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jarofstyles · 10 hours ago

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Cabernet

This can be read as a standalone I think, but! Here is a second part of Merlot! It's spicy and sweet so I hope you guys like it. Unsure if there will be any more parts (I’m open if you guys have more ideas!) but I do love a good dilfrry.

Check out our Patreon for early access and 200+ exclusive writings!

WC- 4.1k

Warnings- smut, age gap relationship, anal (for those who asked ur welcome!), unprotected sex, cumplay, Dom/sub elements

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Harry was by far the best man she had ever dated.

Their age gap was evident at times, but not in a bad way. It was rather cute when he had been confused about videos she sent or his own excitement to show her the movies or books he was referencing. The added element of their dynamic was learning from one another. Harry had been teaching her about publishing and helping her flesh out the first draft of her book while she sat in his office some days, helping him out in return by getting him coffee or lunch or an occasional shoulder massage when he got particularly stressed. An unofficial assistant of sorts.

“I feel like if I have to write the word ‘said’ one more time, my brain is going to explode.” She grumbled, pushing her laptop across the couch and leaning back on it. The leather seat in his office was by far the most comfortable one she had sat on and he happily invited her to come into the office to see him as often as she wanted. It was both practical and selfish on both ends.It was easier to work in a space like this and with the understanding that Harry really did have work he was doing, she focused on her own stuff. A quiet pair of people working in each other’s company.

Add in the fact that he was the boss man, it made it much easier for her to come and go as she pleased.

“Mm, sometimes authors get stuck with words in their novels. They’ll have phrases they repeat a few too many times, usually gets called out in editing and fixed. It’s not a bad thing. But with words that are action words like that, there are options. Y’know, depending on the scene and tone. Murmured, muttered, peeped, whispered, whined, moaned, huffed, grumbled. Those sorts of words.” He tapped his pen against the desk as he lifted his eyes to her.

It didn’t get old. Seeing her pretty face sitting in his office looking the way she did, much more comfortable than the night they’d first met, but still appropriate for an office setting.

Sometimes he did let his mind wander into the roleplay aspect, wondering if she had been his real assistant if he would have made a move. If Y/N was the Y/N he knew now? Probably. Scandalous.

Today she wore a pair of black flowy pants and a matching turtleneck, but on top she had a chunky knit cardigan that was utterly adorable. It had yellow moons and stars, a deep purple color with sleeves she had to push up so they didn’t hide her hands. His girl leaned into the office aesthetic when she came in so she didn’t stick out too much but with him or when they were at his place or out together, he loved seeing her dressed in her normal clothing. She looked soft, whimsical almost. Like a little fairy.

“Hm. Good point. I need to write down all the synonyms in my notes app and defer to that because if I’m getting tired of writing it, I know whoever ends up reading it will get tired of seeing it too.” Her lips puffed to blow a strand of hair that had fallen from her bun, brows furrowed as she failed and made her hand ready up to tuck it behind her ear instead.

Again, cute.

“Not necessarily.” He replied, leaning back in his chair. “We’re our own harshest critics. I doubt they’re paying that much attention to that. The majority of people will be paying attention to world building, character development, plot, sex scenes, all that fun stuff. The exact wording isn’t always the most important thing. But it shows that you care about quality.” He shot her a grin. “So you will be successful.”

“Mmm… and not because I’m fucking the publishing head?” She grinned as she stood up, stretching her arms out.

“Well. That helps.” He wouldn’t deny it. She had a leg up, but he wouldn’t publish just anything. “If it makes you feel better, I don’t publish shit work. It isn’t worth the reputation of my company. Your writing is genuinely good, my sweet.” He knew the drill by now. Her heeled boots were kicked off by the couch and she made her way over to him, the tiredness starting to hit her as she happily perched herself on his lap.

“Good to know.” She snorted before pressing a kiss to his scruffy cheek. The facial hair had grown but he was shaping it currently. She promised she’d be okay with whatever he did to it but didn’t want anything to happen to the mustache. That wasn’t allowed to go. “What are you working on? Anything fun?”

“No, nothing incredibly interesting I’m afraid.” His hand squeezed her hip underneath the cardigan. “I was working on some contracts earlier but every so often I pick up some submissions and read through them myself. This one is very bland, unfortunately. There’s potential, absolutely. Their writing style is lovely, but the plot falls flat and the characters are one dimensional. S’like they chose a specific stereotype and did nothing to differentiate them.” It was unfortunate.” It was a shame he came across all too often.

“It’s obvious this person is trying but they’ve never observed or met someone with these traits. I don’t think you absolutely have to follow the rule ‘write what you know’, but I think a lot of the best works come from drawing from our own experiences. Romance, for them, doesn’t seem to be a passion. They’d do better with mystery with their writing style as it is, but they have to improve on other aspects first.”

“Is it hard for you to see stuff like that?” She asked curiously, fiddling with the collar of his shirt. “I can tell you’re a little disappointed with it, so I have to wonder if it happens a lot.”

“It does. And it is hard when you see someone with potential not living up to it but I have faith that if we send them some constructive criticism notes that maybe they won’t see it as an attack but as a place of genuine care. I’m going to have someone meet with them I think, give them my notes and have them explain it in nicer terms than the plain ones I used. Maybe they can work on it again and add more and we’d have a best seller.” He shrugged his shoulders. “I can see they care about it in the way they put details in, but it needs more.”

There was something incredibly attractive about listening to him talk about it. It was always attractive to see someone care and talk about their passions; but Harry was on another level. She could see it on his face that he was disappointed and knew the person could do better. While it made it all the more nerve wracking for her own novel, she had him working with her along the way.

He never told her where to go with her story in terms of ideas, but how to improve the mechanics. Reading over bits and telling her to take away a certain detail and add more in other places, or giving suggestions about how things could flow smoother. He’d listened to her storyboard, after showing her the author equivalent of it, and gave his honest feedback from a publisher's point of view and then from a boyfriend’s point of view.

Sometimes it was more obvious that he was the one with miles more life experience in these instances but she couldn’t be upset about it when it only aided in strengthening their relationship.

“I see.” She looked at the manuscript on the desk with the red pen of doom. “Oof. The red pen is out… and you’ve used it a lot.”

“Well, there are errors.” He chuffed, kissing her cheek in return. “Did you get enough done?” The word count goal had been 3,000 for today, but he didn’t make it for her. It was all on her. He simply helped keep her accountable.

“I did more. I think… 4.5?” She tilted her head trying to remember. “Now my head feels like soup.” It did feel like mush right now. That was why the laptop was closed and abandoned and she was finding comfort in the man. It was like a reward.

“That’s ace, my dove. Amazing.” He praised. The pride he felt for her was earned fair and square. She had been applying herself more now than ever. Since their first night together they hadn’t really separated, seeing each other at least a few times a week. Her work ethic was there as she had zeroed in on what she wanted. “Why don’t we finish this up and go back to mine, mm?”

Harry had been holding off all week. He’d gone a bit rough one night and even though she said she was fine, he wanted to give her body time to relax. As much as he loved sex, he had wanted her body to enjoy it more than anything else. Not be overly swollen and sore the next day.

Today was going to be the day to break that. A full week of nothing but heated kisses, and she was as needy as needy could get. He felt her perk up at the mention, sitting up straighter in his lap.

“Please! Let’s go. We can get food on the way home but I think we have some pressing matters to attend to.” She sniffed, standing from him and offering a hand to help him up. “Chop chop. Get a move on, mister.”

——-

Two rounds in and he knew she could take it. Her poor cunt was a mess and he knew that as pretty as it was all drippy and swollen, she had been aching for him to get a try into her other hole. They’d had a proper discussion about it, and he had effectively been edging her the entire night. Fair? No, but she knew how he rolled. The promised pleasure first, experiments after. Just in case she wanted to stop, she got something out of the night.

She’d been warming his cock for a bit as he held her in his arms, cooing soft praises about how good of a girl she was, how brave she had been to ask for something new tonight when he felt her get impatient. She didn’t need to say it. He knew her well enough now to understand what she wanted. Pulling his cock out and rubbing the tip against her asshole, pressing against it and spreading the sticky cum over the rim. “Want me t’fuck this tight little ass too? Fill you from both ends."

“Wanna try.” She nodded, panting as her cunt contracted and his cum dribbled out of her pussy. “You’re so big I… I dunno if I can take it. Go slow.” Y/N knew she was slightly cock drunk but she also trusted him. He’d made her feel good already, took his time with everything else why wouldn’t she want to test this with him?

“Okay, my sweet. Just relax.” Harry wasn’t nervous, but he was cautious. His girl was precious cargo, and he wanted to make sure it felt as good as it could. He’d done the work of stretching her with his fingers, but it was going to be a challenge to get him in there regardless. He slowly pushed his thick head past the tight rim of her back hole. Watching her face intently, his own contorted with pleasure. "You're doing so good, doll," he encouraged softly. "Just relax and let me in. You can take it."

The pressure was intense, and she hissed out a breath as he slowly pushed more and more of himself into her. His thick head stretched her wide, and he paused, letting her adjust to the new sensation. "Breathe." The reminder was whispered as he realized she was holding her breath, his hand carding through her hair tenderly.

"That's it, baby. You're taking it so well. Always do so good f’me." He praised, his voice low and soothing. He slowly pushed more of himself into her, inch by inch, his thick prick spreading her wide. She could feel every vein, every ridge, as he slowly filled her up.

As he slid deeper, Harry could feel the intense pressure and stretch around his girth. Her tight little hole was gripped tightly around his shaft, the muscles fluttering and contracting as he pushed his way inside. She felt like she was being split in two, her body struggling to accommodate his bigger size- but she was. Slowly but surely, he sunk into her fully.

She had done it.

“Fuck.” She sobbed out, clinging to him as he got down to the base. Never in her life had she felt so full that way, so stretched. Only Harry could make her feel this way. It wasn’t just the physical feeling, but the emotional one too. She trusted him more than she trusted anyone else. His guidance was priceless.

"You're doing so good, You’ve got it all in. Jus’ gotta let it adjust." he soothed, his voice strained as he fought to keep control. Giving her a moment to adjust, his hands stroking her hair and her cheeks, his thumb brushing away her tears. "You feel so hot around me, doll. So tight. Knew y’would be."

“I wanna be… I want you to feel good.” She whispered, looking at him with wet eyes. “It’s just so big. I’m tryin’ to take it.” It surely wasn't a beginner cock but she wasn’t known for taking the easy way.

"You're doing so well, baby," he reassured her, his hands never leaving her. He slowly pulled out halfway before sinking in again, a little faster this time. "That's it... take me all the way in."

It was the fourth time he did it that she felt the pleasure. Both from the action and the thatch of hair at the base of his cock rubbing against her swollen clit, making her gasp. Her eyes fell shut as she leaned her head back, slowly relaxing into the bed.

He watched her face contorted in pleasure, his heart swelling with pride. "Look at me," he commanded, his voice rough. As she opened her eyes, he began to pick up the pace, his hips pressing against hers. "M’so proud of you. Look at you, taking every bit of me.”

Y/N sent him a blissed out smile as her hand slipped between them, rubbing her own clit slowly as he fucked into her ass. There was nothing rushed about it, nothing frantic, and it felt good just to be. Her muscles relaxed, making it feel even better as his cock filled her hole. Soft moans left her mouth as she curled her other hand around the back of his neck, pulling him down so he was close. “Are they the best holes you’ve had?”

Harry’s face was lax in his own pleasure as he felt her tight ass clench around his cock. “Fuck, baby,” he groaned, his breath hot against her lips. “They are. So fucking tight, so perfect. Can’t compare them t’anything else.” He kept up his steady rhythm, loving how her body moved with his. “You feel so good. Can never get enough of you.” He whispered, brushing a stray hair out of her face before stroking her puffy lip. They were so pretty. Kissing wasn’t something he’d thought much of before, but he hadn’t kissed Y/N. She had changed everything for him.

“Better than that silly ex wife?” She prodded, watching with a little smirk as she watched him think it over. Y/N had a feeling she was by the way be was acting, but she wanted to hear it.

"Way better." he grunted, his hips snapping forward. "Little minx, y’just need to ask that, hm? No need to be jealous. She never gets t’have me again. Only y-you." He stuttered as her hand moved around his neck and she squeezed down hard on him. "Her holes were nothing compared to yours, doll. Nothing."

Y/N giggled as she choked him a little bit, watching his eyes widen before pulling. It was obvious that while he was the big man in charge- she could have fun too. “That’s what I like to hear. I’ll tell you a secret, Harry.” Her lips brushed his as she kept the grip on his throat. Her lips were swollen and sensitive, the coarse facial hair brushing it and making her want to moan. “None of the boys my age have ever made me cum. They never fucked my ass. Never fucked me raw. And you did it all.”

