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canmom · 9 months

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How do you live?

I (finally!) saw Miyazaki's new film 君たちはどう生きるか (How Do You Live?/The Boy and the Heron)! It's been out in the States for a while, and in Japan considerably longer, but it took a while to make its way over here.

I remember at the time it came out, people were having fun riffing on the incredibly cryptic marketing campaign, which consisted only of this rather abstract poster...

In the spirit of this, I resolutely avoided watching any trailers or knowing anything at all about the plot of the film. I picked up a thing or two here and there - I knew to expect some amazing Shinya Ohira animation for example, and you couldn't really avoid seeing the bird with teeth! - but overall, I had no idea.

There's plenty of great writing about this film in English already, such as kvin's fantastic sakugablog piece which discusses the physicality of Ghibli's animation, its weight and springiness, as a throughline. The stuff that kvin talks about really stood out to me as I watched this film. You can likewise read detailed interviews with Toshiyuki Inoue (fantastic interview for sakubutas) and Akihiko Yamashita on fufuro.

First up, the credits of this film are pretty much a who's who of the greatest jp animators of the last 30 years, and they've had some 7 years to cook it, so naturally this film looks fucking amazing. This is absolutely the kind of film that only Miyazaki could direct - its design language feels so familiar and yet it's iterating in all kinds of visually imaginative directions that show that yeah, the old bastard's still got it.

And like, god, man. This film's animation is really something special. Its real-world scenes in particular are full of shots that require an unbelievably strong sense of space, of both subtle and broad acting, the classic Ghibli attention to detail on mechanical objects and everyday tasks. It's full of bouncing and squishing and squeezing and oozing things. It loves to draw crowds and swarms of people and animals. It's the kind of film where any given shot would be the absolute star-of-the-show sakuga moment in just about any other anime film. If you wanted a complete statement of the Ghibli school of animation, it would be hard to do better.

And yet, for all that Miyazaki's known for his tight control over animation and heavy corrections to animators, in this film he had to step back from that kind of role and hand over the sousakkan reins to Takeshi Honda, who steps up admirably - as kvin writes above, bringing in more realist elements to the bouncy Miyazaki style to create a really effective unity that grounds all the big fantastical elements of the film and fills the first act with tension.

Alongside all that excellent key animation, the film's colour and photography departments evidently understand that well-chosen colours and good highlight shapes beat all the digital gradients and overlays you can imagine - the drawings get plenty of form from the strength of the animation, and the flat shading really pops. The backgrounds are as delicious as ever, skyscapes and vegetation and opulent interiors with the just-slightly desaturated and harmonious colours that just kind of remind you that oh yeah, it is still possible to do it this way.

Basically it's a Ghibli film lol. You know how it is.

But what of the story...? What's all this technical magic in service of?

The film's story has something of the feel of a serial story, perhaps reflecting Miyazaki's (in)famous process of working out the film gradually as he draws the storyboards. Certain ideas, like the parakeet empire, arrive in the film rather suddenly and then become fairly central to the plot. There's a clear emotional throughline, but this is not a film that is in a hurry to explain itself more than it absolutely has to. It wants to keep its magical elements numinous and mysterious. I would say, though, it's generally more satisfying in this approach than some of Miyazaki's other later films like Howl's Moving Castle, and resolves a lot more clearly.

So what is it like, About? Well, Miyazaki has been pretty open about channeling a lot of his personal relationships into the film, and a lot of it seems to reflect more or less obliquely on him. It's what they call a 'personal film'. The protagonist's position as the son of an aeroplane factory owner during WWII is straight-up from life. What about the old sorcerer, haphazardly stacking blocks to keep a world alive, and looking for someone to succeed him? The reading's kinda obvious, even if Miya himself says this guy is based on his memory of Takahata. Well, he can be both...

To say more I'm gonna have to delve into the spoiler zone. See you below the cut.

OK so! Let's try and get some thoughts in order.

first, a plot summary type of thing

Our first act introduces us to Mahito at roughly the moment his mother Hisako dies in a hospital fire. This is midway through the war, which is present mostly in the background - now and then we see soldiers marching around, and of course Mahito's dad runs a factory producing warplane parts, not entirely unlike Miyazaki's own father although seemingly a bit higher up the ladder.

We jump forward a little and Mahito's father remarries - to his deceased wife's sister, no less, and she's already pregnant. This is Natsuko, who does her best to play the role of mother, but Mahito still has big traumas and he is understandably not entirely on board with the idea of welcoming a mum 2 who looks almost exactly like mum 1. He moves with Natsuko into a huge old house complex, a mix of older Japanese architecture with a more recent Western wing where the family currently sleeps - and staffed by a small army of colourful old ladies who are eager for any canned meat or cigarettes they can get their hands on.

Also there's this freaky heron that keeps bothering Mahito. It seems to have something to do with a mysterious tower which turns out to have been built by his great-uncle. Mahito visits the tower, but can't make his way inside. Natsuko tells him not to go into the tower.

Mahito goes to school, but naturally they don't much take to the new rich kid on the block, and so after being attacked by his classmates on his way home he injures himself with a rock. (His dumbass dad is like, who did this to you son, I'll fuck 'em up.) For the rest of the movie, he has half his head shaved to accomodate a bandage, which is the sort of attention to detail this movie loves.

