#can't let our secondary fuck us over again

[allpromarlo]

JADEVEONNNNNNN GET HERE!!!

[blackswallowtailbutterfly]

Was she or was she not born with a vulva?

That's all I care about. Whether a condition she has should or should not disqualify a certain woman from a certain sport is a different conversation.

But if she was born with a vagina, I don't care if she has a Y chromosome ffs. She's a woman. Before the discovery of chromosomes, women and girls were identified by vulvas. Does material reality matter when it comes to womanhood and oppression, or does it fucking not?

You can't see chromosomes. You can see genitals. No, not at all the time, and yes, we can tell by secondary and tertiary sex characteristics the vast majority of the time. But not all the time. Some people genuinely look androgynous or even like the opposite sex. It's rare, but it happens.

Some women have gotten by in history by posing as men. I, a fertile female, have been mistaken for male when I've let my upper lip hair grow! If we looked back through history and exhumed the bodies of women who posed as men, say, Dr James Barry, and found that she had XY chromosomes, does it make her less of a woman in history trying to practice medicine in a time when women weren't allowed to? Whose accomplishments were discredited when they gave her an autopsy and found her to be female (because she had a vulva)? Is it really just misdirected misogyny if a baby is born with the very female organ that men try to control, if it turns out she's actually a male who didn't develop properly in the womb?

Personally, no, I don't think so. Those are my sisters. They are not whole ass men developing a fantasy of what being women is and playing at being women and invading our spaces and taking up our resources. They are not even like David Reimer who was born as an intact male, had his genitals destroyed, had to use a colostomy bag, and whose parents attempted to raise as a girl. They were born and treated as girls.

Tell me, if you heard right now about a woman from 200 years ago who posed as a man to get an education, fight in war, etc. and never had any children, you wouldn't be happy to learn about her, you wouldn't see her as an icon. But it's entirely possible the reason she didn't have children and was able to pass as a man is because she was technically male with a DSD! So is that suddenly not a woman's accomplishment? How is that different from transing historical figures? Shrodinger's female accomplishments until a chromosome test?

An XX female with an SRY gene activated will develop as an infertile male. Is he one of us because of his fucking chromosomes? With a whole ass penis?

Like, come the fuck on. A lot of people here lately seem to really want to be the "TERF" stereotype. Literally seeing people arguing that being born with a vulva doesn't count because of neovulvas! Are you fucking kidding me?!? What happened to the vagina and clitoris being organs whereas neovulvas are an open wound that doesn't and can't function as more than a hole? Suddenly it's similar enough that only chromosomes count? Come off it!

Again, I'm not talking about whether a woman with XY chromosomes should be playing in certain sports. I don't know enough to have a fully formed opinion on that.

It's the way people are insisting on calling them men that's pissing me off. You do not know enough to do that. If they were born with malformed penises, fine! Have at it! But we have no evidence of that. All we know is that they *probably* have XY chromosomes. That says nothing about whether they have Swyer Syndrome, CAIS, or another XY DSD I'm not aware of where the babies are born with female genitalia.

Just, enough. If you want to talk about whether the tiny percentage of women with XY chromosomes have automatic advantages (I think they likely do, but again I don't know) over non-DSD females, talk about that. You can do that without calling women with DSDs men.

[piebingo]

Young Royals fanfic recommendations, again

Like because, love despite | chaptered | completed | by cali-chan (girls_are_weird) / @girls-are-weird

Simon let out a huff. "For our plan! Remember? To get Englund and August to do business together so we can get them to cut us some slack?"

Wille frowned, confused. "Wait, I thought that was a joke."

"It was," Simon conceded. But then he leaned closer, conspiratorially, and lowered his voice, making Wille's traitor heart start nearly beating its way out of his chest. "But... what if it wasn't?" he asked, pronouncing the words very slowly.

Wilhelm and Simon are a pair of overworked, underpaid assistants who team up to gain their supervisors' favor by bringing them together for a joint venture. It might be the best worst idea they've ever had.

Based on the movie Set It Up, which I haven’t seen, but damn. What a good and fun AU! I had a lot of joy reading it as a wip but I’m excited to do a binge reread soon. If you love romcoms, this is for you.

The umbrella | chaptered | completed | by gulliblelemon / @gulliblelemon

Simon’s head snapped up and he looked behind him.

“Oh my God,” Simon muttered.

Wilhelm strode towards him and shook his head slightly. He stopped when he was a few paces from him.

“Hi,” he said, an incredulous look still on his face.

Meeting the Crown Prince once was weird, twice had been just bizarre, but three times?

A University AU in which Simon and Wilhelm meet by accident when Simon is working in Bjärstad and Wilhelm is a student. They continue to bump into each other until they start to form a tentative friendship.

This was a fun one based on an interesting premise. I liked how the relationship developed, and I also really liked the friendships.

Fuck the monarchy | chaptered | completed | by itsme_hi_imtheproblem / @iwouldnevergetintofanfic

Simon and Wille get stuck with each other when they both intern at the riksdag.

Wille is intent to just get this dreaded thing over with. Simon can't believe he of all people has to work not only with an old conservative but with the literal prince.

Both are surprised by the inexplicable and inevitable pull they feel towards each other.

Hot and sweet and interesting. I loved to watch their relationship grow. Their banter was on point and it was a real treat to read.

Obviously | chaptered | completed | by grapehyasynth / @grapehyasynth

In their final year of secondary school, Simon and Wille find themselves entering a potent, secret relationship that threatens to upend both their lives. It can't last, but neither can they stop being a part of each other's lives. Over the next few years, even as everything around them changes, even as they hurt and lose each other, they keep finding themselves drawn together.

Normal People AU

Obviously. No but seriously. This story broke me and then repaired me. I’ve never read/watched the source material but this AU is insane.

The Prince And The Popstar - Fuck The Monarchy And Other Hits | chaptered | completed | by @pagegirlintraining and @the-amber-fox

International superstar and chaos gay Simon Eriksson is more than surprised to find none other than Prince Wilhelm of Sweden in the audience at one of his concerts. Especially after he’s slandered the monarchy more than once in his songs (Fuck the monarchy - the album) and online (in excessively long burn threads).

His next decision brings together what shouldn’t fit. Can they overcome the forces trying to push them apart? Can their young love surmount the rising pressure?

What can I say other than this was delightful and made me feel all of the emotions? There’s many things I can say, I’d the answer. It was fun and had cliffhangers and I loved every part of it. Even the pain.

Other recs: part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7

[ceaseless-watchers-special-girl]

you guys. you guys you guys. i think i know what i want from the final season of the penumbra podcast. i have spent the past ten minutes pacing around my room. yesterday i read up to chapter 17 of prydon's fic separate but syncopated (https://archiveofourown.org/works/30943430/chapters/76417991) which let's be honest, you've probably read already. it's phenomenal. if you haven't, you should.

so i've been thinking. i just really want to go back to brahma. i want to go back to brahma and take down the guardian angel system.

the thing is, the junoverse is a very character driven storyline, and i love that about it. the second citadel is more event driven i think, and it was more difficult for me to get into that storyline and stick with it (i'm weak i'm sorry). for example, although the first season focuses a lot on juno solving the whole martian artefact doodah, back then the penumbra crew were still finding their feet.

then junoverse season 2 happened, and the entire point of that season was basically "get juno over his trauma" (that's why it was so long oh my god). sure, there was a whole plot with ramses and the theia souls, but i think we can all agree that was secondary to juno's character development.

next, season 3. season 3 is definitely character driven, you literally can't deny it. it focuses on each member of the carte blanche in turn, and it uses the plot, finding the curemother prime, as a secondary tool to further the true point of the season: getting to know the characters.

season 4 i'm a little less certain about because i'm typing this post straight into tumblr fresh out of my brain (if anyone wants to help out with the analysis i'd love that). but i think the point of season 4 is to test and showcase the bonds of the carte blanche with each other, and juno rescuing them all is not only a good story, but also a good way to show off the relationships they built in season 3. his relationship with nureyev is shown through periodic reading of the journal, and juno's copious inner monologues (i say like i'm one to talk when all of these thoughts are swirling around in my own head).

then, season 5. the point of this season mirrors that of season 2, but this time, we need to get nureyev over his trauma. this is way trickier, because we're not inside nureyev's head, we're still in juno's. it's still character driven because the aim is to help nureyev, but the plot is given by juno having to chase him across the galaxy. hence, juno's hesitation when he finally finds nureyev.

well, steel, you've caught him. now what the hell are you going to do with him?

there is no plot to drive the character study anymore. our goal was to help nureyev, and juno (poor juno) has done all he can. the ball falls squarely into nureyev's court now, and juno has no say in the plot of the rest of the story. this is why i have been chewing myself alive since the last episode — we know what's next for the characters emotionally, but we have absolutely zero idea what's happening next plot-wise. it's killing me.

(what was the point of this post again?)

OH WAIT I'VE GOT IT. so. since our whole thing for this season is helping nureyev, and we all want him to go batshit fucking insane, i really want nureyev to go back to brahma, and finish what he started two decades ago. i think it's the perfect circular story arc to keep them occupied while nureyev heals emotionally from the fallout from everything going on with slip.

also, sorry to get real for a second, but i've just been tearing myself apart being morally outraged at the world we live in, and the fact that i'm barely able to do anything about it. maybe one day i could, but until then, it would be nice to see my favourite space gays set an example.

now, i know there's complications with this. nureyev refused to take the guardian angel system down in the first place because of the damage it would cause, and i'm willing to bet he hasn't excised that moral core just yet, no matter how hard he's trying. but i'm sure they can find a way to make it work. they have rita, after all!!

they're definitely hinting at a homecoming arc for juno. i think nureyev needs one too, is all.

[lirusstories]

WTCHNG - Septic/Egotober Day 18

TW: Shouting, Spying, Alludment to breaking and entering, Alludment to child abuse (you have to squint to find it)

Egotober:

Septictober: Burns and Numbness

Word count: 575

Henrik hates being angry, hates it, it makes the burn scars on his hands feel like they’re on fire again. The memory of him being pushed into the fireplace and burning and scaring his hands, the feeling of rage quickly cut off by unimaginable pain. And the pain following him throughout most of his life whenever he’d so much as get ticked off.

But here he is, so, so angry and practically charging to the directors office.

He ignores the eyes on him as he exits the elevator, making his way to the directors office door and barging straight through, uncaring of his current phone call.

“And- Whoah whoah what in the world?”

Henrik stands there seething, hands flexing at his side.

“Remove them.” He hisses.

“I'll have to call you back.” The Director tells who's ever on the other side.

“Now, what's this about?” He asks as if he couldn't be bothered, enraging Henrik further.

“REMOVE THEM!” He shouts, slamming his hand.

“Now Dr. Schneeplestein. I'm afraid I can't help if I don't know-”

“The fucking camera's you put in my baby brother's fucking house.” He hisses with a burning rage he's only felt three times before.