"And I'm gonna keep doing it," he rumbled, eyes burning with lust as she kissed him. His hand tightened in her hair, tugging gently and pulling her deeper into the kiss. “You’ve got a man now, no need to think of those boys.You want me t’keep being nice to you? Keep making you cum?”

“If you keep fucking me like this, I do. Want my man to be so, so nice to me.” She gasped as he pushed all the way in, balls rested snug against her ass as he slowly humped into her, the comfort of the fullness making her fingers work harder on her clit. “Gotta- Gotta prove you can keep up with me, old man. That you c-can live up to the hype. I like the bit of silver at your temples but…” Her moan was broken as he pulled out and pushed back in, jostling her. “Gotta prove why older guys are b-better for pretty little things like me.”

"Oh, I'll prove it to you," he growled, picking up pace as he pounded into her tight ass. She had no idea just how badly he’d needed her to walk into his life. Thank god she had. This was everything he had ever wanted. "And right now, you need me to wreck this little hole until you can't walk straight. You need me to show you how a real man handles his woman. I'll give you everything you crave, everything you need. You just have to let go and trust me.” The man had every intention of proving how much better he could be for her than she could ever imagine.

"Fuck, look at this cunt." He muttered, reaching down to spread her dripping pussy apart. "It's absolutely soaked, just dripping down. Love it, hm?” The smugness in his tone would usually make her scowl but there was no denying it. The proof was right there. It was undeniable. “You're so turned on, baby. It's making it easier for me to fuck this tight little ass of yours." The glossy, hard flesh glistened with slick, dripping down onto the bed beneath her. His own cum intermingled with her own, making his movements smoother as he pushed in and out of her, coating her holes with their combined essence.

Her face was a mask of pure ecstasy, her eyes rolled back in her head as she whimpered in pleasure, her hands gripping the sheets beneath her. Her asshole clenching and unclenching around his thick cock with each thrust, trying to milk him for all he was worth. Her body was feeling tingly, her legs trembling as he fucking into her ass, the sound of her arousal and his hips hitting her skin filling the room. She was completely lost in the pleasure, her mind clouded by the overwhelming sensation of being thoroughly fucked.

As she reached the peak of her orgasm, he took over and began rubbing her clit with his own thumb, the sensation sending waves of pleasure cascading through her body. She cried out, her pussy gushing as she came harder than she would have imagined being fucked like this. She was so overwhelmed that she could only hold limply onto his arms as he continued to pound into her, his thick cock stretching her hole as it thrust through the waves of her intense orgasm.

His face contorted, vein bulging in his neck as he struggled to hold back. "You feel too good, baby. I can't... I can't hold back any longer." His heavy balls drew up close to his body, ready to unleash another load inside of her. The feeling of her taut muscles milking him, the way she clung to him with every fiber of her being, it was too much. He was sensitive himself, but he wanted to deliver everything she wanted.

"Please, Harry...Please,come inside me... I wanna feel you fill me up. Want it everywhere." She panted, her voice desperate with need. Half of the fun of sex was seeing him lose that control he so easily held in all other scenarios. She wanted to make him feel just as good as he made her feel. He deserved it.

His restraint shattered at her words. "Fuck, you're gonna get what you asked for."

With a guttural groan, he buried his face in the crook of her neck and let go, his hot load pulsing into her hole in thick ropes. She felt each ribbon scalding her , marking her as his. "That's it, take it all... That’s m’girl.” He kept cumming, his cock twitching as he filled her. Ribbon after ribbon filled her up until she was overflowing with his load, almost overwhelmingly so. He finally slowed, his chest heaving, before gently pulling out of her ass, his cock glistening with the evidence of their fuck.

With a sense of possessive pride, he watched as his cum began to leak out of her stretched hole, dripping down her thighs. It was satisfying in the filthiest way. Primal and caveman in every sense of the word, he loved knowing that he had done it. He’d taken every one of her holes and made her his in the dirtiest type of way. He gently spread her cheeks apart, admiring the sight of his mark leaking from her. "Look at that... You're so full of me, S’that what you wanted?”

“Mhm.” She smiled, slightly drunk on the orgasm and the fact that he had pushed her further than anyone else had before. it was a good feeling in her body, the beginnings of soreness and the calming heat of his hands as he caressed her the way he wanted. “Exactly what I wanted. Think M’gonna have to keep you around so we can do that again.”

“I’d hope so.” He laughed tiredly, pushing back down to take her mouth for another kiss. “I’m far from finished with you, sweet little thing. But I think I’ve ravaged your body enough. Think you need a bath and some tea, get you ready to sleep.”

Aftercare wasn’t something she’d experienced in any other relationship either, but she realized now it was probably a Harry exclusive thing. He was phenomenal at it. A lot of things, honestly. He experimented with her responsibly, took care of her after every round of sex, checked in on her, made sure she was eating proper meals, and helped her with her career. She’d lucked out with him. Whatever his ex wife was thinking, she had no clue- but she wasn’t about to waste a single bit of him.

“Do you have chamomile?” She asked softly, pecking his lips in return.

“What do you take me for? Course I’ve got it.” He scoffed, pinching her chin. “But if I didn’t, I’d find some for you. Know it’s your favorite. Added it to the grocery list, along with your cereal, your rancid battery acid energy drinks, and the sweet and salty popcorn.”

“It’s good battery acid, I’ll have you know.” She giggled, carding her fingers through his hair. He did have a bit of gray going on the temples but it was sexy. Just hearing how much he cared and put effort into the tiny things made her giddy.

“Yeah, yeah. We can talk about your poison in the morning. It’s time to get clean and go t’sleep. Tomorrow may be the day you write five thousand words. You never know.”

#jarofstyles #harry styles one shot #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #harry styles smut #harry writing #harry styles imagine #harry drabble #harry styles blurb #harry styles writing #harry styles au #harry styles fic #harry one shot #harry styles fluff #harry styles age gap #dilfrry #Merlot #soft Harry

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mostlysignssomeportents · 14 hours ago

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Antiusurpation and the road to disenshittification

THIS WEEKEND (November 8-10), I'll be in TUCSON, AZ: I'm the GUEST OF HONOR at the TUSCON SCIENCE FICTION CONVENTION.

Nineties kids had a good reason to be excited about the internet's promise of disintermediation: the gatekeepers who controlled our access to culture, politics, and opportunity were crooked as hell, and besides, they sucked.

For a second there, we really did get a lot of disintermediation, which created a big, weird, diverse pluralistic space for all kinds of voices, ideas, identities, hobbies, businesses and movements. Lots of these were either deeply objectionable or really stupid, or both, but there was also so much cool stuff on the old, good internet.

Then, after about ten seconds of sheer joy, we got all-new gatekeepers, who were at least as bad, and even more powerful, than the old ones. The net became Tom Eastman's "Five giant websites, each filled with screenshots of the other four." Culture, politics, finance, news, and especially power have been gathered into the hands of unaccountable, greedy, and often cruel intermediaries.

Oh, also, we had an election.

This isn't an election post. I have many thoughts about the election, but they're still these big, unformed blobs of anger, fear and sorrow. Experience teaches me that the only way to get past this is to just let all that bad stuff sit for a while and offgas its most noxious compounds, so that I can handle it safely and figure out what to do with it.

While I wait that out, I'm just getting the job done. Chop wood, carry water. I've got a book to write, Enshittification, for Farar, Straus, Giroux's MCD Books, and it's very nearly done:

https://twitter.com/search?q=from%3Adoctorow+%23dailywords&src=typed_query&f=live

Compartmentalizing my anxieties and plowing that energy into productive work isn't necessarily the healthiest coping strategy, but it's not the worst, either. It's how I wrote nine books during the covid lockdowns.

And sometimes, when you're not staring directly at something, you get past the tunnel vision that makes it impossible to see its edges, fracture lines, and weak points.

So I'm working on the book. It's a book about platforms, because enshittification is a phenomenon that is most visible and toxic on platforms. Platforms are intermediaries, who connect buyers and sellers, creators and audiences, workers and employers, politicians and voters, activists and crowds, as well as families, communities, and would-be romantic partners.

There's a reason we keep reinventing these intermediaries: they're useful. Like, it's technically possible for a writer to also be their own editor, printer, distributor, promoter and sales-force:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/02/19/crad-kilodney-was-an-outlier/#intermediation

But without middlemen, those are the only writers we'll get. The set of all writers who have something to say that I want to read is much larger than the set of all writers who are capable of running their own publishing operation.

The problem isn't middlemen: the problem is powerful middlemen. When an intermediary gets powerful enough to usurp the relationship between the parties on either side of the transaction, everything turns to shit:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/06/12/direct-the-problem-of-middlemen/

A dating service that faces pressure from competition, regulation, interoperability and a committed workforce will try as hard as it can to help you find Your Person. A dating service that buys up all its competitors, cows its workforce, captures its regulators and harnesses IP law to block interoperators will redesign its service so that you keep paying forever, and never find love:

https://www.npr.org/sections/money/2024/02/13/1228749143/the-dating-app-paradox-why-dating-apps-may-be-worse-than-ever

Multiply this a millionfold, in every sector of our complex, high-tech world where we necessarily rely on skilled intermediaries to handle technical aspects of our lives that we can't – or shouldn't – manage ourselves. That world is beholden to predators who screw us and screw us and screw us, jacking up our rents:

https://www.thebignewsletter.com/p/yes-there-are-antitrust-voters-in

Cranking up the price of food:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/10/04/dont-let-your-meat-loaf/#meaty-beaty-big-and-bouncy

And everything else:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/11/06/attention-rents/#consumer-welfare-queens

(Maybe this is a post about the election after all?)

The difference between a helpmeet and a parasite is power. If we want to enjoy the benefits of intermediaries without the risks, we need policies that keep middlemen weak. That's the opposite of the system we have now.

Take interoperability and IP law. Interoperability (basically, plugging new things into existing things) is a really powerful check against powerful middlemen. If you rely on an ad-exchange to fund your newsgathering and they start ripping you off, then an interoperable system that lets you use a different exchange will not only end the rip off – it'll make it less likely to happen in the first place because the ad-tech platform will be afraid of losing your business:

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2023/05/save-news-we-must-shatter-ad-tech

Interoperability means that when a printer company gouges you on ink, you can buy cheap third party ink cartridges and escape their grasp forever:

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2020/11/ink-stained-wretches-battle-soul-digital-freedom-taking-place-inside-your-printer

Interoperability means that when Amazon rips off audiobook authors to the tune of $100m, those authors can pull their books from Amazon and sell them elsewhere and know that their listeners can move their libraries over to a different app:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/09/07/audible-exclusive/#audiblegate

But interoperability has been in retreat for 40 years, as IP law has expanded to criminalize otherwise normal activities, so that middlemen can use IP rights to protect themselves from their end-users and business customers:

https://locusmag.com/2020/09/cory-doctorow-ip/

That's what I mean when I say that "IP" is "any law that lets a business reach beyond its own walls and control the actions of its customers, competitors and critics."

For example, there's a pernicious law 1998 US law that I write about all the time, Section 1201 of the Digital Millennium Copyright Act, the "anticircumvention law." This is a law that felonizes tampering with copyright locks, even if you are the creator of the undelying work.

So Amazon – the owner of the monopoly audiobook platform Audible – puts a mandatory copyright lock around every audiobook they sell. I, as an author who writes, finances and narrates the audiobook, can't provide you, my customer, with a tool to remove that lock. If I do so, I face criminal sanctions: a five year prison sentence and a $500,000 fine for a first offense:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/07/25/can-you-hear-me-now/#acx-ripoff

In other words: if I let you take my own copyrighted work out of Amazon's app, I commit a felony, with penalties that are far stiffer than the penalties you would face if you were to simply pirate that audiobook. The penalties for you shoplifting the audiobook on CD at a truck-stop are lower than the penalties the author and publisher of the book would face if they simply gave you a tool to de-Amazon the file. Indeed, even if you hijacked the truck that delivered the CDs, you'd probably be looking at a shorter sentence.

This is a law that is purpose-built to encourage intermediaries to usurp the relationship between buyers and sellers, creators and audiences. It's a charter for parasitism and predation.

But as bad as that is, there's another aspect of DMCA 1201 that's even worse: the exemptions process.

You might have read recently about the Copyright Office "freeing the McFlurry" by granting a DMCA 1201 exemption for companies that want to reverse-engineer the error-codes from McDonald's finicky, unreliable frozen custard machines:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/10/28/mcbroken/#my-milkshake-brings-all-the-lawyers-to-the-yard

Under DMCA 1201, the Copyright Office hears petitions for these exemptions every three years. If they judge that anticircumvention law is interfering with some legitimate activity, the statute empowers them to grant an exemption.

When the DMCA passed in 1998 (and when the US Trade Rep pressured other world governments into passing nearly identical laws in the decades that followed), this exemptions process was billed as a "pressure valve" that would prevent abuses of anticircumvention law.

