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navybrat817 · 10 months

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Negotiations

Pairing: Sugar Daddy!Andy Barber x Female Reader Summary: You meet with Andy to discuss the terms of your potential contract. Word Count: Over 4.2k Warnings: Slow burn, reader is broke (is that a warning?), sugar daddy offer, tension, slight insecurities, negotiations, inner monologue, Andy Barber (he's a warning, okay?) Graphic talent and thanks: Banner - @sgt-seabass, Divider - @firefly-graphics , Header - yours truly A/N: Welcome back to my Terms and Conditions AU! Beta read by the lovely @whisperlullaby (thanks!), but any and all mistakes are my own. ❤️ Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

Work felt like the longest shift even though it was only a few hours. You saw the customers through a different set of eyes as you served them. You wondered how many of them struggled like you or what they would do if someone like Andy entered their lives. If you came to an agreement with him on everything, you weren't sure if you'd ever step foot in the diner again after you quit. Not because you were embarrassed.

It was merely time to look forward.

And look my best.

You turned to the side when you checked your reflection. Estelle had way too much fun picking out an outfit for you. After carefully searching and sneakily looking at the price tag so she didn’t splurge, you opted for a sleeveless, blazer style dress. Nothing over the top or too fancy. You still wanted to look like you while looking professional.

Though she insisted it was your birthday gift, along with the surprisingly comfortable black heels, you planned to pay her back. Whether from the money Andy gave you or once you got your paycheck months from now at your new job. If she refused, you’d tell her the only gift you needed was her support and she gave that to you. Like she knew you were thinking about it, she messaged you.

“Good luck! I know you look hot! Knock his socks and pants off! He better give you everything you deserve!”

You had to smile at her enthusiasm. “It’s his office. His pants are staying on.”

“You say that now, but he’s the boss. You’ll change your tune once he has his hands on you.”

Laughing as you tucked your phone away, you couldn’t completely disagree with her. Andy robbed you of your breath whenever you saw him and it surprised you that you could maintain logical thinking when he was close by. You had to maintain that rational headspace today. He was a man used to people telling him what he wanted to hear. As an ex-lawyer and businessman, he could sway things in his favor if you weren’t careful.

Considering what he was offering you, it didn’t once feel like he was taking advantage of your misfortunes.

You stopped yourself from messaging Andy that you were on your way. He was a busy man with more important stuff to deal with than a check-in from you. It would be one of the topics of discussion shortly anyhow. Would he want to know where you are at all times or would he be content with the occasional message?

How much control will he want over me? How much do I want to give him?

Thanking and paying the cab driver as you arrived at the building, you didn't feel as out of your element the way you did at the restaurant. The office setting was familiar. It was bittersweet going inside though for something that wasn't work or an interview. Maybe this was better.

You held your head high as if it was.

I can do this.

You handed your bag over for the security officer to check while he verified your identification. Satisfied once he double checked your name and ID, he handed you a guest badge and allowed you to go to the elevators. It comforted you that Andy and his employees were safe when they went into his building. You wondered how often you'd be here or if he'd keep you away from his office outside of functions.

You avoided looking at anyone as you got into the elevator, though you felt the eyes of a couple of men sweep over your body. It didn’t matter what they thought. Andy was the only one you wanted to look good for. As you passed by each floor, the more you worried about breaking into a sweat. You shifted back and forth until the door opened.

One step closer.

It took you a second to move your feet forward and turn down the hall. It seemed to stretch on for miles, the door at the end of it was large and daunting. It was like entering the lion’s den, but you weren't afraid. Even if you did pause again before you turned the handle and walked in.

An older woman, Irene according to the nameplate on her desk, sat outside of a set of double doors, giving you a kind smile as she looked up from her keyboard. You didn't let her appearance fool you. Anyone who worked for someone as powerful as Andy likely had thick skin and a "take no crap" attitude.

"How may I help you?"

"Hi. I'm here to see Andy Barber," you replied, giving her your name and inwardly wincing. Of course, she knew you were there to see him. Why else would you be there?

"Yes, Mr. Barber is expecting you," she smiled, pressing the intercom on her desk. "Mr. Barber, your 4pm is here."

"Send her in, please."

It isn't fair that he sounds sexy through a speaker box.

"May I get you anything to drink?" she asked.

"No, thank you," you smiled, following her as she opened the double doors.

This is it.

The office was just as you imagined, the walls lined with a mixture of art and accolades. A small table and chairs sat on one side with a couch on the other. It was elegant, but the man behind the desk drew your attention. Sunlight filtered in through the floor to ceiling windows behind Andy, casting a halo around him as he stood up. A symbol of power and authority in his black suit with the skyline behind him, you found it difficult to take your next breath.

He looks like he was born to be in charge.

"It's good to see you again," Andy smiled, walking around the desk and gesturing to the table. "Why don't we sit over here? Did Irene offer you a drink?"

"Of course, I did, Mr. Barber. And before you remind me, I know to hold your calls," she chastised him, which only made him chuckle before she smiled at you. "I'll be just outside if you need anything."

I knew it. Take no crap.

"Thank you," you said, giggling as you walked to the table. "I like her."

"I do, too. She keeps me on my toes," he said as he pulled out the chair for you. "How was your day?"

"Uneventful," you replied, setting your bag beside you. It was nice that he asked. "How are you?"

"My day was just fine," he said, taking a seat. He had a notepad waiting there, similar to yours.

"That's good."

He gave you a half smile and you debated whether or not to continue with small talk. "Nervous?"

“A little bit,” you said, refusing to lie to him. It wouldn’t start things off on the right foot if you did. “I didn’t have ‘Sugar Daddy Negotiations’ on my BINGO card this year.”

He chuckled, the sound beautiful in the large space. “If it makes you feel any better, I didn’t either," he joked. "And you don’t look nervous.”

“It actually does,” you smiled. “How do I look?”

“You look beautiful.”

“Oh,” you said, your cheeks growing warmer the longer he gazed at you. While you wanted that to be his reaction, it was somehow unexpected. “I wasn’t fishing for a compliment, by the way.”

“And I wasn’t taking the bait. I’m telling you what I see.”

“Thank you. This was a birthday gift from Estelle,” you said, smoothing out the dress even though you were sitting. Why you felt the need to tell him, you weren’t sure.

“It’s a beautiful dress, but I was talking about your smile,” he said, his lip tugging in a small smile of his own before he cleared his throat. “As much as I’d like to sit here and continue to shower you with praise, maybe we should save that for another time.”

Your throat went dry at the implication, but you didn't want to get ahead of yourself. “Of course."

"Today is about figuring out our terms and setting expectations. I plan to take notes as we go along, if you don't mind."

"That's fine because I plan to do the same," you explained as you took out your notepad. "I’ve made a list of things I believe we should discuss and agree on before moving forward."

“You’re prepared,” he said, a hint of pride in his voice. "And getting down to business like last time."

“I do what I can,” you said, glancing at the first item on your list. “First thing is the length of our contract. You mentioned Mr. Huffman’s merger could take a few months, but there’s no definitive timeframe. My proposal is six months or when the job becomes available, whichever comes sooner.”

He considered your words carefully. “I spoke with Scott again and a merger like this may take a minimum of six months due to the range of variables. I propose a year or when the job becomes available. It hopefully won’t take that long, but I’d feel more comfortable if we have more time as opposed to less.”

A year was a long time, but you understood his perspective. “Why don’t we meet in the middle? Nine months.”

“Nine months, but if the merger is still pending at that time, we can revisit the contract and extend it if needed,” he proposed.

“Agreed,” you said, jotting down your notes on your pad while he did the same. “My job. You said I would need to quit and I’d be unable to take another position while under contract. I have no objections to that, but I won’t flat-out quit the diner. I’ll put in my two week notice. If they tell me not to come back, that’s on them.”

“I think that’s the respectable thing to do,” he said, nodding to your pad. “I don’t know where living arrangements are on your list, but I’d like to discuss that next.”

You wanted to discuss your free time since you wouldn't have a job any longer, but you would circle back to that. “Okay. You said over lunch that you’re not comfortable with me staying in my current place.”

“I did and I stand by that. I understand that my building doesn’t guarantee complete safety over yours because anything could happen anywhere at any time, but knowing you’re close by would help put me at ease. I have a loft ready to go and you can treat it as your own place. If something isn’t to your liking, we can change it within reason.”

“Within reason?”

Andy smirked slightly. “I can’t exactly take a sledgehammer to the wall if you want to make the space bigger,” he said, taking out his phone and pulling up an image. “But it’s a nice place. Feel free to swipe through it.”

The photos were beautiful and the living room alone looked larger than your entire apartment. “Is spending time at your place an expectation?” you asked.

“I’d like it if you did for an occasional dinner, but I understand if you'd rather not. I'd also like to meet you once a month outside of contractual obligations to talk.”

Sounds like a date. Is it though?

“I agree to the loft, the occasional dinner, and meeting with you once a month," you agreed. It wasn't overwhelming or demanding. You'd still have a sense of independence. "But I’d like to keep my current apartment. If I take this job in the upcoming months, I can't expect you to cover the loft anymore and I doubt I could afford it even with a decent salary. I’ll need a place to go back to until I find something better.”

"I own it," he said. He wasn't bragging in your mind. He was stating a fact.

"I doubt I could afford your rent then. I keep my apartment."

“Done,” he said after a moment. You were glad he agreed. Your apartment was still yours. “Which is a good segway into expenses. As a reminder, I plan to cover the rent for your current apartment, along with any bills associated with it such as cable or internet. If you prefer to shut those off during the contract, we can. I’ll also cover your cell phone, insurance, credit card bills, student loans, any debt you pay on a monthly basis. Oh, and groceries.”

Tears filled your eyes as he opened his mouth to continue. The more you tried to compose yourself, the more your face scrunched up. “I’m sorry,” you whispered. You hadn't expected to get emotional, but actually hearing him say he’d cover your monthly bills and help you stay on top of everything was unreal. You'd sleep better at night knowing you had nothing to worry about.

I probably look ridiculous.

“Don’t be,” he said gently, handing you his handkerchief so you could dab your eyes.

“I’m just,” you stopped to take a breath. It was okay to be vulnerable. That was part of communicating. “I’ve carried this stress on my shoulders and knowing that you’re going to take some of that weight away is… I’m never going to be able to repay you for that or thank you enough.”

“I don’t expect a monetary repayment nor would I want that. I told you, honey. You're an honest and kind person. Your company is going to be more than enough.”

He sounds too good to be true.

“You say that now, but you'll grow tired of me,” you teased, holding out your hand to give him the handkerchief. “Thank you.”

He shook his head and refused to take it back. “Keep it. And considering I offered a year for this, I know I won't grow tired of your company,” he said, a bit of concern in his eyes as you sniffled. “Are you okay to continue? We can take a break.”

“I'm fine,” you promised, straightening up and feeling lighter, like the weight was already gone. “We were discussing expenses.”

“Yes,” he smiled, gesturing to your outfit. “I plan to take you shopping so you can have a few outfits, jewelry, shoes, make-up, and whatever else you need ready for the planned upcoming events, as well as some dressed down outfits so you’re comfortable when we travel and to spruce up your wardrobe if you’d like.”

Careful. You’re going to spoil me.

“I’m also going to deposit two thousand dollars into your account each month for your leisure,” he added, writing it on his pad as if that was the final say in the matter.

“Two thousand dollars?!” you nearly shouted. You weren’t trying to sound hysterical, but you failed. “I’m sorry, but who spends that much on clothes each month?!”

Andy looked like he was trying not to laugh at the incredulous look on your face. “You don’t have to spend it on clothes. It’s for you to use as you wish.”

“But you’re already buying me a whole new wardrobe AND covering all of my bills and expenses for nine months. I’m assuming you're covering travel expenses, too?”

“I will,” he confirmed.

“Then there’s no reason why I’d need that much money,” you said with a shake of your head. Estelle would probably tease you for not agreeing, but it was too much. “I can’t possibly need more than five hundred a month.”

“One thousand,” he said firmly as you narrowed your eyes. “Humor me, honey. Please?”

You tapped your pen against the pad as you thought it over. You really didn’t see a reason for that much, but you could put any leftover funds each month into savings. It would be good to pay Estelle back.

Plus, how could you argue when Andy gave you a sweet smile?

“Fine. One thousand each month,” you said, ignoring the look of satisfaction in his eyes. “Okay. We’ve discussed the length of the contract, my job, living arrangements, expenses, which includes traveling. How about traveling itself?”

“Is your passport current?” he asked.

“It is.”

“Good. Some of the traveling will require us to go out of the country and you’ll need it handy. We’ll need to coordinate our schedules so you can block off dates in your calendar. We’ll most likely share a suite for any non-local events, but I’m not going to make you share a bed with me. You have my word.”

You nodded as you wrote that down. It was a bit of a surprise that he didn’t expect you to sleep with him. “Thank you, Andy,” you said, pointing at him with your pen. “But I’m planning to tell Estelle about every function, big or small, so she knows where I am. I won’t budge on that.”

“You’re allowed to give her the details. You said you trust her and that she can be discreet.”

You could never picture Andy as a creep, but the confirmation that he wouldn't force you to sleep with him and that Estelle would know what's going on helped you relax. "If I'm not working or going to functions with you, what am I doing with the rest of my time?" you asked.

Does he expect me to be at his beck and call?

"I'm glad you asked. It's your time to do what you want. Relax, hang out with friends, pamper yourself. Minus the days you'll have blocked out in your calendar, the time is yours," he explained, lightly twirling his pen in his hand. The motion momentarily distracted you. "I only ask if you plan to leave the city to tell me, that way I know you're unavailable if anything last minute comes up."

You weren't sure what you were going to do with that extra time. While a nine month long vacation sounded nice, you didn't want it to be all leisure. You needed somewhat of a routine. Maybe you could take some self development courses to prepare for going back to the office.

"That's fair. I don't have any plans to leave the city, but I'll be sure to let you know if I do," you said, hoping you weren't missing anything as you looked over what you had written down. "What if I’m sick or there’s an emergency and I can't be with you?”

“Then you won’t go," he said as a matter of fact. "I’d never ask you to choose between this arrangement and your well-being or family. Depending on the situation, I could miss it to help you.”

That was unexpected. Andy shouldn't have to put you ahead of any of his obligations. The offer though, even if it never came to fruition, warmed your insides. "That's kind of you, Andy," you said softly before you cleared your throat. “The last topic I have written down is sex.”

“No,” he said, something unreadable in his eyes at the suggestion. “Sex is not on the table because I’m not going to pay you for that.”

“Oh,” you said, quickly scratching it off your list. It was admirable on his part, but also slightly disappointing. Clearly you misread some of the signals. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to imply-”

“You have nothing to apologize for,” he assured you, placing his hand over yours before you could pull it away. “If I sounded harsh, I’m sorry. I understand sex is an expectation for some arrangements, but it isn’t for me and I would never want you to feel pressured to be physical with me. I also have no judgments against anyone who pays for sex. My preference regarding intimacy is for it to happen organically.”

“I appreciate the explanation,” you said. This was a business transaction to him. That much was clear. But knowing his reasoning behind it did help. “As far as being affectionate at functions, what’s your take on that? Or going on dates?”

“I may have my arm around you or keep you close to my side, but nothing more if you’re uncomfortable with that. If you are, please tell me and I’ll stop immediately,” he answered before a moment of silence stretched on. "You're asking if we're going to go on dates?"

"You mentioned meeting once a month. Is that a date?"

He waited a few seconds before he answered. "It's a chance for us to meet up and talk. I don't want to demand a title for those moments. That isn't fair to you."

It wasn't a "yes" or "no" answer. Maybe after his divorce and not knowing if people genuinely wanted to connect with him, he wasn't interested in the dating scene. "Okay."

He leaned back in his chair with a hum. “You deviated from the sex discussion quickly.”

“You said it wasn’t on the table,” you reminded him. You weren't about to make a fool of yourself by pushing.

“I said I wasn’t going to pay you for sex. I never said sex wasn’t on the table at all,” he pointed out. You jumped to the conclusion that he didn't want it because it wouldn't be part of the contract. “Any discussion we have regarding that, I’d prefer not to be in a contract form.”

“So if it does happen, we’ll work through it together naturally?” you asked, not wanting to get your hopes up.

His gaze softened considerably. “Yes, we would. And I’d hope you’d trust me enough to know I’d treat you well and take care of you.”

"I do," you said.

"But sex and a relationship aren't expectations of our agreement or outside of it," he said, taking his hand away from yours. "I want to make that clear."

Andy driving the point home was what you needed, as saddening as it was. At the end of the day, it was a contract. He was paying you for your company. Surely he didn't want anything else. "Thank you for reiterating that. Is there anything else you wanted to discuss that I missed?"

His expression remained neutral, but you imagined it disappointed him that you shifted the conversation back to business. Wishful thinking on your part. "Yeah. The only other thing I wanted to discuss is the possibility of you having a driver."

"A driver?" you asked. Wasn't that a bit much? "I don't mind taking cabs or Ubers."

"I understand that, but I'd prefer if you had a driver. If you have to meet me for an event and I can't escort you myself, they will know exactly where to go. You also won't have to pay for someone to drive you around if you want to go anywhere."

"But you're paying them," you said.

"My job is to cover your expenses," he shrugged, leaning his head back and reaching up to loosen his tie. You stared for far too long. "Told you I want to take care of you, honey."

You shifted in your seat, hoping he didn't take any notice. "I want to pick the driver," you said, a little more breathy than before.

That poor driver is likely going to be bored for the next three quarters of a year being my chauffeur.

"From a selection of my choosing. They're all trustworthy."

"I'm giving Estelle the details of that, too," you said.

"I expect nothing less," he smiled, catching your eye. "Is there anything else you'd like to discuss?"

"Not that I can think of," you said.

He tapped the notepad with his pen. "I'm going to have a contract drawn up, but I won't ask you to sign it for a week. This will give you time to back out if you need to and it will also give you a few days to contact me should you think of anything else."

"One week," you whispered. Could you wait that long? What if you did think of something else?

"Until then," he said, standing to walk back to his desk. He came back with a letter sized envelope. "So you know I'm serious."

Your eyebrows shot up when you opened the envelope. It was a cashier's check for two thousand dollars made out to you. He had it ready for you. "Andy, this-"

"I know we agreed on one thousand, but I was set on two thousand before we talked it over. Even if you decide not to move forward with this, I want you to take it."

Afraid you might cry again, you set the check down and stood up to hug him. He stiffened in your hold and you wondered if you overstepped before he exhaled and wrapped his arms around your back. You thanked him already with your words, so you wanted to do it again with a hug. The way he held you in return, it felt like was saying "you're welcome".

And that you weren't alone.

"I wish we could have that dinner tonight," he whispered, his mouth close to your ear. You shivered before you reluctantly pulled away. "Unfortunately, I have to get drinks with a few executives."

"That sounds terrible," you teased, drawing a chuckle out of him. "I should get going then."

"It is terrible," he agreed, making sure you had the check and your other things as he led you to the door. "I'll see you back here in a week at the same time."

"And I'll hopefully speak to you before then," you said, not wanting to sound clingy.

But the smile he gave you was a sign of hope. "I'd like that."

This is going to be the longest week ever.

