#I'vE juSt beeN veRy buSy witH liFe stUff bUt haVe beeN wOrKiNg oN iT beHiNd tHe sCeNeS | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

carolmunson · 1 year

Text

is he rich like me? (wealthy!s.h. x thick!reader)

desc: hi, we've missed you here at slate insurance hq. i've been working on this WIP since i think october, having the initial idea back then and then going back and forth on it for a million years. anyway, i finally finished it. you and big money steve are finally both on the same page, so here's some porn with plot. big money steve is big money steve, and he loves to spoil his girl. especially before a big dinner deal closing with a new client. tw: 18+ minors dni. p in v sex, oral (f and m receiving), some daddy kink (it's steve c'mon) but he's pathetic, some breeding kink. casual dominance. big wealthy tings. recommended listening: time of the season - the zombies

"what's your name? who's your daddy? is he rich like me?"

Big boxes and gifts were nothing new anymore. Selfishly, they'd become expected whenever you walked in the door from work. Though, if it were totally up to Steve, you would have quit your job the moment the last box of your things came past the threshold of his Tribeca apartment in January. But having at least some semblence of your old life was important to you -- and Robin would lose her mind if she didn't have you to share an office with anymore. Steve on the otherhand, was adamant that once the first baby was on the way, you'd put your career behind you. Presumptiuous of course, considering you weren't even engaged. Tonight was a dinner -- not for the both of you, but for business. Sales pitches, deal closings, re-enrollment. He'd never take you a steakhouse for a date, he'd rather die. But, always a steakhouse for business, 'It's just more -- I don't know how to explain it baby -- money talk, red meat, stuff like that. I know you hate it, I'm sorry, but it just looks good when I bring my girl with me.' He'd make it up to you every time with a new dress, a new pair of shoes, his lips on your neck, your knees to your chest. This dinner was no different, coming in from a nail appointment and a pedicure out to see an array of boxes laid out on your side of the bed. Your main component, which you were expected to wear to dinner tonight, was a black silk dress. "It looks small, Steve," you mumble, holding it up by the skinny straps. Sometimes your wonder if he forgets how full your hips are, how things that look chic on Kate Moss can sometimes look suggestive on you. Not that he minded, he was always very suggestive whenever you dressed up.

"It got it tailored to your measurements, so it shouldn't be," he explains while tying his tie in the mirror, "Just put it on, baby. The car's gonna be here soon."

You huff a little, turning on your heels to his walk in closet -- it might as well be a second bedroom with how big it was. You laid the dress down on the center island where he keeps all of his ties and watches in specially made drawers. You eyed the dress for a moment -- it really was beautiful. Black as night with a high slit on the right side -- of course he made sure it showed some leg so he could run his fingers along the hem under the table.

You take a look at yourself in the mirror in the long line black bustier he bought you. Breasts lifted and high, nearly spilling out of the cups. You'd never seen something without straps have so much support. But then again, you'd never had a bra be custom made either. The matching satin panties sat high on your waist, cut high enough that you'd never see the lines under the silk dress.

Moment of truth, I guess, you think, taking the dress and stepping into it. You waited for the resistance when you pulled it up over your hips but it never came. You waited for the uncomfortable pull of trying to get the skinny straps over your arms and shoulders, but it didn't happen. The dress slid on like butter, like it was made for you.

Oh yeah, duh, it was made for you.

"Can you help me with the zipper, honey?" you call out. Steve still loses his breath when you call him a pet name. So overwhelmed that you want him, that you call him baby and handsome and honey. Honey, honey, honey. Maybe someday husband. Maybe.

He steps into the room with purpose, stopping short when he sees you in the dress.

"Oh, wow," he gasps, "Wow, wow, wow."

"Stop," you bloom heat when he eyes you, "C'mon help me, we gotta go soon."

He steps behind you and you can smell the cedar and sandalwood in his cologne -- having long traded his Aqua di Gio for Creed's 1992 Bois du Portugal. His fingers are warm when he trails his middle and pointer up the skin of your back where the zipper opens, just to watch you shiver. He hooks the closure at the top carefully before pulling the tab at the bottom to slowly close the dress up. At the finish, everything is pulled into place. It was perfect. Dipping and flouncing exactly where you wanted it too, every curve perfectly showcased.

“Do you know where my clutch is?” you ask him in the mirror while his fingers trace your shoulders.

“It’s on the island in the kitchen,” he mumbles, pressing a kiss over the strap of the dress, “But I have another surprise for you.”

“Another?” you ask, eyes wide. He already bought you the dress, the shoes, the lingerie. What else was left?

"Close your eyes." You do, you hear him open one of the drawers and can feel him behind you when something cold hits your chest. He fastens it at the back of you -- you know it's a necklace but it must be nice if he's having you close your eyes.

"Keep 'em closed, baby."

You hear him come around to the front of you, adjusting the necklace, feeling his breath againt your ear. His fingers trail from your shoulder, down your arm to lift your left hand up, "Stay like that." Your heart hammers, but quickly fades out when you feel him put on a bracelet. His delicate touches quicken your pulse, his scent makes your mouth water. Steve had a way of making everything romantic -- getting coffee, going to the grocery store, taking out the trash, putting jewelry on you. Jewelry he bought. Jewelry you know you'll love.

"And lastly..." he continues, while putting your hand down. His nose brushes your cheek when his nimble fingers click a pair of earrings into place -- they're heavy and cold. "Harrington," you sigh, squirming at the pinch of the back going too far into your lobes, "I can put these on myself." "Don't be such a baby, Manhattan," he tsks, smoothing your hair away from your ears before standing back and looking at you. He smiles big at the sight, you simply adorned in his gifts. Steve doesn't know whether to cry or kiss you when he feels his heart leap in his chest. It happens all the time when he stares too long at you, no matter what you're doing. You're his. "Can I open them?" "You can open them," he encourages. When your eyes flutter open and adjust to the light, you see them in the mirror. A platinum set tennis necklace sat across your chest, a matching bracelet on your wrist. Earrings in your ears to complete the collection. You gape at your reflection, mouth hanging open while you try to wrap your head around it -- about how much money you're wearing right now.

"Steven -- they're beautiful..." you gasp out. He stands behind you in the mirror again, grinning at your reaction.

"Sorry there's no ring," he pouts before kissing your cheek, "Not yet, at least."

It was an every other day mention -- the ring. You'd only been officially together for half a year, but Steve knew what he wanted. It felt like you both had been together for six years anyway. You knew the ins and outs of each other, literally and figuratively -- there couldn't be anyone else quite like him. It helt like you both had PHDs in each other's likes and dislikes, needs and wants, goals and dreams.

"Don't worry," you breathe, still not over the sparkle on the rest of your limbs, "This is...this is plenty, babe." He burns in his cheeks -- babe. He's your babe! He presses a kiss to your cheek, settling by your ear to mumble a heady 'I love you,' from the deep base of his chest. His lower lip coasts your earlobe and your eyes roll back in your head, feeling his warm breath fan over your jaw. "I love you so much," he murmurs, hand gripping your waist, you can feel his grin against your skin, "But I need you to hurry the fuck up or we're gonna be late, angel." "You're so annoying," you glower when his sensual demeanor turns into a mean snicker, tapping your ass to get you to move out into the kitchen.

It took every ounce of will power in his body to not cover you in hickeys in the car. He had to give it to himself, he knew how to dress you for stuff like this, and God did your body alway deliver. He had to keep looking out the window so he didn't catch a glimpse of your crossed legs in the rear view mirror of the Bentley. It didn't help that you smelled like heaven, dirving him crazy with every movement, sending Mulger's Angel through his olfactory straight to his boy brain.

He helped you out of the car and waked you arm in arm to the door of the restaurant, always sure to be there at least 15 minutes before his guests. You got accustomed to the song and dance: exchange pleasantries, only ask the wife of whoever he's with direct questions, feign some form of old school obedience, let Steve do all the talking and so help you God if you roll your eyes once he has no problem letting you pay for when you get home. Always in good fun, of course.

Tonight is no different, you look over the menu, sharing sweet moments with each other before his guest arrives. Guessing the status of every couple there, what they're talking about, how long they've been together. A few celebrities come in laying low and you never get excited but Steve always does, still deep down a sweet boy from Indiana. "I think I'm gonna do the salmon," I say with a sigh, "I know that's boring."

"Not boring, honey," he shakes his head, taking off his glasses to clean them off before settling the silver frames back on, "The salmon's really good here." "You're really good here," you tease. "Yeah?" his brow quirks, a smile pulling at his lips, "I heard you're really good here." "Actually, you're really good here," you start to giggle. "Surprised to hear you say that because it was reported in the Culiniary section of the New York Times that you're actually really good here," he laughs, but you're both cut short when you see the m'aitre d guiding your guests to the table. You keep giggling, sitting up straight and crossing your legs under the table cloth so that your thigh peaked out of the slit of the dress. "No more fun, Harrington," you say faux seriously, "No laughing, we have to be boring now." "So boring," he agrees in a fake whisper, but his demeanor changes on a dime when his guest and his wife arrive. Steve stands immediately, hand out for a firm shake.

"Mr. Parker, good to see you tonight," he flashes an award winning smile, the kind that make older men wish he was their son and older women wish he was their husband, "Mrs. Parker, you look stunning. He let's you leave the house looking this good?"

Only Steve can make a joke like that and have it be charming. He pulls the fake string in your back and you start your performance as Business Dinner Barbie as soon as everyone sits down. When the sommelier arrives Steve orders a bottle of white and red for the table and when the waitress arrives he gets himself and Mr. Parker their second highest priced scotch. 'Just because it's the most expensive doesn't mean it's good, they just wanna get the suckers to buy it.' You could mouth the words as he says them at this point, the same schpiel every time.

"And would you like to put your entree orders in as well?" the waitress asks. Mr. Parker orders the steak dinner, rare, which doesn't surprise you because he sort of looks like someone who gets joy out of consuming blood. Mrs. Parker orders the salad because of course she does, she's never eaten a starch in her life, or at least not in the past forty years. Steve places his dinner order, always filet mignon medium rare with a side salad. Steve takes your menu from you to pass to the waitress when her attention turns to you for your order. You open your mouth to speak but Steve's hand finds yours with a light squeeze, keeping eye contact with the waitress. "She'll have the glazed salmon, medium. And I hate to bother the chef but can we pass the broccoli rabe on for asparagus?" he asks, eyes dropping from the waitress to yours as she answers 'Absolutely, Mr. Harrington'. You swallow when his gaze lingers on you, a smirk flicking on the ends of his lips, a moment only shared by the two of you.

"Thank you so much," he replies, still looking at you, "She just doesn't really care for it." He smiles back up at the waitress as he finishes his sentence, pulse quickening when he sees you adjust slightly in your seat. You liked that, and he likes that you liked that. He continues the conversation with a winning smile, pretending like he doesn't know you're melting next to him. Staring at him in his suit acting like you care what he's talking about, like you're not watching the way the leather band of his watch hugs his wrist, how he gesticulates when he talks, his long fingers and big veined hands emphasizing his words. The way his brow furrows when he listens, the slight tensing of his jaw while he thinks of what to say next. While Mr. Parker discusses the potential pitfalls of partnering with Slate Insurance, you feel one of Steve's big hands under the table, resting on your knee. His thumb traces circles on your joint for a minute, you figure it's a comfort touch, something to ground him while he considers his next move. You learn quickly that it's not that at all. He lets a finger trace slowly and softly up over your knee and half way up your inner thigh before grabbing it, slowly and intentionally massaging the fat there, slipping his fingers under the black silk. Your back straightens in your chair, trying to keep your cool while he continues -- soft grazes with his finger tips, back and forth, inching further up as he goes. You grab his hand tightly under the thick white table cloth, catching his lips curl at the edges while he speaks -- no one else would be wise to it. You curse him silently at his ability to always play it cool.