The heron has started growing teeth and talking to Mahito, telling him to come to the tower. Mahito is convinced it's a trap, and after a maybe-dream sequence in which Natsuko shoots an arrow to drive off the heron, he steals cigarettes from Natsuko in order to get one of the servants to sharpen his knife, and then constructs a bow and arrow out of bamboo - using a couple of the heron's feathers. Constructing the bow and arrow is shown in immense, loving detail.

In the process, he witnesses Natsuko walk into the forest, and also stumbles on a book: How Do You Live? by Genzaburō Yoshino, which contains a handwritten message from his mother. He looks at this book briefly... and this is about the extent of the connection of the film to the book, beyond thematic parallels.

The maids notice that Natsuko is missing. Mahito tells one of the maids, Kiriko, that he saw her go into the forest, and they follow, finding an old road that gives another approach to the tower. They're greated by the heron man, who is increasingly emerging from the heron's beak to reveal a big warty nose. He's some kind of like... heron selkie or something, a gnome in a heron skin. There's some wonderfully grotesque animation around this guy.

Heron dude taunts Mahito with an illusion of his mother Hisako. Mahito threatens him with the bow - the heron guy is like, do your worst, not realising it's a maaagic arrow. The arrow chases him around the room and pierces his beak, fucking up his magic. At this point, the tower master shows up and orders the heron to guide Mahito. Heron guy sends everyone through the floor into a fantastical world...

Mahito arrives in front of a huge, sinister tomb. He approaches the gate, and a swarm of pelicans walk up behind, crawling all over him and pressing him through the gate. This causes a storm to start brewing, since opening the gate seems to piss off the stones or something...

A fisher woman resembling a much younger Kiriko runs up and chases the pelicans away. She takes Mahito under her wing, explaining that this world is inhabited mostly by dead people, but there are also these little round guys called the wareware, who gain the ability to fly when they eat a fish's guts.

Kiriko, uniquely in this world, has the ability to kill, so she catches fish to sell to the other inhabitants and feed to the wareware; she and Mahito butcher a huge fish. Mahito fairly quickly figures out that she is somehow the same Kiriko that entered with him. She has tiny charms representing the other maids, which serve an apotropaic function.

That night, staying on Kiriko's huge derelict ship of a home, they watch the wareware rise into the sky to be born as humans in Mahito's world. They're attacked by the pelicans, but a fire-wielding magic user called Hisa (hmmmmmmmmmm) drives the pelicans away. Mahito shouts at her not to harm the wareware, but Kiriko assures him that more of the wareware will survive thanks to Hisa's intervention.

Later, a singed and dying pelican explains the pelicans' predicament to Mahito in a scene that calls to mind the animals in Mononoke-hime. The pelicans are foreigners in this world, they don't have anything to eat, so they take it as their role to eat the wareware. The heron man arrives on the scene too, offering to help Mahito find Natsuko as Mahito - coming in to his own as a protagonist more - buries the pelican. Mahito distrusts him but eventually Kiriko persuades them to give working together a try.

Mahito and the heron set out. As they pass through a forest, the heron reveals that thanks to Mahito's arrow, he can't fly and do heron shit anymore - and by magic law, only Mahito can fix the hole. Mahito applies his new woodworking skills to fashion a bung for the hole. The heron tries to stage a top 10 anime betrayal, but then the bung needs more work, so Mahito fixes it, and from that point on, the heron joins the party and he and Mahito are fast friends.

(You might wonder why I just call him 'the heron' and not by a name. He never gets named! He's just the heron man.)

Mahito and the heron arrive at the house of a blacksmith who's supposed to help them find Natsuko, only to find it guarded by big buff parakeet men. The parakeets are splendidly goofy round guys - they remind me of the heedra in Nausicaa. The heron draws the parakeets away, and Mahito enters the house, only to find, uh oh! More parakeets. The parakeets prepare to eat Mahito, who is not carrying a child and therefore fair game unlike Natsuko, but Hisa shows up and burns them with fire magic. She looks just like a young version of Mahito's mum! Funny that. Hisa helps Mahito escape into her house through the fire, and then takes him to infiltrate the parakeets' empire.

In the human world, the maids explain the backstory of the tower to Mahito's dad. It's a weird meteorite that came from space, it turns out, and Mahito's great-uncle built the tower on top of it before eventually disappearing inside. Mahito's dad overprepares in an elaborate getup complete with katana, and goes to try to rescue everyone.

Hisa leads Mahito to a corridor full of doors which open into all the different worlds, including his own world. Mahito briefly glimpses his dad coming to try and rescue him - the two see each other briefly, but the parakeets catch wind of the whole thing and attack, and so Mahito and Hisa have to flee back into the magical world. We see that the parakeet guys turn into regular parakeets when they come into the human world. Mahito's dad becomes convinced he turned into a parakeet.

Mahito and Hisa make their way to the delivery room where Natsuko is resting, waiting to give birth. On their way, lightning starts emerging from the stone - Hisa explains that the stone is sentient and pissed with them. Mahito insists on approaching Natsuko despite this being a huge taboo. They have a heart to heart - Natsuko's mask breaks and she tells Mahito she hates him, while he finally starts calling her mother, as he's assaulted by paper charms that tear at him violently. They part, with Hisa burning the charms to free Mahito, but it's too much and they both pass out.