I don't need to wait a week. I'm signing on the dotted line! Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Andy Barber Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

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from-the-clouds · 1 year

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lost in the fire - kendall roy x f!reader

| masterlist | succession sideblog: @kendollroyco | my kendall playlist

chapter summary: your boyfriend works too much. a oneshot, but if we're being real, i was thinking about kendall and the reader from thinking of a place, because i miss them. pairing: kendall roy x f!reader words: 4.6k warnings: SMUT (18+ only). soft dom Kendall. Somewhat unhealthy/jealous/co-dependent relationship but this is a Succession fic so like…what do we expect? Alcohol consumption - I don't know what Kendall's definition of sobriety is but he drinks a cocktail in this. a/n: i'll get back to tlou but i've had this partially written for like a year at this point. It started out as more of a manic Ken on a power trip type of fic but then it got really soft and fluffy because I am feeling touch-deprived lately so I’m sorry if I didn’t deliver enough evil ken for ya’ll. :/ OOPS!

**ALSO! I got rid of my taglist. Please follow @ftcwriting and turn on notifs if you would like to be notified when I update my works :) **

"We're like the Lewis and Clark of fucking." - Kendall Roy

Teetering down the hallway, you attempt to quell the outrageously loud click, click, click of your stilettos against the marble floor by shifting most of your weight into the ball of your feet and shuffling forward. It only makes it harder for you to balance while you attempt to put on the flashy gold hoop earrings your friend had insisted you’d wear. Of course, being quiet didn’t really matter, because you were the only person inhabiting the Hudson Yards penthouse.

As usual, you are running late. Famously, you always underestimate how long it will take to get ready for social events – your friends could attest to that. It is a bad habit that, despite years of trying to correct, you can never quite shake.

Beelining for the double doors of the multi-million dollar home, you are interrupted by your name being called out in a sing-songy voice. There is a blur of movement out of the corner of your eye, and you turn towards the familiar sound to find your boyfriend rounding the corner, a drink in hand.

The sight of him at home is rare these days, that for a second, you aren’t even sure if it’s really him. Maybe the place is being haunted by an eerily similar lookalike, or it could be some new ridiculous billionaire technology that he’d invested in– holographic messaging, or something similarly dystopian that you’d roll your eyes at when he tries to explain it to you. It’s fuckin’ next level, I’m telling you. I’m a fucking tech pioneer. You can practically hear him trying to sell you on it despite your distaste.

“Ken?” you cling to the clutch under your arm, unable to stop the shit-eating grin that works its way onto your face. “Hey. When did you get home?”

“Hey yourself,” he answers, poorly hiding a bemused smirk behind Baccarat crystal. “I just got in.”

That much was clear, even though his briefcase and coat had already been cleared away from the table in the entranceway, and his suit jacket draped over the back of a barstool. “Are you going out?” He lowers the tumbler and leans against the counter, but still keeps it close, one finger sliding along the rim.

“Yeah,” you approach Kendall cautiously. “...did you get my text? I thought I’d get ready here, we’re going to that place around the corner.”

He’d given you a key to his flat, even though the relationship was still pretty new – but decidedly not that new, given your history. Things were still moving quickly though, if you compare him to your past flings.

Kendall’s eyes close briefly in recognition, his brows pulling together as though he is scolding himself. “Oh, uh-huh, yeah….right.” It’s then, and in closing the space between you, that his haggard appearance becomes clear. You’re one of few who would probably even notice it. To the untrained eye his white dress shirt is impeccable, crisp and stark as usual – save for the lack of cufflinks, which you notice he’s discarded on the counter alongside his drink. His tie is still fastened tightly around his neck in a perfect half-Windsor. But salt and pepper stubble is sprinkled across his jawline, faint red hazy in the whites of his amber eyes.

Work has consumed him in the last few weeks. It’s been nonstop. And he is still home earlier than you have expected, even though the sun had gone down long ago.

Kendall’s hand wraps around your waist and you lean against him, accepting his affectionate peck on the cheek. “Hey, honey.” The cedar notes of his cologne, the acidity of the vodka on his breath, and the weight of his arm around you makes your stomach flip, even as he draws back, releasing you so he can sit on a barstool. It’s probably for the better, as the impulse to throw yourself into his arms and abandon your plans will become impossible to resist if you don’t leave soon.

It would be a lie to say his career hasn’t put a strain on things lately. Business trips, dinner meetings, weekend conventions all seem determined to keep him away from you. For the past few weeks, you’ve been deprived of him, forced to accept only minutes of his time – mostly sweet nothings and apologies whispered as falls into bed beside you, then presses of his lips on your cheek, still half-asleep in the early hours of the morning as he leaves the next day. You have been forced to savor those moments, even though they are hardly substantial. But you know yourself, you aren’t better off with someone else. He has always been what you wanted.

Still, lately you have been thinking about all his failed past relationships. There is certainly a…pattern. You’ve seen enough, and sometimes it feels like you are purposely ignoring the signs – Watch Your Step!, before falling into a pit of daggers.

He needed a break or he’d burn out, but you’ve learned when to bite your tongue and save those suggestions for when you are sure they won’t erupt. And you both aren’t always good at keeping arguments good-natured.

Kendall shifts in his chair so he can look you up and down – this time up close. “Is this what you’re wearing out?”

“Uhhhh, yeah,” you answer hesitantly, feeling your face heat up.

“Turn around,” his resting facial expression is already kind of indignant, but you can tell right now that he’s definitely frowning.

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me,” he says. “I want to see.”

You shrug, but obey, unable to hide the way your lips quirk when you are back facing him again, hands on your hips. All you have to do is read the look on Kendall’s face to know that he doesn’t approve. And even though there is no way in hell you are going to change, the slight blaze in his narrowed eyes makes you think this is about to become a controversy.

“Do you have a problem?” you ask, feigning innocence, glancing down at the getup. The red dress barely covers your ass – is far more revealing than anything you’d normally wear, accompanied by stiletto heels that lace up your calves. Sure, it’s a lot, but you look good, and you’re going out.

“You’ll definitely be getting a lot of attention,” he conveniently doesn’t answer your question.

If you weren’t wearing lipstick, you would’ve bit your lower lip to keep your composure. Instead, you tilt your head and give him a coy smile. “You should come with me.”

Kendall glances down at the countertop and shakes his head, the comment causing him to drop the subject of your attire entirely. “I can’t. I’ve got a meeting first thing.” To be fair, he avoids the club scene most of the time, so it’s not a well-thought-out offer. Too much temptation. “But you look good,” he concedes.

“A work meeting on a Saturday?” you ask, ignoring the compliment. “Fuck,” you reach to take a sip from his tumbler. The vodka he keeps here is always chilled to perfection, so smooth it tastes like it’s melting off a glacier. “It’s that bad?”

He takes the beverage from your hand when you return it, shrugging before throwing the rest back, then standing to pour another. “Just the usual, la-dee-fuckin-dah….corporate bullshit.”

You frown and stare at your shoes, flexing your foot and inspecting its soles.

“Those heels don’t look very comfortable,” he remarks as he passes you.

“They aren’t.”

“Well then I’ll guess I’ll have to take you shopping to replace them.”

You feel yourself flush. “Let me know when you can fit me in your schedule.”

“Uh-huh,” Kendall ignores your jab, changes the subject. “How’s your job?”

“Same as yours. La-dee-fuckin’-dah corporate bullshit,” you repeat his words from earlier, lowering your voice slightly to mimic his cadence of speaking.

The sound of his warm chuckle makes your stomach flip again. “You want me to, uh, pour you one?”

“No, I should probably get going.” You sigh, pulling out your phone to text your friends that you are running behind, and you hear the clink of ice against crystal.

Then, his voice, deep and husky, directly against your ear. “Who’re you texting?”

You jolt in surprise at his sudden proximity. “Fuck! Sorry,” you clear your throat. “Uh….the group chat.”

Kendall’s arm reaches past you to place his drink on the counter, and you feel his fingertips brush the hair away from the nape of your neck. Then, his lips follow, pressing there gently, his thumb trailing down your arm and then back up again. You shiver at the contact, and it dawns on you how touch-deprived you are.

“Pretty girl,” he murmurs against sensitive skin. His hands land on your shoulders and begin to knead at the taut muscles there. You try to keep yourself tense, even as you feel your phone slipping out of your hands, the drafted text all-but forgotten.

But instinctually, you shift backwards to feel the weight of his chest pressed against you.“You’re all wound up,” Almost chastising. Every part of your body below your bellybutton clenches. It’s those hands, his hands. Hands that used to wrap around your throat, thread into your hair, hold your wrists in place. Pin you down, spread you open…. While you think about them, you let him work at the tension that he is partially responsible for, nodding and letting out a long exhale.

“Just a little.”

“When are you gonna quit that job?” he asks you.

You first, you want to say, but let the retort die before it could leave your mouth. “Hmmmmm,” you pretend to mull it over, but you’re only half-aware of things he’s saying to you. “I don’t know.”

“What kind of uh, feminist would I be if I let a girl as hot as fucking you have to worry about a job?”

You can’t help but snort, turning your head so his forehead bumps against your own. “Is that how feminism works?”

“Uh-huh,” he chides, breath tickling the shell of your ear. “Fucking whatever. I wish you’d just let me look after you.”

You are unable to find your voice to answer, because you remember through your needy haze that you are running late, and when he says things like that, it certainly doesn’t help you regain composure. It’s only after you straighten, trying to pull yourself out of the trance he’s worked you into, that you discover how close he has pinned you to the countertop.

“Ken-” you try to protest, but the way it comes out sounds more like you’re pleading.

“What is it?” Kendall asks, returning his lips once more to your neck, beginning to work them tenderly up the column of your throat, which makes it impossible for you to finish the rest of the objection. “I’ve missed you so much,” he pulls you back against him by your waist.

“Me too,” you sigh. “But I-,” you’re cut off when he grinds against you, already half-hard, and your pelvis hits the granite lip of the countertop. It hurts, just for a second, but the pain is quickly replaced by warmth. Kendall pulls his hands away and you’re only held in place by his hips, the metal of his belt buckle cool against your sacrum. The dress you’re wearing is so thin it feels like there’s nothing separating him from your bare skin.

“You what?” he prompts when you remain silent. You know him well enough to hear the self-satisfied smirk on his face, and his nails rake up and down your arms.

It’s a little petty, but you are hesitant to give yourself over so easily to him. To abandon your evening, just because he’s finally decided to see you at a reasonable hour. Of course, if your friends knew you were late because you were with him, they wouldn’t care. Kendall had been a well-kept secret until it was impossible to deny his existence in your life. But they were all a little too supportive of the relationship, since it meant they suddenly had guaranteed access to any club VIP section - and you perpetually pick up the bill. Not to mention the first-class, luxury accommodations they get on girls trips.

There was more to it than just being late, though. You had always been willing to do anything for him, even before you were dating. He told you to jump, you asked how far? He gave you one pleading look from underneath those thick lashes – and you folded. And Kendall is very aware that he’s your weakness. So you constantly try to convince him otherwise, lest he get too comfortable. And really, after his neglectful behavior, did he really deserve you without any opposition?

“Kendall,” you manage to turn slightly. “I’m going to be late.” Wriggling some more in his grip, but it’s only enough to bring you face-to-face, looking up into his stormy eyes.

He studies you carefully, like he might let you leave if he senses enough conviction. “I don’t care.”

You might’ve laughed, if it weren’t for how stern he sounds. It almost scares you. Almost. Hoping to soften him, you fit your thumb into the dimpled fabric of his tie, and use it to drag him forward, offering a tender kiss on his cheek. Returning the embrace, his stubble scratches your face as he smiles against you. He reaches behind you for another sip of his drink and his unoccupied hand slides down your back, squeezing your ass through the silky fabric.

You are burning, fire licking up your arms, your neck, your face. It’s too much, to have him so close and not be able to have him. All the tension building with nowhere for it to go. When he pulls back, you lean forward.

It’s a little rough at first, because you are so desperate, tasting the vodka, drawing his bottom lip between your teeth. Kendall is the one who softens you, cradles your jaw to draw you closer, opens his mouth and deepens the kiss, so deliberate and practiced that you’re unable to speak when he pulls away.

“Tell me something,” full lips so close to yours that they brush your own when he speaks, your eyes fluttering shut. His touch coasts up your sides, up your arms, landing on your shoulders. “Who are you showing off for in this?” Kendall hooks his pointed finger around a spaghetti strap of your dress, and lets the elastic snap back against your skin. You savor the sting it leaves behind.

Admittedly, there’s a third reason why you’re being so withholding. He’s so spoiled, so used to getting what he wants, whenever he wants it. Not just from you. And when he doesn’t get it, he becomes petulant, fiery. You’ve learned that if you piss him off just enough, you don’t have to ask him to fuck you within an inch of your life. He just does.

So, you decide to poke the sleeping bear, shrugging and crossing your arms like it’s nothing, giving him a demure smile. “You wouldn’t know him.”

Kendall’s nostrils flare as his hand rises to grip your jaw – tightly. “Uh-huh.” Even if you’re only joking, the very idea of you dressing up at all – let alone like that – for anyone except himself, pisses him off. “Fuck you.”

“You’d like to, wouldn’t you?” you try to keep your voice even, but it sort of loses the steadiness you were hoping for when he hooks a finger behind your knee, dragging it up across the expensive, soft wool of his slacks to peg around his hip.

The bruising kiss that answers is clearly intended to erase the smug look on your face, and it works – your breath hitching, the hand on his tie tugging him closer. Kendall seems to speak without saying anything at all, grabbing your opposite thigh and lifting until you are perched on the edge of the countertop.

It’s getting real, but you still haven’t decided if you are actually going to stick around. The way he looks right now, however, swings the pendulum farther into the side of staying in – red lipstick left behind on his cheek, shirt wrinkled, tie hanging loosely around his neck. You wanted to make him look even more wrecked.

Kissing him again, his hands begin to roam, tugging the dress off your shoulders and freeing your tits. “Shit,” He dips his head to sloppily mouthing at the newly exposed skin. “Knew you weren’t wearing a fuckin’ bra.”

“Ken,” you squirm when he latches onto one of your nipples, pinching the other between two fingers. “I really need to get going.”

“Not yet,” he hums, the vibration of his voice against your skin makes the space between your legs ache. “If you’re going to go out in this fucking dress, I don’t want you to forget who you belong to.”

You squirm in his grip – not because you want to get away from him – but because you want to see if he’ll pin you in place, be even rougher. He does. He is. “Stop that. This isn’t a fucking negotiation.”

Well, okay.

He kneads into your thighs now, one of his hands dipping beneath the skirt of your dress that’s already so short he’s only an inch or so away from your already-soaked panties.

“Fuck,” You tilt your head back to look at the ceiling, like you might find some self-control there, some will to resist him, but it’s about as cold and uninspiring as the rest of the apartment. “Please.”

Kendall lets out a dark chuckle, pushing aside your thong and brushing his knuckles against your damp cunt. He loves to tease, and right now is no exception. His touch isn’t enough to satisfy, so you press yourself forward to seek it out yourself. You don’t dare meet his eyes, which you can feel are watching you intently, admiring how you keen and arch and whimper in frustration. Still, you aren’t quite ready to beg.

Thankfully, you don’t have to. Without warning, he pushes two fingers inside you, groaning as he does, his thumb finding your clit.

“Yes, Kendall, that’s–” you don’t finish the thought because you aren’t entirely sure what you actually have to say. His digits curl, attentive, practiced – tuned in to exactly what you like, what you need. You grip at the fabric of his shirt that’s bunched around his elbows. Despite how intense meeting his gaze right now will be, you turn to look at him anyway, surprised by the affection and warmth you find in his eyes.

“You try so hard not to be,” he says while he continues to stare you down. “But you’re always so fucking good for me.”

Your stomach flips, partly in shame, partly because of how good it’s always felt to be seen by him. Throbbing around him, feeling your pleasure build, but he withdraws his fingers from you before it can crest. An embarrassing noise leaves you, squeezing your eyes shut.

The clink of his belt unbuckling immediately snaps you back to reality, and you hike your dress further up your hips, shimmying out of your thong. It’s pitiful, the way you don’t want to delay any longer the feeling of him inside you.

He strokes himself in his hand, lines his cock up, and pushes a piece of hair off your face.

“You want me?” he asks, and you bob your head enthusiastically. “Tell me, then.”

“I want you, Kendall. Please, I want you so bad.”

“Yeah you do,” he mutters, and wastes no time jerking forward to enter you.

Though you’d had him plenty of times you never could quite get used to the feeling – he’s big, of course, and it’s always electric, the blood in your veins buzzing, your hands tightening on his shoulders.

“Relax, honey,” Kendall says, feeling the way your body tenses at the intrusion, placing a hand on your sacrum, one between your shoulder blades to steady you.

He presses his hips forward until they are flush against your own, bottoming out inside you, pausing. It’s welcome at first, a chance to catch your breath, to let out a shuddery exhale - temporarily appeased by the way your cunt stretches to accommodate him, and he’s so close to you after so much time spent away. You’re embarrassed at how badly you’ve needed this, how reliant on him you’ve become, but he always feels so good.

Kendall stays still for long enough that you grow frustrated, and you use his tie to pull him closer, loosening the knot and rutting against him until he presses his thumb into the crease of your hip and thigh so hard you are forced to stop. Once you do, he starts to move, thrusts slow but deep, lips pressing hastily between panting breaths.

“Fuck, it’s been too long,” he laments.

Despite everything, you can’t help but talk back. “You don’t say?”

Kendall doesn’t like that at all, his hips snapping at a punishing pace, which seems more like a reward than anything else, his hand clasping your jaw roughly, forcing you to look at him.

“Don’t speak to me like that,’ he warns.

An involuntary, low moan leaves you. It’s overwhelming – always is. You aren’t used to sex with someone you feel so connected to, or with a lover who is so attentive to your needs, who effortlessly strikes a perfect balance between rough, passionate, and tender.

You wrap your legs around his waist, fingers fumbling with the buttons on his shirt, anxious to run your hands through the smattering of hair on his chest, feel the warmth of his skin under your palms. Even if it’s not possible, you want to be closer to him. Needy. So needy. You’ve heard it from him before, and would probably hear it again. He is right, and in moments like this, you can never bring yourself to care. You like it.

He’s watching you so intently, and the rest of the city might as well be too. He basically lives in a fishbowl, you’re surrounded by windows that offer panoramic views of the glittering lights of the city. The only reason you have any privacy at all is because of just how high up you are, no one else can actually see you right now. Even if they did, what could possibly happen? Kendall loves to take advantage of this – he’s taken you up against the cold glass windows, has let you sink to your knees in front of him out on his balcony.

“What are you gonna tell your friends when they ask why you were so late tonight?” he asks. “Gonna tell them you were letting me spread you open on the fucking counter?”

“God,” you stutter out, always shocked by the things that come out of his mouth when takes you like this, voice deep and firm, enunciating each syllable like he’s giving a speech – frustratingly collected. It makes you ache that much more. “I missed you,” you whimper, pulling his shirt off his shoulders. As much as you want it fully off, not just hanging loose around his elbows, you don’t want him to release you from the bruising hold he’s got you in. This would have to do.