But this was a cynical trick. The way the law is structured, the Copyright Office can only grant "use" exemptions, but not "tools" exemptions. So if you are granted the right to move Audible audiobooks into a third-party app, you are personally required to figure out how to do that. You have to dump the machine code of the Audible app, decompile it, scan it for vulnerabilities, and bootstrap your own jailbreaking program to take Audible wrapper off the file.

No one is allowed to help you with this. You aren't allowed to discuss any of this publicly, or share a tool that you make with anyone else. Doing any of this is a potential felony.

In other words, DMCA 1201 gives intermediaries power over you, but bans you from asking an intermediary to help you escape another abusive middleman.

This is the exact opposite of how intermediary law should work. We should have rules that ban intermediaries from exercising undue power over the parties they serve, and we should have rules empowering intermediaries to erode the advantage of powerful intermediaries.

The fact that the Copyright Office grants you an exemption to anticircumvention law means nothing unless you can delegate that right to an intermediary who can exercise it on your behalf.

A world without publishing intermediaries is one in which the only writers who thrive are the ones capable of being publishers, too, and that's a tiny fraction of all the writers with something to say.

A world without interoperability intermediaries is one in which the only platform users who thrive are also skilled reverse-engineering ninja hackers – and that's an infinitesimal fraction of the platform users who would benefit from interoperabilty.

Let this be your north star in evaluating platform regulation proposals. Platform regulation should weaken intermediaries' powers over their users, and strengthen their power over other middlemen.

Put in this light, it's easy to see why the ill-informed calls to abolish Section 230 of the Communications Decency Act (which makes platform users, not platforms, responsible for most unlawful speech) are so misguided:

https://www.techdirt.com/2020/06/23/hello-youve-been-referred-here-because-youre-wrong-about-section-230-communications-decency-act/

If we require platforms to surveil all user speech and block anything that might violate any law, we give the largest, most powerful platforms a permanent advantage over smaller, better platforms, run by co-ops, hobbyists, nonprofits local governments, and startups. The big platforms have the capital to rig up massive, automated surveillance and censorship systems, and the only alternatives that can spring up have to be just as big and powerful as the Big Tech platforms we're so desperate to escape:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/03/23/evacuate-the-platforms/#let-the-platforms-burn

This is especially grave given the current political current, where fascist politicians are threatening platforms with brutal punishments for failing to censor disfavored political views.

Anyone who tells you that "it's only censorship when the government does it" is badly confused. It's only a First Amendment violation when the government does it, sure – but censorship has always relied on intermediaries. From the Inquisition to the Comics Code, government censors were only able to do their jobs because powerful middlemen, fearing state punishments, blocked anything that might cross the line, censoring far beyond the material actually prohibited by the law:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/02/22/self-censorship/#hugos

We live in a world of powerful, corrupt middlemen. From payments to real-estate, from job-search to romance, there's a legion of parasites masquerading as helpmeets, burying their greedy mouthparts into our tender flesh:

https://www.capitalisnt.com/episodes/visas-hidden-tax-on-americans

But intermediaries aren't the problem. You shouldn't have to stand up your own payment processor, or learn the ins and outs of real-estate law, or start your own single's bar. The problem is power, not intermediation.

As we set out to build a new, good internet (with a lot less help from the US government than seemed likely as recently as last week), let's remember that lesson: the point isn't disintermediation, it's weak intermediation.

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/11/07/usurpers-helpmeets/#disreintermediation

Image: Cryteria (modified) https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:HAL9000.svg

CC BY 3.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/3.0/deed.en (Image: Cryteria, CC BY 3.0, modified)

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nothorses · 1 day ago

Note

start small:

reach out to that person you talked about meeting up with and then never did. make plans. start suggesting times!

set up some regular social things with your friends. start with what's easy and interesting to you all; stuff you're likely to do because you want to and you can. make it weekly or monthly or whatever you're likely to follow through on.

ask people questions about themselves. spend a minute or two before arriving just thinking about some questions you can ask people to get to know them and their situations a little better, especially in that specific context (work event, friends of friends, school, etc.) what are you likely to have in common? what kinds of more specific follow up questions could you ask after generic questions? it's not about making a script to follow so much as it is just practicing thinking about it.

offer real, material help. tangible stuff you can really do. stuff that will cost you time and energy. then follow through! even if they don't prompt you to, follow up and follow through. be a resource and an example.

think about your connections. offer to reach out to people for help, and then do it.

loop people from one of your social spheres into your other social sheres. introduce school friends to close friends that you think might get along. plan events that multiple spheres can attend. encourage your communities to build their networks out!

Can you tell me it'll be okay? And mean it?

Yeah. It feels like shit now and there's a lot to worry about, but there was a lot to worry about last month and four years ago and eight years ago and twelve years ago and sixteen and twenty and twenty four and twenty eight and on and on and on.

Continue to work locally, continue to help people, continue to speak up for what is right and protest what is wrong.

We all should be breaking unjust laws and taking care of one another because you don't survive things like this by being isolated and alone, you survive things like this by building networks and creating parallel systems and growing tight bonds with the people in your community (either physically or digitally).

Plan on helping someone get an abortion. Plan on lying to ICE. Plan on helping someone get hormones. Plan on defending an encampment. Plan on sharing information that is being hidden. Plan on potesting a pipeline or supporting forest defense. Plan on not crossing picket lines. Plan on helping your friends get their meds.

The US Federal Government sucks shit and is not here to help. But there are millions of people who want to help each other, and those are the people you should be focusing your energy on.

It's going to be hard, but it was always going to be hard. I believe in my community, I believe in the networks I've built, I believe in the ability of small groups to make change and I believe in you.

Don't panic about what's on the horizon, do something *today* that will make someone else's life better tomorrow and it will feel less like the world is falling down.

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kaijutegu · 1 day ago

Text

hey friends if you're looking for a way to limit social media consumption because your family makes you sad or you get into some real dark thoughts whenever you open twitter, here's something good you can do for yourself.

first, figure out what your muscle memory social media sites are. like for me, i usually pop open a twitter or facebook tab regardless of what i'm doing. i don't think about it, my fingers just kinda. go there, for checking on stuff. i use other social media sites but i have to think about going there, these are just my muscle memory social media sites. oh before i go further, this is for desktop/laptop, my advice for mobile is just uninstall the app versions of your muscle memory social media sites are.

then, download LeechBlock. there's other blockers too but like, that's the one I use bc I enjoy its functionality.

throw your muscle memory sites into the blocker. one of the things I like so much about LeechBlock is that you can give it blocks of time that you can access the site. if you have people you're checking on, if you want to get news from wherever, that's ok, but genuinely, do not give yourself unfettered access to the worst of what humanity has to offer. because that's what a lot of these muscle memory social media platforms are. because that's what a lot of social media has become. (not you tungl.hell, you're special.)

anyways here's what i set up. i noticed that it's facebook and twitter being my scylla and charbydis of doomscrolling, so i just created a custom filter to block them and just set my time limit to forever.

and if you NEED access to these sites you can set up times where you can block them more specifically, but for me, accessing them in my main browser is... a bad idea.

see, the whole point of this is to wean me off of the muscle memory. i'm use to pressing f+enter and facebook comes up. now when i want to access fb, it's a pain in the ass. that minor inertia keeps me away from it, and i can still easily access it in my work browser when i need it for herp society stuff. but that tiny barrier to entry makes a huge difference.

another thing you can do is log out of these sites each time you leave and have it not remember your login and so that makes logging in an intentional choice each time, which is often a disincentive or at least promotes spending more time deciding to be there. but that's more work than my lazy set it and forget it method.

the truth is that these sites are not likely to help you unless you're doing something specific and can avoid most of your feed. even if you have lots of good friends and community, you can't opt out of the terrible algo posts, and they are going to serve up polarizing content and right now, you probably don't need that. or if you do, you need it in a more mindful context, you need to not be sort of... drifting to your social platforms. i'm not saying don't engage at all, i'm saying be smart and thoughtful about it. as always, you are responsible for curating your own internet experience, and this includes after a real bad election. this is a tool you can use to protect yourself and stop doomscrolling before it starts.

#how do i tag this #election 2024

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janeyseymour · 2 days ago

Text

I Hate You, I Love You- part 3

Summary: you spend the early hours of Christmas Eve preparing dinner with your family and Melissa.

WC: ~2.8k

“Come in, come in!” your mother greets you. She pulls you in for a tight hug.

“You saw me at the beginning of this month, Mom,” you roll your eyes.

Then she moves onto Melissa, who has rolled both of your suitcases in. You see the redhead stiffen just slightly before relaxing and patting your mom’s back.

“You must be Melissa!”

Where you expect your tough coworker to reply with sass, she smiles warmly- that smile that she reserves for Barbara and, on the rare occasion, Janine. “It’s so great to finally meet you, Nora.” Then she turns to your aunt. “You must be Aunt Jo.”

Jo’s face brightens considerably, and you didn’t think that was possible. You can practically feel the excitement radiating off of her.

Then your father is standing from his chair and outstretching a hand. “Al,” is all he says, but the smile on his face tells you that he’s just as excited as the other two. He’s just better at concealing it.

“Melissa,” your ‘girlfriend’ shakes your father’s hand firmly. “It’s nice to finally meet you. I’ve heard so much about you.” At least that isn’t a lie- the two of you had gone over family history on the car ride over.

“Wish I could say the same about you,” your dad huffs as he looks to you. “Our girl didn’t even tell us you existed until a few weeks ago when she came over for dinner.”

“It just never came up!” you protest as you interlace your fingers with the redhead again. “Come on, we don’t have time to interrogate my girlfriend. We have to put our stuff away upstairs.”

The three adults relent, but your mother tells you, “Be quick! We have a lot of things to make!”

You go to grab your bag from next to Melissa, but her hand is on your suitcase handle before you can stop her. “I got it, hun.” She winks at you before gesturing for you to lead the way.

“Thanks, babe,” you reply, and you hope it sounds convincing. “Come on, my room is the attic, so…”

The redhead follows you up the steps, lugging your bags behind her. As soon as the door is closed behind the two of you, you scowl.

“Way to lay it on thick,” you hiss.

“I’m trying to be convincing! Do you want me to blow it for you before we even get through Christmas Eve?”

You huff. “No.”

“Then let me do my thing. You told me how you act in a relationship, and I took acting classes when I was younger. I can do this if you can.”

“Fine. I sleep on the left side of the bed.”

“Of course you do,” the redhead laughs. “I sleep on the right. It’s almost like we were made for this.”

“Shut up.”

“Just remember you love me,” Melissa teases you as she sets your things on your side of the room.

“I absolutely do not,” you roll your eyes. “C’mon. We have to go downstairs before my mom comes up here and yells at us for not coming to help her. And I need a glass of wine.”

“It’s eleven in the morning,” your colleague says, and there’s only a hint of judgement in her voice.

“And when you see the amount of work she’s going to give us, on top of having to pretend I love you, I’m going to need all the booze I can get.”

Melissa takes your hand gently in her own before leading you down the steps. You take a seat at the counter, and the redhead immediately makes her way over to the cabinets. She gives you a questioning look, and you point to the one that has the wine glasses in it. She grabs two before walking over to the refrigerator and pouring out a glass of your favorite wine and one for herself- one that your parents always keep for you when you’re here. She saunters over to you with a smile and offers the poured glass to you. You take it from her with a kiss to the cheek, and then she’s standing behind you with an arm draped around your shoulder.

“So, Y/N told me it’s always a cooking extravaganza, and I hate to brag, but I’m a great cook,” Melissa chuckles as she takes a small sip from her own glass.

Your mother immediately gives the two of you direction in terms of what you’re in charge of, and the redhead is all grins. “That sounds easy enough.”

“Mom, that’s way more than you usually give me.”

“Well, there’s two of you now,” your mother shrugs.

You roll your eyes. “This is a ridiculous amount of-”

“I can do it, babe,” Melissa cuts in. “You know how I usually cook anyway, and this ain’t nothin. Just sit there and look pretty for me, yeah?”

You look to her, and damn is she a good actress. For as rough and as tough as she is, she can really be warm- or at least fake warmth.

“I can help,” you sigh.

Making portions of the meal starts out incredibly stilted and awkward, but as time goes on and the alcohol is flowing through your blood, you actually find yourself enjoying being in Melissa’s presence. She’s a great cook. She’s a great teacher when there are a few things that you’re a little confused about in terms of preparing the food.

As you’re mashing the potatoes, her arms find their way around your waist, and her chin rests gently on your shoulder. She kisses your cheek softly, and you can’t help the blush that tints your cheeks. It’s all for appearances, at least in front of your parents and aunt- that’s what you tell yourself. You have no idea that this is how Melissa has wanted to be with you for a while now.

Unbeknownst to you, Aunt Jo takes your picture, the two of you looking incredibly in love despite the fact that you hate the redhead with you. It almost makes you hate her more now that you know she isn’t the hard ass she always plays- she can be incredibly soft and warm.