"Have some water, honey," he says sweetly, taking his hand from your grasp and pushing your glass toward you, "You're looking a little flushed." You swallow, your smile a little tight while you take a sip and he watches. A battle between the two of you that you know you've already lost. The cool water passes your lips and you're nearly reinvigorated to try your hand but he comes in with a final strike -- a death blow -- "Atta girl," Steve grins. You've never wanted to pull him out of a restaurant by his collar more than you do right now. Just like always, dinner is a success. Steve always closes the deal before the second scotch so that the cool down conversation can feel more friendly. 'You want the client to feel like they made a friend when they leave so that they trust you. That's business, angel.' He'd say. You say your goodbyes and tell Mrs. Parker you'd be happy to join her book club -- you're unsure how many book clubs you've 'joined' at this point, how many invites got 'lost in the mail'. "Very darling woman you've got there, Steven," Mr. Parker says as he and Steve shake hands, the final seal.

"Isn't she?" he asks, giving you a quick once over. Your blood rushes in your ears at his look, the rest of their conversation muffled by an infuriating need for him. As Mr. Parker and his wife leave, he cleans off his glasses while you both wait for his credit card back for the bill.

"Beautiful job tonight, honey," he smiles, putting his frames back on.

"Do not speak to me," you say with a smile, heat pooling through you while a soft pink appears on his cheeks. "Don't worry," he shakes his head, getting his card back and signing off on the receipt. He helps you out of your chair like a gentlemen, passing you your purse as a means to press a kiss to your cheek, "We won't be doing any talking when we get home."

By the time you get home to the Tribeca apartment, all of your lipstick has been worn off. You're lucky if Vinny doesn't quit being Steve's driver after all of that. "Sorry," he says to Vin while you get out of the Bentley, "Won't happen again, I'm so sorry."

You try not to count how many hundreds Steve flips through when he goes into his wallet, you try not to see how many he slips his driver in embarrassment. Sometimes it still made your chest tight. "You say that every Friday night," Vinny laughs, taking the money, "And every Saturday I gotta get the interior detailed. Goodnight, Mr. Harrington."

The air is a little humid when you get out of the car, sticking to your skin slightly -- the soft rush of the river calms you in the quiet of the night, and there he is, in the glow of the lights outside of your building. He doesn't say anything when he approaches you, just pulls you in for another air stealing kiss. Steve's big hand pushing you in at the nape of your neck to give him better access to you. You frown when he breaks away, a small one, a gentle tug on your eye brows an lips. His hand drops to yours, taking you inside, greeting the doorman and front desk concierge by name as he does every morning and night.

The brightness of the lobby is a harsh contrast to the low light outside and the burst of air conditioning makes your nipples peak in your bra. Goosebumps trail up your arms, but you aren't sure if it's the blast of cold air or the way Steve impatiently waits for the elevator to get you both upstairs. The door barely closes when he's on you, shoving you against the wall of the front walk way. "How dare you," he murmurs, lips peppering kisses from your lips to your jaw, tongue licking hot at your neck, "Look this fucking good all night." "It's kind of your fault," you laugh, panting slightly while his teeth graze over a sensitive spot by your collar bone. You kick off your heels, leaving $2600 on the floor of Steve's apartment.

"Mostly yours," he grunts, pulling you over to the living room after taking off his own shoes. He opens the big vertical blinds so that the city glitters into the penthouse apartment. Steve wastes no time however, getting behind you the same way he did earlier, fingers nimbling unzipping your dress. You both watch it fall to the floor in a delicate puddle, black water silk at your feet.

Now there was $6600 on the floor. Steve takes a second to admire you in your skivvies, his bottom lip tucking between his teeth. He surveys you like a work of art, like a statue carved just for him. You shudder while he circles you, feeling the heat of his ambers eyes burning with need on your skin. He chuckles when he notices you get a flustered, settling down on the couch. He motions for you to you come forward and while you are never one to listen, you make your way over to him without question.

"You like when I spoil you?" he asks huskily, pulling you down to straddle his lap. One arm wraps tight around your waist while the other wraps delicately in your hair. Your stomach presses against him while your breasts heave in his face. He pulls your head down to kiss you, hungry and powerful, while his hips press up to grind against your satin covered cunt.

"Mhm," you whimper into his mouth. His hands reach behind you to the hooks and ties at the back of your bustier. Steve's fingers never met a bra that they couldn't take off in an impressive flick of the wrist.

"Let's get all this off you," he mumbles breathily before sliding his lips from your mouth to your neck. The bustier falls forward slightly before he gets impatient, pulling the straps down your arms before discarding it on the ground. You reach for the necklace but he stops you, reaching back up to capture you in a hungry kiss. "Keep the jewelry on," he says, ambers eyes meeting yours. He's stern in his request and you nod obediently, hands lowering down to meet his chest.

Now there was $8,000 on the floor.

His hands find your breasts and he lets out a rugged groan, massaging them with his hands while he presses kisses down onto the soft skin.

"You can't come with me to dinner looking like this anymore," he murmurs between kisses, "Barely closed that deal. Too busy staring at these tits."

"Steve," you gasp out, giggling, "You closed it just fine."

"Mmm," he nods, mouth occupied by taking a nipple between his lips. You can feel the flutter of his tongue over it while he looks up at you, eye shining wickedly. Your whine just encourages him to keep going. Your hips press down against him, reminding him what you want more than his mouth, than his hands. He pops his lips off of you, the sound echoing in the open living room.

“Is there something you want?” he asks sweetly, leaning back on cushions of the couch. You nod, rocking your hips over his hard cock in his pants, letting out a soft tiny moan at each bit of friction.

“You're so spoiled angel,” he teases, thumbs brushing over your nipples before rolling them between his fingers, making you whine. His voice still dripping in depth and heat, “I think you should work for it.”

“I thought the whole point of this was so that I didn't have to work anymore," you tease back, leaning forward to kiss him. He hums into your mouth and you can feel him smirk into the kiss. Bastard, you think to yourself.

“Hmm,” he considers, palm skating over your thigh, “You do make a good counter point."

“I think giving into my demands is a good return on investment,” you assure, hips rolling against him in a way that makes his thighs tense up, "Imagine the long term benefits?"

He groans when you parrot him, getting harder at the thought of you genuinely listening to his business speak when you do these dinners. He squeezes the fat of your hips, tongue gliding over his kiss bitten lower lip while you take off his tie and start to unbutton his shirt. “Take these off,” he says, looking up at you while his finger traces your panty line. You heat up when he says it, a smug smile blooming on your face. His actions only confirming that he’ll always give in, “If you ask for want you want, I'll consider it."

“Oh, you'll pass that on to your team? I'd love to be considered,” you ask with a laugh, but he's done joking around, a tap to your thigh reminds you that he asked you to undress. You stand up off of him, your feet meeting the cold hardwood, your panties sliding down your smooth legs.

Now there was $8250 on the floor.

He undoes his belt while you stand in front of him, eyes glued to yours while he does it. You swallow when he winks, thighs pressing together — you know he notices. Steve shimmies his pants down slightly, enough that he can keep his legs spread wide while pulling out his length. It's clear that he's painfully hard, a guttural groan escaping him while his hand offers him some minor relief, “Is this what you want?”

“Y-yeah,” your voice barely above a whisper.

“Why don’t you suck on it first and I’ll tell you when you can ride it," he smirks, and without thinking, you start getting to your knees. He stops you before you can make it to the floor, putting a throw pillow beneath you to protect you from the hardwood. Steve can't help but kiss you softly once you make it to your knees, he was never any good at being mean and forceful with you. You'd been right the whole time, he couldn't boss you around -- at least not for too long.

You unbutton the rest of his dress shirt that will now need to be dry cleaned and repressed. You let a hand trail down his chest, gliding through the hair there while pressing wet hot kisses down to his pelvis. Pulling some of the skin between your teeth to leave red and purple bruises behind.

“That’s it, baby,” his breath blends with his words as he adjusts on the couch, leaning back so you have more access to him. You kiss close to the base, tongue trailing over the crease of his thigh, breath ghosting over his shaft while your mouth stays occupied with his heavy sac. You feel him lean back, relaxing while you work him up, his hands coming behind his head, arms bending at the elbows. "Just like that, honey," Steve purrs, "Just like that."

Your hand reaches up to stroke him, slow and deliberate, mouth getting wetter while you leave sloppy kisses at the base and on his pelvis. Your thumb glides over the shining bead of pre-cum pooling out of the tip, teasing over the seam just under it. Your tongue finally glides up to the tip expertly, letting your lower lip catch on the head -- his eyes meet yours behind his glasses, burning with need. It feels cruel to keep him waiting when he looks at you like that, so you don't wait. While keeping eye contact you adjust, taking him all the way to the back of your throat without so much as a wince.

“Oh fuck, good girl,” he gasps into a growl, hand reactively entwining in your hair, “That’s daddy’s girl.”

You groan into the praise, sucking diligently on his cock, thighs pressing tight together. Your back arches into a posture he can only recognize as needy, making him grin while he runs his free hand through his own hair.

“Learned to like that, huh? Whose your daddy, angel?” You smirk up at him in response, tongue gliding from the base to the tip again, taking half of his shaft in your mouth before taking it out with a low laugh, "You are, honey."

His eyes roll back, hips canting up towards your mouth while his grip in your hair tightens. You press him by the thighs back down onto the couch eyeing him while he whimpers when your tongue traces the curve of his cock again. Always on top even on your knees. "Fuck, don't stop," he breathes out. He lets go of your hair, arm reaching behind him to clutch the back of the couch. His hips roll up again, disrupting your rhythm slightly. You taste the salt of him on your tongue while you continue, a soft giggle erupting from your throat, sending shockwaves through him.

"Having fun, honey?" he asks, pulling himself away from you slightly. You sit back on your heels and smile, nodding. He leans forward, blessing you with kisses, deep and slow, "Let's take this to the bedroom."

"I'm on top, right?" you ask. He smirks, watching the jewelry glitter on you in the low light. "Not a chance," he giggles darkly, "Not tonight. Really wanna show you how bad I want you tonight."

"Oh, just tonight?" you ask smartly, getting up from your knees to head to the bedroom.

"Every night," he says with a roll of the eyes, getting up and tossing his dress shirt and tie on the couch. He watches you as you walk slowly to the bedroom, eyeing your smooth skin, the way your hips and waist twist when you walk. He knows you're walking like this on purpose, but he'll never complain. You fall back on the sheets you've been sleeping in for six months and he watches your breasts and thighs and tummy jiggle when you land. Steve grins, sliding off his slacks, socks, and boxer briefs before stepping between your legs, standing over you while you lay on the bed. "Hi," you say, a genuine smile pulling at your mouth when you look up at him. A stripe of amber light from outside pools into the room from between the billowing white curtains, coating you both in a dreamy haze.

"Hi, baby," he says back, his hands reaching down to slide from just under your breasts to your waist, "So beautiful," he whispers to himself.

"Move up a little for me," he instructs, his voice sweet and deep. You scooch up the bed, settling between the mountain of pillows leaning against the short head board while he settles between your legs again. He watches you and the way your body manipulates when he reaches down behind your thighs, pressing the tops of them to your chest. He leans forward, pressing his own chest against what can be felt of yours. Your knees are at your decolletage when he leans in closer to give you another deep kiss before leaning back again, quickly tossing his glasses on the bedside table.

You both stay quiet while he strokes himself a few times, smirking down at your glistening core while he lines himself up to push in. You aren't sure why, but every time he does, it feels like the first time.