“Uh-huh,” Kendall answers by fucking into you even harder, his pelvic bone kissing your clit with every thrust, and your nails etching crescents into his biceps. “I know. I’m sorry.”

His head falls to your shoulder in a brief moment of humility, lips working on your neck, and you feel your release fast approaching. In moments like these, you don’t doubt how he really feels. He gives it all away, tries his best to make it up to you, and it’s so easy to forgive him. Kendall’s fist wraps around one of the stiletto heels of your shoes, lifting your leg to hook over his shoulder and drive his cock deeper into you. He’s perfect, feels perfect, there’s no one else who makes you feel the way he does. When his thumb begins to rub delicate circles around your clit, you’re gone.

Your body tenses up for so long, you actually think you might’ve psyched yourself out. And then everything releases. Kendall coaxes you through your orgasm, deep voice muttering things that are either unintelligible or that you wouldn’t dare to repeat out loud, and you cling to him while your cunt pulses in waves. It lasts for a long time, or at least it feels like it does, he slows just to fuck you through it, so you can both savor how good it feels. That’s it. That’s my good fucking girl. When he tries to kiss you, you oblige, but it’s open-mouthed and sloppy since you’re struggling to breathe and can’t stop whispering his name.

“Ken, you’re so good, it’s so good–”

You know he likes to be praised just as much as you do. He cuts you off with a deep kiss, moaning into your mouth and vibrating every nerve in your body as he follows you over the edge, spurred on by your own release. He buries his cock inside you as deep as he can, you feel warm and full and complete.

For what feels like a few minutes, you remain tangled with one another, his face buried in the crook of your neck. You can feel the soft puffs of his breathing against your skin, which is now damp.

Eventually, he draws back, kisses your cheek and tucks himself back into his underwear. You pull the straps of your dress back into place and when you push yourself off the counter, realize your legs are trembling and you wobble.

Kendall reaches to steady you. “Go sit down,” he squeezes your arm and you barely manage to stumble to his couch before you’re slumping against the cushions and struggling to unlace the strappy heels you’ve still got on.

He joins you a moment later, placing a glass of cold water on the coffee table and kneeling to help you out of your shoes. You can only imagine what you must look like, because he looks disheveled, shirt still hanging open, pants unbuttoned, your lipstick still smudged on his cheek. Exhausted as you are, it makes you want him all over again.

He settles next to you, pulls you to his chest, and you wrap your arms around his waist, leaning up to whisper softly in his ear. “Ken,” he turns his head slightly, cheek pressed against your forehead. “I love you.”

From this angle you can only see the corner of his eyes, the way they crinkle as he looks down bashfully, eyelashes nearly touching his cheeks at your admission, words he so rarely has heard before. Words you have vowed to repeat until he believes you – because sometimes you think he doesn’t. Still, he answers. “I love you, too.” You close your eyes a moment, your heart rate returning to normal, and take in one final deep breath. Content.

“I don’t want to keep you from your friends,” Kendall says eventually, hands in your hair, tugging gently so you’ll look up at him.

“Right,” you nod. “Honestly, I don’t know if I even want to go out anymore.”

“But you got all dressed up,” he smirks.

“Look where it got me.”

He laughs. “Uh-huh. You knew what you were doing what you fucking put that shit on.”

You don’t deny it, feeling your cheeks grow warm. It’d be too easy to stay with him, to slide across his lap and kiss him until he takes you again. But your phone dings on the counter, and you know you can’t abandon your friends entirely. You sigh, pulling away from Kendall and looking him in the eyes.

“Don’t worry,” he encourages. “I’ll wait up for you.”

#succession #succession writing #kendall roy #kendall roy x reader #kendall roy imagine #kendall roy smut #kendall x reader alliance please rise!!!!

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the-iceni-bitch · 1 year

Text

He Gives Me Everything and Tenderly…

Pairing: detective!bottom Bucky Barnes x younger!top male reader (Sarge and Officer Beefcake, NLLYL AU)

Words: ~5k

Summary; Bucky is just fine on his own. He really is. He’s used to it. Even after meeting you and thinking about you a whole bunch, he’s still fine. And he does not appreciate his friends’ meddling.

Warnings: explicit language, explicit sexual content (mentions of male masturbation, salad tossing, protected anal sex, spit as lube and lube as lube, kinda public sex), meet cute, reverse age gap, tall/beefy male reader, bottom!Bucky Barnes, Bucky is grumpy, hints of angst, love at first sight? lots of friendly teasing, m/m relationship, SMUT!! 18+ ONLY!!

A/N: Welp, this was something I wrote entirely in one sitting and I can’t say I’m mad about it at all. This is my first ever male reader fic and I am both incredibly nervous and very excited to share it with all of you! Big ass thanks to the absolutely amazing @howdoyousleep3 for hyping me up and providing some much appreciated perspectives (remember lube, people!)

I am no longer doing taglists so if you want to stay up to date on all the latest filth, follow my sideblog @the-iceni-library and turn on notifications!

Bucky was exhausted. A long ass shift at the end of a long ass week and he was done, looking forward to going home and drinking a cold beer on his couch while he didn’t talk to anyone for a whole 48 hours. God, he hated people.

Except Darcy, and the cute little peach. Even though he wanted to get the fuck out of there he still stopped by the dispatch desk to chat with his girls and let them cheer him up a little.

“Hey Sarge!” He shook his head when Darcy called him that, her stubborn insistence to call him by his military rank after however many years just one of the many things that endeared her to him. “You look like shit, you finally getting out of here? Maybe gonna see someone special tomorrow?”

“The only people he’ll be seeing are Sam Adams and Johnnie Walker, maybe James Bond… hey!” The peach gave him an adorable scowl when he threw a paper clip at her, rubbing her cheek where it had hit her and sticking her tongue out at him before turning her attention back to her screen. “Don’t act like I’m not right, I’m there every time you drunk dial Nat while you’re binge watching old movies and lamenting your lack of a love life.”

“Tell your girlfriend to quit putting me on speaker or I’m gonna call her ex to chat from now on.” Bucky grinned when she rolled her eyes at him, bringing his attention back to Darcy and sighing when she was giving him a sympathetic pout. “Don’t look at me like that, I’m fine. I like being alone.”

“You’re lying, but fine.” Darcy shrugged at him, grinning when there was a sudden commotion at the doors and a mess of recruits came charging through into the hallway after Sam. “Hi Sammy, boys! Ooh, hey there beefcake, you run laps around all those slugs on the course again?”

“Maybe.”

Bucky choked when you were standing next to him, trying not to ogle you swathed in those gray sweats and feeling like the world’s dirtiest old man all of a sudden. “They’re getting better, starting to catch up. You shouldn’t call them slugs, Darce.”

“Please, like Wilson hasn’t called them worse, you’re too nice.” Peachy girl grinned when she turned in her chair again and saw Bucky looking like his jaw was about to hit the floor. “Have you met Detective Barnes, beefy?”

“Haven’t had the pleasure.” Bucky took in your name with an almost hysterical laugh when you reached out and shook his hand, not entirely sure what had come over him as he felt his neck getting unbearably hot and struggled to come up with something to say. “Well, I’ve gotta hit the showers, always lovely talking to you ladies.”

“Bye!” Both of them were grinning wickedly at Bucky once you were gone, chuckling when he just spluttered nonsense and looked at the floor. “What the fuck was that, Bucky?”

“Shut up.” He was flabbergasted, he’d never felt such an unbelievable attraction to someone right off the bat, except, once. But he never thought about that. “It wasn’t anything.”

“Oh, nothing at all?” Darcy was still grinning when Bucky growled at her, shaking her head and leaning back in her chair while the peach kept laughing. “So you weren’t staring at his ass when he walked away?”

“Of course not.” It had only been a little bit, you were so fucking tall your ass was impossible to miss, and so high and tight and… no, nope. “What the hell kind of nickname is beefcake, anyway?”

“You saw him.” Peach was practically cackling at this point, the redness on Bucky’s face so entertaining she was considering taking a photo to send to Nat. “The man is grade A USDA prime meat, what would you like us to call him?”

“You’re a couple of pervs.” Bucky just scoffed and ignored them when they told him it takes one to know one, flipping them off over his shoulder and almost forgetting his bag when he stormed out of the precinct to start his much needed alone time. “Inappropriate, gonna talk to HR about you two!”

If it had just been the one interaction, Bucky probably could’ve handled it. Yeah, he had jerked himself off thinking about your broad shoulders and tiny waist and that masterpiece of an ass, but only once, okay three times. But it was just over the weekend, he’d forget about you eventually.

Except for the fact that suddenly he was seeing you everywhere. Every damn time he was in the precinct, there you were, smiling that slightly crooked smile and laughing and making every person light up when you walked through the room. And in the fucking sweats every time, it was like torture. Torture that was made worse by the fact that Darcy and peach were always grinning at him like they knew something he didn’t, and they had apparently told Sam whatever they supposedly knew, so now that man was basically parading you in front of Bucky’s desk every chance he got and making him talk to you and get to see how fucking charming you were. He hated it.

“I do, I love cats!” Sam was chatting with you right in front of Bucky’s desk again and he was plotting how he could get away with murdering the man. “Have a little ginger idiot at home who has maybe two braincells, but he’s my baby.”

“Wow, that’s adorable.” Bucky almost growled at Sam when he grinned at him. “Bucky has a kitty of his own, don’t you, Buck?”

“Yes.” Sometimes he even hated his friends, this was ridiculous.

“I love that, knew you were a cat person.” Bucky almost groaned when you placed your hand on the desk so close to his, looking up at you through his lashes and trying so hard not to melt into his chair when he saw you smiling at him. “What’s her name?”

“Alpine.” You smelled so unbelievably good, Bucky had an incredible urge to lean up and bury his face in your neck, but managed to just turn the photo of his cat around to show you instead. “She’s three.”

“She’s gorgeous.” You winked and Bucky almost swooned, there was something wrong with him. “Shit, I’ve gotta get out of here, got a birthday party to get to. It’s always real nice talking to you, Detective.”

“You too.” Bucky swallowed thickly and shook his head when you walked away, his scowl coming back immediately when he saw Sam looking like he just ate a damn canary as he smirked at him. “Shut up.”

“Didn’t say anything.” Sam chuckled when Bucky just hunched over his paperwork and tried to ignore him. “Buuuuut… hoo boy, you like him.”

“I do not.” Murder was the only answer to these affronts. “He’s too young.”

“Bullshit, is peach too young for Nat?” Sam snorted when Bucky just grumbled under his breath, rolling his eyes at the man’s stubbornness. “You like like him, you need to get over that massive hang up, Barnes, it’s holding you back!”

“Man, fuck you!” Bucky jumped when he realized that Sam wasn’t there anymore, so he was just yelling at the bullpen, every member of the team giving him looks of varying amusement before they bent back to their work. “Sorry.”

It was a legitimate hang up, especially when it came to you. Because you reminded Bucky of him.

Specifically of when he was young, when Bucky first realized he was in love and overlooked all of his flaws and just wanted to be wrapped up in him all the time in spite of the fact the man would only look at Bucky like his old friend who he could tell about every single disgusting conquest he made. And that meant you were dangerous. Bucky refused to do that to himself again, it had taken him too long to get over that malicious bastard, and nothing had hurt him more than the realization that he had wasted so much time loving someone who barely gave a fuck about him. He didn’t care how sincere and charming you seemed, he wasn’t going to fall for that same shit all over again.

But it didn’t stop any of his friends from dragging you in front of him at every opportunity, and even though he was polite and listened to you and answered all your questions, it didn’t stop him from snarling at them as soon as you were gone. He didn’t care what they thought he needed, he was fine.

He wasn’t lonely. He didn’t wake up grinding his hips into his mattress after dreaming of sharing his bed with you. He didn’t wonder what you would look like with soft morning light falling across your face while both of your cats jumped on you and Bucky made you breakfast. They all needed to worry about their own lives and quit fucking with his.

Which is why he should have been suspicious as hell when Nat and her little peach and Darcy insisted on taking him out for drinks on a Friday night. All of them together. At a dive bar that was typically just cops. Like they didn’t usually go uptown and dress up.

“Well, look at that, is that Sam?” Darcy bounced on her toes and waved when she spotted Sam with all of his recruits, her and peach squealing while Bucky shot Nat an exhausted look. “Gosh, I completely forgot they’re celebrating the academy graduation, what are the chances?”

“Shocking.” Bucky couldn’t stop growling when Nat just shrugged at him. “I can’t believe they dragged you into their scheming, Romanoff.”

“They’re young and excited, it’s cute.” Nat wrapped her arm around Bucky’s shoulders and started pulling him towards the group. “Besides, you deserve someone nice, and to spend the night with someone besides Alpine.”

“Alpine doesn’t take up that much room on the bed, and I like to spread out.” Bucky just resigned himself to having a miserable night, even when you gave him an easy smile once you laid eyes on him and waved eagerly. “And he might not be nice.”

“Buck, you won’t know unless you give him a chance.” Nat sighed as she rested her chin on her best friend’s shoulder, pinching his cheek and trying to get him to at least give her a grudging smile. “And you know how good my asshole radar is, I’m getting no pings from the beefcake.”

“Yeah, alright.” Bucky steeled himself when you started walking his way, feeling a little tight in his chest and watery in his eyes as he did his best to give you a smile. “Hi.”

“Hi Detective.” Your smile got even wider when Nat introduced herself, shaking her hand warmly then turning back to Bucky and crossing your arms over your massive chest. “Can I get you a beer?”

“I don’t…” Bucky caught himself when Nat looked at him expectantly and blew out a deep breath. “Yeah, a beer would be great.”

“Fantastic, for you too?” You winked at Nat when she nodded before hurrying off to get their drinks with an undeniable bounce in your step that Bucky found he enjoyed very much.

“Listen, Buck.” Nat gave you a very thorough look while you waited at the bar, wrapping her arms around her girl when she came to sit on her lap and Darcy sat across from them. “Even if it doesn’t last, you’re a special kind of idiot if you don’t at least have sex with that man.”

“Jesus Christ.” Bucky felt himself blush up to his ears when all of the women just nodded enthusiastically and started detailing what the two of you should do to each other. “You three are worse than frat boys, oh my god.”

“C’mon, sarge…” Darcy snapped her mouth shut when you came back with Bucky’s and Nat’s drinks, giving Bucky a meaningful look and making a little circle with her thumb and forefinger then pushing her opposite finger through it while your back was turned until Bucky felt like he was in fucking high school. “Hi beefcake!”

“Hi Darce!” You were sitting so close to Bucky he could smell you again, he had to start chugging his beer so he didn’t reach out to bury his fingers in your hair. “I’ve always wanted to ask, why does she call you ‘sarge’?”

“Oh, it was my rank when I was discharged.” Bucky couldn’t handle the way you were looking at him, like he was the most interesting thing in the room, he wanted to fall into your eyes and get lost. “From the army. Darcy’s sister served with me, so she knew me then and the nickname stuck.”

“I didn’t know you served, my dad was in the marines.” You could see Bucky starting to tense up and bless you, you backed off, keeping that easy smile on your face while you nudged his foot with yours. “It’s okay, that’s not something we have to talk about right now, tell me about Alpine, how’s the little lady doing?”

“She’s- she’s good.” Something about the way you instantly pivoted the conversation and didn’t make Bucky feel like an ass for almost clamming up had him relaxing pretty much instantly, grinning back at you and rolling his eyes a little playfully when he thought about his little furry troublemaker. “She’s a brat, but good. Almost gave me a heart attack last week when she somehow managed to climb up to the ceiling beams in my apartment.”

“Oh shit! Really?” You chuckled warmly when Bucky just nodded and took another sip of his beer, plucking at the edge of the label on your bottle and leaning forward a little so you could hear him better. “She get down on her own or did you have to get a ladder?”

“Well, after six hours of pleading and begging, I did finally manage to entice her with some tuna.” Bucky kept watching your face closely, the earnestness he was so wary of constant and never wavering while you listened to everything he said intently. “She’s too smart for her own good, I swear.”

“Fuck, I can’t decide if my situation is better or worse.” You laughed when Bucky scoffed, pushing at his shoulder and shaking your head when he looked at you with mock offense. “No, I love my boy, but he’s a dumbass of epic proportions. The most worrisome thing he’s ever done is get his whole head stuck in a mason jar. Theodore is an idiot.”

“Theodore?” Bucky was vaguely aware of movement next to him after he emptied his beer and set down the bottle, but he couldn’t stop watching your lips move. “That’s adorable.”

“Aw, yeah, my niece named him.” Your smile got even wider somehow and it was making Bucky melt, another bottle of beer appearing seemingly out of nowhere on the table and immediately finding its way to his lips. “It’s her favorite chipmunk.”

Cats. Talking about your fucking cats was apparently the kick in the ass Bucky needed to let almost all his concerns about having anything with you go, letting himself relax and be easy while you told him all these sweet, endearing little things about yourself. How much you loved your niece and how much of a star she was at figure skating. How good you were at baking and you didn’t care what he said, you were baking him a loaf of sourdough to prove it. How you played three different instruments and spoke two languages. You were too goddamn interesting.

And you managed to get him to talk about himself too. How close he was with his sister and mother and how much he loved seeing them as often as possible. How he secretly enjoyed knitting and always made sweaters for the family at Hanukkah but would kill you if you told anyone about his hobby. How he collected old records and could spend whole days just listening to music and drinking good whiskey.

Bucky was more than a little thrilled that you seemed to be hanging on his every word and scooting closer to him until you were right next to him and your shoulders were practically touching.

He had lost track of how many beers he’d consumed by the time people started dancing, but he knew it wasn’t too many as he was just very pleasantly buzzed and staring at your plump, kissable, pillowy lips and wondering what it would be like to suck on them.

“Hey, James.” Bucky had just told you his first name and for some reason the fact that was what you were choosing to call him was making him dizzy. “You wanna dance with me?”

“Oh, um…” Bucky chewed on his lip while he thought it over, he had two left feet when he was sober, and he also wasn’t sure he would be able to control himself if you put your hands on him. “I don’t know…”

“Hey, no pressure.” You winked like you did every time you said something disarming and Bucky decided that he loved that about you. “Just wanted to ask, but if all you want is to talk, that’s a-okay.”

Bucky was struggling with himself. You barely seemed disappointed, it had maybe flashed across your face for a second, but he believed you when you said it was okay. You even leaned back against your chair to give him space, zero hints of malice in your expression and just that perfect, easygoing look that made Bucky feel like you were fine taking no for an answer and you would never hold it against anybody.

And for some reason, that finally sealed it for Bucky that you weren’t him.

“I wanna dance.” Bucky winced when he almost knocked over his bottle when he set it down, grabbing your hand and pulling you to your feet so he could drag you towards the makeshift dance floor. “Let’s go.”

Your laugh made Bucky beam at you over his shoulder, humming along to the music and turning to face you once you were in the middle of it. His breath caught when you were right there, letting you frame his waist with your hands and pull him even closer while you started rolling your hips to the music. Bucky very quickly decided that he liked having your hands on him, shaking his head and gripping your wrists to keep you in place when you tried to lean back before he slid his palms up your arms and over your chest.