Mahito dreams of meeting the sorcerer, who stacks irregularly shaped wooden blocks, and explains that stacking the blocks is necessary to maintain the world, buying a few days at a time. The sorcerer reveals the huge flying rock that is the source of his power; he also shows Mahito some blocks, but Mahito somehow divines that these blocks are 'stone for building tombs' and stained with malice. The sorcerer approvingly says this is a good sign for Mahito's ability to succeed him.

While they were asleep, the parakeets have captured Hisa and Mahito. One of them is preparing to eat Mahito, but the heron arrives just in time to save him. They Metal Gear Solid their way through the kingdom while the Parakeet King - a big swaggering guy very like the colonel in Castle in the Sky - goes to press a claim on the wizard, using Hisa and Mahitos' taboo act of entering the delivery room as a bargaining chip. There's some very funny scenes where the parakeets cheer for their king.

Mahito pursues the parakeet king, but the king destroys the staircase behind him, and talks to the sorcerer. The sorcerer is inclined to wave away the transgression, because he wants to let Mahito succeed him, but the parakeet king seems to be bringing him around. I kind of forget how this part went, but the parakeet king goes away from the sorcerer for a bit while Hisa is freed from her prison thing.

Mahito climbs back up with the heron man's help, arriving in the sorcerer's little subplane. The parakeet king quietly follows him, after telling his aides to inform his subjects he was a good king. Mahito approaches the sorcerer, who reveals he has found a new set of blocks, unstained by malice, and again invites Mahito to succeed him. Mahito says that his self-injury is proof of his malice, making him unfit for the job.

At this point, the parakeet king intervenes. Angry at all this sorcerous malarky, he desperately attempts to stack the stones himself, but when they don't stack, he flies into a rage and slices them with his sword. This naturally causes the world to start collapsing, and everyone runs to the doors to escape into the human world.

Mahito has by this point figured out that Hisa is his mum, and he asks if she really wants to go back to their world, knowing that she will very definitely die in a fire not much later. But she is naturally on board with this. Young!Kiriko goes with her, suggesting that she and Hisako entered the magical world at the same time. Meanwhile, Mahito returns to his own time, with Natsuko and the heron. All the various parakeets and pelicans come out through this door too. Old!Kiriko is restored from her apatropaic charm.

As everyone celebrates their safe return (and the appearance of a fuckton of birds), the heron tells Mahito that he ought to forget what happened in the magic world. We skip forward again, with Mahito - now with a baby sibling - setting off to Tokyo. Roll credits!

now let's comment on it

This is not a film that necessarily prioritises an internal logic playing out - new elements enter unexpectedly even quite late in the film. The sorcerer's motivation is murky until late on; the parakeets become major antagonists despite entering only halfway through the film.

There is a certain temptation, knowing how autobiographical this film is, to take it is a roman à clef. Mahito is of course a young Miyazaki; the old sorcerer's concern about finding a successor might be about Miyazaki wondering who should take over Ghibli or if it should just be allowed to die. Under this schema, the parakeets might be Ghibli's legion of fans, or the merchandising empire that prints their designs on every possible product. kvin's article develops this kind of reading, finding some angles I wouldn't have even considered, such as how the idea of weight communicated by the animation factors in to such an allegaroy. It's also something suggested in Miyazaki's own comments about the film, where the sorcerer is Takahata, the heron man is producer Toshio Suzuki...

It definitely helps to know a bit about Miyazaki's background when approaching this film. However, I think it would be reductive to go too far with this kind of reading, and take everything as an allegory for something in Miyazaki's life. The film still has to stand on its own feet!

'Coming of age' is the spin put on it by some outlets, like the BBC. And this is accurate to an extent. The arc of this film is similar to Spirited Away: Mahito starts out sullen and traumatised, but like Chihiro he transitions over the course of his journey in the magical world into the kind of determined Miyazaki protagonist we're used to. On this coming of age angle... well, also like with Chihiro, I don't find the Mahito of the first part of the film especially unsympathetic, his alienation is extremely natural given his situation. Mahito's dad kinda sucks! Living in wartime Japan also really kinda sucks, even if you're the son of a rich dude. But definitely over the course of the film Mahito has a change of heart towards Natsuko, and forms friendships that motivate him to try to protect them. His character arc definitely sees him become 'more prosocial'.

However, there's another angle that's pretty important - the idea of the weight of 'malice', the cursed existences of the pelicans and the like, and the fantasy of building a utopian world that is free of these things. This returns to a theme of Nausicaa, the manga in particular, where Nausicaa discovers that the world she knows - the toxic forest in particular - is actually an elaborate artificial system for cleansing the world of pollutants, that the clean world on the other side will be uninhabitable to her and her people, and that the architects of this system wait in stasis to replace them in this utopian future world. Nausicaa destroys them, commiting instead to an uncertain future.

In Mononoke-hime likewise, we encounter the lepers and former sex workers of Irontown clinging on to the 'cursed' world. Their extractivist project proves incredibly destructive, but the film still regards them sympathetically, and the resolution sees them perhaps finding a new way to live - and San, the feral girl, reconciling herself to the idea of humans.

Here, although the parakeet king forces the decision, Mahito has already declared that he doesn't believe he's fit to oversee a utopia, but instead that his place is in the awful, violent human world.