Once with his ex-wife (after more therapy than he'd care to admit), Once when Jack was sent into a coma, and Once when Chase went missing.

The Director face falls neutral as he stares at Henrik.

“Now Henrik,“ The Director starts in a false placating way. “I'm not sure what it is exactly you're talking about, perhaps if you sit down and relax we ca-”

He doesn't finish his sentence before Henrik is launching over his desk, grabbing him by the collar and shouting at him

“I DO NOT KNOW HOW FUCKING STUPID YOU THINK I AM BUT I WILL NOT ALLOW YOU TO TORMENT MY FAMILY FURTHER.”

He's so, so angry, trembling and if was paying attention he would notice his hands had gone numb from the burning pain.

If he wasn't so angry, he would have been surprised at the look of concern on the Director's face as well as the soft green glow.

“So, remove the fucking cameras.” He hisses.

The Director is silent for a few moments, staring him in the eyes and it makes Henrik want to throw him out of the window, he won't, he knows better than that, but he fucking wishes he could.

”Fine.“ The Director says. ”I will let-“

”All of their houses.“ 

The director stares at him with a blank look.

“I am not fucking stupid, If you have camera's in Jack's I know without a doubt that you put camera's in the others. And if you do not remove them I will dismantle them myself and leave the Antimatter on your porch.”

The Director, though clearly trying to remain neutral, knows he’s wedged into a corner as he grinds his jaw angrily as the two stare each other down.

“Very well.” The Director grounds out.

He reaches over, pressing a button on his desk and speaking into it.

“Please remove all camera's from the McLoughlin's residence... All of them. Thank you.” He doesn't break eye contact with Henrik the entire time, sitting straight again once he's done speaking.

“There.” The Director says, clearly unhappy. “Better?”

“No.” Henrik responds plainly, still so filled with rage and hatred, and without waiting for a response, he turns around a leaves the office before the Director can say anything else.

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[allthejoeks]

There were two feelings roaring through Yang's head, and while putting words to her feelings had never been easy for her, if she had to do it now, the words for the first feeling would probably be: 'Holy shit, this rules SO hard'. Her secondary feeling was more forlorn: 'But it could rule even harder'..

She was sitting next to a fire holding hands with Blake (Holding hands! She could literally just hold Blake now! Whenever she wanted!) and despite the fact that this was the best thing that ever happened to her, she couldn't help but be distracted. Every time she looked at Blake (she could just STARE at Blake whenever she wanted! Girlfriend pass! Girlfriends. Surely this couldn't be legal.) her eyes drifted over to Ruby, who was looking at Crescent Rose's box like it might eat her. This wasn't right. Her sister wasn't supposed to be like this. She wanted Ruby to be doing... something. Babbling about how she was so excited for her, giving her a knowing smirk or wink, something. She was a full grown woman, she knew that she didn't need her sister's love and support at all times, but she still really wanted it, and it was weird that-

"Worried, huh?" Blake asked.

Yang immediately snapped her eyes back to Blake. "Hah! Worried about this... being a dream, maybe! Cuz you're so dreamy!" Nailed it. Again.

Blake's eyes softened. "Yang."

"Alright, fine! It's just... I want to be so happy about you and me, and- y'know- us, but it's just, Ruby is so-"

"And you can't help but feel bad that you can't help but feel bad, even when you're happy," Blake finished.

Yang nodded her head eagerly. Gods, she was so perfect. "Never feel bad about caring for your sister, even now. In fact, the fact that she's always on your mind is-" Blake pantomimed taking a step. "One of the things I love about you."

Yang beamed. "I didn't think pantomime would be a thing in our relationship, but it OBJECTively WORKs for me."

Blake giggled (she did that! She made her laugh!) "That was atrocious. Clearly you need a breather, go talk with your sister."

Yang nodded again and got up. She wanted to be happy and she wanted her sister to be happy, and she would make it happen, so that she could dive right into being completely happy about Blake, which would rule SO insanely hard.

"Ruby, let's go outside. We need to talk about our periods," Yang announced.

That got more than a few looks, but most importantly, it got Ruby to smile a little. "It's not like Dad's here, Yang. You could just say you want to talk in private."

"Yeah, but Jaune's got the depression beard and air of general sadness, so he's basically Dad."

"Missed you too, Yang," Jaune remarked.

"Oh, it was said with love, Vomit Man," Yang replied, lifting Ruby up by her arm. "Now c'mon, sister time."

As Yang left for outside with Ruby, the half of her that was still honed in on Blake (her girlfriend!) heard her and Weiss chatting.

"Obviously I'm happy for the two of you. Finally, an end to all the gag-worthy mooning and pining."

"Wow, flirting makes you gag, Weiss? Maybe you should be like Jaune, be a bit more mature about this sort-"

"I will fucking END you, Belladonna."

Yang snorted to herself while Ruby just looked at her confused. Oof, she really was in her own head.

They turned the corner and sat down on Jaune's firewood pile. Ruby just sort of stared at her while Yang mulled over what she was going to say. She only just now realized she didn't actually know what to say. This wasn't a problem her little sister was having, it was a problem a world-saving Huntress was having. How do you even handle something on that scope? After thinking on it for a solid minute, (while at the same time being unnerved that Ruby was letting the silence span a whole minute) Yang thought she had her angle.

"So..." Ruby ventured finally. "You and Blake, huh?"

"Ruby, you don't need to try and talk to me about Blake. I know you don't want to right now."

"What? No, of course I'm happy for you-"

"You're not. Not right now, at least. And that's fine," Yang insisted, cupping her sister's face in her hands. "Do you know why it's fine?"

Ruby stared at her in silence. Yang could practically feel her desperation for some sisterly advice. Well, too bad.

"It's fine because Ruby, I am over the fucking moon right now."

"I- what?"

"I am stoked. Thrilled. De-fucking-lighted. Our world's on fire and maybe we're trapped in this one, but it doesn't matter because I made out with Remnant's Hottest today."

"Well that's... great," Ruby said, wriggling her face out of Yang's hold, clearly annoyed.

"Yes. It is great. Because you did it. Sister of the year. Ultimate wingwoman. Literally wouldn't have happened without you."

"I mean, I think Blake would've eventually made a move, probably?" Ruby offered.

Yang both loved and hated that Ruby knew she wouldn't have been the first to break the ice. "Probably," she agreed. "But she didn't have to, because your leadership led us to a place that made us get together. I'm serious, Rubes, the punderstorm gave us mood lighting. It was insane."

Ruby immediately curled up on herself. "Well, that makes one person my leadership has helped..." she grumbled 

"Well, I hope two," Yang reasoned. "It would be a bummer if Blake just wished this didn't happen."

"OK but I'm sure the entire city of Atlas would-"

"And I'm not talking about Atlas," Yang interrupted. "I'm talking about me. Look, Ruby, I'm not... no, I'm always going to be your big sister, but that's... I can't always be your big sister anymore, you get me?"

"Not at all."

Yang scratched her head. "Right, yeah, didn't make sense to me either. It's like... you've outgrown me, I guess? You're the leader, you're the shotcaller, I can't offer you advice on the shit you have to do, because the things you have to do are just so... wildly beyond me. Like, I know you want some wisdom on how to save the world, but I can't offer that, because I'm too busy getting laid… Please don’t tell Blake I said that."

Ruby smirked, and for a brief second, Yang had her little sister back. "No promises."

Yang jostled her, trying to eke out a giggle. "Oh, c'mon, I literally JUST got her! Be merciful, oh great leader! You're holding years of silent effort in your hands."

And just like that, the idea of even imaginary responsibility shut Ruby down again. Shit, alright, she had to double down.

"Hey, Ruby, look at me," Yang intoned. "I can't speak for Atlas, I can't speak for the world, but I can speak for me. The person you are, the decisions you've made, my life is objectively better off for them. I am happy. I know you've got the weight of the world on your shoulders, and I can't shoulder it for you, but I can tell you that you don't have to carry mine. I'm good, you did it."

Ruby leaned back, pressing her head against Jaune's wall and took a long, deep breath. "That's a relief to hear," Ruby muttered, before turning to look at Yang with a smile. "You were just so fat, it was exhausting."

Yang immediately put Ruby in a headlock and started noogieing her. "I take it all back," she said, thrilled to hear a pearl of laughter from Ruby. "You're a little gremlin of a sister and I hope something comes around and eats you."

After a moment, Ruby started swatting her leg, so Yang let her go.

"But yeah, I just wanted to say, mission accomplished, Rubes. You made my life kick ass. So not to worry.Just focus on yourself right now.”

“I am focusing on myself,” Ruby grumbled. “The problem is ‘myself’ is a miserable failure, and I can’t justify being happy when I’m… that.”

“Hmm… have you tried making out with Weiss? Macking with my partner did wonders for me.”

“Yang!”

“Right, sorry, look, I get what you’re saying. The world is so crazy right now, it feels hard to be happy. But if there’s one thing I’ve come to accept,” Yang said, staring down at her right arm. “It’s that nobody deserves anything. I don’t deserve to be happy, you don’t deserve to be unhappy. We get what we get. And if we like it, great! If not…” She shifted her arm, examining the paint job. “We keep getting stuff until we like what we have.”

“And what if there’s no more good stuff to get?”

“There’s always going to be good stuff, Rubes. I genuinely don’t think Weiss would even say no-”

“Not that.”

“But a little bit that. We’re all still alive, are you saying that Team WBY isn’t a good thing?”

Ruby wrinkled her nose. “Weird way to say it, but I mean… yes, you guys are good.”

“And you have us, always and forever!”

“Until the apocalypse comes, any day now.”

“Sure, but you’ll be dead too then, so who cares?”

Ruby stared up into the starless sky and sighed. “This is a terrible pep talk.”

Yang joined her in her looking. What had been a creepy black expanse just the day before didn’t even bother her now. “I don’t think it’s too bad, all things considered.”

“Hm, yeah, all things considered, guess not.”

Yang reached over and ruffled Ruby’s hair. Her hand couldn’t feel her hair like it used to, but the gesture carried the love she wanted it to all the same. They sat together in a bit more silence. Yang glanced over at her sister, eyes in the sky and far beyond it, trying to piece together how to carry the whole world or die trying. She really wasn’t little baby Rubes anymore.

“Alright, that’s enough considering for me,” Yang declared, getting up. “And I’m going to go inside and start getting some happiness. Care to join me?”

“I… want to be alone for a little bit,” Ruby said. But then she broke her gaze from the sky and looked at Yang. “But I’ll try and join you as soon as I can, big sis. Love you.”

Yang beamed at her sister.

“All I’ve ever wanted to hear.”

[sl0wdiver]

Get to know me tag from @heffer-wen - thank u so much for letting me have my Oprah intverview 😍

Tagging @bakingblues @jarrodsbowen @merlinn @drunkenromantic @ruben-dias and @canirove!