When you’ve finished mashing the potatoes, you excuse yourself to go to the restroom- you need a bit of space. Having the redhead pressed up against you and kissing your cheek and the nape of your neck has you more bothered than you had expecting. You splash a few droplets of water on your face.

Melissa moves onto begin making the last batch of cookies needed for tonight’s meal. But when she goes to reach for the nutmeg, she can’t find any. She grabs her purse and lets your father know she’s heading to the store, asking if they need anything else while she’s out. Your father shakes his head no.

“Hun?” your colleague calls up the steps. “I’m heading to the store for a few last minute items. Are you coming with me, or am I going by myself?”

You sigh. You like this warm side of Melissa, but you know as soon as the two of you are out of the house, it won’t be like that anymore. “I’ll stay here and help Mom.”

“Sounds good,” she yells back. “I’ll be back soon. I love you!”

You return the sentiment, but only because you know Aunt Jo had come upstairs to change from her sweatshirt to a tee. And then Melissa is off.

When you return back down the steps, Melissa has taken your car- you hope she doesn’t crash it just to spite you. Your father groans.

“What, Dad?”

“I’m an idiot. I told Melissa we didn’t need nothin’, but it turns out we need stuff to make the Christmas sangria.”

“I’ll text her.”

You do, and she just gives the message a thumbs up in return. You go back to your station in the kitchen and continue on preparing. Unfortunately for you, Melissa calls as you’re in the middle of glazing the ham, and you can’t answer.

“Would you mind getting that, Aunt Jo?”

Your aunt does, but her brows furrow as she looks at the contact name that pops up. It only reads ‘Schemmenti’.

“It’s your girlfriend.” She answers the phone and places the cell between your cheek and shoulder. You’re able to hold it there. "Although I’m confused why you only have her in your phone with just her last name… no silly nickname, no heart? There isn’t even a picture of the two of you together?”

“Just haven’t had time,” you sigh. Damn. You should’ve thought about that. “I’m in her phone as Y/N, and that’s it.” You hope your fake girlfriend can hear the bite in your voice to tell her that you may have just been caught.

“Babe, you haven’t changed my name in your phone yet?” Melissa chuckles out. “I’m wounded.”

“You’re ridiculous,” you roll your eyes. “I’ll change it when we get off the phone. What’s up; what do you need?”

“There’s a shit ton of cranberries,” the redhead tells you. “Is there a particular brand you and your family prefer?”

You walk her through the preferred brands of everything on the list your dad gave you, and then she’s checking out.

She’s very aware that your entire family is still in the room with you, and if they can hear her, she wants to stay convincing. “Okay, thank you for your help hun. I’ll be back home in a few minutes.”

“Sounds good,” you mutter. “Don’t crash my car.”

“I wouldn’t,” the redhead chuckles, although she knows you’re being quite serious. “I’ll see you in a little bit.”

“Bye,” you sigh, and then you let your aunt take the phone back. She’s frowning at you though. “What?”

“No ‘I love you’?”

You look to your aunt, somewhat annoyed. “She’s literally five minutes away, and we said it when she left earlier.”

Jo just gives you a look before returning back to her own place in the kitchen.

Melissa enters about ten minutes later, and she comes in with a few bags in her hands. “Hey babe.”

“Thank you for going out,” you kiss her cheek. “You’re the best.”

Melissa just smirks. “I know.” She turns your head gently and plants a short, sweet kiss on your lips. “Make the cookies with me?”

You’re in a daze for a second. Your colleague is a… really good kisser.

“Honey?” she prompts.

Your cheeks tint red. “Uh, yeah. I’m gonna grab another glass of wine. You want one?”

“I would love that,” Melissa smiles.

You grab her empty glass of wine and fill it with a blush. When you make your way over, you have to resist the urge to kiss her again. “Here you go, Lis.”

Your ‘girlfriend’ lifts a brow at the spur of the moment nickname, but she smiles at you regardless. “Lis,” she mumbles as she pulls you in so close you can feel her breath on your neck.

You pick up your phone with a smile and pull up her contact. Her name in your phone goes from ‘Schemmenti’ to ‘Lis’, adorned with a red heart.

Her hand goes to her back pocket with a smile before pulling out her own phone and changing your contact name from just your last name, to a nickname for your first. You just give her a smile before turning your attention to the cookies that need baking.

Before you know it, your parents’ house smells delicious, and you’re just a little tipsy. Your cheeks have a glow that just won’t quit, and Melissa’s hands are all over you. She makes sure to throw in a few ‘I love you’s here and there, along with quite a few kisses dotted along your temple and hairline, cheek, lips, and she dares to press on to the nape of your neck as you roll out the dough for the sugar cookies. You can’t help the delightfully tipsy giggle that you let out.

The cookies end up in the oven, the two of you begin to toss in the ingredients for your family’s sangria, and then you’re asking Aunt Jo for a time check.

She taps your phone that’s sitting out on the counter, and she purses her lips.

“Is it getting too late?” you ask, a pout on your face.

She shakes her head. “It’s only about three, and you know the family doesn’t start trickling their way in until five, but where’s the cute picture of the two of you as your lock screen?”

Melissa just chuckles that easy laugh that you find yourself beginning to enjoy more and more. It’s the laugh that you only hear her elicit when she’s in the presence of Barbara Howard. “Because our coworkers don’t know,” she reminds Jo.

“Well, are you around them right now?” Aunt Jo challenges. Then her eyes light up. “I took an adorable photo of the two of you while you were making the potatoes. Give me a second.”

About a minute later, an image appears on your phone, and at one glance, you can see how anybody would genuinely think that the two of you are in love. It’s… it’s a really sweet picture. Melissa’s arms are around you, and while your hands are working on the food in front of you, the look in your eyes is one of pure happiness- at least that’s what it looks like. And the way that your coworker is looking at you? You haven’t seen that look from somebody in a long time.

With a roll of your eyes, you change your background to that picture, as does your grade partner.

“That’s better, huh?” Melissa pecks your lips again.

You give her a smirk. “Sure, hun. C’mon. We should go upstairs to start getting ready for dinner.”

“I’ll be up in a minute,” she promises. “You want another glass of wine?”

“Maybe some sangria,” you shrug as you . “Have to make sure it tastes good.”

She gives you a nod, and her eyes linger on your body as you head out of the kitchen and up the steps to your room.

Melissa enters a few minutes later as you’re in the midst of changing. She sets your drink on your nightstand before looking to you.

Immediately, you blush. You’re standing there without pants on. “Jesus, Melissa. Don’t you knock?”

She shrugs, and her eyes rake up and down your body.

“Oh, quit it,” you roll your eyes. “We aren’t in front of them anymore, so you don’t have to keep pretending you’re in love with me. I do have to say though, you’re quite the actress. You’re good at this.”

“Wait ’til you see what else I’m good at.” She winks at you before making her way over to her own suitcase.

“I still hate you.”

“I know,” is all the redhead sighs. She won’t say she hates you back, because she doesn’t. She never has.

“I can’t wait for this weekend to be over,” you tell her outwardly as you pull your slacks on.

Internally though, there’s something about this weekend that feels easy; it feels almost natural. Melissa has this warm, soft side to her that you don’t hate. You actually quite like it. You can almost see why Barbara has taken quite a shining to- no. Melissa Schemmenti is still the same stuck-up bitch you work with, and she’s doing this for the money.

You spend a bit of time on your makeup before turning to her. She’s sitting on the bed scrolling through her phone, glasses on the tip of her nose. When you clear your throat she looks up to you, and her jaw opens just slightly.

“What?”

She’s at a loss for words. It takes a few seconds for her mind to catch up to her body. “You look nice. Clean up well.”

“Save it for when we’re downstairs,” you sneer out. You gesture for her to go in front of you, and when she does, you can’t help but notice the way this sweater that she’s chosen hugs her in all the right places, and her pants only make her curves stand out more.

Before the two of you make your way down the steps fully, she laces your fingers together with ease. You can’t deny the way that her hand fits into your own almost perfectly. She smiles at you, one of those real, genuine smiles that almost has you melting.

“You ready?”

“Are you?”

“Of course I am,” Melissa smirks at you, and then she licks her lips subconsciously as she gets a good look at your face.

“Let’s get this over with.”

TAGS (and lmk if you wanna be added): @schemmentis @thesapphictimelady @marvel210 @itisdoctortoyousir @morgana-larkin @doesthatsuggestanythingtoyou @marvels--slut @sweetcheeksschemmenti @megamultifandomtrashposts @lemz378 @http-sam @melissaschemmentisbranzino @imaginesmultifandoms @sexysapphicshopowner @lilfartbox1 @maybe-a-humanbean @imlike-so-gaydude @a-queen-and-her-throne @notinmyvocab @melanielaufeyson @dvrkhcld @cosmichymns @sasheemo @m1lflov3rrr @ricejucie @temilyrights @emilynissangtr @squinnchy @dopenightmaretyphoon @emeraldoceansstuff @shinyfaerielights @blkmxrvel @marvelwomenrule @sarahjohannson @casualfoxwitch

#abbott elementary fanfiction #abbott elementary #abbott elementary fanfic #lisa ann walter #melissa schemmenti fanfiction #melissa schemmenti fanfic #melissa schemmenti #melissa schemmenti x reader #melissa schemmenti x you

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koenigami · 2 days ago

Text

fucking finally. tags : pure fluff, fem!reader, childhood friends to lovers trope wc : 1,5k synopsis : one single word is sometimes enough to change everything a/n : oh how i missed writing for my baby boy

"Come on, set for me!" Bokuto's heavy arm hooks around your neck as he pulls you into his side, the grown man looking at you with big bright puppy eyes. "Pleeaaase, Y/n."

You sigh at his antics, and eye the net across the street. Initially, this was supposed to be a calm evening walk with your best friend after you had picked him up from practice. Yet, you must admit that it is your own fault for thinking that you can combine the words "calm" and "Bokuto" in one coherent sentence. The weak smile you offer him as you exhale defeatedly is enough for him to sprint over to the sand volleyball court, and pull a ball out of his duffle bag.

He guides you to the other side of the net, enthusiastically explaining how to toss him the ball, how to dig it once he hits it, reminding you to keep a proper stance -

You scoff. As if you haven’t spent half of your free time observing him like a hawk during games and practices. You wouldn’t call yourself good at volleyball per se, but for an amateur you’re not too bad either.

And so your little play time goes on like this for a little while, the ball flying back and forth between the both of you. And before you know it the sun has almost set, painting the sky in a reddish orange hue.

"Kou, it’s getting late. I think we should head home." You tilt your head as you pout at him, stuffing your hands in the back pockets of your jeans. You'd be lying if you said that you weren't a little out of breath.

"Hm? Don’t tell me you’re already tired." He grins mischievously. You know what he’s doing, because if there’s something worse than his puppy eyes, than it is him using your ego against you. He watches you flip him off before you get back into position as he mumbles to himself. “That’s my girl.”

The dull sound of Bokuto’s palm slapping against the ball sounds through the empty court as you watch it hurtle towards you at a speed that you usually only get to witness from the sidelines. With the little reflexes that you have, you manage to duck and dodge the ball. It whizzes past your ear like a bullet before it slams into the sand, right before the end line.

Besides the few birds chirping and cars passing by, you don’t hear any other noise as you stare at him, shock clearly written all over your face. "Damn." Bokuto rubs the back of his head sheepishly, a nervous smile stretched over his face. He fucked up. "What a service ace, huh?"

And that’s it for you. The exhaustion that you’ve been feeling after such a long day turns into irritation, and you don’t even offer him a last glance when you simply turn around and stomp off.

"Shit." He quickly gathers his stuff and hurries after you, nearly stumbling over his own feet as he clumsily makes his way across the sand. Were you always this fast? "Y/n, wait. I swear, I didn't realise I hit it that hard!"

Out of the corner of your eye, you can see him deflate visibly when he eventually catches up with you. He pleads for your attention, to look at him as he talks to you and apologizes, or at least acknowledge his presence. Yet you simply look ahead of you and do none of those things as you keep a petty pout on your face. All while trying to ignore his way too adorable face.

"Oh, come on. I said I was sorry." He all but nearly whines while he wildly gesticulates with his arms as if to prove his point. Something about the way you're ignoring him doesn't sit right with him. If it were anyone else, he'd probably laugh about it but when it comes to you? Bokuto's not sure how to explain it to himself but your cold shoulder feels like a bullet wound in his chest. You, who always laughs at his silly antics and remarks. You, whom he has the best insider jokes with. You, who has never made him feel like being too much.

"Babe!"

It slips out of his mouth, and he briefly has to check his surroundings to make sure that he's not in a fever dream. Because why the heck would he say that? His wide eyes fall to his hand and the way it shakes the slightest bit before he cards it through his hair and down his face. All those years, he managed to keep his silly little crush at bay, since having you as a friend in his life is better than not at all. Yet, all it took was one single slip up to ruin everything.