The film, and the book it's vaguely based on, are titled How do you live? In Japanese, that's a plural 'you' (君たち). There's a lot of ways you could read it, depending on who you take as 'you' - a child asking an adult how to live, or equally a future question of how will you live. This is a lot more explicit in the novel - which I have not read, but here is a summary courtesy of wiki:

Junichi Honda is a fifteen-year-old junior high school student, known by his nickname Koperu, after the astronomer Nicholas Copernicus. He is athletic and academically gifted, and popular at school. Koperu's father, a bank executive, passed away when he was young and he lives with his mother. His uncle (on his mother's side) lives nearby and visits frequently. Koperu and his uncle are very close. Koperu shares about his life and his uncle gives him support and advice. His uncle also documents and comments on these interactions in a diary, with the intent to eventually give the diary to Koperu. The diary writing, which is interspersed with the narrative, provides insight into the ethical and emotional trials that Koperu shared with his uncle. The diary entries, which cover themes such as "view of things", "structure of society", "relation", etc. are in the style of a note written to Koperu.[8]

Thinking like Copernicus that our Earth is a celestial body moving within the vastness of space, or thinking that our Earth is fixed at the center of the universe, are two ways of thinking that, in reality, are not only related to astronomy. Even when we think about things like the world around us or our own lives, the truth is that we are still revolving around them after all.

In the end, Koperu writes a decision on his future way of living as a reply to his uncle, and the novel ends with the narrator asking the question "how do you live?" to the reader.

The author of the novel was a socialist, who had been imprisoned by the nationalist government, and wrote the book intending to impart lessons on ethics. The version of his book published after the war was heavily edited to strip the book of political content. But it's also, perhaps paradoxically, a book that centres on very wealthy characters, aimed narrowly at educated boys, though it became a widely read classic.

Studio Ghibli's films, from both Miyazaki and Takahata, have a habit of being framed as imparting something to the younger generation - something the pair seem to have seen as a mission all the way back in the days of Panda Kopanda. For example, while Grave of the Fireflies is seen as the classic tragic war movie, for Takahata it was also aimed at criticising what he saw as the careless, consumerist generation of the 80s; the stubborn arrogance of the protagonist supposed to reflect on this. It's an attitude that also emerges in their comments about Chihiro. And, indeed, one of the first things we heard about How Do You Live? was that it was aimed towards Miyazaki's grandson - and more broadly towards that generation.

So what does this film have to say to the younger generations? Let's have a look at it from Mahito's POV.

For Mahito, the adults in his life are all pretty complicated. His father is enthusiastic and well-meaning but incredibly oblivious to what his son is going through (we might recall some of what Miyazaki wrote about his father in Starting Point, describing him as basically a grifter). Natsuko is masking pretty hard, trying to play the role of Good New Mum and connect to her newly acquired son, but there's an intrinsic distance. It is understandable that Mahito would want to reject them.

Mahito is... not entirely a passive character, he goes to some efforts to for example fashion the bow and arrow and repair the heron man's beak, but mostly he is pulled around by the plot into a strange world he doesn't understand. At first, his instinct is to retreat, even to the point of self-injury. Once he arrives in the magical world, he has acquired something of a purpose (finding Natsuko), but he gets pushed into near-disaster situations (the pelicans piling up to push him through the gate at the tomb) or stumbles into circumstances where something is expected of him (hey kid, gut this fish!). Gradually though his exposure to this world pulls him out of his shell. He runs into conflicts and injustices that seem intractable - the wareware and the pelicans - and has little power to intervene except to bury the bodies.

Eventually, he gets to carry out his main objective - finding Natsuko - but despite finally deciding to accept Natsuko as his new mother, he finds himself rejected, not just by her but also by the earth. Perhaps feeling responsible for getting her into trouble, his new objective becomes rescuing freshly-damsel'd Hisa. But now new adults want things of him - his great-uncle has decided he'd make a fine successor. Mahito has to make a decision here about what relationships he wants to commit to, what sort of life he wants to build - and he chooses the world he found so alienating at the outset of the film, the one which hurt him by taking his mother, not to the secondary-world fantasy.

It could be a 'this world is all we have' sort of statement, perhaps. But also the last act of the film feels like it gets a bit caught up in Castle in the Sky-style adventure-story beats.

I do feel like some aspects of the film ended up a little underbaked - which is an odd thing to say because it's not a short film and there is so much in it already. But Hisa for example - she's got badass powers and all, but I feel we barely get a chance to get a sense of what motivates her. Why did she enter the fantasy world? She acts at first like she doesn't know Mahito is her future son, but rapidly becomes incredibly devoted to him (in a way that reads a little romancey lmao). So much of her screen time is dedicated to having her convey the secrets of the world that it's hard to get a bead on her as a person.

Likewise, Natsuko - why did she enter this world to have her baby in this special ritual delivery chamber? She clearly knows more than most of the characters, but she gets kind of sidelined after Mahito confronts her, with wizard shit becoming more central. The animation does such a fantastic job of selling her feelings in the first part of the film that it feels like a shame that she drifts away at the end.

The progression of the film feels rather like a dream, where everything is arranged by symbolic significance to Mahito. It makes sense... on a magical level, where the secondary world is shaped primarily by parallels in the real one. So the tiny apatropaic statues of the old ladies protect him because they represent the role the real old ladies have in his life. Hisa has fire magic because Hisako died in a fire. Once Mahito has come to his personal resolutions about returning to the world, the magical one is no longer needed, and it collapses.