"Oh my God," you whine while he pushes in slow, "Stevie." "I know, angel," he nods, gliding in all the way to the hilt. He grunts when he feels you grip him tight, trying to pull out slightly only to get sucked back in. He grips the back of your thighs for leverage, pulling back half way and pressing in, feeling you get wetter around him while he picks up a rhythm.

"Shiii-Steve, that's so deep," you whine. It only encourages him to push in deeper.

"Gotta practice, honey," he grins, starting to pant while he looms over you, letting go of your legs to get close to you again, "Need it to stick when we do it for real."

You pulse over him when he says it, back trying to arch despite your position beneath him.

"You like when I talk like that?" he whispers, his voice sliding back to gravely in your ear, "When I tell you how bad I wanna cum inside you?"

"Mhm," you whimper, nodding against his searing kiss, working himself up the more he thinks about it. "Get you all fuckin' full with me?" he growls, "Keep you nice and pregnant the second I get that ring on your finger?" You burn with lust while he babbles on, wrapping your legs around his waist while his thrusts get rough and desperate. Your body shakes and quivers while his hips slam against you, filthy wet squelches filling the high ceilings of the room. Mixing with a symphony of both of your sighs and moans, the smell of your sweat mixing with his cologne. Slam, slam, slam, slam, slam. The headboard beating the wall between the windows with a thud over and over again. "I fucking love you," he grits out. "I love you, too," you whine, eyes rolling in the back of your head. Heat licks at your lower belly, building while the slight curve of his cock makes the head brush over your g-spot in rapid succession, "Baby, I'm..." "Yeah?" he asks with a knowing smile, "So close for me, hm?" He sits back on his calves, still able to thrust while he looks down at you. His thumb presses against your lips, asking for entry. You let him in, making sure to get it extra slick with your spit before he takes it out, reaching down to slide it in circles over your clit. "How's that, angel?" he asks, thrusts not showing a hint of slowing down, "Does that feel good?"

Your thighs shake, eyes pricking with tears, shining while they look up at him. Well he's pleased with himself, you think, making a mental note to throw him on his back tomorrow and ride him into next week until he's a babbling mess. "It does, huh?" he asks softly, nodding down at you while you nod up at him. "Shit," he huffs, "Oh fuck."

"Not so...oh my god, oh wow -- not so t-tough now, are you?" you giggle. He groans when you giggle, Why are you so fucking precious? he thinks to himself, Who allowed this?

Heat rises even more, the jewelry starting to feel clingy as it sticks to your shining skin. Steve keeps his pace, eyes closing softly while he leans his head back, the column of his neck begging to be bitten and kissed by you. You whimper, pulling at the clasp of the bracelet, tossing it onto the carpet next to the bed. Now there was $48,250 on the floor. Feeling less trapped and more desperate to destroy his neck and chest, you sit up, your manicured hand pressing against his hair covered pecs. It doesn't take long for him to allow it, looking up at you while you climb on top of him.

"That's it, honey, give it to me," he breathes, "Show me how bad you want it."

Your hips move with a slutty percision that he loves, grinding against him for your own pleasure and his. He hisses when you bite down on his neck, letting out a soft laugh when you pull at his hair, "Come for me, angel, c'mon." He hears you pant in his ear while you lean over him, the diamonds in your necklace shimmering in his eyes. You sigh, sitting up straight, unclasping the necklace while you bounce on top of him, gently tossing it to meet the bracelet. Now there was $198,250 on the floor. "Do not," he groans out, hands grabbing your hips with bruising grip, "Put those earrings on the ground, we will never find them until a post ends up in my fucking heel." You laugh, your own head leaning back, making him yearn to taste the column of your neck this time. But your laugh doesn't last long, it morphs into guttural moans while he holds you in place, thrusting up into you in an unforgiving speed. Steve gasps, watching your breasts bounce in front of him while he continues on unrelenting. "Baby..." You squeak out, "Steve...oh fuck, oh Steve -- Steve, Steve, Steve..." The heat builds and builds and builds. Your eyes water while his cock bullies into you. The head hitting your g-spot, pushing in deeper while he goes. You let out a cry, nails digging into his broad freckles shoulders while our hips slam down on him, thighs vibrating while white blooms behind your eyes.

"Good girl," He coos while you shake, collapsing onto his chest, "That's it, angel, that's my girl." He eases you onto your back again, giving you slow kisses on your neck and chest while he chases his own orgasm. It doesn't take long, nearly on the precipice of cumming since he zipped you up in your dress earlier in the evening. His mouth gapes while he sends his seed over your tummy, painting you with ropes of glistening white. "Jesus Christ..." he gasps, settling himself with some big deep breaths that expand his sculpted chest. You both look at each other, panting and sweating, the passion wearing off to a pure and gentle love for each other. You both start laughing. "We swear we're sexy," you laugh up at him. His smile makes you melt all over again. You watch him ease up off the bed, leaning forward from the side to kiss your forehead. He picks up the jewelry, inspecting it for missing gems, or - god forbid - a scratch, and places it carefully on the side table with his glasses. "Wanna get cleaned up with me?" he asks, tilting his head, "Can you stand?" "Oh please," you roll your eyes, sitting up slowly, "I can..sort of stand." You already feel the ache between your legs from taking him, knowing you'll need at least a day to recover from something so big. He helps you up, taking you into the en suite bathroom and getting the water just right for you to step into. "I'll be right back," he says, pulling you in for a kiss on the temple before he disappears in the steam. When he returns behind the glass of the standing shower, covered top to bottom in dark green tile, he passes you a glass of Malbec that matches his. "A little celebratory night cap," he says sweetly. "To closing the deal," you grin, giving his glass a clink to cheers. "To closing the deal," he says back before you both take a sip.

"I know you're not wearing those earings in the shower, Manhattan," he sighs, putting the glass on the product shelf out of the water. He reaches for you ears but you yelp playfully, stepping away from him, "You're gonna be the fuckin' death of me, honey. I swear."

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x thick!reader #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington smut #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fan fiction #pbv!steve #steve harrington fluff

1K notes · View notes

atlasscrumpit · 4 months

Text

Miguel x Reader

Miguel rejects you and then comes crawling back when it's too late

You bit your lip and paced up and down the spider society.

You wanted to tell him, more than anything... You loved him.

"Oh god. I'm so nervous." You muttered before Miguel appeared in front of you.

"Everything okay?" He asked as your breath caught in your throat.

"Um... Yes, yeah I just wanted to talk to you." You muttered as he looked down at you and raised his eyebrow.

"I wanted to tell you that...that I like you. More than a boss or a friend." You muttered, trying your hardest to not pass out.

"Seriously, Y/N?" He asked as you looked at him in shock.

"I'm sorry... I just had to tell you." You muttered, trying to avoid eye contact.

"Y/N, there's no room for stuff like this. And I don't have room for you." He said as you stated at him.

"What's that supposed to mean?" You muttered as he sighed and rubbed his head.

"It's no secret you're a mess, Y/N. We've had to fix countless mistakes because of you. The only reason you're in the society is because I felt bad for you. If it were up to me you wouldn't even be here." He said as you felt tears in your eyes, not only were you being rejected but also very hurt in the process (and basically fired.)

"Y-You're telling the truth?" You muttered, looking away from him.

"You can't seriously be that blind, Y/N. It's no secret you're the bottom of the pack." He replied harshly as you stared down at the floor.

"Yeah... Maybe you're right. Um, I think I should just leave the society then..." You muttered as he scoffed.

"You don't even want to try and get better?" He asked, you felt angry at him but you just wanted to get out.

"No... Obviously it's not worth it with you, so I'm just leaving. I've got my own reality to look after." You muttered in response before walking off, trying to keep your tears in.

Once you made it back to your apartment you fell onto the couch and began to cry, letting out all the emotions you'd held in.

You were angry at yourself for even loving him.

Maybe getting away from the society was the best option.

Months passed and you slowly stopped thinking about Miguel, you just continued your life and continued to be the spiderman of your reality.

But, one day you came home from work and saw none other than Miguel in your living room.

"You know, most people knock and don't just break and enter." You grumbled, closing your apartment door behind you.

"I wanted to apoligise for what I said." He muttered as chuckled dryly.

"It took your five months?" You asked, standing with your hands on your hips.

"I was in a bad place and I took it out on you... It's been so busy with the society I didn't have time to think about what I said to you. But, now that I realise how hurtful I was I wanted to apologise and ask you to come back." He said as you rolled your eyes.

"No, I'm good actually." You said going to your kitchen and getting some food out.

"Y/N, please don't be petty like this." He said as you laughed again and shook your head.

"I'm not being petty, I simply don't wish to work for a man like you. I'm happy living my life, I've got a good job, a good apartment and I'm a great superhero for my city. I'm not giving it up for you." You replied, barely even acknowledging him while you made some dinner.

"So, that's it? Just because I rejected you back you're leaving entirely?" He replued as you slammed a plate down on the table and glared at him.

"You think I left because you rejected me? I left because you're a piece of shit! One that never takes responsibility for his own fucking actions! You embarrassed me, you insulted me and you made me realise you don't give two shits about anyone around you. I will not work for you because you're a cunt, not because you rejected me. Now, leave my fucking house and if I ever see you again you can consider me a new enemy." You said harshly as he stared at you in shock.

He was about to say something when you stopped him.

"Out! Now!" You shouted before he finally left.

You braced yourself against the kitchen bench and breathed slowly.

You weren't going to let him set you back, you'd been doing just fine without him and the society.

And that's how it would continue to be.

You didn't need him.

#Miguel x Reader #Miguel o'hara #Atsv #atsv miguel #Miguel o'hara x Reader

152 notes · View notes

paper-mario-wiki · 6 months

Note

Do you do farm stuff Scout? Or would you like to? Like owning chickens or tending an outdoor garden, that sort of thing?

From ages 7 to 19 I lived on farms, and was made to be an active participant in maintenance and usages of the facilities I don't know why the fuck I'm typing it like this, but I grew up on a farm. I was kinda in charge of everything, but slacked a lot and my brother had to cover for me. That said, I still spent a LOT of time doing chores.

At one point or another I've been responsible for most every farm chore you can really think of. All the basics like raking leaves, milking goats, collecting eggs, feeding chickens- but also the big stuff like moving tons of hay, herding flocks, caring for large animals such as llamas, alpacas, horses, and cows, as well as delivering babies, gutting and plucking fowl (only chickens and turkeys, though I've also cared for ducks and geese), dehoring, hoof cleaning, corpse transportation, crop maintenance, winter ice removal by breaking up frozen water troughs in 10 below weather (thought this was usually circumvented by anticipating the cold and setting up water heaters beforehand), constructing enclosures, slaughtering pigs, and etc etc etc etc etc all that shit. Bunnies snakes mini horses donkeys. All that shit. Farm stuff. Ya know.

Moved away when I went to college and immediately plunged into a mixed-zoning district in the Fushimi district in Kyoto. This was a really good transition from rural living to city living, because mixed zoning districts have blocks dedicated to apartment complexes and family homes right next to blocks of rice fields and ponds, which was behind the 7-Eleven I bought most of my food from.

Now I live in a SHITTY mixed zoning area in SHITTY America where we never stop hearing cars because there's a massive parking lot nearby and constant police sirens, not because the area is particularly dangerous, but because there's like 2 police stations nearby.

My ideal housing goal, which also happens to be my current goal in life, is to reach a slightly more rural version of the Kyoto living situation. The goals are very distinct:

0. I'm editing this one in after the fact to note that while I've used Kyoto as an example a few times in this post, I'm just looking for an area that feels right and would happily live in any prefecture that fits my needs.

I want to not be tied directly to a visa which would draw me away from doing whatever work I really want to do, like my student visa did later on when school started getting worse as professors were struggling to learn digital classroom mechanics. The visa I'm shooting for is dependent on a few ideas I have for businesses, but that's still kind of a long shot.