He fails to notice that you have long since frozen in place, the gears inside your head turning as you wondered whether you might have heard him wrong. You have not.

"What was that?" His eyes are focused on the ground beneath him, though he can't help but cringe as he clearly discerns the teasing and mischievous smile in your voice. Of course you won't let him off that easy.

"What was what?" He laughs nervously, rubs the back of his neck, and you notice how his eyes seem to wander without ever meeting yours. All your previous annoyance has faded away at the sight of Bokuto standing there, nervously playing with the cords on his hoodie, and reminding you a little of his younger self.

You bite back the growing smile on your face as you walk back towards him and step into his field of vision, not giving him a chance to escape you. Because something inside you decides that this is probably the only chance you'll get.

Your heels raise off the ground as you lean over towards him. So close to him, you notice how good he smells. He must have taken a quick shower after practice. Warm, a little prickly from the light stubble along his jaw, and so so right. That's how the short peck you give him feels before you're already walking backwards with a bright grin on your face while eyeing his shocked expression.

A laugh bubbles up your throat when you see realisation hit him of what you just did. Yet you don't expect him to recover so quickly, because your laugh soon dies down as he shoots you his own challenging grin before taking slow tentative steps towards you.

Then you run.

Your hear his loud stomps as he's immediately on your feet while calling out to you, boasting about how you can't just do something like that and run away, about how he's going to get you, that you can't run forever. And you know that you can't. You've tried for so long to escape your feelings, and this time it seems like you failed big time. And apparently so did he.

"Kou, wait no!-" Shrieks and giggles sound through the almost completely empty street once he catches up with you right in front of your apartment building. His hands wander all over your sides, your stomach, your neck- Once Bokuto ceases his tickling assault, there's nothing left but the sound of your quick breaths, chests heaving quickly while you both just stare at each other with adoration, longing, relief. So many emotions and neither of you is sure what to do with them.

"Shit, I think my heart's going to jump out of my chest." He admits with a sheepish chuckle, and grasps your hands as he guides it up to his chest. Your palm slides over the soft fabric, and then you feel it. It's beating so fast that you wonder whether it should worry you. "Can I-"

His words die on his tongue as the tiny little voice of reason inside his head tells him that it might be too early. Maybe it's neither the time nor the place, and another tinier voice in his head, called insecurity, tells him that you're just playing with him, that-

And for the second time that evening, you take his breath away when you mould your lips against his, ever so softly and gently as if you yourself were testing the waters and making sure that this is truly something you both mutually want. But his eagerness is proof enough. His tongue leaves a wet trail along your lower lip while his hands grip your waist tightly in a way that makes it seem as if he was scared that you'd slip through his hands and disappear forever into nothingness.

Only when your lungs start to burn with the lack of oxygen, you eventually part, still so out of breath yet maybe a little more maddly in love than before.

"So- babe, huh?" You tilt your head and speak so quietly as if you were telling him a secret. His fingers smooth down your hair, trying to tame the strands that have been messed up by the wind, and during his little attack.

"Oh, you have no idea." Bokuto rasps, his nose wrinkles the slightest bit as he shoots you a handsome grin before his lips find their way on yours again. He's finally got you, and he's sure to never let you go.

#bokuto koutarou #haikyuu bokuto #bokuto x reader #hq bokuto #bokuto koutaro x reader #bokuto x you #koutarou bokuto #haikyuu x reader #bokuto fluff #bokuto drabble #haikyuu fluff

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uncle-fruity · 13 hours ago

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Also, like... I get that there is a lot of anxiety about being seen as morally good & fighting for everyone at every turn, but! Crucially, the people who try to guilt trip you or judge you off your Tumblr presence don't fucking know you. They don't know what you do off Tumblr. They may not know any other social media that you DO use for your politics and heavy posting. And, tbh, at a certain level of offline activism & direct action, it is actively dangerous for you to be posting about what you do online, so a perceived lack of interest or dedication online does not necessarily translate to the efforts you put in to causes you care about.

Fact of the matter is, YOU are the only one who knows what you get up to. If it's not as much as you think you should be doing, that's for you to assess and change. If you feel like you're doing enough, or if you feel like taking on more responsibility in activism would overwhelm you or burn you out, that's okay! You know your limits better than anyone else. You get to set your priorities. And if you really want to help with social justice causes, you HAVE to take care of yourself. Anger, fear, and guilt are not sustainable motivations to drive a movement. You NEED places to relax and have fun and not think about how bleak things can get. You NEED to have places to retreat, enjoy yourself, and remind yourself that it's all worth fighting for.

I know this, because I'm in my 30s now. When I was in my early 20s, I was friends with a lot of folks who went hard during the Ferguson protests, and while many of them are still active in their activism, almost none of them are operating on the same level as they used to. All of them are burnt out & depressed. I spend a lot of my energy urging them to take care of their most basic needs. We also have a problem with a lot of older activists being too broken & traumatized to continue organizing. And part of the problem is people within the movement encouraging people to push past their limits until they have nothing left to give. Or just having no support systems in place to help people recover while actively judging people who need them & can't continue without them.

And, like, it's hard, because it's easy to start feeling like no one cares about the stuff you care about when you're out there trying to make change -- especially true if all your activism is online posting & raising awareness. It can feel like you're talking to a void or a brick wall. The idea that you are so stressed & strung out & never let yourself take a break from the harsh reality of the world while there are people who have the audacity to make time to enjoy their lives and put their efforts into other activities that aren't directly related to The Cause -- well, that's why a lot of people resort to guilt trips. I know I did, too, when I was younger and freshly angry. And I know that those guilt trips did nothing to convince anyone of anything. In fact, it was the constant guilt trips that made me retreat from those online groups. Where they might have had any and all skills I could offer, they instead made me feel like shit for doing what I could handle at the time. And even though I knew guilt tripping was a major manipulation & abuse tactic, I still resorted to it and, in doing so, I felt wrong. Like I betrayed some of my core values by trying to make people feel so bad that they would suddenly realize that they should be ashamed & join the movement headfirst. It just... doesn't work that way. A guilt trip will turn people off. If you want people to join a movement or be more active in a movement they are already part of, it is so much better to encourage them to come with you to organized events or give them something tangible to do that they can actually accomplish. And if you're just talking about posting online, well... that is not the most important thing to focus on, and is a really bad measure to judge someone's morality.

All that to say, a guilt trip is usually a manifestation of the desperation folks are feeling. It's not right to guilt trip folks, and if you're at that point that you feel like that's the only thing that will get people to change and care, then I'm sorry to say you are probably on the verge of your own burnout and you need to take a break. Please don't let people make you feel bad for not being angry or on your activism shit 24/7. And don't judge yourself harshly when you need to have boundaries online. The best tactic will always be community building and working with people & their various skills on their level. Compassion and encouragement go so much farther than guilt.

No matter what a post on tumblr tries to tell you, your moral and ethical stances will never be determined by what you reblog and what you scroll past. Don’t let manipulation tactics force you into doing anything you don’t want to do.

#important #psa #social justice #burnout

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lizpottersworld · 2 days ago

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series masterlist — click here!

☽｡⋆ 𝐍𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑 𝐇𝐀𝐕𝐄 𝐈 𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑 𝐁𝐄𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐄

01. for the hope of it all

summary: It’s officially the start of summer break, Remus arrives for his first day at his families farm and discovers a surprise guest in the flower fields.

Remus loved Hogwarts and being around his friends and especially his boyfriend but nothing compared to the ecstatic feeling of arriving at his families farm. It marked the beginning of an amazing summer. It was always the best way to start the next six weeks, the first four with his family and the next few at the Potter Manor.

As soon as the gates are held open for the truck to drive through, as the cows swarm around the flower fields. Remus closes his eyes and relishes in the warmth and belonging, everything was simple here. Blocked away from anything and everything that could possibly trouble you, it didn’t exist when on the farm.

“Remus, Honey, can you help me unload the bags please?” Remus’ mum, Hope, asked him as they pulled up outside the cottage decking. He nodded and stepped out to the refreshing sticky summer air to retrieve the bags from the boot. Lyall, Remus’ dad, patted him on the shoulder in thanks as he grabbed the bags next to him.

“Bet you’d rather spend your summer with Sirius, eh?” Lyall teased, noticing the way he avoided eye contact and the faint fluster on his cheeks. He chuckled as his son discreetly disappeared through the door without a word.

Being in a relationship was new for Remus but being in a relationship with another boy was something for him to get used to. Not that it bothered him, he was more nervous about his friend’s and families feelings towards it. As if they had a say in it, anyway. The light teasing his parents would throw his way never failed to make him blush and forget his train of thought.

Hope held the door open for him as he set the bags on the kitchen side, his dad not far behind, “I can see Sirius in a few weeks, plus theres such a thing called writing, Dad.” Remus rolls his eyes at him.

Lyall chuckles, “Perhaps next time, you can invite him to the farm to stay with us.” He wiggles his eyebrows and Remus shakes his head with a smile.

“Not sure mum would allow that,” He added, “Plus, not sure Sirius could hide the whole magic wizard thing from everyone here.” Lyall nodded and mumbled about unpacking his stuff in the master bedroom.

Remus nodded and helped his mum to unpack the food bags for the next few weeks and the couple of bouquets of flowers she had bought ‘to liven up the place’ to put them in their respective vases.

Hope hummed along to a muggle song tune that played through the record player, that was lined up with various vinyls, “Remus, why don’t you go on a walk, you’ve helped out loads.” She softly smiled up at her son.

Remus nodded and pressed a kiss to the crown of his mums head before grabbing his jacket to go on his annual walk. It was nothing special, he just liked to walk through the fields with the animals and to say hello to the surrounding neighbours kids who were playing and giggling in the grass.

Really nothing could compete with the serenity and love that cascaded through the many fields of the farm. Something about the country side seemed so perfect to Remus. Better than any city, or any town. To have a peaceful yet beautiful life out here was all he could possibly want.

Even though it was only a few weeks till they met up again, Sirius and Remus had made a promising deal to write a letter every few days to provide an update on each other’s summers. Sirius persisted on not leaving any detail out, so he could imagine exactly where he was whilst he was at the Potters.

It was thankfully Sirius’ third summer at the Potters house, away from his horrible superiority family and house. Him being away from them, served as a tedious comfort and reminder of Sirius’ safety even if he was hours away. James’ parents had almost become like his own, and his house had become Sirius’. Even if they acted like brothers anyway, it was even more of a reassuring factor.

The last few weeks of every summer, James’ parents invites some of James’ friends to their house to stay for the remaining holidays. Those two weeks always gave the best memories, something to always remember happened during that time.

As much as he wished he was laughing with his friends right now, strolling through the fields with flowers and many cows around was something that Remus felt he couldn’t trade for the world.

The golden sun rays reflecting onto the people around and onto the duck pond, it was the perfect picture of heaven. Children around were gleaming with happiness and the parents watched them with just about the same degree of excitement.

There wasn’t many people in the actual fields, more in their parts of their farm in the back garden, all connected by a lake. Apart from one.

A stunning girl twirled and smiled through the flower field, the sun kissing her perfectly as she shone. A lacy white dress adorned her to her thighs to which she also wore a tattered pair of worn, mahogany cowboy boots that shielded her legs from the tickling grass.

Not many older kids visited the farm, if they did they were either here to visit grandparents or just passing through. But taken by the worn boots and the sense of familiarity, Remus felt that this girl wasn’t one of those people. It was like he knew her, but he shook his head at that simply not being possible.

The girl turned around also noticing the tall bronzed brunette walking towards her, instinctively she smiles at the figure. But then a flicker of reminiscence finds her eyes and his eyebrows furrow in question.

“Remus? Remus Lupin, is that you?” The girl shouted, hands on the sides of her mouth to echo her words. Remus still confused waited as the girl lightly ran over to him.

His mouth gaped open, distance not being a problem he could now inspect the girls face, he knew her. Her face was now matured but also carried a vulnerability which he knew all too well.

“Y/n?” He whispered in disbelief, she nods in excitement. “I thought you left.” He shook his head.

“Well, you can never really get rid of me.” She laughed, Remus immediately pulled her into his warm embrace, savouring the feeling. “Six years too long, huh?” She murmured from her face in his neck.

“Where did you even go?” He pulled away to look at her face, to then pull her back into his arms.

She hesitated, “Some like um boarding school, in France,” she smiled, “But i’m moving to another school in Scotland because my mother insists.”

Remus grinned, “does that mean you’ll be coming back here more often?” She nodded and laughed. “I can’t believe you’re here,” he admired her new hairstyle and looked down to accommodate her height, “you look so different, yet so similar.”

She shook her head in agreement, “I could say the same about you, last i remember i was taller than you and you had those circle glasses.” She laughed, recalling his innocence and adorableness. Now he was a whole giant, and had littered of scars all over his face. He was still gorgeous, so beautiful as usual. Even more if possible.