This is not such an uncommon role for magic in a story. In Miyazaki's own works, we have Totoro and Spirited Away, where a magical world provides direction or relief to a child's real struggles. Or take for example Okiura's film A Letter To Momo, in which the three yōkai recognise taking care of the grieving Momo as their explicit purpose as spirits. This magical world comes to Mahito to help him come to terms with losing his mother, and reorient himself towards living in a painful world.

Meanwhile, the sorcerer, whether he be Miyazaki or Takahata, is quite a distant figure. He may maintain the magical world by stacking his blocks, may be the authority which factions within it must plead to, but he also rules from afar in a vast empty palace full of long halls and open air spaces. His main company seems to be a big fucking rock, with which he made a 'contract'. He's generally handling it a bit better than, say, Ushiromiya Kinzo - he receives the parakeet king with good humour - but he's a pretty flawed god of his little world. So much of this world seems to pre-exist him, it's not something he constructed. Still, when he shows up, you pretty much have to do what he says.

If this is about Miyazaki's relation to Takahata, it seems like quite a sad portrayal. But 'unapproachable patriarch' does sorta describe their role in the studio from what I understand (c.f. Oshii's infamous article comparing them to the Kremlin).

When it comes to the question of who should succeed Miyazaki, we should probably consider the matter of Yoshifumi Kondō, who was being set up as the next big Ghibli director until his untimely death - which allegedly Takahata was willing to accept the blame for. The mythology built up around Miyazaki and Takahata is double-edged.

Here are some rather startling comments from Toshiyuki Inoue's interview. Inoue is one of the most impressive animators who ever lived in my book, the other star of the realist line besides Okiura. Just have a look at his booru page: iconic scenes from GitS, Akira, Millenium Actress; even in more recent films, he pretty much carried Maquia, and steals the show with his scenes in Miss Hokusai.

And yet even he was intimidated to be working alongside Miyazaki when he first came on board for Kiki's Delivery Service, fresh off Akira:

I believe you’ve always been a fan of Miyazaki’s, why were you scared to work with him? Toshiyuki Inoue: I had heard quite a few scary stories. A lot of acquaintances had worked on Nausicaä, Laputa and Totoro before that, so I knew how scary he could be when he got angry – I had heard stories of people being fired mid-production, things like that. How was it actually? Toshiyuki Inoue: Not as scary as I had imagined. He’d only rarely scream in the studio. But he did get angry. I’d sometimes be called to some separate room and lectured alongside Kōji Morimoto and Masaaki Endō. It felt like being in school all over again.

'Only rarely'. Honestly. Inoue describes how difficult it was for him to adapt his logical, analytical style to Ghibli's stretchy, bouncy characters - and how Miyazaki would disparage him if he, for example, drew a ship inaccurately.

For Inoue, coming back to How Do You Live was something like a 'return match'. He talks about how an older Miyazaki was no longer able to strictly correct the animation, and in general age was limiting him, but he still feels that Miyazaki is fundamentally superior:

Toshiyuki Inoue: I’ve always wished for a return match or a way to redeem myself. But even if I say that, I know I can’t even pretend to rival Miyazaki. I just can’t win. He’s extremely smart and learned, and on top of that, as an animator he always transcends common sense: he’s so talented that I know very well there’s nothing I can do against it. The more I learn about him, the more I realize I’ll never be on that level.

Miyazaki's genius is undeniable, but man... it's not a good mindset to cultivate if you want to find a successor lmao. If even Inoue doesn't feel he can measure up, who the hell could?

Mind you, it does rather seem that Miyazaki had mellowed out by the point of How Do You Live?. Here's Yamashita:

Akihiko Yamashita: As I said, the core of an animator’s job is to follow what the director asks, so whenever I had trouble with that, I’d go see Miyazaki to show him my roughs. He’d advise me on the things that were missing and reassure me about those that were good. He really helped me to gain more confidence in myself.

Reading these interviews underlines pretty hard that we shouldn't get too caught up in the mythology of Miyazaki the mighty auteur. While the story may be all on Miyazaki, and most of the character designs (with the notable exception of Natsuko)... so much of the details of the animation, the stuff that really makes this film land, is primarily shaped by everyone else - Honda in particular, but also the individual key animators who interpreted his scenes. I really need to get my hands on a copy of that Industrial History of Studio Ghibli book to get a less Miyazaki-centric perspective on the studio's history.

I do not feel, having come out of this film, any closer to knowing the answer to that eternally pressing question of how do you live - I guess I'm still working out my answer to that one, and I will be until I die. And maybe that's rather the point. I think this film still carries some of the flaws of Miyazaki's later films - despite having so many iconic scenes, it doesn't quite seem to know where it's going. But I am so glad to have seen this in the theatre (I saw it at the Prince Charles theatre in Soho with friends, the theatre was completely packed!), and glad Miyazaki managed to get this one out before he goes. Whatever happens to Ghibli without its sorcerer, it's been a hell of a thing to witness.

#anime #the boy and the heron #how do you live #studio ghibli #hayao miyazaki #film

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thewriters-world · 4 months

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Omg yes!! I saw a poll on what would be a better Hollywood movie rosquez or brocedes

And I was like hands down brocedes, because that's Monaco & Ibiza, a neat little story of growing up, growing apart, giving up on shared dreams. All the glitz and glamour. The way Nico keeps saying nice things and Lewis keeping his silence. A bit of modicum.