I want to be in a position of relative financial freedom so that I can spend enough time genuinely living there instead of just being tied to a computer all day, limiting me to the world I already know. This one's the big one, so I'm still workin on that. That said, recently I've been taking some pretty massive steps towards making this a more tangible circumstance. Fingers crossed.

I want to have a home that I own instead of renting, and I'd like to work with a Japanese architect to actually construct it. Again, these are big big plans, but I think a life goal is a thing worth thinking big about. And it's not like I'm trying to build a mansion, or even a family-sized house, I think I'd be content with three bedrooms, a kitchen, and common room. Of course, in keeping with the "dream big" spirit, in a world where I've got enough money to have a nicer, slightly bigger home, I can imagine as many as 5 bedrooms. It's nice to imagine in this "perfect" outcome that I've got a reason to have enough space for guests to sleep over. A local community, or an otherwise tangible, real-world web of relationships would be nice. Like, Real Adult Socializing Shit.

I want to have a significant emphasis on self-reliance on this home. As far solarpunk as I can reasonably go, without biting off more than I can chew as someone who's kinda limp-wristed. In a gay way and a feeble way. I figure this will come down to solar panels, water filtration, a well, and a garden (or at least the space to have gardening stuff like pots and soil). Some chickens would be nice too, but I don't know that I'd ever take on livestock proper.

I want to be properly submerged in trees without being more than a 5 minute bike ride from a train station. Somwhere like Yase-Hieizanguchi Station in north Kyoto is a good example of station that's on the edge of a metropolitan area and the forest. There was an apartment there I almost got, but backed out when covid hit cuz I decided moving across town would be a whack decision.

This is a BONUS goal, but I think it'd also be nice to not compromise on a single location, and instead have a home out in the inaka, while also having a small apartment rented in the city I can go between whenever I need to. In a world where I can afford a plot of land out in the country, but would still need to travel into town for business, that would be nice. Though in that scenario I'd likely need to also take on the arduous task of getting a Japanese drivers license. If I know far enough in advance that I want to take this specific route then I could bypass that last one by getting an international license before moving to Japan, but after moving to Japan you're barred from getting an international license.

I couldn't tell you in honesty that I'm a Salt of the Earth, Red Blooded American Farmer in my heart, and in fact I could not WAIT to move away from the farm. I hated that I didn't have a say in living on a farm, and was made to take care of animals. But what I DID enjoy about that life was the stillness. The opportunities of perfect silence. The stars unobstructed by light pollution. The ability to explore. Those things I was incredibly grateful for. And as such, in my perfect world, I would like to live on something like a farm again one day, just on my own terms.

#anon

218 notes · View notes

silverskye13 · 2 months

Note

That ficlet of “How long can Helsknight and Wels go without wanting to maul each other to death” gives me the idea of like. Yknow that trope where two characters you assume have never met each other turn out in fact to be buddies who like play pool together or something. That’s Helsknight and XB. Wels gets shunted to Hels and finds XB just chillin in a bar with Hels and goes “WHAT THE FUCK BRO”

"Hels Kitchen, huh?" xB asked, looking up at the sign and raising a spined eyebrow. "This new?"

Helsknight shrugged, leading the way inside. "New enough."

xB sauntered behind him, taking in his surroundings with an easygoing smile. Hels was a little hot for his tastes, but he knew from experience he would get used to the heat after a few minutes. He watched Helsknight toss the bartender (who seemed to be just a very large, contained ghast) a handful of diamonds to cover their tab, and the two made their way to the pool table in the back of the little bar. xB swiped up a couple beers, snapped the cap off one with his teeth (those sharp guardian teeth were good for something after all) and set it down on the side of the table while Helsknight prepped the game.

"It's been a hot minute," xB observed, carefully checking over pool cues for one that wasn't bent. "Been busy busting heads in the Colosseum?"

Helsknight shrugged. "Nah. Mostly just caught up with life stuff. You know how it is."

xB, who had forgotten their meet up last month because he was busy digging a hole to bedrock, knew exactly how it was. "So you haven't been practicing pool while I've been gone?"

"I'll still beat you," Helsknight grinned challengingly. "Guests break."

xB snapped the cap off the second beer, took a drink, made a face that Helsknight laughed at, and then got to work aiming his shot. It was a good break, though the eight ball danced by one of the side pockets, a little too close for comfort. He got one of the striped balls in, and claimed the stripes for the rest of the game. He took his second shot, missed, and stepped aside for Helsknight.

Pool was such a weird game for them to settle on as their friendly competition. Helsknight was a pro at PvP, all things swords and axes and shields. But xB wasn't, and even if it was, swords was Helsknight's job, more or less, and xB could appreciate wanting to do something that wasn't your job, no matter how much you enjoyed it. It was for the same reason he was grateful Helsknight hadn't suggested they go build train cars when they hung out, or terraform movie scenes. He enjoyed it, but this was his off time. The first couple times they met up, they tried playing TCG, but Helsknight was a little too competitive, and xB got tired of debating rules minutiae (and being forced to stomp home and ask Beef a thousand questions). Then they played just normal cards, which lead to the discovery they both appreciated good beer, which lead to barhopping, because hels had bars. Hermitcraft didn't. And eventually, barhopping lead to playing pool, and pool was just the kind of low-stakes game they could both enjoy. Plus both Helsknight and xB were just prickly enough that most folks looking for a fight passed them over, and any who didn't, xB and Helsknight could solidly knock around. xB wasn't a PvPer, but he was big and thorny, and his sharp teeth were good for more than just popping bottle caps.

"You're up," Helsknight told him, leaning against the wall and chalking his pool cue.

"Does that really help?" xB asked, lining up his next shot. He cracked the cue ball into a bunch, breaking them apart. None of them sunk.

"No idea," Helsknight shrugged, putting the chalk back on the side of the pool table. "If it does, it's not in any way I can see."

"So why put it on?"

"That's all this game is good for. Knocking things around and getting chalk on your hands."

"It's also good for avoiding things," xB smirked. "Left the cue by the eight ball for you."

"Rude."

"Just keeping your life interesting."

Helsknight danced around the table, trying to find a good angle and making increasingly frustrated faces. xB smirked and took another sip of his beer, and then grimaced, because he forgot how bad it was. He needed to make sure he remembered this brand so they never got it again. Helsknight had just about lined up his shot when the lights in the already dimly lit bar space flickered ominously. xB raised a questioning eyebrow in the knight's direction.

"What was--"

"XB!" Welsknight came stumbling out of nowhere, all tin-can-armor-clatter. Stumbled into the pool table, shaking the eight ball into the side pocket.

"Hah! I win," xB grinned.

"You did not," Helsknight snapped, slamming his cue in the pool table. "That wasn't fair and you know it!"

"He's your other half dude. It counts."

Helsknight's eyes narrowed, and xB held up placating hands. (He forgot how much Hels and Wels hated each other sometimes. Really it was like watching brothers argue.)

"What in hels is going on?!" Welsknight demanded, re-injecting himself into the conversation. "xB, Hypno said you--"

"See, I told him not to tell you where I was," xB huffed, crossing his arms. "That was just rude of him."

"What are you even doing here?!"

"Playing pool," xB smiled, at about the same time Helsknight spat, "None of your damn business!"

The two knights glared at each other.

xB quietly wondered if he should interrupt their spat or egg them on.

The large ghast behind the bar counter hissed, grabbing all of their attention. It wafted a tentacle over to tap a sign, that said: Anyone caught fighting must buy a round for the bar, or be thrown out. xB looked back at Helsknight, watching him count first the other patrons in the bar, then the diamonds still left in his coin purse, do some mental math, and decide rather magnanimously that decking Welsknight wasn't worth it.

xB offered Welsknight a pool cue, "Care to join us?"

Welsknight eyed the pool cue like it was a snake, before begrudgingly taking it. xB went to get a new stick for himself while Helsknight begrudgingly reset the game.

It really was a good game when you wanted to avoid things.

#wooshofficial #helsknight #xbcrafted #welsknight #ahhh the rich inner lives of the hermits and helsmets #what a fun idea!! thank you woosh :D

142 notes · View notes

netherworldpost · 3 months

Text

SHOP NEWS NO DATES BUT PROGRESS IS BEING MADE

The Netherworld Post Office back office, handling private client work, did not have it's expected slow season. Which is good! Production testing is very expensive!

But also I worked myself ill, which was a bad idea!

I'll be fine in a few days.

Or depending on when you read this soon-to-be-pinned everywhere post, I'm fine now!

Over the last several months, I looked at the hard question "hey why aren't we open on the public side?" and it hit me:

Instead of following through with the plan, I was sneakily trying to re-create Evil Supply Co.

Side note: If that name is familiar, but this doesn't make sense, then the short answer:

@evilsupplyco closed in Summer 2019.

I am Atticus of Evil Supply Co. Hi!

I got into a traffic accident, the ensuing next few years Covid wrecked the world, life has been intense :)

The Netherworld Post crew is the same crew behind Evil Supply Co. and we changed/are changing the name because the new shop is going to be spooky-mail-focused as opposed to experimenting with... spooky... everything.

In September or so, just before our back office busy season started, I realized I had been saying "I'm going to focus on what we do best -- greeting cards -- and everything else is secondary."

I. Uh. Kept adding things anyway. To the... list. And making. New. Lists.

(gulp)

(learn from me, don't do that)

So in the depths of Intense Client Work and then laying on a couch for several days to allow my drawing arm to heal and my brain to slow down, I realized I had been violating what I set out to do:

Make a really fun, very inexpensive, greeting card company that sells the occasional zine, and has lots of useful downloads. Some pay-if-you-want (free if you don't), some a few dollars.

...this image... hurts my feelings... because it was this is what was happening to me.

I've learned a lot in the last several months --

I'm going to recover fully.

Send all the files lingering to test print one last time.

Then when they come back, the shop opens.

A handful of weeks at most.

I wanted to launch with DOZENS of greeting cards and A HUNDRED downloads and THIRTY ZINES and and and and and and and and --

-- and we're going to launch with about 10 greeting cards, probably 5 or 6 downloads, and zines will wait while we add more greeting cards and downloads etc.

I am admittedly REALLY EMBARRASSED to be preparing a shop launch SO SMALL after SO LONG.

(I'll get over it. We'll add new stuff regularly forever.)

mailing list: netherworldpost.com

(Actual conversation with the crew. I wanted to draw all of this out and my producer Fang was like "hey why don't you instead use that time to work on the actual drawing list instead" and I was like "great idea thank you")

one last time, mailing list: netherworldpost.com

103 notes · View notes

zoeykallus · 1 year

Note

Hi! I read your Bad Batch baby HC and really enjoyed them! How would the guys react to a parter telling them that they’re infertile? I hope you’re having a good day/night!

Aloha!

Now, that's a heavy hitter and an interesting one indeed.

The Bad Batch x Afab!Reader HCs - True Affection

Hurt/Comfort/Infertility/Fluff

_____________________

Hunter

By now it is absolutely clear, your relationship is something serious, you have reached the next level. You get nervous, because now, at the latest, you should tell him the truth. When you take him aside and cautiously address him about it, he looks at you confused at first. Hunter can't immediately process what you're saying.

You watch him quietly think for a moment, just a moment ago he was all jovial, now he suddenly seems so serious, it makes you nervous.

"I'm sorry about that" he finally says quietly, "How are you coping?"

You sigh and say, "I've more or less made my peace with it by now. I've known for a while now. It was hard at first, but now I realize that fretting over things you can't change is wasted energy. So I've accepted it and decided to make the best of it, to just enjoy my life."

Hunter nods slowly, then smiles tenderly.

"I'm glad you have this confidence in me to tell me".