Remus looked to the familiar cottage that she and her family usually stayed in, noticing her not-so-little-anymore siblings playing in the front garden. Her mother, Isabelle, waved to Remus whilst she supported a baby on her hip.

“Willow and James are seven now, and my mum had another baby, Everly, she’s only 2.” Y/n explained, smiling as Remus waved back to her mother. He looked back to her, a supporting smile on his face.

Y/n had always had a loving and supportive family, even when Remus was younger. The age of 11, and he would play with her siblings whilst they were two. He always loved it. Her mother was like his second mother, so intent on being welcoming to Remus and encouraging his and y/n’s friendship.

They had met at the local market around the farm, their mums becoming friends whilst the two only five, shyly waved at each other.

Hope encouraged him to introduce himself and with an adorable smile he mumbled, “My names Remus!” and y/n was the more shy one out of the two of them. She looked up pouting at Isabelle who looked between the two and y/n hesitantly introduced herself, “i’m y/n.”

Then it turned into play dates in the cottage gardens, till they would independently go play games in the fields, like tag or even hide and seek.

“No, Remmy, you’re cheating!” Little y/n giggled as nine year old Remus peeked watching her hide. Remus continuously refused he wasnt each round, until y/n realised every round he knew exactly where she was.

“Thats lovely,” he said, pulling her into yet another side hug, “I still can’t believe your back. You’ll be tired of me by the end of the summer.”

“We’ll always have more summers to look forward to.” She agreed, toying with the freshly picked flowers in her hands that she was planning on weaving into a flower crown.

Remus noticed the sun starting to set and reluctantly turned to say goodbye, “I have to get back, help my mum with dinner,” He softly spoke, y/n dusted her dress and smiled at Remus, “I’ll see you tomorrow, y/n/n.” He playfully ruffled her hair and she yelped in surprise.

Fixing her hair huffing as Remus laughed, “I’ll see you tomorrow, Remmy.” She teased, using their childhood nicknames they had for each other. Remus shook his head, waving to y/n’s mum before walking back towards the cottage.

He smiled to himself, already noting to buy some flowers for her mum. This was going to be the best summer, he decided, strolling back to the cottage entrance where his mother welcomed him.

“Mum, you wouldn’t guess who i saw.” He laughed in disbelief, Hope eagerly sat at the dinning table as Remus relayed the last half an hour to his mum.

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pretty-little-mind33 · 9 hours ago

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Tangerine x fem!reader

Summary: You want to trim your boyfriend's mustache.

Genre: well needed fluff

Warnings: implied sexual relationship in the end, mentions of bleeding

~ this came to me in a dream. idk. enjoy 🫶 ~

TANGERINE MASTERLIST

"Please," you whine, practically hanging from his arm as he unlocks the front door of your shared apartment. In an instant, you've thrown your heels on the floor, still clinging to poor Tangerine like he's your lifeline.

"You can brush my hair! Braid it even! I pinky promise," you try and bargain, which only causes a low chuckle to rumble from your boyfriend's chest.

"How is that a fair trade?" he raises an eyebrow. Tangerine undoes his tie and hangs up his coat near the door. He takes your coat too as you drop his arm and does the same.

"Because I pamper you and then you pamper me," you explain sternly, now almost visibly buzzing with excitement and the residue of the liquor you'd drank as you look at him expectantly. You aren't drunk, just relaxed. "C'mon, please."

Tangerine curses his brother for even planting this stupid idea into your mind at the bar.

He rolls his eyes and rolls up his sleeves at the same time. "I don't trust ya around sharp objects, darlin'," he says, crossing his arms.

You swat your hand in the air and shush him. "Pshh, I cook for us all the time and I don't hear you complaining about me touching a knife."

Tangerine is silent. He can't argue with that, he does adore your cooking. "Fine," he mumbles and walks into the apartment, disappearing into the bathroom to set some stuff up. "But if you mess this up, I'm cutting your hair as punishment," he calls out casually.

You scrunch up your nose in disapproval, walking behind him and lingering in the doorway of the bathroom. "Isn't that a bit dramatic? I'm talking about giving your 'stache a trim and you threaten my beautiful hair?"

"I like my mustache as much as ya like your hair," Tangerine hums, running some water into a rather large bowl. "Seems anything but dramatic, darlin'."

You know he's joking but his threat still lingers as he finally sits on the toilet lid, smirking and patting his knee. "C'mere you," he mutters, his voice softer, and when you walk close enough, he grabs your hips and pulls you down to straddle one of his thighs.

You're giddy again when he shows you the razor, shaving cream, as well as the bowl of warm water he's set up on the counter for you. It's a fancy shaving set, with some fancy brush you aren't even sure how to use. You hold them up in front of him.

"Bought these from the King?" you tease.

Tangerine rolls his eyes again, "One more smartass comment and we're going to bed," he warns lightheartedly. You shut your mouth, nodding, and he smirks. He closes his eyes when he feels your delicate fingers spread the shaving cream around his mustache.

God, he's so smitten by you he's letting you mess with his appearance. He feels a little silly.

You raise the razor, sticking out your tongue as you concentrate. You don't want to hurt him and you want to get this right—you want to make him happy. You go slow, hands trembling slightly as you rock in his lap. Tangerine groans internally as he feels you on his thigh, his hands grasping your hips to steady you so neither of you move.

He flinches when you almost cut his lip and you gasp, pulling away the razor. "I'm sorry!"

Tangerine chuckles, opening one eye, "Am I bleeding?"

You shake your head and lean back forwards, "No, but wait, I'm so close to done," you bite your lip and finish a little. Your smile grows and you sit up, grinning, "There!" Tangerine turns to look in the mirror but you shake your head and dip a cloth into the warm water to wipe away the shaving cream. With a skip in your step, you grab your makeup-mirror and hold it up to him.

Silence follows and your stomach flips. "Well?" You sound nervous and your boyfriend grins.

"It's alright, luv," he jokes as he places the mirror on the counter. You pout and he chuckles. He reaches out and takes your hip, pulling you onto his lap again. "It looks real good, darlin'" Tangerine admits, his voice low in your ear. You giggle and wrap your arms around his shoulder.

"You look very handsome," you say honestly and Tangerine beams.

He wasn't used to these kinds of emotions before he met you. He loved Lemon and that was it, and obviously this was a very different kind of love. You made his chest burst with warmth. You made him feel all kinds of soft inside and he'd fought that feeling for so long, and still you stayed. You stayed and he finally opened up to loving you, and he hadn't stopped since. Tangerine's eyes soften as he sees how happy he's made you.

He pokes your nose. "Thanks to ya, I suppose."

You laugh and lean in to kiss him, your hand scratching at the hairs on his nape. He kisses you back, wrapping both arms around your back and under your shirt. You gasp at the coldness of his hands but then melt into the kiss again. Tangerine nudges you with his nose and his mustache tickles your upper lip. You just smile, deepening the kiss.

Without hesitation, his arms settle under your ass and he picks you up as he stands. You wrap your legs around his waist and laugh again. "Where are you taking me?"

Tangerine hums. "The bedroom. It's my turn to braid your hair, innit?"

You kiss his cheek and down his neck. "I suppose," you tease and pull away with a wink, "or we could do something else?"

Tangerine just grins, dropping you on the bed with a bounce as your laughter fills the room.

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stoopidpigeonxx · 13 hours ago

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⋆˚｡⋆୨✧୧˚ 𝑶 𝑪𝒂𝒑𝒕𝒂𝒊𝒏, 𝑴𝒚 𝑪𝒂𝒑𝒕𝒂𝒊𝒏. ˚୨✧୧⋆｡˚⋆

CAPTAIN CURLY SMUT HEADCANNONS !! NSFW under the cut. MDNI.

(These are all completely random, not tied to any prompt. I just want more stuff about this guy cuz I love him) Fandom/characters: Mouthwashing, Captain Curly, other characters briefly mentioned.

Content warning: Smut (obviously), p in v, curlys packing, title kink, thigh-riding, face-sitting, size difference, manhandling, reader is AFAB, creampie, multiple rounds, riding, cursing, J*mmy.

-He's a grower, not a shower.

I firmly believe Curly is a distinguished gentleman, unlike J*mmy who would most likely brag about how big he is and end up only being like, 5 or 6 inches. Curly, however, will not mention his size until you see it for yourself. And when he sees your face, he panics. "Oh-shit, uh- i-is it gonna be too big for you? It's okay if it is, I should've warned you.."

He's four inches soft, uncut. I think he keeps himself decently groomed. He's not completely bare, but it isn't a forest. He's got a little v-line that's only visible when he wears sweatpants that you go absolutely feral over. When he gets hard, whoo boy. 9 inches, throbbing. He's got a cute little vein near his tip that you like to attack when you're sucking him off because it makes his thighs shake. He's got a little bit of a mushroom tip, maybe more rounded. Perfect for hitting all those good spots inside you. In short, he's big. (he tucks it, that's why he doesn't have a bulge in his sprites. Also I'm sorry trans-Curly headcannon people ;-;)

-"Need a seat? I'll volunteer."

VEEEEEERRRYYY into face-sitting. Very. Like, the first thing he wants when you guys get freaky is for you to sit on his face. He's not exactly sure why he likes it, to be honest, he just loves the feeling of you absolutely lose yourself on his tongue. He isn't worried about suffocating or anything, since he's a lot bigger than you, so don't be afraid to ride his face! he can handle it! But seriously, use this guy as a seat. He'd give you a few licks up your slit at first to warm you up (again, gentleman) before going for your clit. And when he gets it, he sucks. Hard. He'd also probably sneak a finger or two inside you to add extra stimulation, because he really wants you to come on his face. He desperately yearns for the sound of you screaming his name as your juices cover his face and tongue, letting you ride your orgasm out before lifting you off his face and setting you down. "Alright, sweet-stuff, my turn. On your knees, please."

-Save a Polle, ride his big ass thighs.

So... we've all seen his sprite. He's thick as fuck. He's got a booty and bigger tits than me. But he also has deliciously large thighs.. so use that to your advantage, because he's totally down with it. He likes using it as foreplay to get you wet enough to take him, and he just likes the feeling. He'll probably give himself a hand while you're doing it, or he'll just watch and leave the touching to you.

He isn't much for public sex, but if you're really horny, he'll let you get high on his thigh over his uniform and gently praise you when you come. It gives him a little buzz to be doing something like that in a risky situation, like while he's in the cockpit sitting at the control panel, or even in the commons of the ship with Daisuke in a few rooms away. When you do come, which isn't that long after, he'll kiss you all over your face and head and twirl your hair in his fingers, using his other hand to rub your ass or back.

"There you go, sweetheart, that's a good girl. Good job."

-Sir yes sir.

I know, I know. He gets called 'Captain' and 'Sir' for his job. But if its coming from you when he's balls deep in you.. It's an entirely different reaction.

"D-did.. you just call me- mgh..- Captain?"

It makes him ferociously horny to hear that title slip from your lips, so pray you'll still walk tomorrow. "Ooh, fuck, yeahhh. Call me that again, baby. Call me that again.. Uh-huh. Captain takin' care of this pretty lil' pussy, huh.."

He doesn't dirty talk that explicitly, but you calling him captain gets his creative juices flowing. Oh, also his come. Yeah..

Its also perfect teasing material. You two couldn't even be getting it on, you'd just sneak up behind him and kiss him on the cheek and say "Morning, Captain!" In that tone you know drives him wild. Boom, hard. Poor guy.

-Yeehaw!

favorite position? Cowgirl. For many reasons. One, he loves looking at your face while you ride his cock. The noises, the facial expressions you make, the way your tits bounce up and down with your hips.. He wishes it was a renaissance painting to look at every morning. He also just likes being able to hold you easily. When you're on his lap, its easier for him to snake a hand up and hold your hair out of your face, or to give your ass gentle love taps (he would never spank you, unless asked to). He's a very hands-on guy and wants to touch you, everywhere he can.

Of course, he doesn't mind the occasional doggy, or missionary, or hell, even a Full Nelson, because you KNOW he's able to hold you like that. Manhandling comes naturally with Curly. Gently, of course. He would never hurt you.

-Gets a little messy.