Rosquez however could never be Hollywood, they are unhinged, they are gritty, down & dirty, blunt fingernails scrambling to hold on in dark alleyways, it's being on top of the world and seeing your end approaching you wrapped up in smooth golden muscle and a mouth that never ends, it's touching legends, getting on that pedestal and then being isolated on there by the very hands that welcomed you in, it's European art film that is full of shadows and long silences, things never said and hands reaching out too late, it's his voice whispering everytime you fall, it's seeing him in every rider, knowing he would be crazier, faster, fiercer.

Brocedes could have survived if they were less ambitious/less greedy/less driven than they were, Rosquez never had an option because the things that drew them together are the things that they despise about each other.

OP YOUR VISION!

You've described rosquez so perfectly. They're like ruined somehow. Like Marc has his claws in Valentino and Valentino has his claws in Marc and yh they've let go but their bodies, brains HEARTS are still bloody and bruised. Lewis and Nico are healing but will Marc and Valentino ever heal? Idk Valentino says it'll take him 30 years to get over this and Marc says reconciliation is not upto him. So will they be tainted with marks of each other for 30 years? Does everything become more sullied when you remember that Marc had hung posters of Valentino on his bedroom wall and was buying replica bikes until 2015? Is it more cruel that Valentino knew all of this and not only did he do what he did to Marc when he was 22, he denied Marc a concrete part of his personality by saying he doesn't belive Marc had those posters (it's been documented you senile old man!). He basically said I don't know you, I never knew you. Is this all way more horrid when you consider that Marc thought getting into motogp with his idol would mean that Valentino actually KNEW him and they could be friends and then Valentino throws it right back into his face 'I want to see those posters' (I've never known you, I've never looked at those pictures of young you with my motorbikes, I've never paid attention, whilst you devoted your whole life to my life, your life was simply a speck in the grand scheme of events that is my life). Obviously its not true, it's a way to hurt Marc (we all know Valentino actually LIKED marc). But doesn't that make it all the more cruel, you treated someone you actually had affection for like this. Also is it more hurtful when you remember that Valentino told Marc ill protect you from these people if they're mean to you just let me know (not verbatim) but you're the meanie Valentino so now who does Marc go to. The people you turned against him?

Brocedes is way more tame bcs there was no idolisation, sure there was friendship, affection and childlike hope, but never once did Nico and Lewis decide that they didn't have what they had. Nico doesn't denounce the time they sat in hotel rooms and ate frosties, Lewis doesn't hide the fact that karting with Nico provided him joy as a child. Lewis can say Nico isn't his friend, but he hasn't ever said 'I've never known Nico' even when Nico acts a fool whilst commentating on races just to get his attention Lewis wouldn't be so cruel to deny ever having a relationship with Nico. Nico and Lewis are connected in a more concrete and wholesome way (Lewis gives Nico's daughters gifts). Marc and Valentino are connected in a more brutal way (they still have the bruises, the bleeding wounds of whatever they had with one another, friendship, affection companionship idk). That's the only similarity, they are still connected, their legacies are interspersed with one another. Something about how Lewis was there for nicos first and last podium. Something about how everywhere Marc goes, he is haunted by how Valentino has painted him to other people. Even in the one similarity between brocedes and rosquez you can see the abject dirtiness of rosqiez and the wholesomeness of brocedes.

#motogp rpf #valentino rossi #marc marquez #rosquez #lewis hamilton #nico rosberg #brocedes

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starrystevie · 1 year

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"since when do you know how to use a gun?"

steve's standing in the bunker doorway with his arms crossed over his chest, hip balanced against the door frame. he's watching eddie meticulously clean what used to be a basic rifle that's turned into some monstrous thing hopper built with an additional barrel and multiple scopes. they just got back from a big fight that took a lot out of them all, so he's not surprised that eddie stays silent before clicking something into place. the sound of the metal echoes off the barren walls and he finally turns to look at steve.

"since i started hunting with dear old dad when i was 6."

he pulls off a scope, peers inside and frowns at something steve can't see before blowing against the glass lightly. there's a rag sitting next to him covered in some mix of blood, guts and grease and steve wouldn't be surprised if it isn't the first cloth he's had to use on that particular rifle. it's one of nancy's favorites, after all, and she's not known to clean up after every fight.

eddie looks good with a gun in his hand, steve thinks in some dark recess of his brain that ignores the part where he hates guns. he thinks about the part that loves the focus on eddie's face when he holds one instead, his jaw set in place. eddie looks older, they all do, but with scars dotting his face and wrapped around his neck and days old stubble covering his chin because they haven't had enough water for a shave, he looks mature.

there's a permanent scowl on his face that seems wrong, takes over where cheeky grins used to be. he misses the days where eddie's laugh was the only thing ringing in steve's ears, when his eyebrows weren't pinched in the middle, when he would play alongside the kids with wild expressions and jokes to match.

steve guesses coming back from the dead could do that to a guy.

"hey," he offers, a bit quiet and hard to hear over the clinking of the metal and the ambient sounds of the underground bunker they've lived in for months now. eddie's head stays dropped over the gun as he cleans but he gives a hum in response, so steve takes it as a go ahead. "i think i'm ready to take you up on that offer."

eddie snorts. he wipes some grease over a piece of the gun before setting it down on the table to grab something else steve couldn't name if he tried. "gotta be more specific, stevie boy."