He takes your hands in his and kisses your forehead.

You say softly, "Well, our relationship has been going on for a while and I thought it would only be fair to tell you about it before you start to…. plan a family."

Hunter laughs softly and says, "Sweetie, we have enough work keeping my brothers and Omega in check. Besides, should we really feel the urge to raise kids someday, there are more than enough out there who need a home"

You take a deep breath, leaning against him in relief. This is a conversation you imagined would be harder. Hunter holds you gently and strokes your back soothingly, sensing the restlessness in you that is just very slowly subsiding.

He says softly, "My love for you remains unchanged."

Tech

"Tech, can we talk for a moment?"

Normally he would have nodded, continuing to work, looking at you briefly and saying, "Sure," but he hears something in your tone that makes him look up. Tech slowly puts the holopad aside and looks at you very intently. Somehow, this undivided attention on his part makes you even more nervous than you already are.

You turn around, close the cockpit door behind you, and sit down with him.

"You look heavy-hearted. Did something happen?" he asks quietly.

You don't know how to begin, so you just blurt it out.

"I can't give you children, I'm infertile".

Tech raises his eyebrows in surprise, he certainly wasn't expecting this topic. At first moment, he doesn't even know what to say. A thousand possible answers run through his head, but in the end only a rather simple, "I see" comes out of his mouth.

It's so hard for you to pull yourself together, your voice trembles slightly as you say, "I thought you should know, to be fair. Before things get to the next level between us… you know, couples usually start planning families and stuff at some point."

Tech blinks, pushes his goggles up the bridge of his nose with his index finger, then turns all the way around in his chair to face you. Now you're even more nervous, usually in conversations (no matter with whom) Tech is usually busy with up to three other things, but here and now he's fully focused on you. There is a certain excitement, you feel flattered, there is a tingling under your skin, usually only in intimate hours he is really fully attentive. But in this context, your heart beats up to your neck with fear.

"You're scared," he states.

"Is it that obvious?"

Tech nods.

"I know you well enough to see it. It's pretty obvious. But from my point of view, true affection, true love, is not tied to the possibility of procreation. However, I understand that it is quite natural to feel this desire, it is in the nature of almost all living things to reproduce."

You nod slowly, not quite knowing whether to be relieved or still nervous.

"My affection for you, is not tied to the possibility of starting a family," he finally says matter-of-factly, "I hope this helps you overcome your fears regarding our relationship. I'm not going to turn my back on you over this."

You take a deep breath, the tension falling from you, a single tear rolling down your cheek, which he gently brushes away with one of his long fingers.

"Are you sure about that?" you inquire softly.

"Of course I am, I don't say things like that lightly. You have my deep, unconditional affection."

Echo

When you bring up the subject of children, he looks at you in surprise. He didn't really expect that, up to now his life hadn't necessarily followed a normal course, he hadn't thought about family planning yet, even though you've been together for a while. Echo is very happy and content with what you have as a couple. The trust, the affection, the intimacies, the quiet hours and the loving little silliness. It's already more than he would have ever dared to hope for before.

Echo says thoughtfully, "Honestly, I didn't think about it until now. It was never really a part of my future plans so far," he says thoughtfully.

With a heavy heart, you tell him, "As long as you're with me, I'm afraid that won't change. I am infertile."

Echo raises his brows in surprise, his expression softening. He knows you well enough to see how hard it is for you to broach the subject.

"It weighs heavily on your heart, doesn't it?"

You nod with a sigh.

Echo takes you in his arms, squeezes you gently, and asks, "How long have you been struggling with this thought?"

"Quite a while," you admit quietly.

"Oh darling," he says softly, "There's no need for that. You're my better half, I'm incomplete without you, nothing will change that. I'm so sorry that this has burdened you."

You take a deep breath, wrap your arms around him and feel deep gratitude for his understanding, his affection.

Echo says tenderly, "If you ever really want to be a mother, we can always think about adoption, there are enough children who need a home. All that matters to me is knowing you are by my side."

"Are you sure that won't change?" you ask softly.

Echo kisses your forehead and brushes a stray tear from your cheek.

"Absolutely sure! Honey, you're all I really need. Don't worry, you can be sure of my love."

Wrecker

He is so good with children, the children love him no matter where he goes. It's a beautiful image, but also one that triggers deep pain in you, fear. In a village you saved from some pirates, at the little party they hold to honor the batch, practically all the kids are attached to him, they all want to play with him and show him things.

You watch this for quite a while, but your thoughts turn somber and a lump forms in your throat. You'll never have kids of your own, and you don't know how to tell Wrecker. Hunter looks at you, sensing something is wrong. As your eyes meet, he asks gently, "Are you okay?"

You force yourself to smile, take a deep breath, and lie, "I'm just tired, maybe I should go to sleep."

You get up from the table, and retreat into the Marauder. A few minutes later, when you are more or less comfortable in the bunk, reading a book to take your mind off things, Wrecker comes in. He looks at you tenderly, concerned.

"Did you get rid of the kids?" you ask with a small smile.

"Hunter said something was wrong with you. He said you've retreated and that I should check on you."

You sigh, "Of course he did."

Wrecker sits down on the edge of the bunk and reaches for your hand.

"What's wrong sweetie?"

You swallow, collect yourself, and finally say, "When I saw you with the village kids earlier, I realized we needed to talk about something"

Wrecker frowns questioningly.

"Oh yeah?"

You say directly, as if quickly ripping off a Band-Aid, "I'm infertile".

Wrecker sits silently, looking at you uncomprehendingly. The information takes a moment to sink in. After a while, he says, "You can't have children of your own."

You nod, put the book aside and run your free hand over your face.

"Yes, unfortunately. That means we can't have children together"

"'Scooch over," he prompts you, lying down next to you.

Still holding your hand, he is now lying next to you.

"Okay, that's unfortunate, and I suspect that's not easy for you, but it's not the end of the world" he says thoughtfully.

"Oh no?" you ask critically.

"No," Wrecker says with conviction, "we do love each other, don't we?"

"I love you very much, yes"

He turns his head to look at you and smiles.

"See, we don't need much more than that. I love you with all my heart. And you can adopt children too if you really want some."

You laugh softly.

"Is it really that simple? Doesn't that bother you at all?"

Wrecker says softly, "The only thing that bothers me is that it makes you unhappy. I want to see you smile, love."

You kiss his chin and say, "Don't worry, Wrecker, you make me very, very happy."

Crosshair

He responds pretty matter-of-factly when you tell him you're infertile.

"Okay."

"Okay? That's it?"

He asks, "What do you want to hear?"

You throw your arms in the air.

"I don't know, but maybe something more than just an 'okay'"

Crosshair sighs, sits down and says, "Kids were never part of my life plan, and honestly I don't want any. So for me, nothing has changed"

You frown, not sure if you're happy with that answer. On the one hand, it's good to know, but it seems so insensitive. However, you're actually used to his rather edgy manner by now.

"Okay, good to know," you say with a sigh, not in the mood to argue with him or pull the words out of his nose.

But as you turn away to leave the room, you feel his hand on your shoulder. You stop but don't turn around.

"Listen, Kitten," Crosshair says more gently, "I can't imagine how much of a burden this must have been on you, and I can understand that my reaction didn't come across as very sensitive."

You remain silent and wait. He spins you around so that you have to look at him.

"But like I said, nothing changes for me. You're still mine, Kitten and you always will be, whether your uterus works or not doesn't change that. Stop pouting, sweetie."

You roll your eyes and a small laugh crosses your lips, relief finally coming.

"The way you express yourself sometimes…" you say with a sigh.

He shrugs his shoulders.

"As direct as possible, you know me".

You smirk, and he gently kisses the corner of your mouth.

" That's how I like your face much better, Kitten, with that little smirk of yours".

Ko-Fi (If you feel like giving me some coffee)

@rintheemolion

@andyoufollowyourheart @clone-whore-99

@brynhildrmimi @kaliel2310

@misogirl828 @tech-deck

@meshla-madalene

@chxpsi

@thebahdbitch

@nahoney22 @ladykatakuri

@darkangel4121

@ttzamara

@arctrooper69

@padawancat97

@agenteliix

@allsystemsblue

@palliateclaw

@either-madness-or-brilliance

@ortizshinkaroff

@andy-solo1

@hunterssecretrecipe

@heyitsaloy

@greaser-wolf

@extrahotpixels

@hated-by-me

@hunterxcrosshair

@malicemercy

@bebopsworld

@echos-girlfriend

@cpnt616

@dangraccoon

@jediknightjana

@pb-jellybeans

264 notes · View notes

megabuild · 1 year

Text

i've seen some people (mainly techno/quackity fans from the alliances) interested in getting into etho content after the polls, but it can be a little daunting when the guy's been making videos semi-consistently for over a decade, so here's your ✨ not definitive ✨ guide to Watching Ethoslab!

for starters: etho's videos can get a bit technical! he's a redstoner and is known for making lots of crazy stuff, like the original hopper clock design, a working tamagotchi, and a massive storage system that uses hexadecimal to sort and pull items.

if you're familiar with the life series, that's arguably where you'll get the most "character"/"lore" content from etho! he's been in all three seasons, starting with 3rd life. this is also where he shows off his pvp, and though it isn't as obvious in his own pov, you get to see everyone else being really intimidated and hyping up his mysterious guy persona... while he's busy crying over his stuff getting burnt.

however, if you want to start with some regular single player content, his lp series has been going for over a decade! if you're a big fan of older, nostalgic vids and can deal with him being a bit awkward, his season 1 is just over 100 episodes and imo is still very fun to watch today. if you're less into that, it can be intimidating to try and pick up a series with nearly 600 episodes, so you might want to start with his most recent world tour! it's a long one, but it summarises all the work he's done so far, and there's only 25 episodes after that which is a lot more manageable! (and then you can go back and watch the rest ^_^)

his current hermitcraft series is only 9 episodes long so it's pretty accessible, though he does start halfway through the season (and purposefully exiles himself across the world with no tools or help until he can beat a raid single-handed. because. jeez.) if you're looking for a more rounded experience though, his season 7 is where i personally started with etho content and is still one of his best series yet! he gets plenty involved with the overarching "story" of S7 too, so it's a great jump-off point if you're just interested in HC in general.

other iconic etho videos and series include

- king of the ladder, a fan favourite from his time on mindcrack (the series which, dare i say, made him the og mcytblr sexyman- seriously, look into nebtho and you'll see what i mean)

- team canada escape the nether, for a quick look into his dynamic with pause and beef, two other mindcrackers he collabs with a lot

- (and if you like that and want more, team canada's sky factory)

- lp episode 404. please watch lp episode 404.

overall, etho is a very chill guy to watch.. most of the time.. and i would highly recommend him to basically anyone who likes mcyt. he's your fave's fave, a pillar of the community, but also a guy just Doing His Thing, and even after a decade he's still finding new ways to improve and change his content... so even if i haven't convinced you to give him a try, hopefully i'll still have convinced you to give him a vote since he's about ~30 votes behind at the time of posting this ;)

thanks for reading, and happy watching! and of course, any other ethogirls are welcome to add their own recommendations in the notes!

#ethoslab #etho #mine #long post #propaganda hours!!!#this isn't just for the polls i just needed a good etho rec post to harass people with

449 notes · View notes

unadulterated-syd · 1 year

Text

I wrote this like a week back, when I had the motivation to write

I'll crack down on some reqs after Christmas <3 + I may be a little more inactive on here for awhile, I've been busy and frankly very tired.

Much love <3 and feel free to participate in either of my Events,, both are still up and running.

Standing in the door way, you sighed. Watching Judith and Rick curled up on the couch, who knew how long sleep had overcome them.

You pulled a blanket from the nearby closet, sliding it carefully over the two— truth be told wondering how they'd managed to fall asleep in the cold like this in the first place.