1. Do you make your bed? Every damn day I sure as hell do. Cushions and throw and all.

2. Favourite number? Always very fond of 28 as it's my birthday. 147 as well. Not that I believe in angel numbers but I see it everywhere.

3. What's your job? That's a secret but it's corporate and it's boring and I'm planning on leaving in October!!

4. If you could go back to school, would you? Secondary school you couldn't pay me enough to do again. It's taken me the best part of a decade to get over it. Much as I would consider going back to uni, I can't be arsed with exams and coursework. Really enjoy not having to be assessed on things. I love studying though!

5. Can you parallel park? Nine times out of ten, yes. I've also managed to start doing it without stressing to high heaven or swearing!

6. Do you think aliens are real? Positively. However, I think the majority of life in the universe is probably like how our planet has been for the majority of its life - either microbial or unintelligent (by our standards). The chances of us existing at the same time as another intelligent species who are close enough that we could make contact with them is unfortunately very small. I would love to see the day we do receive something from a nearby star. Contact is one of my favourite films ever and I think paints the most realistic picture of what that might look like.

7. Can you drive a manual car? I wouldn't drive anything else.

8. Guilty pleasure? Gonna sound so pretentious here but I've moved on from guilty pleasures. I embrace everything that I love and want to enjoy.

9. Tattoos? None at the moment, and probably never. I'm not averse to them, but I don't have anything that I'd really want to put on my body. Closest I've thought however is getting "Fire, walk with me" somewhere because I fucking love Twin Peaks and I saw someone recently with it on their back.

10. Favourite colour? Tough to pick one, but my favourite shades sit around navy blue, aquamarine and turquoise. Colours of the ocean and especially oceans in the summer.

11. Favourite type of music? Truthfully, I can genuinely get along with anything, and I absolutely love SO much different types of music for all sorts of reasons. Easier to list of the stuff that I can't do, namely Hair/Glam Metal, Southern Rock and stuff that's generically put under 'Classic Rock' (I love SO much music from the 60s and 70s, but 'Classic Rock' is not a genre, it's something invented by the likes of Rolling Stone magazine and people in YouTube comment sections of Beatles songs writing "I was born in the wrong generation" to jerk themselves off to. Get a grip).

The way I see it, if it's compelling to me, I will enjoy it. I have a million playlists on Spotify for every mood I find myself in.

12. Do you like puzzles? Some. Word ones tend to be my favourite, and I used to do sudoku quite a lot. It's not really my thing though.

13. Any phobias? Basophobia. Specifically, having no grip on my feet. I'm also quite claustrophobic.

14. Favourite childhood sport? Much like @heffer-wen who tagged me in this, I was arty and quite averse to sport. I went to an all-boys school which was absolutely febrile for getting us to play football, rugby and cricket. Hated them all, and ironically now love watching the latter two.

I did, however, love cycling, badminton, kayaking and bodyboarding, and still do. Don't do any of them competitively but I make sure to bodyboard at least once a year.

15. Do you talk to yourself? All the fucking time. There are so many scenarios happening in my head. Someone HAS to broadcast them, right?

16. Tea or coffee? For years, neither. Then in uni, tea took over my life. Then, shortly before I came out, iced coffee entered my life like a freight train. Now, I love both. Tea is my regular go-to and coffee is more of a treat, but I like them in pretty much all forms. I'm blessed in Cardiff to have the choice of Portugese or Turkish coffee basically on my doorstep and it's fucking brilliant. Earl Grey and Redbush are favourite tea flavours.

17. First thing you wanted to be when growing up? Something in engineering. I was and still am obsessed with planes, trains, cars, bridges, buildings, the like. Turns out I absolutely sucked at studying for the Maths and Physics bits but hey ho, I still enjoy reading about those subjects.

18. What movies do you adore? Where the fuck do I begin. Go read my Letterboxd, it's easier.

As a very, VERY brief overview however, the films I absolutely adore are:

Amadeus

Apocalypse Now

The Incredibles

Call Me By Your Name

Blade Runner

The complete Lord of the Rings trilogy

The complete original Star Wars trilogy (IV and V especially)

Stop Making Sense

The Dark Knight

Raiders of the Lost Ark

Pulp Fiction

Mean Girls

Shrek 2

And SO many more but I'll be here all day listing them out.

[your-divine-ribs]

I’m With the Band Part 9

Words: 2k

Those smutty merch boards make an appearance… 🤭

I’m With the Band Masterlist Main Masterlist

I linger around the bar area whilst the band are setting up their kit. The drink choice in here is pretty dire and I end up reluctantly ordering a lager.

"Hold on... make that 6 pints actually," I tell the bartender, with the lads in mind.

"Now there's a welcoming sight!" Johnny smiles as he sees me making my way across the room, awkwardly carrying three pints which is as many as I can manage in one go. "Here... let me give you a hand..."

I thank him as he jumps down from the stage and rushes over to the bar to grab the remaining plastic pint glasses. "So... have I converted you to lager then?"

"It's not like I've got a lot of choice in here," I start to grumble, about to go off on a rant, but then I check myself. I really don't want Johnny to think that I'm fussy and difficult. "But it's not so bad," I add quickly. "Maybe I'll get even more used to it when we're on tour."

This comment raises a joyful smile on Johnny's face. "You know I'm so glad you're coming with us, I'm really looking forward to spending more time with you."

The feeling's mutual, I think, but I don't say it.

"I'm sure it's going to be loads of fun," I reply as I reach the stage and Johnny boosts himself up and reaches for his guitar. "Hey... maybe you could teach me how to play the guitar or something while we're on the road."

I don't actually mean it, but Johnny's eyes have lit up like I've suggested something truly amazing. "You know, that's a brilliant idea. I'd love to! I'm a really good teacher... I'm very patient."

Van's adjusting the height of his microphone stand and he looks up when he catches the tail end of my and Johnny's conversation. "What are you pair on about?"

I don't get chance to answer as at that precise moment Larry strides in, his voice loud and booming. "Here it is lads!"

I turn to see him carrying a large board with handwritten scrawl all over it. "This is the best one yet, I'm telling ya!"

"C'mon then, let's see!" Van shouts, excitement in his voice.

Johnny shakes his head but he's smiling nevertheless. "I swear you guys are gonna get in trouble for this one day. Someone's gonna take offence ya know."

"What is it?" I ask, intrigued.

Larry's grin gets wider if that's even possible as he turns the board towards me so that I can view it properly. "Made us our own special merch board to put behind the stand. We do one for every gig!"

My eyes dart over the board which is advertising all sorts of lewd services, each with a price. Notable mentions are 'signed titties £2', 'cum shots £3' and a 'catfish special' which would set the lucky purchaser back... yes you guessed it... £69.

I feel like I've been transported back to secondary school amongst a group of pre-pubescent boys the way they all start sniggering at my look of disgust.

"For fucks sake Larry!" I groan. "How old are you? 15? Please don't tell me you're actually going to display this!"

"Larry... I told you to leave me out of this!" Bob suddenly stops laughing as he notices that he's got a special mention on the board. "If Lucy sees it she's going to go mad!"

"Kate's not going to be happy either," Benji adds, but then he reads a line marketing Larry's services and his face creases as he can't hold back a laugh.

"Come on Bells, it's dead funny, and no one actually takes it seriously," Larry says, then he gives me a wink. "Hey I'm sure Van'll give you a discount if you ask nicely!"

The guys erupt into laughter again, and I try to keep a straight face but actually, I'm starting to see the funny side. I'm not sure whether it's because I've just spotted 'Exorcism by Van £25' on the board, or the fact that as I stand there with the lads and watch them laughing and joking with each other I'm suddenly struck by how daft and down to earth and just... plain normal they all are.

They're not like the boys from back home at all. They're not like Dominic who threw a hissy fit when I got lip gloss on his dad's Porsche's leather seats, or Oscar who would rather bore me about the size of his trust fund rather than actually listen to what I've got to say. In fact they couldn't be more different. And I'm growing to like it in spite of myself.

"I can't believe the small print!" I giggle as I read it out loud. "'Orgasm not guaranteed due to small penis disease!' I mean, you're not exactly selling it are you lads? You should be 'bigging' yourselves up, if you know what I mean!"

This comment earns me laughs all round and various other suggestions for the board are bandied around which have us all cracking up until we're clutching our bellies and have tears rolling down our cheeks. I can't remember the last time I just let go and laughed so much.

"That's nothing Arabella," Johnny grins. "You should hear what Van tells interviewers about his... errr... bedroom skills!"

"Yeah!" Benji chips in, looking at Van. "What was it you said at that interview last week? Oh yeah, that's it. 'I'm so, so, so bad in bed!'"

I look at Van too, raising my eyebrows with a smirk. He just looks right back at me, mirroring my smirk with one of his own, shrugging as he speaks. "Well? Never had any complaints, have I? Must be 'cause I'm incredible with my hands!"

I've practically drained my second pint of lager by the time the lads are ready to properly soundcheck, and I'm having a great time. I'm flitting between the boys, getting to know each of them better, and my London friends and all the parties that I'm sure to be missing out on couldn't be further from my mind.

"Are you ready then Bella?" Van says, giving me a look which makes my belly flip and I nod, jumping down from the stage and taking a spot right at the front with a perfect view of all the boys. If only the venue could remain like this for the whole evening with me as the only audience member.

Van turns to the other band members and they discuss what they're going to play, deciding on a couple of old songs.

The first thing I hear is Johnny's rousing guitar riffs, followed by Benji's bass and then Bob's drums kick in. The music pumps adrenaline straight into my bloodstream, and I can feel my body responding. I'd dance if I was in a crowd but I feel self-conscious on my own so I just nod my head and sway slightly to the beat.

Then Van starts strumming and he steps up to the mic, screwing his eyes shut as he begins to sing.

“She lights a cigarette in my face

And says let's get good and lost for a while

'Cause I can't stand the people round here”

Wow...

His voice is the perfect mixture of smooth and gravelly, and I find myself instantly hypnotised. I'm just glad he's got his eyes closed as I realise that I'm staring. Like properly staring. Fuck... seeing him up there on the stage is making my pulse start to race.

His eyes flick open and lock right on to mine as he sings the next line.

“The things that I do

Just to get you out of those clothes

Because they love my floor”

I never usually blush but this makes warmth instantly flood my cheeks. Van doesn't take his eyes off me for the rest of the song. He knows exactly what he's doing.

As soon as the song comes to an end, Van nods to Johnny and they immediately launch into another. Van's got that smouldering look in his eyes again as he starts to sing.

“When her mind's corrupt

She'll ring me up

And say baby I'm alone

And I've got ideas

Won't you please come and pick me up?”

He's got ideas? Well... I certainly have...

In fact if he doesn't stop looking at me like that I'm not going to be responsible for my own actions.