Curly's no one pump chump. He'll go for hours. Even if he's came inside you at least five times, he'll keep going. He's got hella impressive stamina. His motivation? Seeing your cunt leaking his seed when he pulls out. He wants you to still find it in your underwear 3 days later. No hole goes unfilled. He's not exactly a breeder, per-say, though he definitely wouldn't complain about getting you pregnant, he just likes seeing you in a state. He thinks of it as artwork, leaving you so stuffed to the brim. The next day, he'd pull you aside and give you a quick finger-orgasm, just to see if his come's still in there. When it leaks onto his fingers along with your own, he's a very happy man. "Ahh, look at that. Still got it in ya. Should fill you up even more later, hm?"

oof. my hands hurt. ;-;

#mouthwashing #mouthwashing smut #headcannons #Captain curly #curly x reader #curly mouthwashing #tw jimmy #curly x reader smut #captain curly smut #mouthwashing game #pigeonfic⯎

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paragonrobits · 1 day ago

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so a few possible issues i see with this mindset in most urban fantasy scenarios where this could come up:

The biggest issue is the moral compromise involved in killing and eating people; its very easy to stop caring about the ethics involved and most character types that REQUIRE a character to kill another person to survive also tend to compel them to do so, or disincentivize them holding back. Even if a person is objectively evil, people deep down don't actually want to hurt other people without severely depersonalizing them or not caring much, and killing people does Stuff to your head that makes you stop caring about it. 2. Directly coming from the first point; if killing people is so little a big deal that you feel you just got to find the right person to take out, then most people will stop caring about it to begin with. You're hungry now, why not kill that kid over there or someone's parent or whatever; you've already killed a few people, and after a bit it stops mattering. Someone willing to kill with this blaise an attitude is usually not someone who cares enough about ethics to not just kill anyone that's convenient. 3. This is actually a feature, not a bug; it's what makes, say, vampires in World of Darkness compelling, the constant tension between the need/pleasure of killing and hunting human lives, and the horror of what its doing to you. You do these things to keep them from completely consuming you, and you KNOW its bad, or it wouldn't be important at all. "A beast I am, lest a Beast I become." If there's an easy fix, that kind of removes the reason its compelling at all. 4. Pedophiles and evil rich people are not actually that common. Your average vampire is not likely to be able to identify them without some work and they're not easy to get to, so this kind of attitude won't last before they give up on it because its impossible to actually find suitable prey that's both appropriately evil AND something that's accesible within the timeframe they need to find prey. What does your monster character do in the event that they can't locate someone that fits the bill 5. Some settings have such monsters consuming the souls of their prey, and NOT metaphorically; depending on whether or not this destroys the soul of the victim or perma-kills them in resurrection-minded stories (and again, actually destroying the soul of a person, no matter how evil, WILL fuck with you, and if it doesn't, you're probably not going to bother trying to find suitably evil prey in the first place), you're probably going to have aspects of them bouncing around inside you FOREVER. Do you WANT to have the memories and desires of people like that a part of you for the rest of eternity? (That said, this can be a great origin for a truly monstrous fallen hero character who started out relatively idealistic, but wound up becoming as bad as their prey because of this aspect of the monster business.) 6. Again, generally speaking, killing people is a bad thing. Most people do not want to kill other people and on a deep and primal level do not want to do that; if you're okay with it, you have been specifically trained to do so or you just don't care to begin with, and in that case you either probably won't bother to keep to these kind of restrictions or will give up on them as you lose the ability to emphathize with prey, or fail to see distinctions; you're hungry now, so who cares if the human is a corrupt cop or rich guy or just someone trying to go home from a nightclub? Humans are all the same is a thought that pops up in these kinds of beings, and the thought of 'there's a family that's never going to see their child again' probably won't matter to you at that point. And after the 20th time you do it, you DEFINITELY won't care. anyway any kind of answer to this that goes 'lol i'll just Get bad people, who cares' are kind of missing the point and killing people for any reason fucks with who you are

the whole “i’m an evil monster because i have to kill and eat innocent people to survive :’(” angst in ‘regular human gets turned into supernatural monster’ stories is so stupid. like how is that even a problem??? there are also plenty of corrupt billionaires, abusers and cops out there for you to snack on

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thesassypadawan · 1 day ago

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Dancing In The Moonlight (A.J. x GFReader)

Summary: It’s tradition… The two of you poolside…a bottle of something sweet and strong (just like your man)…while listening to all those old, cheesy songs he loves… That’s just how you celebrate another successful job…

Warnings: 18+ (mdni), because there’s sooo much of the smut. Fun from behind, pool smex, brief appearance of hat, and… A.J.’s big, fat dick.

Notes: A little something for a lovely anon! It was truly a pleasure to write this! I'm sorry it took more than a hot minute to get this done, but I wanted to put all the extra love into this! I had a lot of fun with it, cannot not emphasize that enough! Hope you like it and to see more of your lovely requests in my inbox! 💗

- Dancing in the moonlight... Everybody's feelin' warm and bright…

- The familiar tune pours out from the open patio door. Floating on the crisp night air. Creating the perfect tone for a romantic, moonlit evening. All that’s missing was your ‘partner in crime’.

- Checking your phone for what easily had to be the tenth time in the last hour, a slight frown crosses your face…no new messages. “Where are you, Jay?” You sigh softly to yourself, resting your chin on top of your folded arms…gazing up at the stars.

- This had always been your little tradition. The two of you celebrating poolside. Listening to his favorite songs. Sharing a drink or two of something of his choice. Helping him ‘unwind’ after another successful job…your frown turned up into a wicked grin.

- So consumed by your own thoughts you don’t register the sound of a soft splash, a voice calling to you. Until small waves lap gently at, firm chest presses against your back. And an arm reaches past you, setting an amber colored bottle and his hat beside the pair of empty glasses. “Sorry, doll, that took longer than I wanted.”

- Humming, you practically melt into him. Head lazily tilting to the side…eyeing up the spirit he brought. “Strong stuff. Must have been a rough one.”

- Hand comes to rest on your hip, giving it an affectionate squeeze. While long fingers push your hair to the side. Lips brush your neck; peppers your skin with tender kisses. Low, gravelly voice mutters. “Yeah. Don’t wanna talk about it. Just wanna relax…enjoy ya.”

- “Mmmh…” You coo, a thrill coursing through you. As you shift forward, hands grasping at the towel below. Legs spreading apart, hips wiggling in invitation. “Think I can manage that…”

- Teeth ghost over, nibble the shell of your ear. “Figured ya could…” Big hands pull on your waist, urges you up on your tiptoes. “Always so good for me…” Fat tip prods at your bare cheeks, teases at your folds. “Treatin’ me right…”

- Mouth falls open, breathy moan slips out. “Because you deserve it…would do anything for you.” Upper body rises up, intent on thrusting yourself onto his throbbing length. But…

- Calloused fingertips trail, grasp the back of your neck. “I got it.” Softly pressing you down, keeping you in place. Pushing himself into your tight cunt, achingly slow. “Don’t have to rush.”

- Bottoming out, hips flush with yours. A.J stays buried deep within, not moving. Tracing faint patterns, placing tender kisses along your spine…leaving goosebumps behind in their wake. “We got all night, sweetheart.”

- “I know, but been waiting on you for week.” Tightening from his sweet, gentle treatment. Tiny gasps, little mewls spill from your lips. As the burning desire inside you only grows stronger, more desperate for him to… “Need you. Need to feel you. Need you to move. Please.”

- “Mmmh, since ya asked so nicely.” One last searing kiss between your shoulder blades and his hips begin to rock, roll. Moving at a sensual, almost torturous pace that has your mind thrumming in pleasure. Fingers weakly clutching at the towel; pussy fluttering, clenching hard around him.

- “Fuck.” Lightly squeezing your nape before mapping a path up your thigh. Dipping inwards; teasing, grazing…circling your neglected nub. Groaning when he hears your low, needy whine. “Weren’t kiddin’, were ya?”

- “No,” you hiccup, sigh. Feeling his full weight press down on, pins your smaller body against the edge. While he surges forward, somehow sinks his cock further into your warmth. That familiar coil in your stomach wound taut, that molten pleasure pooling in its pit. “Always need…always want…always miss you.”

- Increasing his speed slightly; the waves swell larger, lap louder. “Good to know.” Fingers swirl your clit faster, tug on it a bit rougher. “Means you’ll be waitin’ here for me…every time.”

- Breaths come out in soft pants; wispy puffs of air merging together, rising up towards the starry sky. “Ready to celebrate…” Bodies trembling from the cool breeze, from the raw intimacy that’s easily and oh so quickly overtaken you both. “Savor the moment…”

- Burying himself one last time, you spill over the edge together. Him throbbing and twitching, stuffing you to the brim. You clamping down, milking him for every last drop of that delicious heat.

- And as A.J. showers you with words of admiration, loving praises. Sways slowly, back and forth with you to the music. Staying connected. You know that you two will sip on another drink…dance to another song in…

- It's such a fine and natural sight… Everybody's dancing in the moonlight…

Tag List: @espinathena-17, @myheartwillgoon2022, @laylaplease, @princessswifie, @kenobiskywalker16, @loverforoldermen, @lotte08, @rafeswifeyy2, @exsamlockwood-kate, @sythethecarrot, @fuckmyskywalker, @everydaydreamer, @jediavengers, @anisangeldust, @fredswrite, @xhunnybeeex, @vaderswifey, @adorbzliz, @lesnby23, @starsoldier077, @thesilentreaderrrrr, @khoatic-with-no-energy, @poppysunderthestars, @maggyskywalker, @gracescorner, @onlygoodatbeingbad, @lulu-lux, @bigaoibhe2024, @miumia, @moonlxght-tyler, @juli007, @chrismus48978731689, @dietcoke-lover, @polly-xo, @eviekj, @cocobear18, @anonymous1996s, @coooooooooochie, @anthonyromero45566, @bladeloverblog, @jarofer, @olivia82827jsnms, @jaynech028, @arabellaamore, @supernatural-lover, @niyahnotnia, @peyton3328, @ethere4lbts, @jasperanddaisy, @lachimolalaloveeeeee, @sold1erboy, @generalgalaxyfury, @t-bag2, @ttdrake, @gardenfairy-33, @jameskellysgirl, @maddis0n4, @war-and-chaos, @slutforoldermen, @oneaftertheotherone, @cherryhwaa

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samandcolbyownme · 1 day ago

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Ok so what if y/n just got her period and has been in a bad mood all day cause Sam's not home or something like that and he gets home and they cuddle and watch a movie or something. I don't but love you 💜🩷

Warnings: swearing, talk of period, bad mood, mostly fluff

Word Count: 1004 | Unedited

─── ⋆⋅ ☾⋅⋆ ───

You rolled over, reaching out for Sam, but you don’t feel him laying next to you.

You lift your head, letting out a sigh as you remembered today was the day he wasn’t going to be home until later on tonight.

You sat up, freezing as you felt that irritating feeling creep through your body. You made your way to the bathroom and lo and behold, it was day one of shark week.

“That’s just fucking great.” You mumbled to yourself, “Fucking..” you reach forward, grabbing a pad, (or a tampon, whatever suits you best!), “Great.”

You stand up, moving to wash your hands before looking at yourself in the mirror. You brush your finger over a new blemish and let out a whiney groan, “whyyy.”

You make your way back to bed, climbing under the covers and reaching to grab your phone. You look at the text from Sam, Have a good day, babe. I’ll see you later, I love you!

You smile slightly, typing back, Good morning. I hope you have a good day. I love you!

You shifted around and that’s when the cramps kicked in. You let out a groan as your legs slide up, curling into a ball as you squeeze your eyes shut, “God, I haaate being a girl.”

After spending the last hour or so scrolling through TikTok and other apps, you found yourself in the kitchen, looking through the cupboards for something to eat.

Nothing sounded good. Nothing looked good.

You grabbed your phone, sitting at the island as you looked for something to have delivered. After picking a few things, you placed your order and made your way into the living room.

Sam texts you, Did you eat breakfast?

You type back, I have stuff being delivered here soon. I woke up to my period and nothing here looked good, so yes, I’ll eat in a little bit.

You set your phone down, scrolling through options of stuff to watch on the tv.

You settled for a movie you’ve seen a few times, mainly because you know you’ll be on your phone anyway.

You couldn’t get comfortable, you kept moving around trying to find the right spot but couldn’t - and it was pissing you off.

“God.. dammit.” You threw the pillow, huffing as you rested your hand on your forehead.

You wanted Sam, and the fact that he couldn’t come home right now was pissing you off even more.

Speaking of, your phone rings and you smile as you see Sam’s face on the screen, “Hey.”

“Hey.” Sam’s voice rings on the other end, “How are you feeling? Sorry I just got a change to check my phone again.”

“Miserable.” You pull your phone away, seeing the notification that your food has been delivered, “But my food is here, so that’s a plus.”

“What did you get good?”

You tell him what you ordered as you walk over to the door to retrieve it, “But yeah, how’s your day going?”

“It’s.. going, I guess.” He laughs slightly, “We just got done with the shoot for the new merch, next we’re heading to meet with the owner of that school.”

“Sounds fun.” You laugh slightly as you put him on speaker so you can eat, “I hope it goes good. That would be really cool if you could buy it.”

“That’s what we’re hoping for.” Sam says, and you can hear Colby in the background, “Hi y/n.”

“Hi, Colby.”

“Alright, babe. We gotta get going. I’ll text you, okay?” Sam states and you nod to yourself, “I’ll be here.” You laugh slightly, “I love you.”

“I love you, get some rest okay. I’ll be home as soon as I can.”

“Okay.”