Somehow, even though he knew you were big, your massive size hadn’t fully registered in Bucky’s brain until he was in such close proximity to you. It’s not like Bucky was small by any means, he hit the weights, he never skipped arm day, he’d even been called beefy himself a few times. But you… goddamn. You were like nothing Bucky had ever seen before. He was starting to get woozy from it.

Then you ducked even closer and pressed your cheek against Bucky’s temple and he couldn’t help it, he gasped. He could feel your lips moving against his skin but he couldn’t hear anything you were saying, a low buzzing filling his ears while his fingers dug into your firm chest and he rolled his hips against yours. This was dangerous, he was not going to have sex with you without even a proper date, he wasn’t that easy.

He kept repeating it in his head over and over. When you slipped your arms around his waist and squeezed as you kept guiding his movements. When he buried his face in your neck and groaned when he finally got to breathe in your scent fully. When you nipped at the shell of his ear and made some kind of noise that sent a vibration through Bucky’s whole body. And especially when you grabbed his ass and gave such a dirty grind of your hips that made him feel how fucking hard and massive you really were.

It didn’t matter how much he repeated it though, it only took three songs before Bucky found himself with his back against a stall door in the bathroom with his pants around just one of his ankles and his toes barely brushing the floor while he practically sat on your face.

One of his knees was flung over your shoulder while you licked at his hole, his whole body shivering when you hummed against his skin and dug your fingers into his thighs and he didn’t even care that he was getting eaten out in a public bathroom and enjoying it quite loudly.

“God, I knew you’d be fucking sweet.” You growled but barely pulled back, gripping the thigh that was on your shoulder and pushing it up until it was pressed to Bucky’s side so you could see his face. “You taste so goddamn good, James, once I get you in bed I’m gonna make a full meal out of this ass, shit.”

“Oh… Jesus Christ.” Bucky could barely breathe when your mouth was on his hole again, he could feel your jaw working while you moved your lips and tongue like you were making out with him, all while you kept your intense eye contact and let his cock rest on your face like you didn’t even care. “Oh my fucking god.”

Bucky could feel your chuckle when a whine escaped from his throat without his permission, his eyes rolling when your tongue fluttered all around his twitching skin before you were dragging it over his hole again and sucking until Bucky almost squealed. But then your tongue punched into him and the squeal was ripped out of his chest, his breath heaving almost painfully while you fucked him with the thick muscle until his dick started leaking and twitching against your forehead. It was insane that you were so good at this, you were so young, but your mouth worked like you were a fucking pornstar and it had Bucky feeling some kind of way.

“You’re gonna let me fuck you, James.” It didn’t sound like a question, you were telling him, your face serious while you licked your way up his taint until you could nip at his balls while you slid a finger inside him. “I need it, need to feel you come on my cock, god, you’d better fucking hold it until I’m inside you or I’m gonna spank you, I swear to fucking god.”

“Yeah… yeah, oh my god, please.” Bucky felt like he was losing his mind when you sucked on his balls and pushed a second finger inside him, his legs shaking and his eyes rolling back in his head while he grabbed your hair and held on for dear life. “Oh shit… fuck me, I can hold it, I’ll be good, just fuck me.”

You leaned your cheek against his hip and kept grinning at him while you reached your free hand into your wallet to grab a packet of lube, chuckling when Bucky huffed at you when you ripped it open with your teeth and squirted it all over the fingers you were plunging into his ass.

“You brought lube with you?” Bucky was trying to remain huffy but it was difficult when you were scissoring his hole open so slowly and shit, it felt amazing. “What exactly did you think was going to happen tonight?”

“God, I dunno, James.” You looked meaningfully at the fingers that were currently knuckle deep inside him, wiggling them a little when you looked back up at him with a cocked eyebrow and snorting when he whined. “Would you prefer I didn’t have lube right now? Because I can stop…”

“No, don’t do that.” So much for not trying to seem desperate, Bucky was panting he needed you so bad. “I’m just… talking, I’ll shut up. I can be good.”

“Yeah? You’re gonna be a good boy for me James?” What were you doing to him? Bucky couldn’t help but whimper when you spat on your fingers to slick them up even more and added a third, nodding and rolling his hips into your hand when you just barely teased his sweet spot as you kissed the inside of his thigh. “Yeah you will, my good boy, opening right up for me.”

“Mmhm, yours, oh holy shit.” The addition of your fourth finger turned Bucky’s whole body into jelly, your hold on his thigh the only thing keeping him from crumpling to the floor when you licked a wide, flat stripe up the underside of his cock. “Holy fucking shit, pleasepleaseplease…”

“Shhh, don’t you worry, James, I’ve got you.” You groaned when he let go of your hair to shove his fist in his mouth when he gave you a tortured cry, slowly pulling your fingers out of him and setting his feet on the floor so you could stand. “Turn around for me, sweet thing.”

“Yes… yes sir.” Bucky let his eyes flutter closed when you kissed his temple and turned him around, pressing his cheek against the cool metal and arching his back when you placed one hand on his hip and used the other to pull out a condom. “I need it.”

“I know, handsome.” Your voice was muffled while you used your teeth to rip the wrapper open, nuzzling into the tendrils of hair that were resting against the back of Bucky’s neck so you could kiss him there while you rolled the condom over your length and emptied another packet of lube all over your dick. “You gonna call me sir while I fuck this sweet little ass?”

“Ye-yes… oh fuck!” Bucky practically screamed when your tip just barely slipped inside him, arching his back and whining when you wrapped your arm across his throat and growled in his ear. “Fuck… ‘s big, so big, fuck me.”

“You can take it, big guy, keep being good for me.” You grinned against Bucky’s cheek when he rose on his toes as you kept going, smacking his ass and chuckling when it made him clench as you increased the pressure on his neck. “You feel fucking incredible, Jesus. Been thinking about getting you like this since the first time I saw you, you know that? Did you think about me too, James?”

“N-no.” Bucky already felt extremely vulnerable while he was split open on only half of your cock, he didn’t need to admit to you that he had been dreaming about wrapping his legs around your tiny little waist while you fucked him slow and deep. “I didn’t.”

“Pretty sure you’re a liar.” You grinned and yanked his head back at the same time you gave a final snap of your pelvis and Bucky sobbed, his body shaking violently while you rested your hips against the plush curve of his ass and dragged your tongue along his jaw while you let him adjust. “That’s okay though, big guy, you can think about this. Now, I’m gonna apologize, because this is gonna be a lot faster than I would like, but we are in public.”

Bucky didn’t have any response except a yelp when you started driving your cock into him almost viciously, his breath punched out of his lungs each time your hips bounced off his ass while you sucked on his ear. He felt like he was about to explode, your cock driving into his swollen prostate each time you bottomed out until his balls started pulling tight to his body and his cock twitched. You must have felt the change since you dropped the hand that wasn’t attached to the thick arm that was currently choking him to grab his cock and start stroking him in time with your thrusts.

“Fuckfuckfuck…” Bucky felt like such a whore but he didn’t care, turning his head as much as possible so he could rub his nose against your cheek while he whined. “I’m so close, don’t stop.”

“I’ll give you whatever you want, James.” You groaned when his hole clenched around you, squeezing his cock and his throat at the same time and kissing the corner of his lips tenderly while you gazed into his eyes. “Gonna take care of you. Can’t wait to be able to take my time, enjoy you, god, could spend a whole fucking night in this ass, you’re so goddamn warm and tight. But I need you to come for me right now, James, make a mess on my hand, lemme make you feel good, c’mon.”

The thought of you in his bed and fucking him raw and open had Bucky tumbling over the edge of his climax with a shout, his desperate noises muffled by your lips when you smashed them to his as he quaked in your arms and shot his cum all over your fingers. He sobbed when you didn’t stop stroking him even once he was milked dry, his eyes rolling back when you throbbed inside him and almost lamenting the fact that you were filling the condom instead of pumping your cum deep in his guts and determined to get to the point when he would finally get to feel all of you. As soon as you were done you were bringing your cum soaked fingers to your mouth, keeping eye contact with Bucky as you sucked his cum off them slowly and groaning at his taste then pressing your lips to his again so you could share with him.

“Jesus fuck.” Bucky couldn’t think of anything else to say, smiling almost sheepishly at you after you had pulled out of him and tossed the condom, letting you turn him around and nuzzle at his cheek before you were bending to help him step back into his jeans.

“My sentiments exactly.” You gave him another one of those winks and he wasn’t even mad when he blushed violently. “You gonna be as big of an ass about me taking you on a real date?”

“I wasn’t an ass.” Bucky huffed when you stood back up and wrapped your arms around him, nipping at your bottom lip and grinning when you growled playfully at him. “I was wary.”

“Sure.” You kissed him slow and deep and smiled against his lips when he melted into you before pulling back so he could breathe. “Pretty sure the girls and Sergeant Wilson would agree with my assessment, but we can use your word.”

“Oh shit, they’re still out there.” Bucky screwed his eyes shut and moaned at the thought of the commentary he was going to have to endure, shaking his head when you chuckled and opened the stall door to start pulling him back to the bar. “Can’t we just climb out the window or something?”

“Yeah, I don’t think either of us could fit through that window, James.” You nodded at the tiny one by one glass square and kissed his temple when he sighed defeatedly, holding his hand and letting him follow you when you opened the door. “Besides, if you think I’m not going to enjoy showing you affection in public, I’ve got some bad news.”

Bucky’s retort was cut off by an absurd amount of hollering when you opened the door, his face getting unbearably red and the desire to either tell all of your friends to shut the fuck up or just book it out of the bar overwhelming. But then your arm was around his shoulders and your lips were pressed against his temple, and maybe he could put up with his friends being smug rowdy assholes for the rest of the night if you kept smiling at him like that.

#natalie writes #no love like your love: the city #sarge and officer beefcake #bucky barnes #male reader #bucky barnes x male reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes smut #top male reader #marvel x male reader #m/m fic #m/m smut #m/m fluff #marvel fanfic #sebastian stan #sebastian stan smut #sebastian stan character

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mmyrrhh · 1 year

Text

Eyes on the road

Summary: A car ride with your favourite lieutenant.

Relationship: Simon “Ghost” Riley x GN!Reader

Word Count: 648

Notes:

Fluff

Mr. Riley strikes me as the kind of person who will listen to country music while driving and tapping the steering wheel rhythmically in the process.

My sideblog got shadowbanned so I’ll be posting my fics here until the issue gets resolved (if it gets resolved).

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You’ve been driving for two hours straight, and the silence between you grows longer as the miles pass. Despite your efforts to engage him in conversation, he appears content to remain silent, responding only with brief, cryptic remarks.

“Where are we going?”

“That’s confidential information.”

“How long until we arrive?”

“We’ll get there when we get there.”

Touché.

He was deep in thought, with his right hand steady on the steering wheel and his left arm resting casually on the open window. He had an air of confidence about him, seemingly able to take control of anything that life may throw his way; missions, injuries, cars, you. Oh boy, the power he has over you.

Every time he had to shift gears, he did with such poise and grace, releasing the wheel but securing it with his thigh so it wouldn’t drift away. You watched him every time he did that, anticipating the moment he’d place his hand on you instead.

His mask obscures his face, but you know there is concealed road rage lurking beneath. Now and then, a reckless driver would surpass you, and he would mutter a curse under his breath as his gaze followed the car. Other times, he would instinctively put his hand in front of you, inches away from your chest, acting as a human seatbelt.

Inches away...

The scenery is, well, nothing: an endless expanse of dirt, as far as the eye can see. And with the quiet between you, the boredom begins to set in. You figured a little music would lighten up the mood, maybe even spark a discussion of some sorts. You turn on the radio, shuffling through the stations until you find one that works. You turn up the volume and turn your attention back on the road. Ghost doesn’t comment on your action but has a lot to say about your taste in music.

“It’s shite,” he mutters under his mask.

“It’s the only one that works,” you comment back.

“It’s still sh*t,” he repeats.

“We don’t have any other option, Lieutenant.”

“There’s always another option, soldier,” he explains. “In this case, you could always turn it off.”

Is this an order or a suggestion? Better go with the safe option. You move your hand towards the radio button, but he catches it mid-air, his touch sending shivers down your spine.

“Don’t; let it play if you like it,” he whispers, his eyes still focused on the road, “my preferences should never dictate yours.”

In that moment of unexpected kindness, you turn to look at him.

You become immediately drawn to his profile and begin to examine any characteristic you can distinguish beneath his balaclava.

His brows appear sparse and washed out; is that genetic or permanent damage from a fire? His dark brown eyes are half-closed, emitting a sense of melancholy; that, or he’s tired from all the driving. He suddenly lets out an audible sigh. Your eyes travel to his lips; you can distinguish a faint outline through the stretched fabric. His Adam’s apple moves with vigour every time he swallows. His collarbone, chest, arms, abd-

“Eyes on the road,” he commands. Shit; caught red-handed once again.

You lightly cough in embarrassment and obey. Neither of you speaks.

As you continue driving down the road, he suddenly takes his hand off the wheel and goes straight for the volume button, turning it up.

You turn to look at him in confusion.

“It’s Johnny Cash,” he explains, shrugging.

“Johnny Cash, huh? Any relation to… John Price?” you quip, trying to lighten the mood.

“You and your fucking jokes,” he says with a hint of a chuckle in his voice.

And with that, the silence between you settles once more. But this time, it’s no longer oppressive, no longer boring. It’s a comfortable silence, with Johnny Cash speaking volumes about you and your lieutenant’s silent bond.

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#call of duty #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader

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hangmox · 1 year

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HangMox: An Audience of One

Warning: This is a very erratic essay about a feud that means a lot to me, personally. Posting to a sideblog because I’m trying to keep it clean and separate.

Word Count: 8.6k. A doozy. Please understand that I speak on Hangman and Moxley from their first moments in AEW, and I even provide a bit of background from before. Their feud did not start, for me, at the end of September 2022. This is a story that starts from the very first PPV.

Writer’s Note: This has not been revised. If you are a newer fan of AEW, this will help you to understand both mens’ journeys up until this point, and it also helps to express and tie in some ideas and concepts I have for them about blood, beer, and speaking their truths. I hope it makes sense!

After five years of watching weekly WWE television and Pay-Per-Views, my husband and I could not take it any longer. We were looking for an alternative. On May 25th, 2019, we found it, in the form of All Elite Wrestling: Double or Nothing.

It wasn’t the flashiest show we’d ever seen - there were a couple lulls in the show where it felt like the timing was off, the crowd wasn’t as energetic - but we knew why. This was a brand new product, the start of something new for a set of independent wrestlers that we’d heard about very rarely, but enough to maybe know some of their names. In the summer of 2018, I had took it upon myself in the wee hours of the morning, after my grueling 10-hr night shifts at the local chicken plant, to experience life outside of WWE for the first time in the form of New Japan Pro Wrestling’s G1 Climax. This is where I learned that wrestling could be quick, energetic, and still somehow feel like every fist, every high spot, could hurt viscerally. And it is here where I saw Hangman Adam Page on my screen for the very first time.

I was deep into my Red Dead Redemption era in 2018, and this guy hit all the boxes. He was handsome, he was funny, he could actually fucking wrestle, he was a cowboy, and most importantly, he was telling me a story. The known muscle of the Bullet Club and member of the Elite, this was the guy who was looking to prove he was more than just the guy who took the pins so his comrades wouldn’t. He was looking to win the damn thing. But that wasn’t all it was about - no, he had found a way to weave another thread into this tournament: he was going to pull the REAL Kazuchika Okada out of whatever hole he’d been hiding in. He was going to pull the Rainmaker out.

You see, Okada had just lost his IWGP world heavyweight title to Hangman’s friend and Bullet Club leader, Kenny Omega, and his life had taken somewhat of a comically downward spiral. He dyed his hair clown red, he walked out to his entrance music with shapeable balloons. At the time, we took to calling him the “Balloonmaker.” He walked out with a smile on his face, to hide the sorrow of his failure. But this wasn’t the guy Hangman was expecting to wrestle in his block of the round-robin tournament. No, he was going to make sure that if he beat Okada, one of the most legendary wrestlers in the history of the company, he was going to beat the BEST version of him. And if he lost? Well, at least he gave it his all against the best. The problem with New Japan, however, was the unbelievable amount of hours we would have to dedicate to the product. I think I ended up watching five full days of the G1 Climax, out of a possible 20 or so.

Around the time that Hangman took on the grueling month-long tournament against some of New Japan’s finest, another wrestler was making his re-debut on WWE television. After an elbow injury and a terrifying staph infection that nearly killed him, Dean Ambrose was back on Monday Night Raw, alongside his friend and enemy, Seth freakin’ Rollins. But this wasn’t the same Dean Ambrose we had witnessed for the past couple years, the hyperactive little shit that wouldn’t stay down, no, this was prison-break Ambrose. He came back swole and with a mean mugging look that would make a bulldog cry. This was it, everyone thought, we’re gonna get the heel turn of a lifetime.

Only, it wasn’t exactly what we expected. First off, it was late, and at the heels of an announcement that turned WWE on its head - Roman Reigns was taking time off for his 2nd battle with leukemia, and Ambrose chose now to turn on Seth Rollins. Maybe if the motive had made a little more sense, it would’ve been enough. After all, Rollins and Ambrose had a long, storied history together - if Ambrose could just explain why now, maybe I could be on his side. I wanted to be on his side. The WWE put out one of those documentaries for Dean that followed him for months, throughout his time out on injury, and then his subsequent return. We got backstage moments with him where he divulged his feelings, seemingly telling us what was going on in his head. And yet - nothing. It never truly felt like he had told us WHY. Now, years later, I’ve read Mox’s book, and I know how he felt about the whole thing, so I know he was just as frustrated as I was, if not more (definitely more, actually).

So Ambrose left the company, and my husband and I dropped the WWE. I don’t know if it was coincidence or fate, but there’s going to be a lot of that comin’ around in this story. Ambrose wasn’t even my favorite - Sami Zayn is my WWE favorite. But something about the way it all went down with Ambrose, and also largely in part the way that WWE treated Sami Zayn, is what finally made us break our ties.

Almost immediately after Dean Ambrose left WWE and cashed in his chips, a video dropped on his largely unused twitter account: a video of Jon Moxley breaking out of jail, with a shot of the numbers 5 & 25 found in the video - which just so happened to be the month and day of the first Double or Nothing AEW Pay-Per-View.

I would love to say that I was anticipating that day, but to be honest, I completely forgot about it until the day of, when my husband dragged me downstairs to the living room to figure out how to buy our very first pay-per-view on cable television, about five minutes before the buy-in aired.

But once I saw that precious cowboy come out as the Joker in the first ever Casino Battle Royal, I was hooked. I turned to my husband, pointing at Hangman on my screen. “That’s the guy we saw in the G1 last year! He’s in the Bullet Club!”

He smiled at the screen, knowing it was too late. I had found my favorite.

Hangman won the battle royal, earning him the first shot at the inugural AEW world championship at the next Pay-Per-View. Who he was slated to go up against, though, depended on the outcome of the Double or Nothing main event: the Alpha, Chris Jericho, versus Kenny Omega.

“Do you think Mox will show up?” I asked my partner, my entire body tense with anticipation.

He shook his head. “I wouldn’t get your hopes up. If he doesn’t show up, it’ll ruin it for you.”