I eventually wrench my eyes away from Van to look at the other band members. Bob's totally immersed in the music, looking a million miles away from his shy self now, flinging his head around as he pounds out the beat. Benji's focussed, keeping his head down but as I watch he looks up to give me a sweet smile. My gaze travels to Johnny, and he's looking at me too. I watch his fingers fly effortlessly up and down the frets. He's absolutely mesmerising to look at... but still I find my eyes straying back to Van...

“I just want to know, how you feel, about us

And I, just want to know where you spent last night

'Cause I just want to know how you think about him when you're with me

Like you do with her, she said, please honey save it”

As the last bars of the song play out I begin to clap loudly. "You guys were pretty good, I'm impressed!" I grin at each of them in turn.

"Wait till ya see the real thing!" Van calls out, and I nod, then turn swiftly and make for the toilets.

What is it about musicians? I knew I had a weakness but these guys are going to get me into trouble, I just know it.

I finish up in the toilet and look at myself in the mirror. My cheeks are still a little flushed and my eyes are sparkling with excitement for what the rest of the evening will hold. I hate to admit it to myself but sending me to stay with Larry is turning out to be one of the best decisions my parents ever made. I pout at my reflection and push open the toilet door with force. I hear a loud "OOF" noise as the door connects hard with someone who's standing directly behind it.

"Oh my god I'm so so..." I begin, until I pull the door back to reveal Van standing there, grinning at me.

"Oh... it's just you..."

"I know you're pleased to see me really!" He smirks.

I don't say anything, just go to push past him but he steps in my path, barring my way. "So what did ya think then?"

He looks expectant, like he thinks I'll start simping on the spot, but I don't want to fuel his ego. "You were pretty good... like I said. I've only heard a few songs though."

"Maybe I wasn't on about the music..."

I can tell exactly what he's insinuating by his wolfish grin. He stands there, hands outstretched to the walls on either side of the thin corridor, like he's offering up some kind of irresistible treat to me just by being there. And the infuriating thing is... he actually is...

Don't give in Bella... play hard to get...

"God, you're so full of yourself!" I say, crossing my arms across my chest in a defensive pose.

Van just raises an eyebrow. "So you don't fancy me then?"

"Actually no I don't!" I retort. "Just because the fans are all falling over themselves to shag you, doesn't mean I am too! I have standards."

Van's grin grows even wider, clearly enjoying winding me up. "So if I went to kiss you right now, you'd stop me?"

I'm used to guys being upfront but Van's cocky brand of confidence is on a whole other level. And what's more, as maddening as I find it, it actually makes him even more tempting. I find my gaze dropping down to his lips which are slightly parted. They look soft and full, and very inviting...

I fix him with a seductive smile, looking up at him through my lashes. "Well, why don't you try it and find out...?"

[ase-trollplays]

Visiting Hours

"Hey, asshole. You remember me?"

Ruvlin stared at the pajama-clad bronze standing in front of him, arms crossed and eyes narrowed with a deep frown on their lips. He looked them over for a moment, then briefly at the white void the two found themselves in.

"... No?" he responded and was met with a scoff from the other troll.

"Of course you don't. You probably don't bother to remember anyone that you murder," they accused with venom dripping from their voice. Ruvlin sighed and removed his ushanka to run a hand through his hair.

"Okay, I think I get it. You're someone I killed on the job, aren't you."

The brown marched up to him furiously. The top of their head only barely passed his shoulders, though they had no problem grabbing him by the collar and forcefully yanking him down to their eye level with one hand so they could get right in his face. Ruvlin's eyes widened for a moment before he returned to a neutral, nonplussed expression which only seemed to upset his antagonist further.

"Do you even care about the lives you ruin?? Or is it just another Tuesday for you?!" they spat and gave him a hard shake in an attempt to get some kind of reaction out of him. He gave a small sigh and looked away, which they responded to by slapping him on the side of the head with their free hand.

"Fucking look at me! My name is Amprus Dorzuh! I was a graphic novelist who did lusus whispering on the side! I was in a lowblood gang that protected our end of the city from highbloods looking to assault and abuse us! I had amazing friends I would and did kill for who would do the same for me! I had someone I was crushing hard on and never got to tell him! I had a life! I was a person!"

"What do you want me to do, exactly??" Ruvlin responded in frustration, though he made no move to push Amprus away or make them let go. He simply returned their harsh glare with a glare of his own.

"You think I enjoy my job? I fucking hate what I do. I hate traumatizing people and ruining their lives, especially kids. I hate when I'm forced to kill other trolls so I can kill their lusii. I hate that I had to kill my own goddamn lusus just to avoid being killed myself. I hate the person this job made me into, someone who can't even feel bad about this shit anymore or I'd blow my fucking brains out. The only thing I hate more than this is the fleet, which is exactly where I would be if I wasn't doing this shit."

Ruvlin's fins flared angrily, and the two of them remained in silent, tense eye contact before he spoke again.

"I'm sorry. That probably doesn't mean shit to you, but I am."

"You didn't even give me a good death. You made me die slowly and in overwhelming pain. You could have just plugged me in the head. I would have died quick and painless. Instead, you gut shot and kneecapped me."

"And I'm sorry for that, too."

"Being sorry doesn't fix what you did."

"Literally nothing will fix what I did unless you happen to know a really good necromancer. I still don't know what you expect from me. If you want me to grovel at your feet and beg for your forgiveness, I can do that."

Amprus scoffed and shoved him away from them. He stumbled a bit then straightened out his shirt collar and put his hat back on.

"I could have you killed. That won't fix anything, but it'll save more people from being casualties of your job."

"There'll always be other orphaners. I'm just a cog in a machine; killing me isn't going to save anyone."

"Okay, but it'll make me feel really, really good."

"Fair enough. Don't expect me to make it easy, though. I have a life and friends, too."

"And you don't deserve any of it."

"Again, fair enough."

Amprus gave him a hard stare before groaning and turning away. "Whatever. Just watch your back, fish."

...

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...

...

...

...

Ruvlin slowly opened his eyes and sat up in his recuperacoon in his secondary hive. It was rare for him to dream, and he typically didn't remember them upon awakening the few times he did. That one, however, was branded into his mind. He grabbed his palmhusk and checked the time: 2:50 in the afternoon.

No one else in their right mind would be awake at this hour, and he found himself not so tired anymore, so he climbed out of the recuperacoon, toweled off the residual sopor slime, and made his way to the living room to boot up one of his gaming systems.

[zaptap]

it's been over a year since atsv came out... which also means it's been over a year since i started reading spider-man comics (well. spider-people comics, since i'm reading about the other ones too)

just made it to 2008--or, in other words, i just read one more day. wow that really was bad huh. you could really tell nobody involved in writing the comics at the time wanted to do that. literally every character telling peter he should let aunt may die. madam web helps him get in contact with may's spirit and even she says to let her die

but noooo, the editorial people are like we can't have peter parker married to a supermodel anymore because kids can't relate to it enough. he needs to go back to being just a normal guy, with the proportionate strength and agility of a spider, who is also single just like our target audience. also we can't simply make him divorced because that would age him too much so we'll have him make a deal with mephisto that retcons his 20-years-of-comics marriage out of existence to save his aunt who probably should have stayed dead after she died in the clone saga. even though we decided using mephisto to end the clone saga wouldn't fit for a spider-man story we're still going to use him here

anyway from what i hear spider-man comics might not ever have been good since this point? at least the ones about peter parker. only a few more years until miles shows up (and i'll get to pick up ultimate spider-man again, after reading up until just after peter died a year ago and deciding to give 616 another shot), and then a few years after that spider-verse will introduce spider-gwen

and the jms run was pretty good, as i'd heard. despite one more day, despite sins past (apparently they retconned that one recently thank god. literally the entire time i read it im like what the FUCK were they thinking who thought this was even remotely a good idea). though these years were still somewhat annoying to get through because i didn't like the secondary spider-titles much

[casspurrjoybell-31]

The Consort's Will - Chapter 22 - Part 2

*Warning Adult Content*

Brayden

"Psst."

I freeze at the hissing noise. It's frantic, hidden.

I lower to my haunches, ready to attack.

Despite the black hallways, my eyes see through the shadows to find the culprit.

A low snarl builds in my chest.

He's wearing night-vision glasses, though they seem to be useless.

He's feeling along the wall to locate my whereabouts and I take the opportunity to watch him from afar.

Another trap, perhaps?

Or a genuine attempt to join my efforts?

He is useless to me.

Any human would be at this point.

However, if the opportunity arises, he could serve as a useful distraction.

I retrace my steps until I'm in his range of sight.

Leo 'psst's at me a second time and I glower in his direction, pressing my finger to my lips to silence him.

Slowly, I nod my head towards the hidden tunnel beside us.

He frowns and shoves his ear against the wall.

A bit of rubble tumbles to the floor at his clumsiness.

My shoulders tense, waiting for the Secondaries to take notice of the noise and our presence.

Their senses are heightened over that of a normal human's.

Leo mouths to me he cannot hear anything.

Of course he can't, he is human.

I focus on Tegan's voice, until the sound waves once again crawl into my ears.

"Pick up the pace, gentleman," she says but it comes off as a warning.

"Our help is needed in the chamber."

'Chamber?'

"It's not like this asshole is making it easy on us," one of the guards argues.

"He can hear us from a mile away."

The footsteps stop.

There's shuffling and I can almost see Tegan's face contorting with fury.

"Then I suggest you all shut the fuck up."

I frown and spin on my heels, fisting a handful of Leo's shirt collar and tugging him towards me.

His shoulders stiffen at my nearness.

Even if he thinks we're on the same side, he still fears me.

I smell it in his blood.

I feel it in his emotions.

"It's where they keep the prisoners," Leo says, visibly gulping.

"It's where they're keeping humans, vamps and..."

I tighten my hold and narrow my gaze on him.

"And?"

He purses his lips.

"And Secondary supporters."

My teeth gnash together.

Reyo is so blind in his hatred that he's willing to turn his back on his own people.

Whatever this 'chamber' is, I am most certain they are doing more than 'keeping' prisoners in it.

Based on the smell of death swirling around me, it is where they are going to die.

"Take me there," I command.

Leo nods, straightening himself out when I release him.

"Why do you think I was coming to find you in the first place?"

I take a step back and gesture for him to lead the way.

He bristles just slightly at my manhandling but wisely chooses to keep moving.

Time is of the essence.

My human's life is in the hands of a madman.

Leo breaks into a quiet jog and I maintain a safe distance behind him.

If this is a trap, I cannot jeopardize us both.

Every few minutes I take a break and listen to the tunnel wall to ensure they are not gaining on us.

Tegan's voice is but a mere whisper now, though it gives me little solace.

As soon as we escape one enemy, we are hurling ourselves into the claws of another.

The further we travel, the thinner the air becomes.

We're encased by hundreds of layers of rock and clay.

