s what really drives the player’s ownership [of The Sims]. When you’ve laid every little water pipe or spent every hour of that guy’s life so far on your computer, you’re really responsible, and you can start empathizing a lot more with the city or the person. Things become so dependent on you that the whole gaming experience can become very guilt-driven. When this guy loses his job, for the most part, it’s your fault. If you’re dealing with The Sims in this mundane day-to-day life, then the epic victories are things very familiar — getting married, having a kid or getting a promotion — as opposed to defeating the evil empire in some other game.

How has developing all these Sim games affected the way you view the world?

I spend a lot of time looking for patterns. When we design simulations, “we’re trying to compress this huge data of reality into a few elegant algorithms. That’s also the path we typically take toward understanding the world around us: What’s the simplest explanation for this?

How about making Sim Game Developer?

I don’t think that would be nearly as fun as most people think [laughs].

[catsnuggler]

I carry some distrust of the word "progress" these days. Perhaps I should have had distrust of it all my life. There's nothing inherently radical about the word. It just indicates that some project has moved forward to some degree, but it says nothing of the character of the project, or if a previous state of affairs was preferable. I feel similarly about the word "advanced".

Pre-contact, women in the Americas generally had things pretty good, in terms of social treatment. Let's take the Haudenosaunee Confederacy as a reference. The Great Law of Peace has been instituted, to this day, for about 1,000 years; by 1492, keeping in mind Europeans arrived in North America some time after that, it still would have been centuries old. As far as I understand, only men could serve as delegates at the council fires, but they were strictly for intra-confederacy and international affairs. Clan mothers, however, held sway over domestic politics, and at a practical level, the men had to listen to the women. It's not equality the way we would think of it, but for certain, it wasn't so oppressive. The Haudenosaunee Confederacy still exists, but it has diminished under colonialism. Speaking of - well, do I really have to explain how, by contrast, European women were treated? We all know European societies are and were awful to women (at least after Roman conquest of about half of Europe, followed by conquests of the Western Roman territories by Germanic peoples that, through military service to, and militant opposition against, Rome, adopted more Roman attitudes toward women).

See, what I'm getting at is, going along with the women's rights example, we tend to think of it as progress, but for some societies, it's tradition. It's good, for certain, for women to be free, I make no argument to the contrary. But if we think less of whether anyone is actually freed from political servitude or economic destitution, and more about whether something has simply moved from a previous state of being, then what else might we praise as "progress", for the sake of progress, alone? Although the "white-only" population in the US is steadily going down, it went higher and higher and higher for a long time - was the expansion of the "white race" in the US "progress"? It was described as such by those in favor of colonialism, of land theft, imperialism, and slavery. I suppose they were right about it being "progress" - at the expense of millions of innocent people, who were forcibly "regressed" by colonial violence. It was "progress", but it wasn't good; it wasn't liberatory. These whites took land; committed pogroms against racially marginalized and colonized people; inhibited land stewardship practices: laid down infrastructure and agriculture in inappropriate places, which led to events like The Dust Bowl; became cops, soldiers, Klansmen, Pinkertons; and have ruined the place.

Isn't it "progress" when a poor neighborhood is gentrified and evicted so some profitable boho bougie shops can take root? Those "nasty" poors removed, so a new, profitable venture can prosper where they once lived. But that so-called "progress" ruined lives, didn't it? Were those boho bougie shops worth it? No. Not even if you call it "progress".

All this said, I'm just a confused white guy whose ancestors probably owned slaves, wracking my head trying to figure out what the way is. Some things can never go back, and some things shouldn't. The Salish peoples didn't have capitalism, although there were still rich and poor; but they had potlaches, frequent redistributions of wealth. The potlaches good, at least. There was also slavery, though, and slave raids. Then the Americans came and said "no" to that - and rightfully so, because slavery is the prime example of political domination and economic deprivation. That said, it's been about 170 years, I don't think any of them want to enslave anybody anymore. The past isn't inherently evil - and whose past? The future isn't inherently good - and whose future?

I've been influenced by the words of Sakej Ward and Lula June Johnston. Great, radical people. Landback, anti-capitalist, feminism, whole nine yards. But what struck me is their conviction that part of the problem is Europeans went through the precursors of what their own peoples later went through; that we once had women healers, we once valued the land as relation, we once fought and died rather than live under empires; that, after we were conquered by other Europeans, we fundamentally changed, and this state of affairs lasted so long we couldn't even imagine other ways.

For Lyla June, this is a personal struggle, as she is not just Diné and Cheyenne, but also European. I'm not multiracial, and I'm sure I can't even imagine the pain she's felt, both from how people treat her and her people today, and from reconciling the trauma of being a descendant of the colonizer and the colonized. Yet... she once dreaded and hated the other side of her family history, until she said, they spoke to her one day, telling her their love, their traditions, their songs - and where it all went wrong. She brought up the witch trials, in particular. Women, countless women, burned at the stake. Mothers, daughters, grandmothers, sisters, aunts, cousins - human beings. Men were forced to watch, helpless, as the women they loved were burned to death in front of them. The surviving women were terrified into submission to the men, and the men were broken into submission to the church and the state. It was like our very souls were taken away.