You heard the patting of steps coming from the stairs, though disregarded it as creaks in the home. It spoke rather often, squeaking here and there as if intentional.

However, as you turned to leave— after tucking the two in, you found Carl stood in the doorway. He just stared at you for a moment, adjusting to the idea of you living with them.

You'd moved in a while back, after being kicked from your solo home due to crowding issues. You were glad to move in, really, the home made life less lonely, more liveable.

Though you got along well with most of the Grimes— playing with Judith, working with Rick, even learning sword tricks with Michonne, Carl and you rarely talked.

You had a mutual agreement, though silent, that you'd keep your distance. The two of you saw hope for the future in each other, in one way it was close to love, though you'd never admit it.

"Sorry— you can have the room. I was just heading out anyway." You told him, in a hushed voice, careful not to wake the sleeping Grimes behind you.

He looked at you, it was still dark out, time for sleeping by all means.

"Where are you going? It's late."

"I've uh— got a spot a little ways out. Perfect for when I can't sleep."

"When you can't sleep..?" He asked, seeming to ponder on another thought, "What.. is it."

"Nothing special. It's a cleared home just outside the walls, has some cool stuff." You paused, "But from the roof you can see the stars really well. You're welcome to join if you want?—

— we can stay on opposite sides.. its plenty big."

"Okay." He agreed, though wincing at the idea of ruining your safe space. on opposite sides. That was the first time the agreement was ever voiced.

Upon arriving at the old home, you took it all in once more. It had high gates, well kept— stretching eight feet in the air. There was a strong padlock pressing the gate shut, one you'd added for security.

"How long have you known about this.." His eyes glanced around, noticing small details like you owning the key to the lock, or the way certain windows were pressed open to get the best circulation.

"Long enough to protect it." You guaranteed, locking the padlock back— once the two of you had already crossed the threshold in the gate.

You led him into the house, it was rather clean— evident you'd purposely kept it that way. You stopped in the hallway, looking at him.

"You can have free reign in here, I'll stay up on the roof." You whispered, extending the keys for him to take, "I trust you won't leave me."

He stared at the keys in his open palm as you exited up the stairs.

Carl looked around, his eyes landing on a picture of you and your family— who he presumed was your family anyhow. Had you lived here?

He shrugged off the idea, enjoying the look of happiness you presented. He'd never truly seen that in you, not in the time he'd known you anyway.

He walked further into the house, exploring the CDs laid out on the livingroom floor, before moving to the kitchen. The table was littered with pictures of people, some he knew, others he didn't.

They were of you with people, most taken after the rise of the Walkers. There was an odd happiness to you— in all pictures you'd seemed to try your hardest to look happy.

His eyes stopped when they landed on a picture of you and him, one he had no idea you'd kept. He remembered the day it was taken, Glenn had insisted on getting a picture of the two of you—

— he'd told you privately that you two'd make great friends, and he wanted Carl to branch out. You'd both agreed due to the silliness Glenn presented with the idea. He'd been so excited you couldn't reject.

And after it was taken, your silent agreement begun. You'd both stared at the picture so long Glenn thought he'd taken it 'wrong'. That was when it occurred to you both that you'd make more than good friends.

He shook his head, picking up the photo and looking at it. Flipping it over, his fingers glided over the back, which read 'Carl & Y/n' simply.

He could tell there had been more written on the back, though it was shakily erased. As if it had been something you couldn't convince yourself of.

His eyes soon caught a picture of you with everyone— Michonne, Rick, himself, and Judith. Right before you'd moved in, when they'd taken you in.

You seemed happy in this picture, he could tell that much. It made his heart flutter, though he wish it wouldn't, how happy his family made you. How happy you made them.

How happy you made him.

He put the photos down, a pit formed in him as he put certain pieces together— how many people never showed in new pictures, people he could tell hadn't made it.

The photos all showed a progression of happiness, newer photos wouldn't even feature a smile from you. He wished he could say his life had gone differently, but it hadn't.

He dropped the picture he was holding, when he saw you stood beside him, looking over his shoulder at the photos. You weren't mad, you didn't look mad, you looked.. sad.

He looked at you, analyzing the look on your face— he decided he never wanted to see you like this again. A part of him decided that this, agreement, it had to be over.

You reached over him, picking up the same photo of you and him— the one Glenn took. Clearing your throat, before breaking the silence.

"I'm really glad he took this, even if we're not close." You promised, "I used to think about what he said— he told me that we reminded him of Maggie and him."

"We act like we hate eachother in front of others, but one of us is always after the other in some way. That's what he said about us."

"He said that?"

"Yeah. I never really told you— considering the whole distance thing." You paused, looking at him, before reaching out and grabbing another photo.

"I don't even know why we took this one." The picture was a picture of you and Beth at the very beginning, goofing off, "But I'm glad we did. There was so much to her that she didn't get the chance to show."

He looked at you as you reminisced. "And this one, Tyrese told me to keep it forever, that I had to hold on to it because if either of us died it wouldn't be me."

You paused as you looked at it, "He was right." You swallowed the lump in your throat, "You think you'd lose humanity with how the world is now. I think I've only gained more."

"That's a good thing." He told you, taking the picture from you, and setting it back down. He stood up— pulling you into a hug.

"You keep them alive, Y/n. Half the shit they did for Judith would've been completely forgotten if you didn't tell her." He whispered, remembering everytime he'd hear you sharing their stories with her— with anyone that'd listen really.

"They deserve that much." You smiled at him, finally giving into the hug, "Thank you. I missed this."

"Missed what?"

"You."

He did a double take, stiffening in the hug as you continued.

"We used to be this close. When we were younger— before everything got complicated."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be. You're here now, so am I." You paused, wrapping your arms tighter around him.

"I want to be like Glenn and Maggie. I just didn't think you.. I didn't think you'd want that."

"Are you asking me out?"

"Maybe."

"Yes. My answer is yes."

Tags: @carlgrimesslover

if you want to be added to any taglist of mine, send in an ask :)

#carl grimes angst #the walking dead #twd #carl #carl grimes #carl grimes x reader #the walking dead fluff #fanfic #carl grimes fluff #blurb #carl grimes blurb

534 notes · View notes

mcflymemes · 1 year

Text

MISCELLANEOUS SENTENCE PROMPTS * collection #12

i'm just trying to figure out stuff.

oh. this is bad news.

don't bother.

you don't know that!

food and sex. those are my two passions.

you don't know my name, do you.

that must have been very hard, losing someone you love like that.

i'm beginning to be very fond of you.

that crap will kill you.

that's a shame.

this is quite a coincidence.

would you care to join me?

you are not a complete idiot.

that's an important part of any relationship.

i never go to funerals. i prefer to remember my friends as i saw them last.

thank you for that.

i sometimes have a silly effect on people.

that's very impressive.

you mustn't take me literally.

why can't people mind their own business?

do you see something wrong?

today was rough.

can i sit in this?

is this about me?

i like spending time with you.

i would love some help.

i really don't care for you much.

don't count on that.

why don't you get settled on the couch, and i'll bring you whatever you need.

i'll tell you how they did that later.

my car's right here.

i always get like this.

does he always wear a suit?

i've been living a lie.

i always liked the circus.

we don't hang out.

i could use some good news.

i can't tell you what a big help you've been.

is there anything that doesn't bore you?

i wouldn't put it past you.

i do a little cooking.

when did you first suspect me?

that can't be possible.

did they love you?

can all of this be true?

now wait a minute.

i was an idiot for giving in.

you and i think the same way. it's amazing.

forgive me for wandering off.

it's almost two o'clock in the morning! what are you doing here?

i do wish people would stop asking me that.

you must never underestimate me.

do you have a picture?

tell me you didn't predict that.

i can't let you get away with it.

i've got my eyes on you.

we're behind you. all of us.

it was a trivial matter.

there's no one i trust more with my life or my death than you.

please give me a hug.

are you sure you want to do that?

i just wanted to ask you a few questions.

i really love my work.

most people want to die in their sleep.

i like the way you wear your hair.

i don't know what you're talking about.

do you understand what i am telling you?

i happen to dress based on my mood.

just remember - it's not a lie if you believe it.

i advise you to do the same.

i couldn't resist trying your pinball machine.

there's just one more thing.

i'm not ready to say goodbye.

whatever it is, make it quick.

just tell me what's going on.

would you dance with me?

when you look annoyed all the time, people think you're busy.

281 notes · View notes

hedgehog-moss · 11 months

Note

hi! Just wanted to ask what you’ve been reading lately? I love seeing your book recs! Also what are some of your favorite books ?

Hi :) I've read some disappointing stuff lately, so I decided to start two books from my to-read list that felt like safe bets—Samantha Shannon's A Day of Fallen Night and Elsa Morante's Lies and Sorcery. I'm enjoying both so far!

I've read interesting nonfiction this year—Empire of Pain, about the Sackler family; Erich Schwartzel's Red Carpet about the role of the movie business in cultural hegemony; and Laure Hillerin's biography of the Countess Greffulhe, who was a fascinating woman. She was the real-life model behind Proust's Duchess de Guermantes character, and a really influential figure in the arts & sciences in the early 1900s—she financed the first productions of Diaghilev's Ballets Russes, frequented Rodin's studio, helped Marie Curie find the funds to start her Radium Institute... It was a good read. I also read a biography of Anne Perry by Peter Graham, which was so-so—the story of the murder is morbidly fascinating but the way it was told had too many trivial details and not enough depth.

Worst nonfiction books of the year so far were Niall Ferguson's Doom: The Politics of Catastrophe which didn't seem to have any point to make, and François-Guillaume Lorrain's Scarlett which was marketed as a fascinating new look into the making of Gone With the Wind but actually the author just watched his DVD's behind-the-scenes bonus content and diluted it into 300+ pages of rehashed anecdotes, it was so pointless. I found it on the "Vos libraires vous recommandent !" shelf and now I feel betrayed by that bookshop.

As for fiction, I've enjoyed Ira Levin's A Kiss Before Dying, it felt very dated in a fun way, everything about it felt intensely 1950s. Was very disappointed by Silvia Avallone's Acciaio, I'd heard good things about it but it was so joyless and meh. Álvaro Enrigue's Ahora me rindo y eso es todo was a bit disappointing in the second half, but the first half was good so I'll try other books of his. Pierre Lemaitre's Miroir de nos peines was fun in an expected way—I mean those who enjoyed the beginning of his Au revoir là-haut trilogy will enjoy this one too as it's more of the same. And I also had a good time reading Catherynne Valente's Radiance— similarly if you already like her writing style you'll probably enjoy this book. (I was listening to this as I read it and it fit really well with the floaty-nostalgic-unearthly atmosphere of the book, it's always nice to accidentally find a good book-soundtrack that enhances the experience! Now I can never listen to it while reading again as it's too intertwined with that story.)

And I really liked Madame de Staël's Delphine but I wouldn't recommend it to just anyone, it's very 18th century (though it's from 1802). If you enjoy idle noblewomen writing each other 20-page-long letters in gorgeously long-winded 18th-century prose about how the Viscount of Something glanced at them from the other end of a salon and nothing else happened and now they're having agonies then you'll love this book, it's 900 pages of this. I can't get enough of it personally, and I found it hilarious that these aristocrats had such low-stakes problems considering the story starts in 1790. They didn't notice the Revolution, they were too busy writing tormented letters about extramarital glances.

Some books I've added to my kindle recently: Virginia Feito's Mrs. March, Simon Schama's Landscape & Memory (someone I follow on GR described it as "monstrously bloated" while the NYT blurb diplomatically calls it "a work of enormous scope" which made me laugh), Seyhmus Dagtekin's To the Spring, by Night, Margarita Liberaki's Three Summers, Maggie O'Farrell's The Vanishing Act of Esme Lennox, Dawn Powell's A Time to Be Born.