The pressure squeezes against my eardrums as we continue to move down, down, down, to the catacombs of Hell itself.

The tunnel narrows and the smell of death is everywhere.

It claws at the air, smothering it with its poisonous decay.

Leo shudders.

His pace slows and he brings a fist to his closed lips to keep from vomiting.

Screams tremor the ground.

Cries of agony.

Cries of pain.

Cries of defeat.

They are screams of human and vampire alike.

"Keep it together, human," I mutter.

Leo stops and lets out a shaky breath.

The fear coursing through him is nearly tangible.

Is it fear of the unknown?

Or fear of once again walking into a nightmare?

I urge him to continue but there is no need.

A flash of light ripples at the end of the tunnel, illuminating the horrors within.

The chamber isn't a set of hallways but rather a room large enough to be a city.

Humans, vampires and Secondaries alike are imprisoned.

Dead bodies are littered everywhere.

The Secondary population cannot keep up with it.

Vials of luminescent green flicker through the darkened chamber.

The 'cure' the very death sentence my human's blood is powering.

Leo shifts behind me.

I hear my human's name fall with disbelief from his lips and follow his gaze.

My blood turns to ice.

Strapped to a chair, unconscious and nearly drained of his blood is my human.

He's fixated to a raised platform.

A human sacrifice for all to see.

There's a human shackled to his feet, one I thought I'd never see again.

'Kelly.'

Confusion swirls through my mind as I try to make sense of it.

Kelly's death... was a lie?

A dark figure moves to stand behind my human and my suspicions are confirmed with sickening defeat.

A vicious smile spreads across Reyo's lips as his eyes lock with mine.

In the twinkle of his gaze, I'm able to finally see the truth behind his evil.

The Secondaries in the tunnel.

Kelly's death.

Gabe.

All were ruses to get me to fight, to get me here.

It was all a trap.

And it worked.

[elizabethrobertajones]

#i have so many thoughts about how I'd conceptually redesign AST from the ground up and think it's such a wasted storytelling space#but this one thing did tickle me because it sort of looped around and answered itself#........ kinda like someone casting a timey wimey spell

Actually, I may as well just type stuff out and try and get this coherent while I'm thinking about it...

So I think the biggest missed opportunity, after literally just reblogging a post about how WHM changes in ShB, is all the stuff we don't get with AST, and most of it is just aesthetic and spell name based stuff that could easily cover existing abilities with a less one-note job (as much as the aesthetic does, of course, fuck severely).

So FIRST of all, even though we learn everything from a Sharlayan, we spend a lot more time IN Ishgard, including unavoidable MSQ interactions with Ishgardian astrologians in ARR. And we don't have a single ability we're allowed to pick up about using the Dragonstar to guide us in an unholy hybrid of the 2 arts that would SUPER get us murdered by Sharlayan assassins?? The potential to have some sort of foretelling based on that and then upgrade the spell at points by which in the MSQ we'd now have VERY different feelings about it including up to EW to get a final for now upgrade in the ability... oooughhhhh...... It could end up using Middy from Omega raid effects just as starters you know?

And then in SB we continue dogmatically learning ONLY Sharlayan astrology, STILL, while spending time learning about geomancy? It would be so fun to use THIS star, Etheirys, in our readings, and have a funny 4 ways elemental spell with idk Swallow's Compass geomancers bell sound effect to annoy a raid with >:)

And again once we're in the First or travelling beyond the bounds of the planet in EW, a spell based on the cosmological location of our home world would absolutely FUCk. Imagine the upgrade when you're assumed to be in the First, where like WHM maybe it becomes light-poisoned.

Or levelling up AST on the Moon and getting a secondary effect to a geomantic ability which adds a rotation of the moon into the spell effect because now you've added that to it and given it a little boost to potency as a result of having planted your feet on the moon and added a geomantic understanding of it to your repertoire XD

The comfort of having something based on home would also be such a The Blackest Night type emotional kick in the feels every time you use an ability named and visually based on Etheirys once you're as far as Elpis or Ultima Thule.

Thinking of which, my final rage is that the Endsinger literally throws planets at us, demonstrating the exact skillset ASTs use of tapping the aetherical signature of distant planets and stars, but amped up to 9000. The fact we can't learn something similar, or get a level 90 ability called like Endsong (again, see: Shadowbringer... *shakes fist at DRK even though once I swap jobs to it from AST it becomes a favourite :P) where we can draw a spell from Ultima Thule itself. It could even be a Dynamis spell - it's not like we don't use it in DRK and DNC pretty blatantly as at least a secondary power source to our usual aether-based spells. Imagine how cool it would be to smite people with a blast of entropy or heal your friends with raw hope? Like we even have the mysterious sunrise in the lying dying with Zenos scene vs the haggard planetary system and melting stars everywhere in UT to draw on.

*rattles the bars of my cage* Let me plaaaaaay with the life experiences we accumulate over the gaaaaaaame

[I am escorted from Sharlayan and my entry papers torn up]

Not a familiar constellation or star in sight. Frog stared at the strange spattering of stars and couldn't feel a whisper of the connection her years of training as an Astrologian had gifted her.

Then she focussed and spoke the familiar words of spells that called out to the patrons of the stars who weren't present, whose associated stars were not even in the sky. And the warmth of the celestial blessing flooded her; the gaze she felt as she drew intercession down to heal answered in the very sigils of gods who weren't even born yet.

"Maybe it's the distant connection through the Crystal Tower," she mused, still dissatisfied and confused, but with no clue where to look next.

(A malm away in  Anagnorisis, Charmion shivered and blinked, and looked around at her coworkers, seeing they'd startled too. "Did you just feel Azem channel a tiny bit of aether from you too? I wonder what that was for! Maybe the familiar is still here and she needed some more?"

They shrugged about it as Weird Azem Things, the least of which had happened that afternoon, and went back to their work)

...

Frog still trying to understand how Astrologian worked out in Elpis before Myths of the Realm answered some very pressing questions and took the mystic woo out of AST's prayer-based spells.

"Job" for FFXIV Vanilla Gpose Challenge... My favourite thing you can do in just vanilla gpose is playing with all the spells and abilities, watching them frame by frame and appreciating details that whoosh by in combat.

.... yeah that's her current AST glam; if we're not using mods I'm not buying a half dozen pots of the expensive dark blue dye to recreate her levelling gear, we're errrrrrrrrr doing a meta commentary on the limitations of vanilla gpose for storytelling. Or time is fake in Elpis. :P

[messier-47]

How the Space-Time Jutsu could have worked

In this essay I will-

SHARE how YOUR FAVORITE Naruto character could possible be able to go FORWARD or BACKWARD in time using BASTARDIZED SCIENCE! :D

Look, look, i have a casual make-up-break-up relationship with physics so while I may know the bitch I can't give you the deets, ya feel me? So either take everything I say with a grain of salt or say "fuck it" and run with it at full speed.

Okay, the Time Space jutsu I'm pretty sure canonically is a backwards summoning jutsu which means that the summonee can summon themselves and doesn't need to be summoned by a secondary party. pretty nifty.

Not cool enough for me. I need the Space Time jutsu to break the laws of physics.

Sadly, this theory DOES NOT BREAK THE LAWS OF PHYSICS but uses the Laws to support it's claim. (this theory would realistically vaporize the human body but we're talking about Naruto here and we all know that Death is just a concept to polite step around)

Okay so: Time Travel

Time is a linear force that can either speed up or slow down but it can never go backwards. However to prove something exists is to slow down time to catch the subject moving from point A to point B what the fuck does that mean? It means that if you cannot see that something is moving from Point A to Point B, then does it really exist? Yes, you just have to speed up time or slow it down. That means that TIME is the quantity that proves that everything existed within a space.

However the human eye can only see things at X amount of speed. For now I'll say 60fps cause that's what most video games are going for. The human eye can see things easily at 60fps and HD is probably 300 fps. But we are still limited by time. Things going FASTER that 300fps CANNOT be seen moving from point A to point B

The Sharingan is a dojutsu that let's the human eye see at 600fps

Which means to the Uchiha time slows down cause they're intaking much more information than the average human being.

Now we talked a bit about how Space and Time hold each other's hands in order for an object to be proven to exist

how the fuck does it turn into time travel?

Time travel would mean that you as an object/subject move faster than the human eye, moving faster than the sharingan to get from Point A to Point B

that's it. that's all it is. in it's most simplest terms, it doesn't mean that you go at light speed or break dimensions you're just simply moving faster than the human eye could register that you moved at all

Here's how you break time

Now in physics there's this big fancy rule called "Conservation of Mass" which states: nothing is made new. you break H2O down to it's atoms you now have gas but it's not brand new atoms; it's 2 atoms of Hydrogen and 1 atom of Oxygen. everything within the solar system is used, reused, and recycled over and over again because it's atomic componets never cease to exist.

which means that In The Beginning, all matter existed, it just hasn't transmuted into something more

but how do you transmute?

Energy

the Big fucking Bang set the universe of fire and we're the grimy little worms that frolic in the ashes

Okay, but that would mean that there are two definable objects in the world: atoms and energy. and Energy, as the Law of Conservation of Mass says, CANNOT BE MADE. it comes from somewhere else. "An object at rest stays at rest unless an outside force acts upon it" energy is TRANSFERABLE it is FELT and can be CALCULATED but energy isn't an atom. it's not on our periodic table. So what the fuck is it?

Energy is a wave

You know Radiowaves? Microwaves? the spectrum of light? the waves of radiation currently giving people skin cancer? that's all just energy being felt, being seen, being measured and IT's ALL RIGHT THERE! However the Law of Conservation still exists: nothing new can be created

then that means that all the energy of the universe existed well before the Big Bang

How does this translate into timetravel?

Space-Time jutsu is just "How to get from point A to Point B so fast that the human eye can't prove that I traveled?" but Time travel is slightly different and it's how everyone in Naruto is able to go back in time in all those fanfictions

It's simple: In a fantasy world where souls can be reincarnated and bodies can withstand tremendous amounts of power (looking at you jinchuuriki) it's possible for a human body to become energy

Cool right? Now here's what's cooler: Energy existed always. The same energy it took for a butterfly to flap it's wings could be the same bit of energy that whips up a tornado. The same energy for 23 men to stab Julius Caesar could be the same energy that makes a tree grow.

But how do you prove energy? Do you have to slow down or speed up time? especially if it's a "Wave" like I said?

here's the thing: Energy exists OUTSIDE OF FUCKING TIME SO IF YOU'RE A BODY OF PURE ENERGY YOU COULD SKIP THROUGH TIME cause if all energy existed always and all energy exists outside the dimensions of time that means TIME IS YOUR BITCH

Space-Time Jutsu? it's the simplest for of how to get from Point A to Point B

but the potential at your very fingertips is being able to jump around time because you exist as a conscious wave length of energy

Okay done ranting I'm going to bed just wanted to share cause its too freakin cool not to hold it all in hope y'all understood

[thrownswiftly]

Let's break this down, shall we?