“He’s showing up,” I insisted, “I’m like 99% certain he will.” I’ve never been one to make guarantees, but this was as close to one as I could manage. I could feel it in my soul, and I was dying to see Mox live up to his potential.

I was bouncing off the couch when I saw Mox stalking through the crowd and into the ring. My adrenaline was pumping and I thought it was the best way to end their first PPV. My husband and I turned to look at each other - yep, this was enough. This was definitely enough to intrigue us.

I would spend the summer of 2019 watching everything I could about AEW - I finally got into Being the Elite, I watched the summer events, and I searched Hangman’s name on youtube as much as I could to get more of a semblance of his character. He was now important to me, and I was determined to understand him as best as I could. Through this, I met and connected with brand new friends, as well as dragged my WWE friends into it as much as I could.

One friend in particular was an EXTREMELY avid Mox fan. Even in his Ambrose days, they spoke about the old CZW Moxley often, and so I had an idea of what this new and improved version would probably be like. I also found myself a friend that had been following Hangman Page for the past few years and knew substantially more about him than I ever could. With them and a couple other new friends I found that also adored Hangman, we became a tiny little stable of our own.

And so, the brainstorming began.

Before All Out 2019 even happened, I had posed the question to my friends: “What do we think about Hangman and Mox? Wouldn’t that be a badass combination?”

The noted Mox fan and the seasoned Hangman vet were the first ones to perk up. The Mox fan agreed immediately, and the Hangman vet said they had already started working on an idea to bring them together a couple days after Double or Nothing, when Mox had done his interview with Chris Jericho on his Talk is Jericho podcast.

“Hold on a minute - a podcast?” I asked, curious.

Enthusiastically, they told me that Jericho had asked Mox who he’d like to get in the ring with now that he was in a new promotion. Hangman’s name had been the first out of his mouth, said nonchalantly, very much like it wasn’t a big deal and Mox was just naming names to name them. But it was too late - this was now my obsession.

Three episodes into AEW Dynamite, we got our very first chance to see them in action together. The two loners, Pac and Moxley, were taking on the team of Hangman and Kenny. This team was brand new at the time, both having suffered major losses at All Out - Kenny had submitted to Pac, and Hangman had lost his shot at the inaugural title to Chris Jericho in the main event. The tag match made sense - for the most part. Mox had gone for the biggest fish in AEW at the end of Double or Nothing, giving Kenny Omega a Paradigm Shift that got the entire wrestling world talking. Pac and Hangman had beef that started in the early days of the promotion, the story told almost entirely through Being the Elite at the time. Kenny had just lost to Pac. And yet…there was no motivation here for Hangman and Mox to be across the ring from each other. The lack of a story between them was louder than all the other storytelling here combined. Perhaps, I told myself, this was a story in itself.

No worries, though. We were about to see just how much chemistry these two had. This would be the first step in gauging what a potential feud or even partnership could be like. We were absolutely shivering with anticipation.

Hangman spent most of his own time in the match trying to get the drop on Pac. The first moment he was in the ring with Mox, he practically paid him no mind until he had Pac dead on the floor. Before the match was done, they’d interacted maybe twice as legal men in the ring, and once when everyone was on the outside. At one point, Mox had Hangman in a gorgeous Texas cloverleaf submission, which was quickly stopped by Kenny. Another point in the match, Hangman tried to give Mox a buckshot lariat that Mox ducked. Almost immediately, Mox ate a clothesline from Hangman akin to an Okada Rainmaker finisher, and it was fucking beautiful.

It was clear to me, from the grand total of about two and a half minutes that they spent in the ring together, that they were an elegant match.

Four months passed by.

Hangman went on a downward spiral, leaving the Elite but choosing still to tag with Kenny. He started to drink, courtesy of those silly little guys, Private Party. This ain’t water, indeed. By the time Revolution 2020 came around, Hangman was on a trajectory to meet his former best friends, the Young Bucks, in a tag team championship match, and Jon Moxley was slated as contender to Chris Jericho’s AEW world championship in the main event.

And well, let’s just say, the better story won the night, even if Jon Moxley closed the show.

Hangman walked out of his match a winner, his tag title still in one hand and a beer in the other, with Kenny Omega at his side.

Jon Moxley, newly won championship belt on his shoulder, excitement still pumping blood in his ears, would go on to say it felt like it was “beer o’clock.”

An awkward pause.

What? I thought.

The camera panned to the crowd.

Mox was smiling, tongue sticking out like a panting dog, looking somewhat towards the go-position.

No, could he be…? There was no way. I couldn’t believe it. Was Hangman Page about to show up right now?

Whoever was in production scrambled to put a stop to this. Mox’s music hit.

“Hey, what the fuck?” said the newly crowned world heavyweight champion.

Hold on. Were they…Oscaring him off the stage? Is that what was happening in this moment? Say ‘sike’ right now.

My hands were on my mouth.

Let’s just say that for the rest of the five hours that I stayed awake after this show, unable to sleep due to the sheer adrenaline running through my veins, me and the gang were viciously wondering what the fuck that was about. Maybe Hangman was supposed to come out? But how does that make sense when he and Kenny just retained their titles? Why would he go for the championship again so soon? But it makes sense for him to want it. That’s the title that he promised he would win on day one of the company.

But we didn’t get an answer.

Whether that was because of the pandemic that shut down the entire world for the foreseeable future a week and half later, or because that was just genuinely something that meant absolutely nothing, we’ll never know. Truly, we will NEVER know. Unless one of us ever has the guts to ask Mox about it. Until then, “beer o’clock” + awkward pause + staring at the go-position + Mox theme + “hey what the fuck” will likely haunt me for the rest of my life. Thanks, Jonathan.

Lots of things changed during this time. Hangman’s rocky relationship with the Bucks came back to a head again before All Out 2020, during a tag gauntlet match that would reveal the first contenders for Hangman and Kenny’s championships at the Pay-Per-View. It was down to the Young Bucks and FTR. See, FTR had come in at the beginning of the summer, and they ended up making friends with Hangman. Hangman was there when they signed their contracts, with a brand new bottle of whiskey in hand. They bonded over drinks. But they weren’t so friendly with the Bucks and Kenny, which obviously caused a lot of problems. By the time that gauntlet came around, FTR had Hangman convinced that if the Bucks won the gauntlet, Hangman would regret it. They worked him with his own insecurities. They just wanted a friendly bout with him, they said. He’d already had one with the Bucks, so wouldn’t it be fun to have a match with FTR this time?

So Hangman cheated, costing the Bucks the match. A few moments later, Hangman brooding over what he’d done in the Daily’s Place bar, the Bucks kicked him officially out of the Elite, throwing a drink in his face.

He and Kenny would go on to lose the tag titles at All Out to FTR. He would lose his tag partner in the process. He would fight him at the next PPV in singles competition for contendership of Moxley’s heavyweight championship. He would drop to the ground, land flat on his face, losing this first opportunity to fight Moxley to his own partner.

A microphone blast to the head. Blood gushing from the middle of Jon’s forehead (a sight well known to the AEW fans). V-Trigger. V-Trigger. V-Trigger. V-Trigger. Pull him in. One Winged Angel.

One. Two. Three.

That was how Jon Moxley lost his AEW world heavyweight championship to Kenny Omega. An absolute steal. A few weeks prior, at Full Gear, the Young Bucks beat FTR for the tag team championships.

Months and months go by. Hangman finds solace in the Dark Order, and the Dark Order finds solace in him in return. They bring each other back up, from sorrows greater than we could even imagine. The loss of their leader, their friend, their Exalted One. Our Brodie Lee. Though Hangman would deny them on separate occasions, eventually he would understand that friends don’t let friends do battle alone. And whether he joined them as a group or not, it wouldn’t matter. They would keep Brodie Lee’s offer and promise that he made to Hangman the year before, when he left the Elite. They would never leave him alone.

Mox would continue his quest to retrieve the title, challenging Kenny at Revolution 2021 in an exploding barbed wire deathmatch that would end…not precisely as intended. However, much like Hangman, he would find that he was not alone. He would find someone to watch his back, in the form of an old friend and foe, Eddie Kingston. They would challenge the Bucks - now firmly planted once again at Kenny’s side - for the tag team championships at Double or Nothing 2021. This, much like his shot at the world title, would be for naught.

In the summer of 2021, the Dark Order would prove worthy allies in the ring to Hangman, when they challenged Kenny and the Young Bucks to a multi-man tag, with the stipulation that if they were able to eliminate each member of the Elite, Hangman would get his shot at Kenny’s title, and they would receive a shot at the Young Bucks.

Now, I’ll be honest - I don’t remember what Mox was doing at the time, so I had to look this up. Uhh, he spent a lot of time on AEW Dark. But the match that stood out the most to me during this time was a Texas Deathmatch with Lance Archer…which he lost. And with it, his IWGP US championship.

So Hangman and the Dark Order are unsuccessful. They beg him to keep trying, but at around this time, Hangman decides that he needs some space. He comes up to the ring at Daily’s Place, the first Homecoming show since AEW’s two month long tour away (when the entire world decided that the pandemic was finally over). Tony Schiavone is with him, and it seems like maybe Hangman is going to tell the crowd that he’s gonna take some time to himself or let some things off his chest, when the Elite show up. At one point he tells Hangman that perhaps maybe he would consider allowing Hangman to come back to the Elite - upon which a young woman in the crowd in a cowboy hat and a teal bandana yells, “Never!” (me). Yes, I got to watch live as the Elite beat Hangman down and the Dark Order could only stand back and watch.

…This would be the last time we see Hangman for two months.

While he’s gone, though, Jon Moxley brings up his name, in a backstage promo where he calls out the newcomers. At this time, AEW was seeing a surge of new talent entering its ranks - people like Daniel Garcia, Malakai Black, CM Punk. Mox questions whether this talent thinks that it’s easy to be at the top here - Kenny has an entire entourage surrounding him at all times just to keep the title around his waist, and Hangman can’t “get over his high school drama, BTE emo bullcrap long enough to get the job done.” He says that Hangman “ain’t no cowboy,” and he could “drink his ass under the table.”

Oh, I think. You mean like beer o’clock?

Mox was pulling wins around this time every week, and it was clear he was due for a push. This was the man who put the world title and the company on his back during an unprecedented time not just for the promotion, but for the world as a whole. And it was clear that he was due his flowers.

But very odd, to me, that he would bring up Hangman. Especially when they had nothing to do with each other.

Fast forward to October 6th, 2021. A fucked up time in my life. Probably the worst I’ve ever felt.

It was only fitting, then, that my favorite cowboy would show up and give me a small glimmer of hope. The roar of the crowd that night touched my soul more than I can ever say.

The last time he was the Joker of a casino match, he won. This time would be no different.

Except that Mox was in this match. And Mox was the one in the ring waiting for him. The moment they collided with each other, I was screaming. I was crying. My heart was thumping out of my chest. After two years, they were finally back in a ring together. Almost two years to the day.

One of the funniest moments in this casino ladder match is seeing Hangman drop Pac from the top of a ladder with a deadeye, pull himself up onto the ropes to celebrate with the crowd, only to turn around and get spiked on his head with a Paradigm Shift from Jon Moxley, receiving the double birds.

But it didn’t matter. The path was clear - Hangman was going to win this ladder match, setting up his final encounter with his old friend, Kenny Omega, for the AEW world heavyweight championship. And there wasn’t a damn thing Mox, Pac, Andrade, or Lance Archer could do to stop him.

Hangman, at the top of a ladder, guzzling a beer, closed out the show. The casino chip lay ominously on the mat, forgotten.

The next couple of weeks would see Hangman in the most confident state he’d ever been in, relaxed and sure of himself, breathing deeply and opening his heart to the fans. He was - in a word - beautiful.

Mox, however, was absolutely despicable. Ten days later, he would have his first bout with Wheeler Yuta, dropping him in less than two minutes and storming back out of the ring. He would continue his rampage all the way into the eliminator tournament, which would come to a head at Full Gear. All the booking made it clear: this man was aiming for the world title…and Hangman Page was going to be the one wearing it.

That would all change, however, when Jon Moxley decided to put his health first. His fight with alcoholism had finally resonated enough within him that he said enough was enough, and he pulled himself out of the tournament. In an odd way, his real life story and Hangman’s story on the screen were more similar than we could have expected.

And once again, like ships in the night…they would pass each other by, never knowing how close they had come.

I won’t go on a long tangent about how much Hangman winning the title meant to me, so I’ll just say this: Hangman Page winning the world title meant a lot to me.

Another similarity - both Hangman and Mox bled in the match where they won their world championship.

From here, we arrive in 2022.

“Nobody, no matter who you are, should be afraid to stand up in front of the whole world and bare it all, everything that makes you who you are, scars and all, and say ‘hey, this is me!’” - words Jon Moxley spoke when he made his return from rehabilitation.

I love these words. Because they’re very much in line with something that Hangman himself said in the post-Full Gear scrum two months before: “Fuck it, I’ll just say what I feel. I’ll just be me. And if it works, it works, and if it doesn’t, I came by it honest.”

As the champion Hangman Adam Page bled and bled and bled his way through his title matches, Jon Moxley found himself in the Blackpool Combat Club - a group consisting of himself, Bryan Danielson, and William Regal, as well as (eventually) Wheeler Yuta and Claudio Castagnoli. This was a group that prided itself in one thing - bloody violence.

The alcohol would be replaced, in both the champ and the former champ’s minds, by blood.

A sidenote: Hangman would have a Texas Deathmatch with the very same Lance Archer. Unlike Moxley, though, he would go on to win the match and retain his championship. And boy, was it a bloody scene. Two months later, Hangman would challenge Adam Cole to a Texas Deathmatch as well - and win.

We arrive at Double or Nothing.

A good friend of mine would meet Hangman Page at a meet and greet the day before the show. The limited edition print Hangman signed for her was a graphic of him, surrounded by a border that resembled a playing card. His sign - the Ace of Diamonds. Curious, I looked up the meaning of the card. Now, this could all be bullshit, but at the time, it meant something to me. It specified a message that was soon to come, or in a broader sense, a new perspective. I felt like this fit Hangman perfectly, and it solidified something in my own head about him - he was, in fact, an Ace in the company. At a time when I heard often that Jon Moxley was the top guy, when there were whispers that Jon might fight Tanahashi soon at Forbidden Door, I was dead set on maintaining Hangman as the One. And this, this was a sign. For me.

All those hopes and dreams would come crashing down though, obviously, when Hangman lost the title to CM Punk. After 198 days of being overshadowed by the explosive feud that was Maxwell versus Punk, Hangman’s reign would come to an end.

But as luck would have it, Punk would be injured about four days later, leaving the title picture up in the air.

“This is mine,” Hangman had declared, that night at Double or Nothing. “You will NEVER have it. This. Is. Mine!”

Those words, it seemed, rang nearly true enough.

The month of June would become a month so confusing, so convoluted, that even now I cannot remember what exactly the fuck happened. There was a battle royal to pick an opponent for the number one contender to the interim title, Jon Moxley, but the problem was that Hangman already had a match set for the night. I thought, surely he can pull a double. He’s the former world champ. Surely, they’ll let him do it. The only problem was, that double was actually pulling a triple, because the match between the winner of the battle royal would face Mox on Rampage, which was taped the same night.

I, and the rivalry I so desperately held to my chest, would have to wait once more. Another near-crossing. But I could feel it: the lines were drawing closer.

Mox would face Tanahashi and win the interim world title. Hangman would follow a confusing path to the IWGP heavyweight championship and lose against three other men. Hangman had another opportunity at a title shot in another battle royal, but he got dunked out of the ring before he could win it. By the middle of July, I was getting antsy. I wanted to know what the future held for my favorite guy in AEW, and by god, I was going to get some answers.

Comicpalooza - Houston, TX. July 16th and 17th, 2022. Hangman Page and Adam Cole were set to appear. They were going to have panels, autographs, and professional photos with fans.

And I, resident Hangman girlie, was going to be there.

Here’s where the shit gets interesting.

Cole ended up having to cancel, I’m assuming due to not being medically cleared after the concussion he suffered at Forbidden Door. Which meant that both days became wide open to meeting Hangman not once, not twice - but four times. Twice for photos and twice for autographs. And of course, the panel.

As a girl who’s never once met a celebrity that she actually cared about, this was a big fucking deal, and I was - hoo boy, was I nervous. The first chance I got was the first autograph signing, right before the photo and about twenty minutes before the panel. I could hardly look him in the eye. I was about as skittish as a horse, and super quiet. He tried to get light conversation out of me (complimenting my pearlsnap - which matched his own, mine was cream and his was brown - shirt, my belt, and my boots), and I ended up mentioning that I would see him again in a few minutes for the photo and then the panel. It was going to be a busy couple hours for him. After that was over, I saw him at the photo. I was the first in line.

“Hello again,” I said. He replied with a smile, and he seemed much more awake and excited than he had a few minutes prior. I noted that he must like taking photos with everyone. His cheery aura calmed me down significantly, and I was much more comfortable speaking with him. I asked for a hug, and he obliged me. He asked me what kind of pose I’d like to do, and I told him I wanted to do finger guns. In my head, I was imagining us back to back, like a movie poster, but he suggested we whirl into it, like we’re about to shoot at the camera. He asked if this was okay. I was so starry-eyed that I said yes immediately.

Once the camera flashed, he pulled me over to the photographer’s screen of the image. He said he wanted to make sure it looked good, and asked if I liked it. It was an amazing photo. I know it was amazing, because I actually thought I looked good in it.

Now, I debated on mentioning this part but I figure I may as well - at this point in time, I asked him if I handed him a letter, would he read it. He said, “yes, of course!” I handed it to him, and he quickly asked me if he should read it now, to which I yelled, “no! Nuh uh! Not right now!”

“You sure?” he asked playfully. I shook my head. It was too long a letter for him to read at the moment, and he had a line to get through and then a panel to get to. I was not about to hold him up. Plus, I had tapped out all my remaining courage for this particular moment. I was not about to watch his face as he read the feelings I bore on those pages. Knowing I was strong enough to put the letter in his hands was enough for me. He said okay. I thanked him as I left, saying I would see him at the panel.

The audience at the panel was small, way too small for the ballroom they had set up in. But it didn’t matter, because I was in the front row anyway. I brought a little sign that said “Hangman Gang,” which was the name of my group of wrestling friends. The mediator of the panel pointed it out to him when he sat down at the table in the front of the room.

I had never attended a panel before, but I knew the basics of what it was like from a couple of panels I had watched on youtube. At some point, there would be a Q&A where fans could go up to a microphone setup and ask him a question.

I had thought about what I would ask him for weeks. But by the time the day came around, none of the questions I’d thought about were sticking in my mind as The One. I had questions about the meaning behind some of his gear, questions about the Elite, questions about Adam Cole. But none of them felt…right. When I finally got out of my seat to take my spot in line for the microphone, I was in “fuck it” mode. I knew what I was going to ask, even if I wasn’t sure how I was going to ask it. Plus, I needed to tell him happy early birthday.

“Hi,” I said shyly. He responded with a quiet “hello.”

And so it began. I wished him a happy birthday, barely stopping to acknowledge his thanks before continuing on with what I was there for. I prefaced my question by saying that I knew him and Mox had only fought twice in the past two years, but never in singles. And I believe, if my memory is correct, that I said: “Is that on purpose? Or like, are you dodging Mox? Or is Mox dodgin’ you?”