This got long, sorry! You can have a look at my 5- and 4.5 star shelves on goodreads, for some of my favourite books of the past few years :)

#ask #book recs

220 notes · View notes

nerdycanible1 · 3 months

Text

Am back! :D

Omg guys! Almost forgot I had this ((joking)) but nah seriously! It had been years since I've posted anything here! 💀

Anyways imma go back to my roots!! Y'all remember the days of Legend of Korra where I've only simped for Lin Beifong? 👀 But I've found a new lady, well not really but I've got a new love!!

So y'all remember (if not don't worry about it) the whole genderbent au thing I've created and it was female Tenzin and male Lin and stuff like that? Well I've got some stuff for y'all!

So first and foremost, this is Tenna. She is genderbent Tenzin (female Tenzin). She is literally so hot and I cannot stop drawing her! Currently working on the backstory and this will be nothing like tLoK, actually it will in some places but yes! A lot will be changed!

But look at her! She's gorgeous! 🥺 Also I just wanted to show y'all my improvement of art over the years! QwQ it has improved so much and I'm so proud! Anyways I'll stop rambling and let ya get to the photo!

Tenna: 55 years old

Tenna in swimsuit enjoy 🗿

Side note: Tell me this isn't the most Tenzin expression ever xD

Anyways, my thoughts are simple. Make hot women. :D I am smooth brained and frankly I've been a simp for my genderbent Tenzin for years.

I wanted to update her concept instead of the one I've created years ago (plz forget that 💀) and frankly I love this version better. She looks kind, soft, hot, and first and foremost Tenzin-ish.

What I have for her so far:

She is 51-50 just like Tenzin in tLoK

She has one confirmed boy that I've come up with and one confirmed girl.

Their names are Jin (Jinora) and Ming (Meelo). I haven't come up with anything else for the kids as of yet.

She is pansexual. No discussion on this xD

She is currently in a relationship with Peng (Pema). But ma'am is known to wander around.

Tenna is also more in tune with her nomadic life style instead of the whole business stuff.

Tenna left RC at the ripe age of 16, leaving Ling (Lin) in the process but no hate. It was a mutual break up. Ling wanted to keep RC safe and promised Tenna that everything would still be up and running whenever she wanted to settle down.

Tenna fell in love with an air acolyte (whom I haven't decided to name as of yet) and stayed there for a year before the world called for her once more. It was a short but painful romance, one that Tenna often thinks about.

Once she was back on the road she fell in love with a non bender (Not Peng yet), got pregnant and went to RC for Air Temple Island. She stayed on the island for a few years raising her newborn son Jin.

Ling helped with all he could, being there for Tenna, taking care of her and feeding her and dealing with her grumpiness. He took care of her and once the baby was born, Ling knew he would protect the child as if he were the one to help make the baby.

Tenna couldn't have thanked Ling enough and felt horrible she was "holding him back" from finding his true love. Ling wanted to confess right then and there that he loved her but knew it wasn't the right time.

During the time of the whole pregnancy and the raising of Jin, Ling and Tenna fell into a romance. Stealing kisses, sharing deep secrets, touches that crossed the very thin line of friendship.

It wasn't until Jin started talking and walking that Tenna thought it would be a great time to start exploring the world. Jin barely being the age of 3 or 4. Ling confessed to her that he loves her and that she wished she'd stay for him but told her it was a selfish request. He instead kissed her goodbye and told her to look at the Northern Lights for her on one of her trips. Tenna never felt such sadness and sorrow but she promised to keep in touch. She watched as Ling got smaller and smaller as the boat began to leave the harbor and leave behind her very best friend and lover.

Sorry friends but this is where imma stop it before I bore you! Let me know if you want more Headcanons or if you want more art of this fine wine of a milf!

Send me asks, or ask simply in the comments or Dms about any of this au. I'm happy to reply and I'm excited to say that I'll be posting here regularly soon! And you know of course that there's gonna be more Lin Beifong art so prepare yourselves!

As usual, all art belongs to me. If reposted please credit. Thank you!

47 notes · View notes

maxwell-grant · 2 months

Note

Fuck it, can you expand on your thoughts regarding What Can We Know About Thunderman?

One of the funniest and most horrible things I've ever read partially because like 60% of it is just pages and pages of Alan Moore stating industry facts and names with the serial numbers filed off, and if you have enough comic book brainworms to be reading Thunderman in the first place there will probably be at least one or a dozen references here and there that will spring out of nowhere and hit you like a punch in the gut (the one I remember was the Jack Cole one). A lot of the stuff in Thunderman that reads as absurd funny parody or metaphors too stupid to be real are actual industry facts that Moore has knowledge of, and even the stuff that isn't you can trace a direct line of what exactly it's referring to or who exactly this is referencing.

This is a story in part about how horrible it is to be a sicko with comic book brain worms that is mainly understandable if you're exactly that kind of person. Besides all the references to real-life people and events, most of the modern stuff he's making up are still just as incisive and accurate because literally nothing changed, not even in regards to the movie paradigm ("At last he has attained a semblance to a religious figure. Can we stop now?"). Much of this is Moore dunking on Certain Industry Guys he probably knew and interacted with and indirectly bullseyeing on more recent guys, because a lot of these guys are the same. There are your extremes like the one con-goer here who is pretty much just Max Landis verbatim, but there's also so much that's brutally on-point for industry practices and writers ("What if we had Thunderman do something, and then something happened?") that you can fill in your own names.

It's also an incredibly personal and tragic piece because the core story of it, in between vivid descriptions of Greg Land's office space porn oceans and self-destructive daydreams and rolling catastrophes, is about a guy who deeply loves his art form, deeply loves the creators and artists who gave him so much for so little in his life, and deals with so much horrible toxic bullshit that the only way he finds to live, the only way he finds to not be complicit in the pigsty, is to leave it all behind and work the poison out of his system forever. Like he very openly talks about the protagonist leaving it all behind to go write the next big novel and writing that note, and the non-superhero ideas that will come after, as something that nobody is going to care about, but that he has to do. I don't think I could fully appreciate the sequence where he quits his job at comics and walks out of the office feeling better than ever, until I myself got fired from an incredibly stressful job that made a thing I love (video editing) into the bane of my existence, and no amount of money worries in the world could make me not feel at that moment like I was walking home to the sunniest day of the year.

It wasn't only how much better life was without comics that had startled him, but also how the comics business looked, viewed from outside. How small it was; how cruel and how ridiculous. All the warped personalities the industry either attracted, or else bent and fashioned for itself out of naïve enthusiasts who'd been expecting something else. He couldn't understand why he'd not bailed out of the business years ago, though in a way he could. Part of the answer was just plain human inertia, and part was the fact that, from the inside, comics people and their weird behaviour could seem almost normal.

Dan was grateful he'd escaped in time, though he'd admit that even that escape was qualified. Removing himself from the comics field was one thing, stopping thinking about comics was another. Constantly, he'd find his mind alighting on some decomposing gobbet from the mental garbage-tip of trivia that his career had left him with, when that was the last thing he wanted to be thinking of. He probably should have anticipated some sort of reaction - thirty-something years in any field would leave you with a lot of baggage, and especially an enterprise almost designed to be obsessional, like comics -

His fantasy that he could be a proper literary author, living miles from anywhere and shunning interviews like Salinger or Pynchon, had congealed over this last few months from idle dream to psychological necessity. He'd put his farewell dossier together, and it was published without eliciting much in the way of a reaction or response, but the important thing for Dan was that he'd written it. His lip was better and he could speak normally again, since, for some reason, having quit the comics world, he was no longer trying to eat himself alive. Dan was committed, now, to his new life, and there could be no vacillating. Change or die, those were his options.

And putting aside the fact that "Dan" is killed by the Vince Coletta stand-in and the story itself ends in a much bleaker and more horrible note, to me that feels like Moore being very honest, as depressing as it may be, that nothing else he ever does is gonna get the kind of buzz and following and money and praise that he did for his corporate superhero droppings, and he still doesn't regret one bit what he left behind, and he's going to make the weird magic lizard stories he actually wants to do until he dies and try to not think about superheroes ever again even though he will obviously never fully succeed. Not just because it won't leave him alone, but because it's a part of his life. He loves stories, he loves art, he loves comics, and if not now, he very clearly deeply loved superheroes once, and maybe he still does if he can put aside the sheer nightmare bullshit toxicity attached to them that he's dealt with. I'd even point to a recent occasion he did try just that, with the character of Captain Universe, who accomplishes maybe the only real heroic act in LOEG: Tempest when he stops an atomic bomb from leveling England and ends the story with his big heartfelt wedding.

LOEG is the dead last place you'd expect Moore to place a heartfelt send-off to his superhero work, and much of it gets obscured by that asylum sequence where he savages existing IP capes and the farcical elements of the team and other criticisms at the genre, but it's there, and it's maybe the only story that has a happy ending in the book even. With Captain Universe, a character who has no real history, Moore is able to put all feelings for superhero IP and the big two aside and do this platonic ideal of a superhero and the creative possibilities and hopeful fantasy of a superhero. He's willing to poke holes in the guy and ruthlessly make fun of his shitty allies and villains, but LOEG affords Captain Universe an almost shocking degree of dignity (plus the existence of the canceled Superverse, which was going to be a LOEG-esque project with superheroes done with Rick Veitch tying in to The Show, showing Moore had plans to try writing superheroes again on his own terms even after everything). I think Thunderman in large part is about conciliating these feelings with a large degree of autobiography.

That's one emotional core of the story, but mainly I remember Thunderman for being really fucking funny. The EC Comics hearing. The porn ocean odyssey. Stan Lee Stan Lee-ing so hard he nearly gets killed by gangsters over it and one chapter detailing his transition from person to Character. Marvel was all along a CIA conspiracy to promote radiation poisoning. The chapter that's entirely dedicated to Moore stopping the story to riff and review the Superman movies. This books swings widly and it's an incredibly entertaining read.

And maybe the most horrible thing about Thunderman isn't in the way it's protagonist meets it's end or in the final chapter or even *gestures broadly at all of it*, it might just be the chapter before Alan Moore drops his Superman movie reviews, because with it comes the realization that yes, Alan Moore has been to Reddit, and has looked enough into reddit superhero discourse to be able to plausibly imitate it, which means he probably has sat through at least one argument about him too many. The stand-out of that chapter is the bit where he's riffing on Cavill's mustache fiasco and the DCEU, but it also includes some bits that now read as pretty perfect bullseye jabs at the MCU's current state of affairs.

#replies tag #superheroes #alan moore #illuminations #what can we know about thunderman #comic books #superhero comics

44 notes · View notes

professor-amaryllis · 2 months

Text

Hello there! My name is Professor Bellamy Amaryllis, though most people who know me call me Amy. My kid @eartheats encouraged me to make an account on here- I guess that's what all the cool kids are doing nowadays, haha!

I’m agender and intersex and use They/He pronouns- She for some specific people as well. I'm Polyam, as well, so no need to go telling my partner about seeing me out and about- I assure you she knows!

If you were a child or have been around children anytime in the last 7 years you might know me as the Wild Guy, from my TV show Professor Amaryllis’s Wild Days! While I've been off the air for a year or so it's bloomed in popularity even still- it's hard to go too far without someone knowing who I am, hah!

I'm a poison specialist (though I have an affinity for fairy types as well) and one of the overseeing professors at the Goldenrod Ecological Society, really just a fancy title for the person who makes sure all the science is ethical, reliable and well documented. It's a lot of admin and outreach work and while it keeps me busy it's quite fulfilling.

This is a personal account, so I’ll be talking more about my life than my job, so sorry if you’re looking for a blog of just pokemon facts, because this certainly is not it.