Next, we feel we owe it to everyone to share some information to help explain what happened:

Yeah we know we fucked but like we're gonna give you "reasons" that don't excuse why it happened/how we fucked up.

Keeping bots out of queues and avoiding overcrowding helps to make wait times shorter and onsales smoother.

Let's remind you why bots are bad so you forget that we are the ones that fucked up.

Over 3.5 million people pre-registered for TaylorSwiftTix Presale powered by Verified Fan, which is the largest registration in history.

There are too many of you Swifties. And scalpers. But mostly Swifties, because as you'll see later... not many bots or scalpers got tickets.

However, this time the staggering number of bot attacks as well as fans who didn’t have codes drove unprecedented traffic on our site, resulting in 3.5 billion total system requests – 4x our previous peak.

Well, except here. Bots did try to get in but they didn't get tickets. Not a lot anyway.

We handle onsales for countless top tours, some of the biggest sporting events, and more.

Ignore the fact that we're literally their only option. It's obviously not because we're a monopoly or anything.

Overall, we estimate about 15% of interactions across the site experienced issues, and that’s 15% too many, including passcode validation errors that caused fans to lose tickets they had carted.

This is an arbitrary percentage we think sounds reasonable. It was actually probably higher than that, but y'all can't prove otherwise so nyah.

Over 2 million tickets were sold on Ticketmaster for Taylor Swift | The Eras Tour on Nov. 15 – the most tickets ever sold for an artist in a single day.

Because she's too popular.

All 2 million tickets for the Verified Fan onsale were sold to Verified Fans.

Not a single bot or scalper. Or if they did get tickets, they were obviously Verified Fans. Bots like Taylor Swift too!

Less than 5% of the tickets for the tour have been sold or posted for resale on the secondary market. Onsales that don’t use Verified Fan typically see 20-30% of inventory end up on secondary markets.

You believe this percentage too right? Right?!

The biggest venues and artists turn to us because we have the leading ticketing technology in the world – that doesn’t mean it’s perfect, and clearly for Taylor Swift | The Eras Tour onsale it wasn’t.

Again, because we're awesome. Not because we are literally the only choice and have a monopoly on the ticket and entertainment industry.

We’re working to shore up our tech for the new bar that has been set by demand for the Taylor Swift | The Eras Tour. Once we get through that, if there are any next steps, updates will be shared accordingly.

We could do a boost system like she did for the reputation stadium tour like you guys are suggesting, bit like... we lost money on that because scalpers and bots didn't get as many tickets as usual sooooo..... nah. We'll think of another way to screw you over but make it look nice.

Even when a high demand onsale goes flawlessly from a tech perspective, many fans are left empty handed.

You didn't get tickets because you didn't move fast enough. It's not all our fault. Be better.

[angel-dust-addict]

That actually got a chuckle out of Angel. He smiled tiredly down at Nuggets a he spoke, telling Alastor, "Can't make any promises. He ain't too good wit' secrets. He likes somebody, he don't get hidin' it." That smile faltered slightly and he turned his head just enough to see Alastor out of the corners of his secondary eyes. "An' somethin' tells me ya ain't too keen on scarin' 'im enough ta make 'im reconsida'."

Given Nuggets seemed to like Alastor on the basis of the deer's treatment of Angel, the spider doubted Alastor would be willing to do the sorts of things that would make Nuggets fear him. No, that would put him too close to Valentino in his behavior. The pig had been witness to a number of heinous things Val had done to the little swine's mama. Not to mention Val had done a good job of making the pig hate him based solely on his actions towards Nuggets himself. Angel couldn't quite imagine Alastor being so senselessly cruel to the tiny creature. Val had hated Nuggets and the feeling had been very much mutual.

The peace of the moment was shattered by the shrill chiming of Angel's phone. The mere sound seemed to set him on edge, his eyes widening and the smile vacating his face, replaced by a look of fear. He winced as he lunged for the device, but that didn't make him stop. It was apparent by the look of despair who was calling, but he muttered anyway, "Shit, that's Val. Fuck. He don't usually call this early."

Without waiting for any sort of response from Alastor, Angel managed to hit the answer button with one shaking finger and raised the device to his ear. "Val? What's up? Ya don't usually call this early."

"Angel Cakes," came the saccharine reply, slightly tinny through the phone speakers. "Just wanted to check on my best star. We left our discussion yesterday at a... precarious point."

"Yeah..." Angel's expression was fast shifting from fear to overwhelming dread and hopeless resignation. "I, uh..."

"Ran out on me?" Val supplied helpfully. "Don't worry, babe. I'm not mad. You got scared, I get it."

Angel's eyebrows did some manner of complicated dance as he seemed to process that statement. "Ya do?"

Val's response was sickeningly close to a tone of compassion. "Of course. You made a mistake. I had to correct you. You've always been so sensitive, Angel Cakes. Never took well to criticism. But I only did what needed to be done. You understand, don't you? I don't want to hurt you, but sometimes you don't leave me any other choice."

"Hurt me? Ya nearly fuckin' killed me!" Angel snapped. He immediately looked as though he regretted it, wincing and shrinking in on himself. His gaze fell instantly to the floor, avoiding any and all acknowledgement that Alastor was even still in the room.

"And whose fault is that?" Val hissed. When he spoke again, his tone was back to that sickly sweetness. "Besides, if you hadn't run away... Most of the damage was because you fell down the stairs after you decided not to put forth any effort to make things right. After all, you cost me a pretty penny dragging that shoot out as long as you did. I should have put you out on the street to make up what you owe me for that. But I decided to be nice and let you apologize. It's hardly my fault you decided to spit in my face.

"But that's not why I called. I saw the mess you left all over the stairwell. I know your little tumble down the stairs took quite a toll on you. I just wanted to make sure you were alright. You really did make things much worse for yourself, didn't you?"

Angel still looked like he was somewhere between rage and wanting to hide. His tone, when he reluctantly spoke, was one of resignation and shame. "I... Yeah. Yeah, I guess so."

"You really should have stayed and apologized last night. Or, better yet, done as you were told in the first place. Then I wouldn't have had to correct you. And that would have been so much easier on us both, wouldn't it?" Val prompted. The tone of his comments was downright insulting. He spoke to Angel the way one might speak to an errant child. A particularly dense one.

Still, Angel replied tiredly, "Yeah, I guess."

"What was that, Angel Cakes?" Val prompted again, his words edged in warning.

Angel visibly flinched and mumbled quietly, voice filled with shame and humiliation, "Yes, Daddy."

"Good boy. At least you can see sense now. I suppose that counts for something." The comment had the false air of an apology and forgiveness all at once. "Now, because Daddy loves you so much, I'm going to give you a chance to make it up to me. You'll be in at your regular time, I assume?"

"What?! Val, ya broke my fuckin' arm! I can't dance!" It was fear and dread that colored Angel's voice, not anger. "Val, please, you know I can't dance wit' my arm fucked up."

Val tutted at him chidingly. "Yes, I saw what you did to your arm. Unfortunate that it'll keep you from dancing. We'll have to discuss that tonight. But that wasn't what I had in mind. Like I said, I should have sent you out to make up what you owed me rather than giving you the chance to apologize and make up for it. But I'm nothing if not forgiving. So, I'm going to give you another chance. I even picked out your clients so you don't have to go find them yourself. That sounds more than fair, now doesn't it, baby?"

"Yes, Daddy," Angel agreed miserably. He sounded as though he felt a second death would be more merciful.

"Good boy. I'll see you tonight, then. Don't be late," Val warned before hanging up.

Angel was still for about half a second before hurling his phone at the wall with a wordless noise of anger and despair and intense physical pain. Immediately, he drew his legs up and wrapped his lower arms around them. His uninjured upper hand threaded into his hair as he bowed his head against his knees, yanking with an impressive amount of force. The claws of his lower hands scratched at his outer thighs until they drew thin lines of royal blue. The sound that wrenched itself from his throat was a primal noise of anguish and despair as his shoulders began to shake. There was the faint scent of blood in the air if one had a nose sharp enough to catch it. More than could be accounted for by the scratches, but less than earlier in the day when he had torn his stitches.

Nuggets pawed at the spider's side, his distress clear, but Angel didn't uncurl. If anything, he drew in on himself even tighter, shaking with pain and hopelessness.

angel-dust-addict​:

Angel cringed. Not at anything Alastor had done this time, though. He took the offered hand with only the slightest bit of hesitance - just that same old nagging wariness in the back of his mind - and let Alastor lead him. “Don’t get yaself stabbed 'cause'a me. If it’s Charlie - or Vaggie - I probably oughta go get him. I don’t want 'em givin’ ya any trouble. 'Sides, if yer in here, somethin’s wrong. An’ I’d really ratha’ not have 'em knowin’ about dis. I can hide it. The stitches. That ain’t a problem. Wouldn’t be tha first time. ’M pretty good at it.

"If it’s Niffty,” he continued in a slightly less worried tone. “It ain’t gonna matta’. She don’t knock, first off. But she’s not gonna assume ya stabbed me or decided ta snack on me or some shit. An’ she won’t say shit ta anybody. Wouldn’t be tha first time she’s cleaned up blood in here, much as I try'n keep her out. It’s like tha lock don’t work if it’s her. I’ve just sorta gotten used to it.”

While Alastor registers the cringe, he doesn’t bat an eye at it. Like he told the spear-wielding moth when he first knocked on the hotel’s door, if he wanted to hurt someone, he had ample opportunity to do so. If he wanted to harm Angel, he had six hours where the arachnid was completely defenseless. He could have had his fellow sinner skinned, filleted, and leftovers stored in the meat locker behind the refrigerator (that no one aside from Niffty knows he has.) Angel knows this as well, yet instinct tells him to be wary of anyone who abruptly moves their hand in front of him... 

As he backsteps out of the lavatory, Alastor gives a soft snicker. There’s a fondness in his tone and in his eyes for the little darling of a maid. “I have a theory that our little darling can shift her fingers into the shapes of locks.” He muses. Either that or she squeezes through the bottom of the door. One way or another, the little maid has never let any type of door, fence, or cage stop her. “Something must be distracting her since she hasn’t arrived to collect the bedding.” He thinks aloud, his ears tuning backward in increments, as if searching for a particular frequency. “Would you like me to ask her for him?”

[teaspoon-full-of-sugar]

edge

pairing: harry styles x reader (au)

warnings: smut, dom/sub, exhibitionism, degradation, spit play, choking, face fucking, spanking, ring kink (if that’s even a thing ..?), orgasm denial, unprotected sex, subspace, aftercare, very fluffy and cheesy ending (like seriously so cheesy and cliche pls don’t bully me i didn’t know how to end it)

word count: 4.7k

synopsis: harry and y/n are a cam couple

author’s note: i hope you enjoy! xx all the love 

masterlist

—

It started by accident, really, with a simple, offhand comment one night.