A chuckle from the mediator. The absolute audacity of my asking my favorite wrestler in the world whether he was afraid of another wrestler must have really gotten to him.

Hangman replied, as I recall, very eloquently. He remembered that first match at the beginning of Dynamite’s run, and he remembered the casino ladder match. But as for why they hadn’t met again, he could only chalk it up to…”fate.” Fate was what kept them apart. Fate took Mox out of the tournament, fate took the belt off Hangman, fate kept him from these opportunities all summer long. It was out of his control, but he would love to fight Mox. He certainly wasn’t dodging him on purpose. He would love to do a match with him.

At this, the mediator prompted. “...Texas Deathmatch?”

Hangman’s eyes looked out into the ether, weighing those words. “Yeah. Yeah, Mox likes deathmatches, right?”

My entire body started vibrating at those words. I thanked him and sat back in my seat.

I would not stop thinking about those words until the end of September, when Hangman won the battle royal at Rampage Grand Slam. The newly crowned NOT-interim world heavyweight champion, Jon Moxley, was set to do battle against Hangman Adam Page.

This was an important match for Hangman, as it would be his first major shot at the world title since losing it a few months back. From the moment Hangman walked out to meet Mox face to face in the front of the ring, I was hooked on every expression, every set of their jaws, every word from their mouths.

“Three years of AEW Dynamite…three years of watching you, three years of studying you because I knew this was comin’...three years of us circlin’ each other…”

The camera cuts to a wide shot of the two in the ring, dancing around each other.

The image in my head is of Raymond Holt from Brooklyn Nine Nine shouting, “VINDICATION!!”

“You know, between the two of us, we’ve probably beaten everyone there is to beat…except each other…on October 18th, there will be one Last Man Standing here in AEW.”

The first pearl of foreshadowing dropped. Texas Deathmatches, at their core, were considered ‘last man standing.’ Mox goes on to say here that he was going to choke Hangman out, because Hangman was in the way. In the way of Mox being, once and for all, the Top Guy in AEW. Just like I had been told. He goes on to say that he respects Hangman as a competitor and as a person. At one point, after Hangman goes too far, he calls him a ‘sweet kid.’ But at the end of the day, he was going to put him down, no matter what.

The next week in the ring, Mox mentions that being world champion means having a target on your back. Many “crumble under the pressure…some faster than others.” This is, very clearly, a knock on Hangman and his reign. Though Hangman bled, and bled…and bled to keep his title, the story of his reign was a tough one. Having finally beaten the man whose shadow Hangman felt trapped under, there was nothing now to fight but the weight of being the champ. Keeping the gold that symbolized his worth had been, as Mox points out, too much to handle.

And now, he had to get his worth back.

When Hangman walks out to meet Mox here, he begins by telling Mox that whatever he has to say to Hangman, he can “say it to his face.” This would be the first, of many times, where he says this to Moxley in the months to come. He goes on to say, “but actually, you said it all last week.” He mentions how Mox said he respected him in the ring and as a person, and “[he] would be lying if [he didn’t say] coming from [Mox], that meant the world to [him].” He says that Mox was a damn good father, husband, champion, and that he looked up to Mox and wanted to be like him. But the moment that Mox called him a kid last week, all of those things vanished, in Hangman’s eyes.

“Is that what you think of me?” He demands. Mox takes the mic and says it’s exactly right. Because the Hangman standing before him now is not the same guy who knocked him off the top of a ladder a year ago to cash in his shot at the title. The Hangman of now, broken and aimless, won’t be able to pull the trigger if given the chance.

Mox’s observation here was sound - Hangman had many opportunities as champion to end someone in the most brutal way possible. During the Texas Deathmatch with Adam Cole, there’s a wonderful shot of Cole tied to the ropes while Hangman debates hitting him with a steel chair. A similar shot was shown the night he lost the title to CM Punk - where he holds the title in his hands while no one is looking, and debates whether he should use it to knock Punk out. He had a similar choice the day he won the title, but he chose not to and won.

In every instance, he has a shot at ending it. He refuses every time, out of some sense of nobility. It’s clear here that Mox disapproves.

Hangman agrees. He’s not the same person. Hesitation cost him the title. Hesitation cost him the trios titles, as well, in September. His old friends were gone and his new ones were dropping like flies. “I’m angry, I’m depressed! The medicine is not working but I am STILL HERE because I am a man!”

Here’s where he ties in to Mox’s words. How could he be a sweet kid if he was a man? An adult? Someone who has been through hell and back? He’s lowered family into the ground, he’s helped bring life into this world, he’s been choked until he turns blue but he keeps getting back up!

At this point, Hangman gets so worked up that he beats his fist into his eyebrow so badly that it breaks the skin. And here’s the part that I love the most - “I have my shot, and I have my word. Tuesday, I take my shot, and tonight I give you my word.” He palms at the blood staining his brow, wipes it on Mox’s white shirt. “...That is my word.”

The week before Hangman won the title off Kenny, there was a contract signing. At this contract signing, Kenny Omega and Don Callis conspired to rough Hangman up to give him a disadvantage going into the match that Sunday. Hangman broke wide open, over the same. Fucking. Eyebrow. And what did Kenny do? He signed his signature to the contract in Hangman’s blood. And then he lost.

I guess you could say Hangman’s blood holds a lot of promise.

“And unlike him,” Hangman said, pointing to a lurking Maxwell in the rafters of the arena, “I wanted to make sure to say this to you face-to-face…man-to-man.”

Of course, Hangman would go on to lose the first bout, as he suffered a very real, very scary concussion, but my god, was that match a work of art before the finish. It’d been a while since Hangman fans saw him pull an orihara moonsault from high up on a barricade, but he pulled it out for Mox.

At this point, I sat and wondered. Would I get to see him again? How soon? They were set to have three shows in Texas come December, and I wondered if we would finally get the Texas Deathmatch that seemed all but a promise. Because I didn’t think he would be cleared, I didn’t go to any of them. I just watched, anxious and a little bit heated, as Hangman showed up to answer Moxley’s call at the beginning of the first winter month.

Moxley’s first reaction to this was to make a tone-deaf joke about how Hangman probably didn’t remember what happened the last time they had met, instead of waiting to hear what Hangman might’ve had to say. He was met with a sock to the jaw.

This would go on for weeks, with Hangman saying that this wasn’t how he wanted it to go at all, but Mox just HAD to goad him. Say something stupid. Meanwhile, Mox held firm in his belief that he didn’t know what the fuck Hangman was talking about, and he could fight him any day of the week, no problem. Hangman would go into a brawl with him nearly every week, not being cleared to wrestle in the ring on account of his concussion. In a segment with Renee, he would reveal to her that the night of their first bout, when he got injured, he forgot his own son’s name. So Mox making light of his memory loss was, of course, not at all funny.

By January 2023, a date was set between the two in California. All three Texas shows went by and not one mention of a Texas Deathmatch, which had me very confused. But no matter, because there were two more Texas shows now slated for February, and I was going to one of them. I hoped, even if it wasn’t the match I was hoping for, that at the very least the feud would continue.

Before this rematch, though, they had one last face-to-face. Mox would tell Hangman that all this whining about get knocked out made him absolutely sick. And Hangman, of course, would have to point Mox in the right direction. “You think that I’m mad at you because you knocked me out? Is that really what you think?”

See, Hangman was well aware that being knocked out was part of the job. That was never the problem. Condescendingly, Hangman continues. “You don’t seem like a guy for nuance, so I’ll put it to you simple…”

The night of Hangman’s return, Mox didn’t let him get one word in before he made a joke. He believed in that moment that Mox saw him as a threat. But Hangman had not walked out to Mox that night for a fight, though it was what he was here for now.

That part was so interesting to me, because I wanted so badly to know why Hangman showed up that night to face Mox in the ring originally. This goes back to Hangman’s need to say things to Mox’s face and wanting the same in return.

Hangman won the second bout in a great match. Mox suffered what looked to be an injury, with the way he asked, “What happened?” repeatedly. Almost as if he had suffered a concussion of his own. Hangman would leave the ring, concerned and most of all, ashamed. Mox had been right in October. He was much softer than was expected to be of a champion.

So now they were tied, 1 to 1. At this point, Renee conducted a couple of interviews with Hangman, one of which was very interesting.

Renee started by asking how he was doing, and then she told him something that Mox told her. Apparently, Mox believed that Hangman made him better. That he both “despises” and “cherishes” him.

The HangMox girlie in me was bouncing off the walls. Knowing that even after two fights, Mox still had a nice word to say about Hangman was everything to me. It was beyond anything I could have ever expected, and he turned visibly awkward here. This would be one of three times in the interview where his body language changed.

He answers by saying that if Mox wanted to say something to his face, he could say it to him, and Hangman would gladly knock him out again if need be. Again, bringing up speaking to his face.

Three days before this segment, someone asked me what I thought was next for Hangman, and although I didn’t have a clear answer, I knew that it would have to do with something from the past. “The only way he can move forward is by looking back.”

Renee asked Hangman the same question, and he responded with, “the more I look forward, I can’t help but see back.”

I yelped. This was insane. There was no way we were this in tune. Basically, he wanted one final match. To prove that his win wasn’t a fluke, to prove that at the end of the day, he was the better of the two. To put this feud to bed. He also says that something Renee said earlier (calling him and Mox “elite” level performers) reminded him of some friendships that needed mending. This is another time he visibly changes his body language.

Once the interview is done, Hangman asks how Mox is, truly. Renee says that he’ll dust himself off again soon. Here is the final time where he seems to become visibly awkward - he begins to ask Renee, “could you tell him -” before stopping himself. “Never mind, it’s stupid.”

He holds himself here to the standard he holds Mox by. He wants Mox to say things to his face, so he knows that he shouldn’t relay anything back to him through Renee either.

Their third match, while just as fun as the first two, ends in an anti-climactic finish. After getting his ass handed to him by Hangman for about eight or so minutes, Mox pulls him in for a deep cover and gets the roll-up win. Hangman is, understandably, pissed. He ends up getting in Mox’s face, with Wheeler and Claudio having to keep them apart. They exchange flips of the bird. Mox lays down and makes a snow angel, much like Punk did to him in September. Hangman responds with a burpee.

They are absolutely little fucking kids about it. And it’s great.

It’s clear that the dick measuring contest isn’t over.

Still pissed off, Hangman comes back the next week in an interview with Renee and he is positively livid. He is so livid that he almost, almost tells Renee to relay a message to Moxley, but he’s interrupted by Kip Sabian before he can finish his thought.

The next week, Hangman wrestles Kip Sabian. I’m in the front row, cheering my ass off. He wins, as expected. He leans onto the ropes, frustration over another match crystal clear in his eyes. I raise my poster up so he can see. “Cowboy, you stole my yee-heart,” it reads. (It was the day after Valentine’s Day.)

He sends me a little kiss, keeps his eyebrows angry and his lips pouting. He does it like he’s mad about it, and it’s oh-so-fucking funny.

Behind him, Mox and his friends pull up into the ring. My heart is pounding out of my chest. I am seeing Hangman and Mox in the ring together with my own two eyes, and it’s amazing.

Mox tells Hangman that it’s over between them, he won fair and square. But Hangman refuses. He takes the mic, saying that there’s no way either of them could be happy with the finish of that match. That it’s not how their story should end. Their story ends at Revolution, when they go back in that cold, dark alley and only one man is left standing.

There it is, I thought. Those words again. Last man standing.

Mox seems glad of Hangman’s pushy nature at this point. He admits he’s kinda glad that Hangman has no friends to talk him into a smarter decision.

It’s at this point that the Dark Order makes itself known. Evil Uno, mic in hand, asks if he heard Mox correctly. “Did you say that this man has no friends?”

This moment was insane. Absolutely astonishing, to see Uno walk into the ring, square up to Mox and tell his own friend, Hangman, to get out of his face. Uno even goes so far as to pie-face Moxley to get his attention, something very few people have ever done and gotten away with, if ever.

Refusing to see Uno as a threat, Mox looks past him to the upset cowboy. “Cowboy…Texas Death.”

That girl in the front row went absolutely insane (me).

After missing four separate shows in Texas, I still managed to witness the announcement of the Texas Deathmatch between Hangman and Moxley. It was like the entire segment, the entire feud, up to this moment, was waiting on me to become a part of it once more. To be their lone partner, standing witness to the wonderful feud that was unfolding in front of my very eyes. Because not only were Hangman and Mox going head to head with the stipulation I’d been expecting since it came out of that mediation’s mouth, springing from my own completely odd and batshit question, but now the Dark Order was involved with the now merciless Blackpool Combat Club. Which means that this is likely far from truly over.

I left that show an elated woman. I was finally getting what I wanted.

And now, two and a half weeks later, the match is here. After watching the Countdown to Revolution, I can say without a doubt that they’ve satiated me well enough with this build. This idea that Mox is an animal without mercy that craves violence, completely and totally juxtaposing the man that needs to put down this rabid dog even if he doesn’t want to, but is going to have to by any means necessary. He said that Mox would never be the same, but I think the opposite is true. I think Hangman’s going to reach a point that he hasn’t been brought to yet in AEW. I think this time, despite all other evidence to the contrary, he’s finally going to snap. That heavy heart that Mox couldn’t take from him, that heart that Mox couldn’t carry, might turn to stone, if only for a moment.

A few weeks before Bryan and Mox had their bloody match at Revolution 2022, Mox uttered these words: “I don’t stand side by side with nobody…till I bleed with him first.”

It’s very clear that this Sunday, these men are going to bleed together. But I wonder…will they end up standing side by side? Will they share non-alcoholic beers together? Will Hangman ever tell Mox how he really feels, or will he keep it to himself, as he’s so often done before?

I guess we’ll find out soon enough.

#hangman adam page #adam page #jon moxley #aew #aew revolution (2023)#hangman page #all elite wrestling #hangman x moxley #hangmox

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rainitsarakun · 2 months

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INTRODUCING HELGA. hello everyone, i'm helga! i'm 25+, prefer she/her pronouns and am in the est timezone! i play rain & jaeyong who are portrayed by lisa and baekhyun respectively. this blog is my main one, while jaeyong is on a sideblog, so a lot of my correspondence will be from this one. you can also find me on discord @ storiiies, so feel free to hit me up there!

INTRODUCING RAIN & JAEYONG. my first muse is the lovely rain itsarakun who is 27 years old and is meant to be a visitor, though she is working as a fitness trainer at yuseong community center, so her roots maybe already be taking place in yuseong bay after staying for 3 years now. her profile page can be found here! my second muse is cha jaeyong, and he is a 31 year old lifelong resident of yuseong bay. he works as a beekeeper, offering pollination services to local farms, but he also sells surplus honey at a farmer's market stall. his profile can be found here!

RAIN'S PROMPT ANSWERS

when did your muse first arrive in yuseong bay? "it was, ohhh, about three years ago now? it was so foggy, i could barely see the bay, but i still felt more at home here than i had in awhile. i had to get away from chiang mai ... a bad relationship, you see. i'll spare you the details, but my family always used to come on vacation to yuseong bay and there was someone here i was friends with when i was younger. i decided to go out on a limb and reach out to them and long story short, here i am."

what does an average day look like for your muse? "i wake up pretty early and i'll usually have some breakfast or a shake, if i don't grab something from the café on the way to work. then i head to the community center, or to the gym more specifically, usually with my playlist at full volume by that point, but i digress. i'll spend a good hour stretching before my shift starts, because you do not want to experience a muscle giving out or locking up on you when you're holding a heavy weight. then i'll start working with my usual clients, walking them through certain pacing issues, showing them new techniques or spotting for them. then i might join in on a dance or baking class, depending on what's going on at the center that day? sometimes i'll stop by the bar on my way home to have a drink with a couple of friends, or i'll meet with my pai gow club to play a few games to wind down after work. then it's pretty much home to have dinner, maybe read a little bit and then i'll head to bed."

where can your muse usually be found? "i can't lie, i spend a lot of my time at the community center. whether it's at the gym or in the pool, at one of the other classes or just out on the grounds. it's a nice, peaceful place to be."

how does your muse feel about hanhwa resort? "i guess i'm not really sure? on the one hand, people who stay there come to the gym sometimes and need a trainer, so it kicks more business my way, but ... i also can't help but feel like it's slowly taking away some of the magic of yuseong bay? commercializing it, i guess you could say. i feel bad for the people it's affecting negatively."

is there an aspiration for your muse to stay in or leave yuseong bay? "i would just like some time, i suppose. some would argue i've had more than enough, but the truth is, i'm still finding out who i am and what i want to do. i hate when people act like i should have it all figured out. i don't think that will ever happen, but i hope being here can help."

list your muse's three favorite songs. slow dancing in a burning room by john mayor, if you love her by tokyo tea room & fingers crossed by lauren spencer-smith.

describe your muse's wardrobe. frequently pairs hoodies, jeans and sneakers if she’s not strolling around in vibrantly colored sportswear. her fashion choices are fairly basic, prioritizing comfort and breathability over style. when she does dress up, she likes an elegant a-line silhouette.

what is a color, word, and emoji that you feel describes your muse? i think an ashy grayish blue fits her because of its difficulty in placing as it pertains to emotion or mood. the word i think fits her the most is 'drapetomania'. the emoji that is best suited for rain is probably 🌧.

three strong likes and dislikes for your muse. likes: exercise, cold water & cats. dislikes: scarecrows, gossip & crash dieting.

three positive and negative traits for your muse. positive: amicable, energetic & sensible. negative: stubborn, flighty & distant.

three talents and shortcomings for your muse. she's rather adept at helping people build muscle or get active, as she's very encouraging and energetic in the gym. she's also a talented dancer, always volunteering to help out in dance classes held at the community center. rain has a talent for pai gow too, having been an avid player since she was a child, and she does very well in tournaments. her biggest shortcoming is her uncommunicative nature, as she often would rather suffer in silence than tell people close to her something is wrong. she's also prone to running away from a difficult situation rather than facing it head on and resolving things. she can also be a little defense if she feels people are being accusatory towards her.

what is a book/tv series/movie/video game character that you feel your character relates to? i definitely think rain has a similarity to leah from stardew valley, but i also draw parallels between her and sophie hatter in how mild-mannered, sensible and humble they both are.

a relevant goal or arch for your character to overcome. i would like to develop rain's ability to trust other people with her feelings in all facets of life, as it's arguably her biggest struggle. i would also like for her to let go of all the anger and resentment she feels for her ex since it's really only hurting her in the long run.

if you would like to plot with rain, please like this post and i'll come bug you! i'll be posting jaeyong's prompt answers separately on his blog 💟

#yshqs:intro

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madame-mozart · 10 months

Text

My Child Lebensborn got updated!!

I noticed my MCL posts (specifically here, here, and here, as well as on my OC x Canon sideblog) are gaining traction once again, so I felt like I’d make yet another MCL post just letting y’all in the fandom know (if you haven’t already) that the game came out with a remastered update sometime in late June/early July! I didn’t end up playing it until now, so I thought I’d share what’s been added with you!

The UI got updated! Also, it might be just me, but it looks like you earn more money at work?? I counted +70 coins earned after each shift, though I’m not sure if that was the same before the remaster?