Sam hangs up and you lean back on the couch, pouting as you know he won’t be home for another few hours.

After eating, you lay back down on the couch and you end up falling asleep while watching tv, only to be woken up a little bit later by the door opening.

You sit up, rubbing your eyes and you smile as you see Sam, “Hey. What are you doing home?”

He walks over to you, sitting down next to you, “We got out early.”

You smile and tilt your head, “You rescheduled.. didn’t you?”

He nods, “Yeah, yeah. I just couldn’t have you here alone being miserable, but..” he leans back and pulls you into him, “The owner of the school had something come up, so it worked out.”

He wraps his arms around you and kisses your head, “You feel any better?”

You nod, letting out a content sigh, “Oh yeah. Most of my mood was you not being here.”

He chuckles and rubs your back, “Yeah, I thought so.” He presses a kiss to your forehead, “Do you need anything?”

“Nothing but cuddles please.”

“That I can do.” He lays down, pulling you with him and you lay on his body. He pulls a blanket down from the back of the couch and does his best to cover you both up with it.

“Haven’t you watched this movie like a million times?” Sam laughs and you laugh with him, “Maybe, but it was more for background noise.”

“I see, do you want to watch something else, something new?” He reaches forward and grabs the remote and you shrug, “We can, but you can pick.”

“Okay.”

His fingers gently scratch up and down your back as he clicks through, stopping when he finds something he likes, “How’s this?”

“Works for me.” You smile and cuddle up into him more as he sets the remote down, “I’m glad you came home early.”

“Yeah.” He holds you tighter, “Me too.”

─── ⋆⋅ ☾⋅⋆ ───

Thanks for reading! I love you all so much! Catch you in the next one! 🖤

Likes and reblogs are majorly appreciated!

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world-of-wales · 12 hours ago

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THE PRINCE OF WALES HAS GIVEN AN INTERVIEW AT THE END OF HIS OFFICIAL VISIT TO SOUTH AFRICA.

During the candid and emotional interview he admitted how the past few months had been ‘brutal’ due to the health scares The Princess of Wales and King Charles went through :

‘Honestly? It’s been dreadful. It’s probably been the hardest year in my life. So, trying to get through everything else and keep everything on track has been really difficult. But I’m so proud of my wife, I’m proud of my father, for handling the things that they have done. But from a personal family point of view, it’s been, yeah, it’s been brutal.’

Speaking about the Princess of Wales he said that :

‘She’s doing well. Doing well.’

Speaking about what it meant to host the awards in Africa, a continent he connects very deeply to as he spent time there following his mother's passing and it is the place he proposed to The Princess of Wales as well, he said :

'Hearing the Circle of Life. I don’t know about everyone else, but hearing the Lion King and things like that gets me quite emotional, So, when they started singing and I saw the clips from the top of Table Mountain and we were all there and it’s happened. I did feel quite emotional.'

He then spoke about his children watching the awards saying :

'I don’t know yet. I haven’t clocked in with them yet but I hope they did.'

William added of his relaxed demeanour in Cape Town this week :

'It’s interesting you say that ’cause I couldn’t be less relaxed this year, so it’s very interesting you’re all seeing that. But it’s more a case of just crack on and you’ve got to keep going. I enjoy my work and I enjoy pacing myself and keeping sure I have got time for my family too.'

He also spoke about his family's opinions on his beard :

'Well Charlotte didn’t like it the first time. I got floods of tears the first time I grew a beard, so I had to shave it off. And then I grew it back. I thought, hang on a second and I convinced her it was going to be okay'

He also spoke about his new role as the Prince of Wales and how he intends to 'royal' in a different way than his grandmother and father before him :

‘You mention the added responsibility and the freedom in the same sentence,’ he laughed. It’s a tricky one. Do I like more responsibility? No. Do I like the freedom that I can build something like Earthshot then yes. And that’s the future for me. It’s very important with my role and my platform, that I’m doing something for good. That I’m helping people’s lives and I’m doing something that is genuinely meaningful.’

William spoke about the BTS work that goes into setting up huge events like Earthshot successfully :

‘So, the Earthshot is a culmination if you like of all that put together. But it takes a lot of work, and there’s a lot of unseen stuff that goes on, a lot of meetings, a lot of people coming in, a lot of chatting and phone calls, letters, all trying to sort of make the Earthshot get to being the best possible entity it can be'

He talked about his frustrations over reluctance as well as more involvement from buisness & governments saying :

‘I’d like it to be more a team sport. And so, when you go and approach people...business...or even government...and say, listen, we’re building this incredible thing. Please come on board. Some people are extremely fast and keen to it. Others take a little bit longer and it’s those people who take a little bit longer, I’m like, guys, we just don’t have the time.'

'So, yes, I get a bit frustrated that it takes a long time to convince people that this is worthy of their attention. But I guess that’s the nature of a global environment prize, you start from scratch and it’s going to take a bit of time.'

On his hope for the solutions & the impact and his message to those who can invest, he said :

'So you guys have seen for yourselves the scale of the solutions. I mean, they cover all sectors in all walks of life. Brilliant people, some barely started, some been a bit more established and have a bit more money. But overall all doing fantastic work in the same direction. I think the key thing for us is how do we translate that into more impact, more scale, and ultimately, greater progress in tackling environmental challenges.’

On his hope for more involvement, ‘I definitely think so. We’re giving this amazing platform to all of them. And really it’s an amazing platform for business to come in and poach what they want. But if we keep waiting....we’re going to keep eating into time that we just don’t have. And so my message to business really is: hurry up and be courageous. Invest faster because we just don’t have that time.’

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introvertbard · 2 hours ago

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@grison-in-space @mysteryteacup What's up, this post has been SERIOUSLY updated! I also have a section SPECIFICALLY on warhorses, and why everyone who rides and/or knows history is begging writers to 'PLEASE stop putting your medieval knights on Basically-Modern, Chunky, and Slow Draft Horse Breeds! Real warhorses were not like that at all!' https://www.tumblr.com/introvertbard/752832508636332032/your-weekly-reminder-that-ive-updated-my-nerdy Also, I've seen both sides of the "are horses cheap, expensive, or BOTH" coin. (I'm in the United States, for reference.) There are many Americans who DO think horses are "for rich people," and others say that "horses are cheap to buy and expensive to own." A horse CAN cost as little as 1,000USD... but you'll need more money for the horse's basic needs (boarding stables or "the land, food, and a barn/stable for you to keep your own horses in," and a vet who can both treat horses AND head to your place for emergencies).

The "cheap to buy and expensive to own" saying seems largely like a caution sign, to keep starry-eyed people from naively buying a horse because "wowwwww, it's only X much money!", and then going bankrupt trying to take care of it.

Usually, the ones who say horses are "cheap to buy and expensive to maintain" are in rural areas, while the ones who say horses are "just expensive in general" are in cities. It may also be a generational thing, because a lot of older folks expect "good basic horses" (ie, not champion athletes or breeding prospects) to be like 3,000USD, while younger folks see a horse for the same price and think "uh-oh, what's wrong with them?" Because "cheap horses" are commonly expected to be "problem horses (medically or training-wise)."

And then the stuff you need to actually USE THE HORSE will eat up even more of your time and money. A saddle, bridle, and saddle-blanket/pad set alone can easily cost you several thousand dollars, unless you shop around for secondhand ones and KNOW HOW TO AVOID GETTING SCAMMED. If you want to DRIVE your horse, I don't even know how much you'd need for a cart/buggy, the harness to hitch your horse up, and "places that are suitable to DRIVE your horse the old-fashioned way." As for when "driving your horse to different places" means "you need to transport the horse to shows, parades, or to far-off trails," you need a good horse-trailer and a VERY strong car (generally a pickup truck or an SUV). Alternately, you need to know another farmer or horse-owner.

Preindustrial travel, and long explanations on why different distances are like that

I saw a post on my main blog about how hiking groups need to keep pace with their slowest member, but many hikers mistakenly think that the point of hiking is "get from Point A to Point B as fast as possible" instead of "spending time outdoors in nature with friends," and then they complain that a new/less-experienced/sick/disabled hiker is spoiling their time-frame by constantly needing breaks, or huffing and puffing to catch up.

I run into a related question of "how long does it take to travel from Point A to Point B on horseback?" a lot, as a fantasy writer who wants to be SEMI-realistic; in the Western world at least, our post-industrial minds have largely forgotten what it's like to travel, both on our own feet and in groups.

People ask the new writer, "well, who in your cast is traveling? Is getting to Point B an emergency or not? What time of year is it?", and the newbies often get confused as to why they need so much information for "travel times." Maybe new writers see lists of "preindustrial travel times" like a primitive version of Google Maps, where all you need to do is plug in Point A and Point B.

But see, Google Maps DOES account for traveling delays, like different routes, constructions, accidents, and weather; you as the person will also need to figure in whether you're driving a car versus taking a bus/train, and so you'll need to figure out parking time or waiting time for the bus/train to actually GET THERE.

The difference between us and preindustrial travelers is that 1) we can outsource the calculations now, 2) we often travel for FUN instead of necessity.

The general rule of thumb for preindustrial times is that a healthy and prime-aged adult on foot, or a rider/horse pair of fit and prime-aged adults, can usually make 20-30 miles per day, in fair weather and on good terrain.

Why is this so specific? Because not everyone in preindustrial times was fit, not everyone was healthy, not everyone was between the ages of 20-35ish, and not everyone had nice clear skies and good terrain to travel on.

If you are too far below 18 years old or too far past 40, at best you will need either a slower pace or more frequent breaks to cover the same distance, and at worst you'll cut the travel distance in half to 10 or so miles. Too much walking is VERY BAD on too-young/old knees, and teenagers or very short adults may just have short legs even if they're fine with 8-10 hours of actual walking. Young children may get sick of walking and pitch a fit because THEY'RE TIREDDDDDDDDDD, and then you might need to stay put while they cry it out, or an adult may sigh and haul them over their shoulder (and therefore be weighed down by about 50lbs of Angry Child).

Heavy forests, wetlands and rocky hills/mountains are also going to be a much shorter "distance." For forests or wetlands, you have to account for a lot of villagers going "who's gonna cut down acres of trees for one road? NOT ME," or "who's gonna drain acres of swamp for one road? NOT ME." Mountainous regions have their traveling time eaten by going UP, or finding a safer path that goes AROUND.

If you are traveling in winter or during a rainstorm (and this inherently means you HAVE NO CHOICE, because nobody in preindustrial times would travel in bad weather if they could help it), you run the high risk of losing your way and then dying of exposure or slipping and breaking your neck, just a few miles out of the town/village.

And now for the upper range of "traveling on horseback!"

Fully mounted groups can usually make 30-40 miles per day between Point A and Point B, but I find there are two unspoken requirements: "Point B must have enough food for all those people and horses," and "the mounted party DOESN'T need to keep pace with foot soldiers, camp followers, or supply wagons."

This means your mounted party would be traveling to 1) a rendezvous point like an ally's camp or a noble's castle, or 2) a town/city with plenty of inns. Maybe they're not literally going 30-40 miles in one trip, but they're scouting the area for 15-20 miles and then returning to their main group. Perhaps they'd be going to an allied village, but even a relatively small group of 10-20 warhorses will need 10-20 pounds of grain EACH and 20-30 pounds of hay EACH. 100-400 pounds of grain and 200-600 pounds of hay for the horses alone means that you need to stash supplies at the village beforehand, or the village needs to be a very large/prosperous one to have a guaranteed large surplus of food.

A dead sprint of 50-60 miles per day is possible for a preindustrial mounted pair, IF YOU REALLY, REALLY HAVE TO. Moreover, that is for ONE day. Many articles agree that 40 miles per day is already a hard ride, so 50-60 miles is REALLY pushing the envelope on horse and rider limits.

NOTE: While modern-day endurance rides routinely go for 50-100 miles in one day, remember that a preindustrial rider will not have the medical/logistical support that a modern endurance rider and their horse does.

If you say "they went fifty miles in a day" in most preindustrial times, the horse and rider's bodies will get wrecked. Either the person, their horse, or both, risk dying of exhaustion or getting disabled from the strain.

Whether you and your horse are fit enough to handle it and "only" have several days of defenselessness from severe pain/fatigue (and thus rely on family/friends to help you out), or you die as a heroic sacrifice, or you aren't QUITE fit enough and become disabled, or you get flat-out saved by magic or another rider who volunteers to go the other half, going past 40 miles in a day is a "Gondor Calls For Aid" level of emergency.

As a writer, I feel this kind of feat should be placed VERY carefully in a story: Either at the beginning to kick the plot off, at the climax to turn the tide, or at the end.

Preindustrial people were people--some treated their horses as tools/vehicles, and didn't care if they were killed or disabled by pushing them to their limits, but others very much cared for their horses. They needed to keep them in working condition for about 15-20 years, and they would not dream of doing this without a VERY good reason.

#writing #long post #medieval #horses

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