Per Stolen Anarchy, by Twin Rabbit, socialism, communism, and anarchism are largely derived from European fascination with societies like the Haudenosaunee Confederacy, and the desire to emulate them - *coughcough* in, *ahem*, proper, civilized, European fashion, of course. *wipes monocle*. Yeah, definitely a sense of cultural elitism there, with the whole "you have a good idea, but we can do it better because we're white" spiel, like you see with so many so-called "Authentic Korean BBQ" restaurants ran by white Karen's and Jeff's in the suburbs. It seems to me that we feeel this impulse to imitate in such a fashion because we know, deep down, we're missing the socioeconomic sense of real community, with each other and with nature; nature being everything, including ourselves; that was destroyed so long ago. We don't know how to get that back, so we see someone else doing that, and immediately try to copy them. Understandable. Wrong, definitely wrong, but understandable. We need to find that animist ethic again, and renew it, and we need the kind of community we have so long been without... But that doesn't mean we can Play Indian. We can't. That's not a solution, that's theft. We won't ever be free to discover our solution, though, until they're free, and in the end, I think socialism, communism, anarchism, are all completely and utterly meaningless if we don't give the land back. We won't be free to heal ourselves until they are free to be themselves.

Anyway, power vs freedom >>>>>>> "tradition vs progress"; landback; learn European history with an eye for the common people, but don't fall for Nazi Aryan Race bullshit; slavery is bad, cultural elitism is bad, burning women is bad. Sound about right?

[yandere-romanticaa]

i'm in a rook type of mood. feel free to ignore/delete

What is your biggest turn off in a person?

At what age did you realize Santa was not real?

At what age did you have your first kiss?

What is the biggest lie you ever told?

Do you hate anyone right now?

Have you ever been in a physical fight?

Have you ever catfished anyone?

Have you ever dated someone you met online?

How tall are you?

If you could choose one Disney prince to marry who would you choose?

If you had to live in the world of the last T.V show you watched where would you be living?

What is the scariest thing you have ever experienced?

What is a disgusting habit you have?

What is a weird thing you love?

What is the worst gift you have ever given?

What is your zodiac sign?

Have you ever been arrested?

1. I'd say arrogance. It just rubs me the wrong way.

2. I want to say 6 because that's when my parents told me but I'm pretty sure I knew even before that because I remember telling them that they're stupid for telling me that!

3. I have yet to be kissed. 😩

4. Dunno if this counts as a lie but I sorta kept this from pretty much everyone I know (aside form my two besties) and that is how a few years back I thought I was bisexual. And let me tell you, being not straight in Eastern Europe is an absolute nightmare.

5. Hate is a strong word but the bitch who threw rocks at my head a few years back can burn in hell <33 I had to get stitches for that and the mean nurse kept telling me to shut up as she stitched my scalp.... Lady I was a KID and I wasn't given ANY SEDATIVES and there was blood EVERYWHERE, LEAVE ME ALONE 😭😭

6. I have and I'd say I won most of them.

7. I have not.

8. Yep! It was weird, I don't recommend it!

9. 170 cm or 5'7.

10. Hmmm.... Li Shang, Naveen or Flynn Rider!

11. I'd be six feet under because unless some poor bastard decides to pick me up and keep me there's no way I'd survive The Walking Dead.

12. Going down a giant water slide for the very first time. I nearly drowned on that thing.

13. It USED to be nail biting but then I realized that more than a decade had passed until I actually properly trimmed my nails and decided enough was enough so I started painting them, which prevents me from bitting them.

14. Either showering in the dark or sitting on my couch, swaying back and forth to music for hours on end as I imagine millions of scenarios in my head.

15. All of my gifts were at their worst, solid. There wasn't ever a really bad one.

16. Cancer!

17. I have not! I'm a good girl! 🕊️😇

[worldwide-blackfolk]

Lanny Smith wants someone to challenge sportswear giants like Nike, Adidas and Reebok — so much that he’s trying to do it himself.

Smith, 38, is the founder and CEO of Actively Black, the sportswear company he launched in 2020 in the wake of George Floyd’s death. At the time, plenty of big companies were issuing statements condemning racism while pledging to promote diversity and invest in Black communities.

The promises rang somewhat hollow for Smith, a former University of Houston basketball star who saw the $170 billion industry as reliant on the Black community’s culture, influence and consumer dollars. Rather than lobbying for change within multibillion-dollar giants, Smith wanted to try beating them at their own game.

“A lot of these sports apparel brands have profited off of Black talent,” Smith tells CNBC Make It, referring to numerous endorsement deals with superstar Black athletes. ”[The companies] have profited off of the consumerism from the Black community. And I felt like they hadn’t adequately reinvested back into the Black community.”