When you go to the study (the place where you’re able to read mail, look at your photo album, journal, and (spoiler) the papers you get from Klaus/Karin’s aunt, the photo album has been updated with a feature that lets you “star” your favorite pictures! These pictures will then be hung up on the wall! When you first start the game, you can only hang one picture up, but I think by the end of it, you’re able to hang four pictures.

The newspapers you read after you collect them in the mail will be stored in that little box on the table, and eventually they will look “crumpled”. You can then click/tap on them to use as crafting materials! You’re able to make little paper boats, swords, and other things for your child.

There are new little “dream” images that float up when you read your child bedtime stories! I think there was only the castle before the remaster, but now there’s a troll with a little bird and a few other cute things!

This isn’t as “OMG WOW AMAZING” as the other things that got added in the remaster, but you can see the backpack you bought for the child at the beginning of the game (if you did buy one, that is. You’re a cruel parent if you didn’t lmao) just next to their wardrobe. There might be a few other small aesthetic changes like this that I didn’t catch, but I don’t know.

There are new cute hairstyles you can collect for your child (I think brushing his/her hair in the bathroom doesn’t cost time units anymore??)! These particular ones above are my favorites on Karin. :) I believe you can get them by crafting.

Speaking of crafting, you can also make little figures using pinecones you find in the woods (these will be placed on the shelf next to the lamp in the study)!

This is probably my favorite thing that got added with the remaster. YOU CAN FIND CUTE ANIMALS IN THE FOREST!! I’m not sure if there are more beyond the squirrel, ducks, and the fox, but you’re able to save these moments in your photo album. :) I also found out that you can collect flowers from the forest and display them in your album too!

There are maybe a few other things that I missed, but the point is, there are now lots of new activities to do and things to collect with your child. It’s all so adorable!! Nothing has changed story-wise, though, so yeah. Hope you all enjoy the new update like I did!

#my child lebensborn #updated!!#long post #maddy's musings

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dennisboobs · 5 months

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i think one of the biggest issues in modern fandom is that despite the abundance of autistic/adhd/audhd fans, a declaration that cringe culture is dead, and the fact that we're all watching the same show, there is large portion of people who participate in fandom as a popularity contest, where the focus shifts off of the main interest and develops almost a secondary hyperfixation with specific creators, blogs, accounts, in a way that at least borders on parasocial.

this is nothing new, but the attitude that springs from it then dictates a specific Way to interact with that fandom, meaning that those who aren't interested in following select clique leaders are outcast and seen as More Cringe because they don't speak or act within acceptable parameters. when people have a platform, there's a pressure to be funny, be entertaining, to produce more Content that your followers WANT to see, the stuff they followed you for. sometimes this leads to plagiarism, ripping off posts from other platforms or lesser known accounts because you feel a compulsion to post ANYTHING for engagement instead of what you WANT to post. speaking from experience here, i am something of a Former YouTuber with a sizeable following, and i've been through it on other social media with several other fandom sideblogs and shit.

different platforms, different friend groups, different subsections – depending on preferred characters, ships, etc. – are inevitably going to be far more insular, and especially long-time fans who are less interested in the general media and more about a selection of specific interests is going to fall into this trap eventually. however, i think social media influences this more now than it did even a few years back, especially on twitter where it's more difficult to find "content" without a well-known account attached.

a while back someone made an always sunny iceberg that had a bunch of shit i had never seen before, despite having personally trawled the waybackmachine and archived a bunch of semi-lost media, running and overhauling the wiki with its decades of collected trivia, and having been on sunnyblr. a lot of it was from the podcast, but the stuff i had no recollection of was obscure ass sunnytwt drama that only involved like. a very small group of individuals. the thing is that these few accounts are minor celebrities in the fandom, and everyone follows them. i myself followed one or two of them when i first got into the fandom because they were posting clips reblogged by non-sunny mutuals. there are a TON of sunny focused accounts on twirter, but only a few that have multi-thousand followings, primarily for this reason. this is essentially your only gateway into the sunny fandom on twitter. here (on tumblr), you can easily look in the tags and curate your followed blogs (or look at the iasip subreddit) but it's a lot harder to find fandom content without that organized space (most people don't specifically tag tweets), instead you have to rely on the few sunny accounts you followed incidentally to deliver you retweets so you can follow more accounts.

so then what happens? you follow more accounts? see a variety of sunny content? follow a tag to see fandom newcomers' posts, art, fics? no, you follow the same 5 accounts you started with and stay in the echo chamber, caught up in drama and taking sides based on your few mutuals' opinions, maybe things get a little too personal and you stay following someone even though you disagree with their posts because you really don't have much of a choice, they can see if you unfollow, and they put posts on your timeline. you make a private account and start quote retweeting them to get out your irritations, a passive aggressive reminder that they're wrong. your other mutual quote retweets someone calling them stupid, and you also decide to tell them how wrong they are, because it's a popularity contest, not an open discussion. there's a Content Draught during the hiatus and people start getting bored. it becomes less and less about the original show, and more about the cliques, the exciting new drama of the day, the actors.

new fans are lost, long-time fans who don't care about all this extra shit are alienated, and it leads to a very odd type of gatekeeping that has these Elevated fans looking down on people for actually wanting to engage with the source media. yes, this includes the fans on reddit who spout quotes. this includes the people who liveblog their first time watching the show. this includes people who care about the show because it's still fresh and exciting and they haven't yet been made to feel that it's something to hide because it's cringey or dated or stupid to take it Too Seriously theorizing and dissecting the Poop and Fart Show.

I am guilty of all of this too, i think for quite a while i've been feeling like i need to defend myself by lashing out at other people because i am extremely sensitive to being made fun of for actually caring about my special interest. but i think that analysis and criticism (within reason) are extremely important facets of fandom and we as a fandom should be trying to encourage that rather than make fun of other fans. i think this is probably the reason for a lot of the issues with fan superiority, gatekeeping, the general awful atmosphere in the fandom. it's easy to complain and make counter content to someone else's post, it's a lot harder to grow the balls to have a proper in-depth lore discussion with them, or better yet, make your own stuff. ive been joking about a fandom-wide rewatch, but i genuinely think we should organize something like that. and i think everyone should set aside the judgement and just enjoy themselves. i'm sick and tired of feeling unwelcome in a fandom that i dedicate a lot of time to because i'm unashamed about enjoying the source media and i suspect a lot of you probably feel the same. you don't need to push everything through an irony filter and self depreciate, you can just like sunny and want to participate in fandom.

#ada speaks #literally feels like every time i try to get real at ALL someone feels like its appropriate to fling shit at me #im sick of vagueposting and broken telephone and im sick of feeling like i need to fucking mask my autism #yeah i misinterpret shit #yeah im overly sensitive #yes i care a whole hell of a lot and i am passionate about things you think are 'stupid'#i wish it wasn't embarrassing to be compassionate or understanding or... empathetic #and i'm going to try not to give in to that shitty behaviour just bc other people do it #i dont know how to fix the problem of people indirectly replying to shit instead of reblogging posts to disagree #i feel like its largely due to us not wanting to bother op #but i think its less harmful in the long run if we can be civil #i think we need to work to have a more welcoming community to EVERYONE not just Acceptable Fans

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jzbnee · 1 month

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omg jezebunny hiiiii~ <3 i like ur new sideblog its very nice

i would like to know more about gone girl stephcentric and brujay vampire au please <3

omg ; v; bean!!! ty for hitting me up 🥺

gone girl stephcentric is a kind of ancient wip but one i had a lot of crazy ideas for??? i believe it was going to be kind of steph with a robin harem sort of?

bruce activated his protocol to pull all of the Standard Robins out of play by framing them in a human trafficking ring crime & getting the authorities to bring all of them in at once. Steph goes to ground/fakes her own abduction (with the implication that she might have been one of the women abducted in the ring) and is trying to figure shit out, while babs + cass + duke are also trying to figure shit out together... this fic features a lot of tv/interview clips alternating with prose!

brujay vampire au was actually backstory for an rp that got a little out of control... i think the rp is dead but i was playing jason and had a very elaborate mental image for what was going on with them. it was going to kind of highlight how they were both different from their canon counterparts while emphasizing bruce's unique fondness for/obsession with jason. kind of lost steam for it when the rp died (the plot of that was that dick & tim & jason were conspiring to kill bruce together which was v funny to me)

putting excerpts of both under a readmore!

gone girl stephcentric

Barbara turned to Cassandra and Duke. Cassandra’s body was stiff, ready for a fight any second. Duke

“If I’d gotten to their places right after, then-”

Raising her hand, Barbara cut Duke off. He shouldn’t be blaming himself. This had come totally out of left field and the ball smelled fishy, too.

“None of us were expecting this. Don’t beat yourself up.”

“Steph?” Cass asked, hands flexing at her sides. Yeah. Barbara was feeling helpless, too. Not for long, though. She’d figure this out.

“No word yet.”

“You checked the cams at her place, right?”

“Who do you think you’re talking to? I’m the reason those cams are there in the first place.”

“Sorry, guess I’m nervous,” Duke rubbed at the back of his neck.

“Me too.”

“Well,” said Barbara. “I’m sending one of my contacts over to Steph’s place now. I don’t know where she is, but she wouldn’t vanish like this without a good reason.”

“...Bruce?” Frowning, Cass looked at the screen, then at the communicator she’d brought along. This room had controlled frequencies, but it would let in contact if it came from an approved channel. Bruce hadn’t messaged any of them.

“Compromised. We’re flying blind on this one. I want us to maintain normal behavior in civilian mode for now. I’ll set up a new meeting location, one Bruce doesn’t know about. We’ll meet again in eight hours. If you want to do solo investigation, that’s fine, but stay away from their apartments in daylight.”

“Got it,” said Duke. Cass nodded, though there was a shift to her mouth that indicated she’d disobey in a heartbeat if she thought she could find something. Barbara understood that impulse, and maybe she would find something. Better to let it go for now.

brujay vampires

"Here we are again," Bruce mused. He crossed one leg over the other. The tiger's teeth were brushing Jason's face. Each inhale and exhale moved his hair. "Sire and childe, reunited."

"Yeah," Jason said lamely. Bruce's arm went over his shoulder. Despite himself, he listed to the side, into Bruce's steady presence. Remembered when he'd been small and Bruce had been everything to him-- protector, father, mentor, sire.

Bruce's thumb brushed his shoulder. Jason sighed, body relaxing in increments.

"I missed this," Bruce continued. "Missed you, Jason. It hasn't been the same without you."

"...Missed you, too," Jason allowed. The tiger's mouth was closing around him. And to entertain whom? No one else was here. Still, he could picture the clapping and cheering from the audience as he risked his life for their measly entrance fees. Others called for the clowns to come back out.

Jason hated clowns. This was at least better than clowns.

"But I wonder..." And there it was. The trailing off, the deliberate shrug. The sigh.

Jason's body tensed as if bitten, and Bruce's fingers dug into his shoulder, tight and hard.

"What." Jason's voice was tighter. Hoarse, already."I wonder why my precious little boy, when he found himself alive, didn't come find his sire. Why he wandered for years. Why he let someone else turn him the second time.”

#ask game

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re-whump · 1 year

Text

Hey! I'm Alex, any pronouns are fine. I’m an adult. This is a whump sideblog for @reborrowing, which is a (much more active) giant/tiny blog.

18+ only. Boilerplate DNI terfs, racists, etc, etc,

I tend to keep to myself, but if you throw asks or tags or etc at me, I'll respond

I like content with female characters, and that definitely includes whump—in any role. If you don't want to see lady whump, you probably don't want to follow this blog, sorry!

I mostly like fantasy whump, especially giant/tiny or mermaids. (I mostly write gt lol.) Aliens and vampires are great. I also love unstable dynamics and role shifts.

I'm not really a fan of BBU settings, but occasionally I come across something with it I do love. Medical's also hit and miss because I'm squeamish about it lol

Cult and religion whump are probably the closest to a hard no for me, depending on if it's modeled after common tropes (fine) or reality (nope!). Also (non-pet) adoption I suppose but I’ve only seen that once, since there’s a general aversion to underage characters anyway.

I've got some character sets I'll post about here over time, writing or drawing, on entirely irregular intervals

masterposts to come with content, maybe, but

Glass Eden - magical creatures trapped and mistreated by a rich eccentric hobbyist

Poe Inktail (any) - a borrower caught in the wrong house Hecate - a python lamia who grew up in captivity Hugh - rich eccentric hobbyist

Stolen Light - fairies get pulled into the modern world by a witch who'd like them to face mortality

Iolanthe (she/her) - a fairy mercenary thoroughly out of her element Silas (he/him) - a fairy lordling, too curious for his own good Madeleine (she/her) - a witch from a cursed bloodline who wants revenge on the faery that wronged her ancestor. doesn't mind hurting a few extra fae in the process. Bastien (he/him) - a beastkin mercenary, Iolanthe's work partner

If I Could - vampire slayer gets overconfident, wakes up bloody, turned, and locked in a basement. unwritten sowwy

Harvey Daniels (he/him) - said vampire/slayer. Melvin Briggs, "Mel" (he/they) - vampire, errand boy for a local coven for the last 50 years or so Britt Huxley - (she/they) - vampire enthusiast. [needs a rename lol] (he/him) - vampire slayer who should've charged his phone :/

#I guess I should do a pinned post #hi.

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surplus-of-sarcasm · 2 years

Note

do you have a masterlist?

Ps.Love your writing!!

Thank you anon!!! ❤❤Now, I didn't have a masterlist until now, but here ya go.

Edit: I fixed it because I've finally got the hang of hyperlinks. This is everything I ever wrote here and I might update it every once in a while.

Note: The prompts don't all have the titles I wrote here, they're titled after numbers, the titles here are just based on themes.

P.S: You guys can use anything I've tagged as a prompt, as in continue it even if I've done a continuation, write smth based on it or a prompt fill for my short prompts. Please just tag me if you do! But the fragments of my story are NOT for use in anyway. Anything tagged as 'NOT A PROMPT' shouldn't be used please. I love reblogs sm, but NO reposts please!

Surplus If Sarcasm's Writing Masterpost

Main Taglist

Here

Prompts W/Superpowers

Mind Reading (Emotional angst)

Mind Reading Pt.2 (comfort in a way)

Wind + Geokinesis (Emotional angst mostly, a little comfort)

Fire vs. Ice (humour, found family)

Lightning + Shape-shifting (dark(er) humour)

Captured (angst, mysterious-ish)

Flying +W/ Powers x Powerless (humour, fight scene)

Difficult Past/Present (Angst)

Parents? (emotional angst, a little comfort)

When They Don't Care (humour and angst somehow)

Never Enough (family angst w/some comfort)

Sequel to Never Enough (more family angst w/some comfort

Together (mysterious, a little bit of whump, implied comfort)

Stars in a Pitch Black Sky (angst then sweet fluff)

Light after Dark (slightly whumpy angst that ends in romance)

Misunderstandings (ah yes, another angsty fic that ends in romance, f/m)

Second Chance (rich hero x poor villain)

How Many Lies on the Road to Truth? (mysterious, moral greyness, a hint of romance)

How Many Lies on the Road to Truth, Part 2

How Many Lies on the Road to Truth, Part 3

Maybe Romantic

Touch-starved (married hero x villain)

Dance with me? (not actually me, the characters, lol)

Yes, I Even Made This One Angsty

When It Gets Too Much

When It Gets Too Much Pt.2

Speechless (Cocky hero x flustered villain)

Turning Tables (Flirty villain x even flirtier hero)

Tied Together (Married hero x villain again)

Romance Your Demons

Somewhere Beyond the Ashes (angsty at first, f/m)

Intoxicating Love (villain gets hero drunk)

Love & Blood (Vampire hero x human villain, f/m)

Reborn (Vampire villain x human hero, pretty flirty)

Bloody Love Letter (f!villain /m!civilian, flirty, confession)

Why Do You Hesitate? (f!hero/m!villain, slightly angsty but sweet confession fic)

I Messed Around with Whump

Mystery

Now with a Vampire (dw, they don't sparkle)

Supervillains Are the Worst

Supervillains Still Suck (the previous one's Sequel)

Change

Change Pt.2

Change Pt.3

Change Pt.4

Loss

Loss Pt.2

Reluctance

Revenge (what it says on the label, not a prompt!)

Relentless (Team Leader whump)

Poisoned Honey (Yandere supervillain x hero darling)

Reversed Power (Villain x civilian)

Under His Wing (Found family, grumpy villain accidentally gets a surrogate younger brother)

Burning Up (sickfic, f/m)

Rescue of Convenience (Morally grey vigilante rescues beat-up villain with the craziest trust issues)

Rescue of Convenience Part 2

Your Rather Irritating Frenemy (Fluff & humour)

Why Are You Here?

Let's End All Essays

Tired?

New Year's

Someone Close By

Fragments of a Book Series I'm NOT Running Away From (No)

Heart In My Teeth (Angst, fear)

Thunderstorms (Fluffy-ish)

I Do Not Believe in Giving Up (Angsty fight scene)

I Do Not Believe in Giving Up, Part 2 (manipulative hero lies to survive x villain)

Reverie (Angsty, mental health stuff)

Liar (posted from my non-writing sideblog, don't ask why)

Why I Hide

Last Line Tag (technically snippet)

Short Prompts

Death or Lack Thereof

Short-circuiting

Espressos and Destruction

Ambiguity

You (rich villain x tired hero)

In the Shadows (Mystery, loneliness)

Ruin

Alliance of Convenience (fake dating, scary hero, flirtationssss???)

Love with All the Stakes

More Truth than Lie

For me, mon amour?

Even Stone Can Change

The World Will Be Ours (villain x villain)

Prompt Fills

When Only Shadows Remain (sneak peak at an h x v series I plan to write)

Not Always Vengeance (Whumpy, but mostly angsty, rescue)

Not Hero X Villain Masterlist

An Ungodly Amount of Starters I Just Made Up Now

Angsty

"So it was all a lie?"

"Sorry? If you kill someone, does saying sorry to their corpse bring them back?"

"I'm used to being walked out on. What difference does it make if one more person does it?"

"Well, I'm sorry that I didn't put you first for ONCE in my life!"

"You say 'love' but do you even know what that word means?"

Fluffy

"You, me, movie marathon. And no, that is not a question."

"I don't think it's fair that anyone gets to be that cute, to the point that they can get away with all sorts of crap!"

"If you won't take care of yourself, I will!"

"How could someone see you, and just resist cuddling you?"

"This is nice and all, but I need to go to the bathroom. So, can you please get off my lap? Please?"

Goofy Villain

"Can you please die faster?"

"Do I look like a guy with a plan?"

"No, you look like an idiot without one. And yes, I know you're quoting Dark Knight."

"Now, I'd narrate my tragic backstory to you, but I'm too lazy."

"Yeah, and what are you going to defeat me with? The power of friendship?"

"I'd really do the 'join me and we could be great speech', but you're an annoying, little brat so I'm just gonna go back to trying to kill you, hm?"

Confession starters

"I'm no good with the, ya know, emotional stuff. But I don't want to imagine a world where you don't exist in my life. I love you."

"The way I love you is how fire loves destruction and how a drowning person loves a lifeline. Ths greatest poet on Earth could not string together enough words to describe the feelings I have for you."