"i want-" steve huffs and readjusts his stance to look more serious. he wants to bring eddie back, but that might be too hard to do in the apocalypse. "i want you to teach me how to shoot."

they spend their allotted 30 minutes above ground later that afternoon in the open space that used to be an old garden. there's trees surrounding them and cans sitting on an old cardboard box structure yards ahead of them. everything's tinted red from the upside down sky that bled into hawkins a year ago and never seemed to leave.

the only gun steve wanted was a handgun, a tiny thing that he can hide in the back of his waistband if he needed, backup for if he lost his bat in a fight. it's not that he wants to shoot, that can be left to nancy and hopper and apparently eddie now that he's healed up enough to fight. no, steve just wants a way to connect with eddie again. a way to bring a little glimmer of light back into his eyes that look more and more like the upside down darkness everyday.

"you need to hold it tighter, steve." eddie's next to him with an arm hovering under steve's elbow as he aims at the pepsi can in the middle of the stack. "it'll throw you back when you shoot, so you gotta be ready."

steve lets his fingers curl tighter around the gun, careful not to press down with his pointer finger that's over the trigger. he can hear eddie huff under his breath and then suddenly he's there, hand curled around his arm and chest pressed against his side. eddie's hand whips up to wrap around steve's on the gun and he shakes his arm like he's testing how tense steve is.

"noodle arms ain't gonna help you. hold it tight."

there's something about the red sky and decay in the air and eddie's gravely voice in his ear that gets to him, his southern drawl more prominent now that he's come back. it's like he's trying to be wayne, trying to replicate what he thinks a man should be because the best model for it that he's had is wayne. steve plants his feet firmly in the ground to ignore the icy shiver passing through his body.

eddie breathes in deep and steve copies him, his shoulder pressing in firmly to eddie as he does. it feels like the first real breath he's had in a while and all it took was eddie munson touching him for steve to breathe again.

"that's better," eddie says and drops his hand from steve's elbow to hover somewhere around his waist. "be relaxed, but concentrate. keep steady and don't let your eyes look away. how do you feel?"

even though he asked a question, steve feels like he shouldn't answer. in some ways, it feels like a trap, like if he says what he actually feels then it's all going to fall apart. but there's this part of him, this tiny, nagging part of him that doesn't want to go back into the bunker without telling eddie how he's felt for far too long.

"okay, i think."

"go ahead and shoot when you're ready."

"...okay."

they stand in silence for a beat. steve can feel eddie's breath tickling the long hairs at his neck and there's a ringing in his ears that he doesn't know what to do with. the air is more suffocating than ever and steve wonders if he pulled out his pocket knife if he could cut through the tension.

eddie's hand finally lands on steve's waist and it blazes through him like a bullet. how is he supposed to shoot a gun, this all powerful thing, when eddie is there? he's breathing and he's alive and he's right where steve wants him to be. he knows he must tense up, knows he must take in a shuddering breath at the contact because-

"stop," eddie says, breaking the silence and pushing away from steve. he feels colder now, the fire that licked along his veins not 3 seconds ago diminishing at the distance between them. steve sighs, takes his hand off the trigger and lets his arm hand limply at his side. "why did you ask me to help you with this? why not nancy or hop?"

his questions hits steve like an accusation and steve wishes he had expected for it not to happen. this is eddie now, he's a little bit harsh and more than a little bit angry at the world. and god, steve had hoped that being with him, that being outside with him would help just even for a minute.

he wishes the upside down would open up and swallow him whole so he could escape the glare that eddie's throwing his way, but he couldn't stand to be an addition to the pain eddie carries around on his back. steve looks him in the eye, shoulders pushed back and something like determination on his face, and hopes he can feel what he's feeling, too.

"you know why."

it's whispered but he knows eddie hears him. it's loud, always loud in hawkins now, but he knows eddie hears him.

somewhere in between dragging eddie out of hell and nursing him back to semi-okayness and staying up in the middle of the night with cold rags on foreheads and arms wrapped around waists, something started growing. steve knows he can't have all of eddie from 86 back, and that's okay. he's not the steve from 86, either.

but he'll try with every last breath he has to see him smile again.

eddie steps closer, shuffles his boots across the dirt until he can take the gun from steve's hand. he does something with it that steve can't really see, unloads the ammo and puts the empty pieces into the deep pockets of his cargo pants. there's lighting flashing across the blood red sky and he's sees it mirrored in eddie's eyes.

"you mean it?" eddie whispers back. steve is strong and he's been holding on for so long to see a light like that in the dark brown pools he's staring into that it cracks a smile onto his face and he sees eddie's lips pull up just the tiniest bit to copy him. it's a start.

"yeah."

steve knows they don't have much time left topside and soon enough hopper will be yelling over the speaker they wired up to the bunker door that they have to come in. he knows they don't have much time left in whatever hawkins has become, more and more creatures breaking through the liminal space between worlds every day.

they don't have the time, but steve would tell the earth to stop spinning for eddie any day, and fitting their palms together to tangle their fingers seems like the right way to spend whatever time they have left.