Already two-and-a-half bottles of wine deep, Y/N was close to tears with one glance at their pitiful bank account, and Harry was trying his best to comfort her and assure her that everything would end up fine, but he had absolutely no way to promise her that. Their part-time jobs did very little to cover their monthly expenses, and their next loan payment for school was coming up; needless to say, they were feeling overwhelmed.

And what better to do than drink and complain about your problems when you’re feeling overwhelmed?

“Maybe I should go into porn,” she sighed, and he rubbed his hand under her shirt, trying to soothe her. They knew that they were taking a risk moving across the world for uni, with no backup plan and nothing to fall back on, but in the end, it will, hopefully, be worth it. In the end, they would have a brighter future, despite the mountain of debt, but the middle part, the part where they struggle and contemplate giving up, is so difficult to get past.

“I—I’d do it with you,” he hiccuped, resting his head against her shoulder.

“Maybe we should do our own videos,” she said, “I heard that people can make a lot of money doing that.” Not noticing that he had gone quiet, she continued, laughing and raving. “Could you imagine? Oh, what if we did one of you going down on me? Harry, babe,” she moans lightly, “that would be hot.”

He smiled widely, eyes nearly rolling into the back of his head at the thought; he felt a rush of blood in his groin. They had talked about recording themselves and posting it online before, so the idea wasn’t something they were unfamiliar with, but it normally only happened when they were tipsy, and they never talked about it in any detail like she was. Now, the thought of her recording him between her legs or vice versa, for them to enjoy over and over, made arousal burn in his belly. He could imagine how the camera would shake as she came on his tongue, her hips bucking wildly, hand pulling at his hair. He holds back a moan.

“That would be so hot,” he said, “we should totally do it.” He downs the rest of his wine and pulls out his laptop.

“No,” she giggled, “no, no…”

“‘M doin’ it,” he said.

“Don’t do it,” she argued weakly, making no actual move to stop him. While she seemed to be on the fence about the idea, she had a slight grin on her face, her heart nearly racing out of her chest.

“We are so doing this,” he said, exploring the page. He gasps suddenly and taps on her leg, making her nearly spill the glass of wine. “Y/N, Y/N, Y/N—”

“What? What? What?” She mocked him. With mischievous smirk on his face, he faces her, a slight purple hue to his lips.

“What if we did cam?”

And the rest is history.

Now, they dedicate their Friday nights to do cam videos. It started off as something they did on special occasions, quick little teasers that lasted no longer than ten minutes, but they ended up getting a lot of money for it. It helped pay their school loans and get a head start on their savings, and it gradually turned into a regular occurance.

By the time they are ready to begin their live one evening, it’s nearing ten o’clock. They’re on their bed, pillows and comforter long gone, leaving nothing but faded floral sheets, stretched tautly beneath them. Y/N is nestled into his side while Harry’s on his knees and fiddles with the computer, brows pulled together and lips puckered slightly. She’s tired, her swollen eyelids closing every few seconds. He kisses her forehead, wrapping an arm around her. Their laptop, with the main webcam, is propped up on a stool right behind the footboard, and the secondary camera, a cheap handheld camcorder connected to the computer with flimsy wires, which is used for close up shots, is thrown off to the side. Harry leans back on his heels.

“Ready?” He asks with a teasing smile. Even with such a small gesture, his grin is still infectious, with cute little dimples and laugh lines. She returns the smile. It’s a redundant question at this point, whether or not she’s ready, but Harry asks every time. It never felt like a chore; it was something they both enjoyed, and if they were to grow tired of it, they would stop. They were finally financially stable enough to be able to make the decision.

While initially they decided to start doing cam for the money, it became something that they both enjoyed doing. She always got this little rush of excitement in the seconds before they finally went live. This was the last moment of secrecy they would have for the next hour or so. To many, the thought of some strangers watching her and Harry at their most intimate would make them apprehensive, but she always got this exhilaration from it.

“Always,” she says, stealing one last kiss from him.

It’s a tradition of theirs to hit the “Go Live” button together, cheesy as it is, and tonight is no different. Their faces light up the screen, and they both grin, arousal building with each thrilling second. There is only a moment of calm before dozens of familiar usernames flood the screen.

“See some new ones,” Harry comments under his breath. She rests her cheek against his shoulder, toying with the rings on his fingers. The introduction part is always the most awkward; there is no decorum or set way that they have to be done, and not feeling comfortable using their first names, she and Harry found it difficult to find their rhythm and interact with the viewers. It felt a bit unforthcoming for them to just dive in without saying anything.

“What are we feelin’ tonight, lovie? Soft and vanilla or rough and dirty?” Harry asks, like he normally does.

Comments fill the screen; a lot of them describe what they would do if they were there, but most of them have similar responses: rough and dirty.

The couple very rarely genuinely ask the viewers what they want to see because the most important thing, to them, is that they are enjoying it. What’s the point of doing it if they aren’t enjoying themselves? Sure, they sometimes cater toward the audience (that’s the easiest ways to make any money), but for the most part, they stick to what they both know the other would enjoy. Harry gives her a soft smile, leaning in a little closer. No matter what she wants, it’s all the same to him; as long as he is with her, he likes just about everything.

“Rough and dirty,” she smirks, tongue curling over her teeth teasingly. “I want you to fucking wreck me.” She whispers that part, low enough for only Harry to hear. He hums appreciatively, leaning back.

Ding!

“Be careful what you wish for.”

He kisses her, rough and gnawing, their teeth knocking together with his tongue slipping through, gently prying her lips apart. He bites on her tongue, and she lets out a small whimper, trying to hold off a smirk. Even after all this time being together, since they were just teens, he still knows what makes her tick and ache and melt; he knows exactly where to kiss and bite and lick to make her fall apart. She tucks her arms beneath his own, draping tightly around his waist, her fingertips tracing along the plain of his back, and he shivers.

His hand wraps easily around her throat, another thing he found early on that she enjoyed. He can feel her breathing pick up. She tugs at his bottom lip, suckling at the skin. He digs his fingers deeper into her neck, pressing harshly onto her pulse point. Eyes rolling back, she moans, strained and muffled, breaking slightly, and wraps her hands around his wrist.

“Open,” he beckons, and she does as best as she can, jaw still confined within his strong grasp. Her tongue dips out, ready and willing. “Good girl,” he says, loosening his grip on her throat. A breath of air slips past her swollen lips. Spit dribbles out from his puckered lips onto her greedy tongue. She closes her mouth quickly to keep it all in, his hand tightening around her neck once again. She sighs, head tipping back.

“You know the rules, babylove. Don’t swallow.”

“Mhm,” she nods, voice muffled. Her fingers dip into his boxers, nails tracing over the inked skin. She can trace the outline of his tattoos from memory at this point, every curve, point, and shadow etched in her brain. She pinches the extra skin at his abdomen lightly, and he smiles, pressing a kiss to her swollen lips.

“Wan’ my cock, huh?” He raises a brow. “Should I make you beg?

Ding! Ding!

“No,” she mumbles, pouting slightly. “Wanna make you feel good.” He hums appreciatively, tapping her cheek lightly.

“Taught you well, lovie,” he says. “Down.” He guides her onto her onto her elbows as he adjusts onto his knees, her hands moving back under the elastic band, the tips of her fingers teasing his skin. “Le’ me see,” he coaxes, fingers tugging on her chin. Sure enough, his spit is still in the divot of her tongue. “Good girl, you can swallow now.”

Ding!

Her fingers tease up his thighs and into his boxers, cupping his balls suddenly. He bites his lip, slapping her on the cheek. It’s not enough to do anything more than a slight burn, but it leaves her tingly with her eyes fluttering closed.

“Don’t be greedy, slut,” he spits, yanking her head back by her hair.

“I’m sorry,” she says, “Just want you so bad.”

She tugs his boxers down, but only enough for his hard cock to slip out. She normally starts off slow, teasing him until he can't take it anymore and pushes her all the way down, using her as he pleases. That’s not the case tonight. A part of her wants to take control, to suck him until he’s nearly falling apart, his knees weak. She takes nearly all of him in her mouth, and he gasps with surprise, his hands combing through her hair, guiding her. She gags on him, her bottom lip pressed tightly to his balls. He tugs her back.

“Watch the teeth,” he hisses. She gasps for air, lips lingering on the red, nearly purple, tip. His hips buck. He breathes out through gritted teeth, shaky and heavy.

“Sorry, just wanna make you feel good,” she says, pressing a wet kiss to his hip. She runs her tongue over the divot of his hip bone.

“Want me to fuck your mouth, lovie?” He asks, his fingers tracing over her tender lips. She nods, and he can feel her trying to move, but he holds her back by the hair, grip tight. “Beg,” he says, brows cocked.

“Please, H, want you to fuck my mouth, use me,” she moans, mouthing over the head of his cock. He holds himself steady, teasing her, just barely letting her feel but not allowing her to fully take him in her mouth. A pool of spit slides down her lips and into his hand, wetting the skin even more, before it falls onto the mattress. Her hands travel up the back of his thighs and onto his partially clothed bum, giving him a cheeky squeeze.

“M’kay, relax, babylove,” he says, brushing flyaways from her forehead, the skin already sticky with sweat. “Hold still and look at me. You know the rules.” She looks up at him, wide eyes never breaking from his as he guides his cock down the length of her throat, squeezing and stroking. She barely winces as he thrusts his hips, shoving himself deeper with every move. Her tongue runs along the bottom ridge of his cock, tracing every vein.

Ding!

She squeezes the skin of his thighs, guiding him further down her throat. The filthy wet sounds make her clit throb and her arousal seep into the sheets. There’s absolutely nothing better than seeing him above her, lost in pleasure, his chest flushing red, nearly incoherent: all because of her. There’s also something incredibly intimate about it as well; he always insists on keeping eye contact until there are tears in her eyes. With one hand gripping her hair tightly while the other gently caresses her cheek, he guides himself into her warm mouth. He nibbles on his lip.

“Take it, baby,” he moans, stuffing his cock deeper in her mouth. He traces his fingers along her throat, feeling the muscles swell and contract beneath them. Saliva dribbles from her lips, down her chin and the length of his shaft. She chokes and gags, but she doesn’t let up.

She barely reaches the base, her nose only just grazing the curls before he’s yanking her back, a string of saliva trailing from the head to her swollen lips, which breaks under the force of her gasps, and his cock twitches at the sight of her looking properly wrecked, eyes wide, blown with lust, her lips swollen and wet from spit and pre-cum, and chest heaving.

“Bend over,” he says, tapping her cheek. “Made such a mess, baby,” he says after she moves up, running a hand over the wet patch that formed on the sheets. Like a good girl, she turns until she’s facing the headboard, her glistening pussy on display to their hundreds of viewers. She shakes with anticipation.