"Here goes. Every. Single. Thing. I love you."

"Goddamn it, I love you!"

"I want you to be mine, if you would agree to let me be yours."

#the little gremlin answers #i fixed it!!#sorry y'all #writers on tumblr #female writers #masterpost #natalia's writing

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from-the-clouds · 1 year

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giving kendall roy a blowjob pls

i have a fic about this here buuuttt i've been so down bad for ken lately and am embarrassed to say i literally dropped all my WIPs to also write this. inspired by this gif from @technicolourtelevision. also please follow my succ sideblog if u are a kendall girlie like myself @kendollroyco!

warnings: smut under the cut (18+ only, oral sex m receiving, degradation, dom!kendall - sorry but i want him to be mean to me) not proofread, and potentially just bad -- i wrote this in like a 30 minute fugue state.

first off, where you do this is kind of important because there are sooooo many good opportunities. maybe you work for him and he's making you suck him off under your desk, his hand down the front of your blouse. you have to go to the bathroom after to clean yourself up because your mascara is smudged and he's ruined your hair. or maybe you're on your knees for him in the back of a car, and he's refusing to roll up the partition. the straps of the gown you've got on are falling off your shoulders, and you're worried about getting caught but he's shoving your head down and he's whispering shit like 'but you're taking it anyways, aren't you?' and you can't help but moan as he shifts his hips so you take him even deeper.

but REALLY what i think about is like, in the most recent episode when he talks about not sleeping well. you're his girlfriend who lives with him, but you hardly see him. and one night when he comes home late you can just tell he's tense, like, ready to snap at anyone who gets in his way. you're curled up wearing one of his old harvard sweatshirts maybe watching tv or looking at your phone and he looks so fucking good in one of those suits that fits him like a glove.

when you ask him how he's doing, he's short and snippy. 'fine.'

'you stressed or something?' you ask, rather than start an argument.

'fuckin', uh, i don't know, what does it look like?'

you're sort of taken aback by how rude his response it, standing over you with his hands on his hips. 'don't tell me you waited up this late for me....' he's trying to chastise you, but you can see right through him.

'you're working too much' you sit up.

'uh-huh, right. i don't want to hear your shit right now, i'm fuckin' exhausted-' and he's trying to be mean, to push you away.

'i bet. all you do is toss and turn at night,' you agree.

you reach out, hook your fingers around the cool silver of his belt buckle and yank. he steps forward, even if his eyebrows are still pinched together, his lips curled down into a frown.

'i could give you something that might help.'

by the time you've pulled his briefs down to his ankles, his face has neutralized, even though his hands are still on his hips. you drop to your knees, ignoring the chill of the italian marble. he smiles a little, then, puts a hand on top of your head.

you don't go slow, you don't want to, and he doesn't let you. he pulls your hair and jerks his hips into your mouth. you take him all, using your hands to spread the slick from gagging on him several times around. of course, he talks you through it, tells you exactly what to do and how he wants it in that deep, raspy voice, which only gets deeper when he's turned on.

'god, you're such a fucking slut.'

and you don't care about looking pretty while you blow him. no, you might normally try to be cute about it, but when he's mean it only makes you more feral. you choke and gasp until tears run from the corner of your eyes and you're drooling, straddling his foot and grinding yourself against his black prada oxford's.

you whine and mewl around him, mouth so full the noises are unintelligible. 'you're so pathetic,' he groans, looking down at you, and you can tell he's getting close because his voice doesn't have the same conviction as before. 'that's it, atta girl, just take it.'

the more you allow yourself to get into it, the more turned on you get. the more turned on you are, the more desperate and filthy you want to feel. it just keeps building, compounding. until you take him just a little too far and retch. 'easy, easy.' kendall pulls back, his voice stern.

glancing up, he almost looks concerned. he scolds you. 'control yourself.'

you're pissed that it nearly sobers you up. 'shhh,' you hiss, swat his hand away from where it's landed on your cheek.

'okay, fine, if you fuckin' want it that bad.' his fingers fist the back of your head again.

immediately, you wrap your lips back around his cock. you use both hands to jerk him while you suck on his tip, bobbing your head and humming around him.

he gets quiet, and that's your cue. he's not great at using his words when he's about to come, but it's a good indication to keep up the rhythm you've built and not stop under any circumstances.

'uh-huh, that's-fuck!' ken makes sure he's buried in the back of your throat when he comes, hard, his hips stilling their movements, but he keeps your head in place with both his hands until he's sure you've swallowed everything he has to give you.

at some point, you pull away and slump against the back of the couch. your eyes are watering, your face feels impossibly hot, and your jaw aches. it's hard to see straight, so you cover your eyes with your hand.

'jesus,' kendall mutters your name.

you peek at him between your fingers to see him squat down. now he's on the same level as you. he moves your hand away from your face, a look of genuine curiosity etched in his features. you'd never blown him like that before. 'where'd that come from, sweetheart?'

'it's dumb,' you shake your head, a little embarrassed. 'i listened to this podcast...'

the corners of his eyes crinkle as he smiles, hand under your chin so you are forced to look at him. 'uh-huh?' he asks. 'at home all day fuckin' uh....taking notes on how to give me good head?'

'shut up,' you go to smack his head away, feeling a new warmth rise to your cheeks, but he grabs your wrist and hauls you against his chest, nose poking into your hair, lips on your cheek.

'is there, uh, anything else they had to say on there i might be interested in learning about?'

'potentially,' you answer. 'if you have all night...'

he laughs, a comforting rumble right into your ear. 'i do.'

#idk what it is but like there is something about this man's manic dick i cannot stop thinking about #like this is so disgusting i'm hiding myself in shame rn #asks #writing #kendall roy #kendall roy x reader #succession writing #kendall roy smut

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gobs-o-dice · 7 months

Text

If I may wax nostalgic for a moment:

So, yeah, this account got deleted by hackers, which sucks, but I can always rebuild it, bit by bit.

This is way more of a huge personal essay than I'd normally do, especially on this sideblog, but it's about this blog specifically, so I think it's really only appropriate that it goes here.

(Rambling got long-ish, so putting in a cut to keep your dashboards clear of clutter - Because it turns out I have some feelings about this blog)

(TL;DR: Thank you all for your kind words and support over the years. This blog meant something to me, it still means something to me, and I'm going to keep working at it - Rebuilding it one piece at a time. I look forward to continue engaging and re-engaging with you all again as I do so)

I had my main tumblr account for something like 5 years by the time I started this sideblog. And I never really had any sort of focus on my main, I was just your general nerdy blogger.

But at some point - 2016-2017, judging by my photos timeline, I started getting really into collecting sets of dice. In as much as I was accumulating them at a much, much faster rate than I'd ever done so before.

My first set was bought when I was still in high school, probably no later than 2003-2004. I know I had at least 5 total sets by the time I finished my first undergrad degree in 2009 and moved across the country for a job. I'm pretty sure I got the 6th set on a trip back home to visit friends during that year I was working. The 7th, I honestly can't remember. Maybe 2011 at a con? That seems like something I'd do.

My 8th set was definitely purchased in the lead-up to my sister's wedding in 2014 - I specifically bought it to match their purple and blue colour scheme because we used the d20 to stop people from clinking glasses to get them to kiss (if people wanted to get them to kiss, they'd have to roll 10+, otherwise, they'd have to find someone to kiss, themselves).

I wasn't taking photos of sets as I got them yet, so this has been a bit of guesswork and memory.

I can confirm that by the end of 2016, I had bought my 15th and 16th sets. I started showing off my shinies, probably here and on twitter. I think even some basic photos made it to facebook/instagram before I realized not many friends and family cared too much about them over there.

2017, I can see set #23 appears in a photo, among others previously.

By September 2018, Sets #44, #45, and #46 were bought at a convention - These are the three sets you can see in the mouth of the yarncraft mimic in my profile picture (also bought at that convention). So, yeah, definitely a steep acceleration in my dice-buying (this was about the time I started buying dice online rather than just in physical stores, I do believe). Overall, a huge shift in my approach and drive towards collecting dice around this point.

It's around here I really start taking photos of my dice, playing around with my flashlights and such for different lighting effects - Basically the first forms of the kind of photos that would become my "brand", such as it is. I think it's here too that I started aspiring to make a character to pair to each individual set (While I do have many, many characters, I can tell you that some of these first sets still don't have characters for them yet. So, y'know, I'm nothing if not consistent in my inability to focus).

The first bunch of these sort of photos were posted to my main, but eventually I decided to start doing the dice posting on a sideblog, so as not to completely flood my main with not only my dice, but all the dice I was reblogging, as through my posts, I had found that there was indeed a community here of dice fans - Often posting their own creative photos.

Now, I've never been exactly quiet about what was going on in my life at that time - The summer of 2018, I had to take a medical leave of absence from my PhD program in university, because my migraines had been worsening from episodic to chronic over the past year or so. I had thought that maybe it was burnout, and I'm sure that's not an insignificant part of it, along with the then-undiagnosed adhd, I was just unable to function in general.

So, I took that summer off, then was genuinely feeling better and came back and tried to pick up again - But as the stress of getting back into things picked up again, it was clear that I was not in fact better. And the meds I was on at the time put me in a near-permanent brain fog, so I just was not able to function on an intellectual level like I had been. I could muddle my way through reading ecology papers that presented broad, easily-followed narratives, but highly technical microbiology and genetics papers, which were a slog at the best of times, became literally impossible to meaningfully read and acquire the sort of information I needed from them.

So, January 2019, I made the painful decision to withdraw from my PhD program. And I was utterly crushed by this point - Y'know, with whatever energy I had left to feel emotions. There is nothing quite so gutting as believing you're better and can handle things, and then finding out that you absolutely cannot, and feeling like you're letting everyone down because you can't keep up with even the bare minimum of responsibilities. I truly do not want this sort of thing to happen again, hence why I really do want to get my migraines under control before I consider going back to school or work - And it's been basically 5 years now. My education and experience have absolutely atrophied, possibly to the point that I'd essentially be starting pretty fresh and need to be brought back up to speed on so much that I'm not sure its something I want to ever tackle.

Anyway, that was where I was when I decided to make this sideblog. It was always, first and foremost, a place where I could post my nerdy photos, ramble about my characters, and just generally go whole-hog in on my nerdy TTRPG-related hobbies. And if other people found what I was posting enjoyable, well, it was all the better.

February 2019, before I moved back home, is the first folder that I can distinctly say I did a series of hoard photos. I wasn't using the term hoardscape yet. And they weren't styled exactly like that, but the genesis of the idea is there - I'm calling these pre-hoardscapes as I do my daily image re-upload. May 2019 was the first time I consciously set out to take photos of the hoard all mixed together. There's some weirdness as I included minis and other nerdy things in this first batch, but the overall style was now something I was fully enjoying - Photoing the dice from angles that made them look like rolling hills or other styles of heaps/piles emerging from one main pile - ie: Trying to make it look like I was taking a photo of a landscape made of my entire dice hoard. I have these labelled as "Hoard Shots" in this folder, but my numbering of them starts there. The next batch, June 2019 was where I started labelling them with the term "Hoardscape". I'm glad that people liked this term and it got used beyond just myself.

In total, I took over 1200 hoardscape photos between 2019 and 2021, not including the photo sessions where I did specific arrangements of specific die-types, since I had to sort them all before putting them away again anyway. So over three years of material for daily content, in addition to the shots I did of individual sets and other flights of fancy I'd have.

It'd be hyperbolic to claim that these "saved my life" or some other cliche like that. But they probably saved my sanity at least a little bit. They've given me something to do that was novel and creative. Something engaging, something to aspire to do, something to look forward to that wasn't the same "wake-up, watch tv, surf the net, play video games" routine I found myself otherwise in. Something to have some tangible ambition towards, however ultimately frivolous it is. Something with a schedule and structure that I felt compelled to adhere to.

This sort of stuff was great for me too, in that I could work on creative projects according to my own, quite nocturnal, inconsistent schedule (You'll notice that pretty much all of my photos of individual sets are also done at night, which was eventually also partially so that the lighting could be consistent). I could work for a few hours at a time, according to however much energy/focus I had. And if I had a bad day, I wasn't obligated to do any specific amount of work at it each day or anything. It was work, in the sense of something productive to do. And honestly, I thoroughly believe you need something that at least feels productive to work at (at your own pace), so that you don't go completely batty with boredom. And that the photos resonated with people out there was absolutely fantastic too. I was honestly a little surprised and always utterly delighted when people would mention my style of dice photos as inspirations for their own creative works - Their own photos or otherwise.

Heck, at one point I had great ambitions to maybe start turning hoardscape-type shots into jigsaw puzzles. Well, that kind of fizzled - We did do one small session using my brother's actual, serious camera instead of my camera phone, and got a jigsaw puzzle made from that high-res shot, but in terms of actually making puzzles from my photos consistently? Well, not so much. Unless, like, some company picked up and licensed my/our photos or something for printing themselves, there was no way we could feasibly afford getting enough made up to sell at any sort of reasonable price. And as fun as it was, to make this, puzzles, I really didn't think it'd be practical to order 1000 of any single design, let alone more than one design to have some variety, and then try to find some market to sell them in.

But hey, this is a fun little treasure of my own to have, even if it was, like $60

Admittedly, as much as I loved doing these shots, there were things that made them increasingly difficult to keep doing new ones of - The way it took over the family room area with my hoard meant that I really only wanted to do them when the rest of my family was gone for long stretches of time - Over a week or so, to give me enough time to get a decent amount of new material and then go through the process of re-sorting and repacking my dice after getting those photos, but also getting any sort of bonus shots - Like once I got the actual stage, taking photos with it, instead of just on the mug warmer (The mug warmer was a decent stage for someone operating with no real budget and still focused on getting more dice, okay? :P). But then the hoard continued to grow and swell (because I'm a sucker for buying more and more dice, after all), which meant that the cleanup process took longer and longer. I mean, it eventually got to the point that the table I used as an auxiliary for sorting was too small for everything to be on there period, let alone with any real clarity to which set was which. And it was more and more painful - Sitting there hunched over, searching and sorting for hours to get everything back to its proper home in my storage bins left my back, neck, and shoulders utterly stiff and sore for days afterwards, which isn't exactly fun. The final big one is that in 2021, for my mom's birthday, my family got a new kitten for the first time in years. As much as I loved Ollie , I knew he absolutely could not be trusted with a big pile of dice just left out in the open. And after his tragic passing [RIP poor Little Bud. Sometimes biology just plain sucks, and it sucks that you apparently got dealt a bad hand], we eventually got Lilah, who much the same, is a cat. And leaving small, shiny things they can bat around out in the open is just a bad idea if you don't want to lose those things.

That's not to say that I've closed the door completely on doing more hoardscapes ever again. It's just that I'll definitely have to think about my approach carefully. One thing with my family having moved into the home that was my grandma's farm, is that I have a much bigger room now I could theoretically set up a table or something in here and keep it closed off, mostly solving the cat and "taking over a communal space" problem.

But, I guess for now, I think I have a pretty large amount of back-content to get back through - I'd even been reposting my old hoardscapes for quite a while now, and I guess I'm starting from the very beginning. So, new hoardscapes are not necessarily going to be something I rush to do. But it's not a hard-"absolutely never again" situation, either.

Anyway, I'm doing much better overall now (better meds/treatment/management, other diagnoses, living at home where I don't have to worry about day-to-day stuff falling by the wayside, etc.) , but still haven't returned to school or work because the migraines still are such that they're really not conducive to participating in capitalism - Most places are unhappy if you take more than the equivalent of 1 day per month off. I have constant low/mid-level headaches, with spikes into the upper end of the scale as the weather shifts. I can't recall a month that I haven't had at least three of those "absolutely not"-level days since all this started. In addition to them not being a consistent, predictable schedule. It just doesn't really provide a good work schedule. And the lingering fatigue is often more generally-limiting than the headaches themselves - Especially when combined with the adhd, so efforts towards self-employment/productivity of any sort are similarly sabotaged - As you no doubt might have surmised from my wildly inconsistent surges of creative output. So basically, for now, I'm still not really going to be working in a traditional sense. At most, I might pick up some of those online gig-type-things at some point, but that'll depend heavily on how that interacts with the government support payments I receive.

If nothing else, there's a good chance I'll get little projects from my family - I already transcribed my grandma's old cookbook to send around to my family, and am just waiting on my mom to help do some final edits for the text stuff. If I get really ambitious, I might try making as many of the dishes (mainly the baked goodies, lol) in there as I can to add photos into it for extra style points (and yeah, if I set out to cook everything in there, it will absolutely be a thing I make another sideblog about, and probably something I even upload content to instagram or youtube about - But that's all probably a long ways off from now). There's other stuff of my grandma's that I'll probably work on transcribing and organizing - Her "red book", as we call it, all the family history and such - Essentially a wiki before wikis were a thing (Note to future self: Is there a wiki-type thing you could use for this? It might be a more intuitive way to link entries).

Nevertheless, now that my hyperfixation seems to have swung back this way, towards creating D&D-related stuff, I'm going to keep at it. I've decided to spin off my character/lore posting to a new side-sideblog (@gobs-o-cs), and since I don't think I'll be reviewing each set of dice as I upload them again, I'll try to keep the individual set posts to a more *aesthetic*-look.

Honestly, the individual set uploads are the most I've lost with these blog resets. those comments (along with those on dicemails and such) are lost, because I generally just wrote them here and didn't think too much about backing them up anywhere.

All of the lore stuff I generally have saved in various other spots. The biggest loss on that front was all the work I'd put into organizing sub-pages on my blog for a character list and pages for individual characters. I'll definitely have to look into less-fiddly ways of keeping things sorted (Honestly, if I get really ambitious, I might have to look into those wiki-style things for writers/creators).

Okay, this was a lot longer (and maybe only a bit rambly-er) than I was planning for it to be.

(Although, when you do stream-of-consciousness-type essays rather than setting out with with any sort of specific plan, that's what'll happen. Hopefully I haven't left too many orphaned paragraphs as I've jumped around to different thoughts, lol).

The long and short of it is that this blog was exactly the sort of project I needed to give myself at a time when I was pretty much bottomed out in life. This was never a huge internet presence or anything, but I know there were quite a few people following towards the end of things. I certainly would be intimidated if I were standing up in a room and giving a presentation to well over 1000 people, not to mention other people who would reblog or like things even if they weren't specifically followers. But it was never about having a huge audience or anything like that. It's something I enjoyed, and will continue to enjoy and keep at for now. And if it re-finds its audience and continues to find an audience, well then, that's all the better.

Once again, thank you all very much for popping in here. Thank you to all of those who have liked and reblogged the silly dice photos I post, the stories I tell, and the random thoughts I follow to whatever conclusion they end up at. Especially thank you to everyone who's ever left a kind word on any of my posts - In the comments, in the tags, wherever.

I'm so glad you've all enjoyed my strange little hobby so far, and I hope you'll continue enjoying it as I work to put it all back up here, piece by piece.

#also if you made it all the way through this - Thank you so very much for reading!#long post #rambling about life #this blog has been a fantastic creative outlet for me #and I guess it's honestly been something truly good for my mental health #at a time when I desperately needed something #so thank you all for everything #and I look forward to seeing you all again - Old friends and new

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