//This is a soft reset of amy- you may notice that a good 90% of post from 2023 have been deleted! I realized that my early rp was not in line with what i'm doing with amy going forward! most plots, major events, and interactions from that time have been Retconned or Rewritten!! if you have questions feel free to DM me!

Hello!!! My name is Rabbit and I’m an adult, so be warned that there may be suggestive themes at times on this blog! I also will be doing some high stakes stuff!

I don’t interact with sentient pokemon or eebie deebies with very few and select exceptions (if you arent sure, ask!), and I’m picky about players with legendaries as well, as I have a specific cannon I’m working with!! No magic anons, crossover blogs, crack rp, or dream mail, though some peliper mail sent to amy's GES location is acceptable (within reason!! no magic anon but item things ahaha)

Amy’s a flawed character so please keep in mind that not everything he says is the objective truth! He can be biased, emotional, unprofessional and he can and will lie, though he prefers to tell half truths and avoid topics first.

Amy has a very detailed past, and he has his secrets and motives!! there’s usually at least something going on under the surface hehe so I wish you luck in trying to puzzle this man out! This character is my own personal Pepe Sylvia red string board and I enjoy playing him that way :)

I hope we can have fun together, but please please please remember that there is a person behind this blog, be nice!! or at least just not incredibly hateful. some negative asks can be fun but think before you send things please.

#pokemon irl #pokeblogging #pkmn irl #lore

29 notes · View notes

harlowcomehome · 1 year

Text

Goodbye looks good on you- Part Two

A collaboration with @nattinatalia ! 🦋

Part one here!

You and Jack spent the last year engaged and for the most part pretty happy. You hadn’t broken up, which you were thankful l for after being off and on for so long.

Your parents and his parents both grew close, which was all you ever wanted in a partner. You had spent most of your life dreaming of exactly this scenario.

You did notice that when you brought up wedding planning Jack seemed apprehensive but you assumed it was just him being nervous about it all.

“I thought we decided on a long engagement?” He nervously chuckled as you gave him a side-eye.

The weeks started to pass by quickly and you decided it was time to start meeting with a wedding planner. Trying to get stuff done yourself would be too overwhelming.

However, it would’ve been a lot easier and less stressful if your fiancé would help and attended the meetings with you, but he always claimed to be busy in the studio or had a meeting with his team.

Jack was sitting beside you on the couch, scrolling on his phone when you interrupted his thoughts. “What do you think about carrot cake? Or we can go traditional with vanilla or chocolate?” You smiled, hoping for a reaction.

“I’m not a fan of cake really, so you can decide on that.” He says from his spot on the couch, without even giving you a glimpse.

You frowned at that, hoping he would have input to give.

“Okay, well I was thinking, are we doing an indoor reception or outdoor?” You watched as his facial expressions didn’t change, he still wasn’t looking at you.

“I don’t know, it depends on the weather but you can also decide on that” He shrugged.

You're getting annoyed now, “Should I show up naked to church and confess all my sins?”

He finally turns to look at you, he thought maybe he was hearing things. “What? Should you what?”

“Of course, you pay attention to that.” You close your planner, toss it to the side, and head to your bedroom, slamming the door behind you.

“Shit” he mumbled to himself as he locked his phone and walked towards the hallway.

“Y/N, I’m sorry okay?” He stands by the door, speaking through it.

“That’s all you’ve been saying for the last month. Every time I want to talk to you about the wedding, you ignore me or try to change the subject. If you’re not all in, then why did you propose?” You say behind the closed door.

He opens it now to look at you “I've just been busy.”

You looked over at him, trying to hold back tears.

“Working on the new album and trying to get a script for this new movie. I don’t have it in me to talk about wedding stuff right now.”

“So should I cancel everything then?” You mumble.

“No.” He shakes his head and walks towards you on the bed. “I have the next few days off, I’ll go with you to speak with the wedding planner.”

You smile up at him. “You mean that?”

“Yeah, I got you.” He wraps you up in a tight hug. “We’re doing this.”

“You know I love you right?” You smiled, leaning on him, and kissed the top of your head.

“I love you too, who should we make appointments with first?” He smiled and handed you the wedding planner you had slammed shut just moments earlier.

You just nodded, giving him a number to call for the cake tasting and you called your ideal venue to have a look around.

When he came back in the room, he told you a time and you smiled, motioning for him to come closer. You gave him a kiss that he of course reciprocated.

The next day you and Jack headed to the venue, he seemed to be in better spirits than he was before so your nerves had eased.

The venue had an ideal florist who was meeting you there, so you started to feel everything coming together.

A tall older woman met you inside, she was the owner of the building and she was very kind and courteous, she showed you and Jack around and even made suggestions of things she had seen done before.

“Do you like this venue?” You clung to his arm, as he continued to silently look around.

“If you like it, I love it” he replied.

“I like it, it fits us perfectly.” You hummed.

Jack nods, “Then it’s settled, we’re doing it here.”

“Well, we still need to see two more venues just in case.” You remind him with a big grin.

“What’s wrong with this one?” He asks you, clearly annoyed already, which is making you upset because just last night he promised you he would be present in everything wedding related.

He obviously could tell your change in mood, so he quickly added. “We can go see the other two places, but I love this one.”

“In the meantime, we can talk about food and flowers.” The owner of the venue chimes in. “The venue comes with catering and the chef has five dishes you can try today and see if you like any of them.”

You smile at her, “Yes, thank you, that would be wonderful.”

“If you’re not sure about this place then why are we tasting food?” Jack asks while looking through his phone.

“It’s just a procedure we like to do, in case you decide to have your wedding with us, we have everything down and ready. So if you’re ready now, we can call the chef and let him know to bring out the plates?”

“Yes please.”

The woman excuses herself, leaving you and Jack alone. “Jack, can you please try harder? You’re just agreeing with me and not giving input. This is your wedding too. I want it to be special for both of us.”

“Yes I’m sorry, I just don’t understand if we both like this place. What's the need of looking at other places? But I’m here, I’ll help more.”

You smile at him, “Thank you.”

After a few more moments of talking, the chef is making his way to you both.

“Good evening, I’m-“

“Oh my god, Tony?” You ask.

“Y/N? Oh wow, how have you been?” The chef, Antonio, who you went to high school with, receives you with a hug.

“I’ve been good, thank you.” You smile at him, “You’re the chef for the venue?”

Tony nods, “I am, but I’m part owner of the venue with Crystal.”

“That’s amazing, I’m so happy for you.”

You hear coughing coming from beside you, and you forgot Jack was even there with you. He’s raising his eyebrows at you in a questioning manner.

“Right, sorry, Antonio, this is Jack, Jack this is Antonio, he and I used to go to school together.”

“Nice to meet you.” He shakes Jack’s hand and looks back at you smiling. “Are you helping him plan a party?”

You smile at that, “Actu-“

“Our wedding,” Jack says, sitting up straight, trying to look intimidating. “See her ring?”

You glare at him “Please excuse him, Tony, it’s been a long day.” You turn to look at him and notice him and Jack staring at each other. “You think we can start with the tasting?” You ask, trying to change the vibe in the room.

“Yes, of course, my apologies.” Tony smiles as ushers the both of you over to a table to sit. “I’ll be right back with the plates.”

When Tony left, Jack was automatically annoyed. “Why did you embarrass me like that? Excusing my behavior? How about you both excuse your googly eyes at one another.”

You were shocked by Jack's reaction, he wasn’t usually a jealous person. “Jackman, don’t do this. Today is supposed to be a good memory” you replied sadly but his comments stayed in your head throughout the tasting.

Neither one of you could decide on the menu, so Tony gave you his card and told you to let him know when you both decided, something Jack also didn’t find amusing.

The next few days were a blur, and you and Jack made a lot of wedding decisions but something still felt off to you.

Jack had gone to the studio and you were left alone at your place, you looked at the business card with Tony's name and number on it, contemplating your next move.

You took your phone out and dialed his number, you couldn’t explain what made you do it and you felt guilty but you did it anyway.

Once you decided on making the call, you and Tony fell into a comfortable conversation, he even invited you for coffee.

You accepted the invitation, with no hesitation whatsoever, and deep down that let you know this was a bad decision. But you didn’t care, as far as you see it, it’s just two friends catching up and maybe you’d even talk about your wedding.

So here you were at a newer, less busy coffee shop, sitting across from Tony.

“Does your fiancé know you’re here right now?” He questioned.

“I don’t tell him everything, why do you ask?” You furrow your eyebrows. This made you think he was probably trying to make a move and that didn’t sit right with you.

“Oh no, I don’t mean it in a bad or teasing way.” He takes a sip of his coffee. “I meant, well if I’m being honest he seemed a bit possessive and annoyed when you introduced us the other day.”

“He’s just always so busy, and I had dropped all the wedding stuff on his lap, so he was just exhausted.” You don’t know why you were trying to justify Jack’s behavior, Tony is one hundred percent correct, Jack did come off as rude.

He nods and stares at you like he wants to say something. “Antonio, just tell me.”

“I don’t want to offend you.” He places his hand on top of yours, in a caring way. “We just used to be such great friends, we would tell each other anything and everything. Marisol and I were the only ones allowed to call you out on your shit” He smiled.

“Yeah, I know.” You tell him sadly, “Then you moved away and we didn’t stay in contact.”

“But I’m here now.” He squeezes your hand. “And as your friend, I want to make sure you’re okay and ask you if you’re sure Jack is the one you want to spend the rest of your life with Y/N.”

You pull your hand away, “Wh-what makes you ask that?” You look out the window, pausing for a moment before looking back at him. “I love him, of course, I do.”

“I’m not saying you don’t, I’m saying, is that love enough to make you settle down with a man who can’t even help you decide on a menu or a cake?”

“Tony.” You warn, shaking your head.

“Y/N, I don’t mean to be harsh, but I’m surprised Mar hasn’t said anything. I saw it as soon as he opened his mouth, he’s cocky and he obviously doesn’t want a wedding.”

“You don’t know him like I do.”

“But you’re forgetting I know you.” His voice was sterner now.

“That was years ago Tony.”

“Then explain to me how I know you don’t like velvet cake, and he doesn’t? Why did he suggest that instead of carrot cake?”

You shrug “You’re going based on a flavor cake?”

Tony shakes his head. “No, I’m going off the fact that I didn’t see any connection between the two of you. I do weddings for a living, remember that. So I come across all types of relationships. You two might love each other, but you aren’t in love with each other.”

You were devastated and didn’t know what to say to that.

You thought this would’ve been a relaxed coffee run, catching up with an old friend. You didn’t know your engagement with Jack would be questioned.

“Thank you for the coffee, but I think I should leave now.” You toss a twenty-dollar bill for the waitress on the table.

“Y/N”

“No.” You shake your head at him. “You can’t come into my life after years of being away and question my relationship with the man I love.”

“Please just think about what I said. You have three weeks to think about taking this huge step. This isn’t me trying to get in the middle of your relationship, this is a friend worried about a friend. I don’t want you making a mistake and regretting it later on.”

“Goodbye, Tony.” You shrug sadly at him. “From now on we will only talk about my wedding and what dish we decided on.” You walk out of the coffee shop and quickly get into your car.

The whole drive back to your condo you couldn’t stop thinking about what Tony said.

Is what he said right?

Are you making a mistake?

Will you regret your married life with Jack?

All these questions were running around your head and you couldn’t escape them. Not even when you arrived home did they go away.

Tony made a lot of valid points but the big the question still remained.

Should you get married or was Tony on to something?

#Jack Harlow #jack harlow x reader #jack harlow imagines #jack harlow concepts #Jack Harlow angst #Jack Harlow blurbs #nattinatalia

204 notes · View notes