Today, Actively Black is a multimillion-dollar brand, reportedly valued at $30 million in 2021. It brought in $5.6 million in revenue last year while promoting a rotating cast of Black designers and reinvesting 10% of sales into organizations supporting social justice, mental health and physical health in U.S. Black communities.

The company recently collaborated with Disney on “Black Panther”-themed clothing, and made Nigeria’s official uniforms at the 2022 Winter Olympics. NBA star Stephen Curry was spotted wearing an Actively Black hoodie during a press conference last year, shortly after former President Barack Obama sported a watch the brand collaborated on.

But it’s all a drop in the bucket, compared to the billions of dollars brought in each year by the likes of Nike and Adidas — meaning Smith’s commitment to making a lasting impact on the Black community is a work in progress.

“I took the mindset that it was time for us to stop asking for a seat at the table. And we were going to build our own table,” Smith says.

‘We can have a real impact’

[vickysaurus]

I posted 1,991 times in 2022

431 posts created (22%)

1,560 posts reblogged (78%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@paleontologylife

@kt--extinction

@chloepleasestopdying

@1dinodaily

@tippenfunkaport

I tagged 1,961 of my posts in 2022

Only 2% of my posts had no tags

#dinosaur - 596 posts

#paleoart - 574 posts

#the owl house - 374 posts

#toh - 373 posts

#theropod - 329 posts

#toh spoilers - 283 posts

#paleoblr - 280 posts

#luz noceda - 184 posts

#amity blight - 170 posts

#cretaceous - 168 posts

Longest Tag: 135 characters

#the other stegosaur came from a happy meal i ended up with after i was unable to complete a delivery for mcdingdongs a couple years ago

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

See the full post

1,090 notes - Posted October 21, 2022

#4

Guzma is my hero. I’ve always wanted to be able to respond to trainers who wanna battle like this.

1,511 notes - Posted June 3, 2022

#3

So Prehistoric Planet is amazing. A random thought I had near the end is that we actually saw almost no dinosaurs in this episode! Just the T. rex beach trip at the start, the rest was all pterosaurs, marine reptiles, ammonites, and other friends. What a flex for a Mesozoic documentary to in its very first episode go ‘Actually we don’t even need to talk about dinosaurs, all the other amazing creatures that lived alongside them can carry an episode on their own’.

1,718 notes - Posted May 23, 2022

#2

Something unexpected that I really love about Prehistoric Planet is how it stays in a single period in time and explores it, rather than trying to cover the entire Mesozoic and show the world changing. If you showed an alien the programme with the intro cut out and the title censored, they probably would never even guess it was a show about a distant time in Earth’s past. In just being a wildlife documentary that happens to be set 66 million years ago, it’s showing the Maastrichtian world as a living, full-formed, very real world that existed for an unbelievably long time, rather than a phase in an even longer evolutionary process. Now don’t get me wrong, I love wide sweeps of evolutionary history like Walking With Dinosaurs too, but Prehistoric Planet’s vibes are very different and I never knew I needed them. In fact, I’m really hoping we won’t even see a trace of the meteorite in episode five. Let me just go on a little tangent to really get into why.

This is Trix the T. rex. I saw her in the Naturalis natural history museum. She lived and died 67 million years ago. Now, it is very easy for me to see that date and be filled with a sense of impending disaster. ‘Just before the end’ is a thought that quickly appears. But when you really think about it, that’s ludicrous. Trix lived her life, and then after she died her species continued to thrive for a million years. There’s thrice as much time between her and the Tyrannosauruses who died in the K-Pg extinction as there is between me and the first members of my species! And as for the thousands of years of recorded human history, those are a mere drop in that sea of time. Those years didn’t pass any faster back then than they do now, nor were they any less real. There were just as many moments in any one of those thousand millennia between Trix and the meteorite as there were in the millennium between me and Basil the Bulgar-slayer. If a wizard told you your species and your world would continue to thrive for a million years before eventually most of your clade would get wiped out by a terrible catastrophe, would you see your world as a doomed and temporary one about to go over a precipice? I think I would be delighted to know we have such a vast sea of time left.

This got longer and more philosophical than I expected, but the point is that I love the focus on the Maastrichtian as a diverse, living world, rather than the last age of the Mesozoic. We don’t know whether Prehistoric Planet is set a million, fifty thousand, or nine hundred years before impact, and it doesn’t really matter either. Even though all those dates are, geologically speaking, so close to the end of the Cretaceous we could barely tell the difference between them, they all have more time left than any of the animals can possibly conceive of. None of the animals we see in Prehistoric Planet have ever seen a Stegosaurus, and none of them will die as a consequence of a meteorite striking the Earth.

2,317 notes - Posted May 26, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

Alador: “So, Mittens, how did you and Luz meet anyway?”

Amity: “Well, I spotted her hiding in a cauldron covered in abomination goop and-”

Alador: *sighs* “How romantic, it was always my dream to meet someone like that...”

3,252 notes - Posted May 23, 2022

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