Harry doesn’t deter from his normal routine, not touching her until she’s nearly in tears. She can feel the heat from his hand hovering over her skin, and she can feel hungry eyes on her; a small part of her wants to shrink away, but with Harry right beside her, it makes her feel like the strongest, sexiest woman in the world. Harry finally runs a finger along her slit after a few tense minutes and roughly presses into her clit. Her hips buck into his hand, and she presses a cheek into the mattress, moaning with relief.

“Such a good little slut,” he hums. “So wet for us, baby.”

Us.

When he says that, her pussy clenches and a rush of arousal threatens to slip down her trembling thighs; she sinks further into the mattress, sliding down until her chest is pressed tightly to the sheets, and her thighs spread even further until the joints of her hips ache with overexertion, but the pain is welcomed.

“Keep 'em on or off?” He asks.

“On,” she answers, the feeling of his cool rings against her heated skin is comforting almost. Her stomach tingles when he slips two fingers inside her pussy, with his thumb massaging at the tender skin between her holes. He easily finds that spot inside her, the spot that makes

Her orgasm comes painfully soon, her clit throbbing and begging for attention as he fucks her so close to oblivion, his rings adding extra friction to her sensitive walls. The scent of her arousal is thick in the air as it slips down his hands, traveling either down to her belly or her thighs. She’s so close, close enough to taste it; she just needs one more push until her high completely swallows her, bathing her in a warmth that only he’s been able to give her, but she is, perhaps, a little too optimistic. With every helpless jut of her hips, the more frequent moans, and the tightening of her walls, Harry knows the signs of her impending orgasm, but he can’t let her have it that easily.

A pained yelp slips past her lips when he suddenly pulls away and smacks her clit with wet fingers, the fervent climax drifting away until a dull ache, of yearning and lust, is all that remains. He spanks her sensitive pussy and lands two more on her bum. She groans, savoring the sting from his rings, cold yet burning.

“Not yet,” he says, running his hand along her prickled skin. He spanks her, harder than before, and she groans with pleasure. He wants to see the raised imprint of his hand on her smooth skin.

She can feel herself slipping. It starts off slow, a slight fog behind her eyes, and then it drifts and settles, spreading to her limbs. It feels like being high, swaddled in a soothing haze, and you can only feel yourself. The external earth doesn’t exist, and in that moment, it’s just her and Harry. Her world muffles, the sporadic chimes coming from the laptop ceasing, and the mattress disappears from beneath her, leaving her floating and vulnerable, with nothing to hold her other than him.

Harry.

He has always been able to make her teeter on the edge of pain and pleasure, and with her senses are in overdrive yet dulled at the same time, she feel that edge slip away into the abyss, with each slap delivered to her ass, they’re dulled just a little bit more. Like an addict, she yearns to feel the first one, the one that made her legs tremble, the one that sent tingles up her spine and a burning to her supple skin.

“More,” she says, inching closer to him.

“More?” She can hear the smile in his voice. She stretches her arms in front of her, back arching further than ever before. He lands another slap to her ass, lower and closer to her dripping pussy. He kisses the welts that raised over her skin from the rings, but she can barely feel them, nothing more than a welcomed prickle.

He spits on her pussy and slips three fingers inside this time, stretching her further than before, and with the extra friction from his rings, she tightens up almost instantly, the burning fire from before coming faster and stronger than before.

“Fuck,” she moans, long and drawn out. His free hand spanks her again, and she hisses, her arms giving out. Pleasure rushes through her veins, threatening to envelop her, and she can feel herself give in once again, sinking into him and accepting anything he has to offer. “Close,” she whines, but he pulls away again, slapping her clit roughly. She cries out, wanting to shy away from him, but her body betrays her, and she backs into him, craving yet another stolen high.

“Move t’ the side, button,” he says, tapping her leg, and she does, turning until they’re parallel to the webcam. He only teases the head of his cock through her folds for a moment before he slams into her with little warning, her warmth swallowing him easily. This is something he could never get tired of: the feeling of her hot, wet walls gripping him and of her arousal slipping down his thighs.

Ding! Ding!

His near brutal pace knocks the wind from her chest, making her drawn out cries of pleasure break and split. As he pounds into her, his hips smacking harshly against her raw skin, the remnants of her ruined climaxes leave her walls overly sensitive to every rough thrust, but she backs into him, meeting his hips, eager to finally come undone. He digs his nails into her tender skin, and she lets out a breath.

There has always been a fine line between pain and pleasure, and Harry knows exactly how to dangle her right at the very edge.

“Takin’ me so well,” he coos, but she can’t even fathom his compliment in her addled mind, let alone respond. He wraps his hands around her throat and pulls her head next to his. He wants to feel her, the heat of her breaths, the salt on her skin, the tremors of her thighs, everything. Her body grinds back against him, whether consciously or unconsciously, he doesn’t know. Her eyes are closed, features pinched, chasing her high.

Y/N can feel everything, every rush of blood flowing in her veins, every stroke of his cock inside her, every bead of sweat that drips from his skin and onto her back. She can feel everything, yet nothing at all; it all blurs together into a blanket of warmth and euphoria, and he’s at the center of it all: holding her and pleasing her and giving her everything she never knew she desired. She can barely speak, nothing more than a few broken whimpers filling the thick air, lost amongst his heaving breaths and the chimes from the laptop, which is at the back of their minds at this point.

She hooks her arm behind her, around his neck, her fingers carding through the sweat-drenched locks. She tugs on them painfully hard when he hits her weak spot, and he groans. Her heart is nearly racing out of her chest when yet another taunting orgasm tightens her stomach.

“Need cummies,” she whines, her words slurring, head falling to the side. He nestles his nose into the crook of her neck, hips grinding his cock deeper inside her.

“No cummies, yet, lovie,” he says. “Wait f’ me.” He can feel her struggling to hold her orgasm back, the walls of her pussy fluttering, milking him; he groans, feeling more blood rush to his cock when she squeezes him even tighter. “Relax,” he coos, scratching his nails along her scalp. He slaps her clit, making her twitch and buck even more, and he spreads his fingers around the swollen skin of her pussy, teasing where they’re connected. He lets go of her neck, and she nearly collapses without his support, leaning heavily on her elbows, back arched.

“Please,” she whimpers, shaking her head, “Can’t hold it.”

She slumps onto the mattress, her quivering knees slipping out from under her. Her hips buck, a long, drawn out moan slipping out as toe-curling orgasm washes over her, bathing her in warmth and relief and pure bliss. He comes soon after, hands gripping her hips tightly. Her shallow breaths are barely audible in the thick air, amongst a cacophony of chimes from the cam and his own heavy breathing. He rubs along her back, pressing sporadic kisses to her spine, following the ridges up to her neck.

“Babylove?”

She doesn’t answer, only a weak whimper and a sigh leaving her as she shifts beneath him, causing his softening cock to slip out, their releases pooling beneath them. He quickly closes the laptop to keep some semblance of privacy, and he tries to ease her onto her back, but she’s unresponsive, head nestled deep into the bed, but her breathing becomes more stable, muscles lax.

“Y/N?” She hums and turns onto her back. He cups her cheeks, trying to look into her eyes. They’re half-lidded, and she can’t seem to focus on much of anything. “Can you get up f’me? Need t’ get ya cleaned up.”

She finally looks at him, her pupils dilated, like she’s faded, lost in an empty mind. She blinks and looks down at his hands on her arms. Her brows furrow, and the tremors return, starting in her hands and spreading to her legs. They’re not pleasant, like before when she felt like she was floating; these ones make her blood run cold. Her high lessens, her head still foggy, but the feeling returns in her limbs, leaving her skin burning and bruised. When she meets his gaze again, there’s a sinking feeling in her stomach, shame and dread.

In her current state of mind, she mistakes the concern in his eyes for anger, and tears fill her eyes. She disappointed him; she was being greedy and dirty and bad. She covers her face with her arms to hide the tears that slip out, knees tucking to her chest.

“‘M sorry,” she cries suddenly. His heart stops for a second. What on earth could he have done to make her want to apologize? He tugs her arms away from her face.

“For wha’?”

“You said no cummies, and I couldn’t hold it—” Her face crumbles. “I was being a bad, bad girl.” She mutters to herself, biting her lip, which quivers pitifully. “Please, please, don’t be mad,” she begs, hands clinging to him. Before, she felt absolute euphoria, a high she didn’t want to come down from, but now, her skin aches, and there’s a pang of guilt and shame in her belly that she can’t seem to soothe. She doesn’t even feel it when her teeth break past the skin of her lips.

“Hey, none of that,” he says, easing her bruised lip from her teeth. He runs a thumb over her knuckles. “‘M not mad, never, lovie,” he reassures her. “C’mere,” he says, tugging her into his arms. “Look a’ me.” He rests his forehead against hers. He’s had to coax her out of a subspace only a handful of times, but she has never crashed this hard. Never has she been this shaken, nor has it ever happened during a cam. He just wishes he noticed sooner; he should have known not to go as rough as he did, especially when she was feeling tired to begin with. When she’s in her subspace, she tends to take it a little too far, thinking she can take more than what she would normally handle.

“Better?” He asks her after a moment, and she nods, but her hands still quiver at her side. “Be right back, yeah?” He lays her back down gently and goes into the washroom to draw a bath. When he comes back, he finds her with her hands over her face, shoulders shaking.

“Can ya walk?”

“Yeah,” she says, scooting up off the bed, but her knees buckle, and they barely make it to the bathroom.

“I gotcha,” he says. “Jus’ gonna getcha cleaned up, feelin’ all better.” Her bum, the skin raised with welts made by his own hand, barely touches the water before she’s wincing. There’s a tinge in his stomach, but he continues to help her in, holding her under the armpits.

“In ya go,” he whispers, nursing her like she’s a toddler. The water is hot and comforting against her aching muscles. The lavender oil he tossed in leaves her skin silky with a tingeful burn on her bum and thighs. She clings to his arm, which has now wrapped tightly around her middle, pressing into her tender breasts.

“Come in with me,” she says. He sinks to his knees and cups her neck, elbow dipping in the water.

“Be right back, button,” he says, kissing her forehead lightly, “Jus’ need t’ change the sheets.”

He returns not a moment later and joins her in the tub, washing her body with a sweetly scented scrub. She comes fully down in the bath, with his arms coiled tightly around her, one over her chest and the other around her middle, their fingers toying together. The water’s run cold, but they don’t make any move to get out any time soon, basking in the warmth of each other.

Despite how many years they have been together, he still finds it difficult to believe that he can be so comfortable with another person.

She puts her heart, body, and soul fully in his hands and trusts him not to break it.

He trusts that she’ll do the same for him.

And when she snuggles into him and presses a tired kiss to his cool skin, after he gets them dried and in their bed once again, he knows that there is no other person in the world he would trust more with his heart than her.

—