#uh oh i started watching shadow and bone and seeing jesper with his guns has done something to me #this is way too long for a monday morning but sometimes you just have to write when you're anxious at work right #steddie #steddie headcanon #my writing #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie drabble #steddie ficlet #tw: gun mention #tw: gun use

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carolmunson · 2 years

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peanut butter vibe. (steve harrington x thick!reader)

fulfilling my own request for mean!hot!thick!reader and hot!rich!wealthy!corporate!steve harrington who is not so secretly in love with you. takes place in 1996 - reader and steve are 29 turning 30

word count: 10.2K

warnings: 18+ minors dni, f!reader, smut smut smut smut, there is smut everywere in this. from flashback smut to actual smut, they've BEEN fucking. mild daddy kink, face sitting, face riding, unprotected p in v sex, fingering (f receiving), oral (f and m receiving), references to shower sex. body type mention, very little body insecurity mention, reference to an ex boyfriend saying reader was 'too big' for something but it's not like -- something that they take into consideration. dirty talk, pet names (honey, baby, 'good girl' etc.), mild choking, steve is so bitchy but also so soft in this i hate him.

"Hi Stevie, it's me. I'm uh, I'm back a little early, Carly's having her baby soon -- I know it was a little weird last time with Andy being with me. We um, we broke up so he's not here this time. It wasn't like a big blow out or anything but -- why am I talking about this on your answering machine? Sorry. I'll be at Porter's tonight around 6 if you wanted to meet me there? It'd be cool to see you, I guess. -sigh- It's hard to bully you when you aren't responding. Anyway, bye -- I know you'll be there at 5:57 because you can't wait to see me."

Steve let out a sigh while the answering machine closed out with a beep, the robotic voice announcing 'End of Messages'. He took his glasses off and ran a hand over his face, tossing a look at the clock on the wall across from him. It was almost quitting time, and Porter's was only a twenty minute drive away from the office. Part of him selfishly didn't want to show up, or maybe show up a little late to make you sweat since you'd forced him to meet your boyfriend last time. Well, ex boyfriend now.

You and Steve weren't friends in high school. He was busy being King Steve, basketball playing jock covered in ladies and popular people. You were busy in drama club and creative writing in the library, protecting your friends from people like Steve. Sure you knew each other, you graduated in the same year, had a couple of classes together -- but neither of you were very interested in offering each other the time of day. Two incredibly different ships passing in the night.

You weren't Steve's type in high school, either. Steve was always caught with what you'd describe as 'pretty little things'. Girls with waists he could wrap his hands around, thin and toned thighs, girls with a little jiggle where it mattered the most and none where it didn't. The girl's wearing bikini's to his house parties when the pool was open. Maybe if you had looked like that, you would've known Steve in high school -- but then again, he wasn't really the kind of guy you were trying to hail down in Hawkins.

When you weren't getting finger blasted backstage by Eddie 'The Freak' Munson when he got to the theater too early for Hellfire Club, you were making eyes at college freshman at the coffee shop you worked at. Something about slightly older men, y'know? A little mature, a little more sure of themselves. Pouring over books and scribbling in their notebooks behind their frames, staying until close to finish a paper or study for an exam. You had one or two wrapped around your finger your senior year before you left to go to school in Chicago. After Chicago it was New York -- working in marketing for a cosmetics line.

You'd come back to Hawkins every year for the holidays, but one year when your grandfather passed away you ended up at Porter's after the funeral. You were 24 and heartbroken, nursing a glass of red wine, looking out of place in your Manhattan clothes in the cozy small town bar.

You were alone at the stools until Steve Harrington came through the door, suit jacket slung over his shoulder and tie loosened over his button down. He nodded at the bar tender who instinctively poured him a whiskey before he even made it to the barstool two over from you.

"Rough day, Harrington?" he asked, sliding the drink down to him.

"You wouldn't believe, Paul," he shook his head, carding his fingers through his hair. He rested his chin on one hand, propped up on his elbow, catching your movement in the corner of his eye. He turned his head and looked over at you, a endearing smile lighting up his tired face -- that Harrington charm.

"What about you? Rough day?" he asked. At first you didn't realize he was talking to you, looking down into your wine and listening to the drone of whatever sports game was on the TV. You were brought back to earth when a soft 'hey' came from his direction.

"Me? Oh, yeah. My grandpa's funeral," you said with a scrunched face, shrugging, "Sort of a huge downer."

"Oh, wow," Steve said, turning his full body towards you on the stool, "Sorry for your loss -- that's -- yeah that beats my day. Sorry about that."

You murmur a thank you and go back to your wine, hearing him shift in his seat.

"You look really familiar," he says gently, scanning your face.

"We went to high school together," you say with a smile after a sip of your Malbec, "Class of '85."

"Hawkins High? You sure?," his voice gets a little syrupy, "I think I'd remember you."

"I was in drama -- wasn't really your type," you say with a smart head tilt. It didn't bother you that you hadn't been. The same way it didn't bother you that you might've been his type now.

You spent three hours together talking at the bar, exchanging stories about high school and your years out of it. He told you how he just started on the sales team for some big insurance company and felt so out of his depth but at least he got to wear a suit. You told him about your dingy apartment in the Lower East Side and how you missed driving all the time.

You spent another hour fucking in his BMW, riding him in the back seat tucked in a dark corner of the Porter's empty parking lot. Your skirt pushed up over your hips.

"Fuck," Steve grunted through gritted teeth, splayed out in the center of the back seat, his legs as far out as that could go, "Y'feel so fucking good. So fucking good on top of me."

You whimpered in response, the curve of his cock hitting your spongey, sensitive g-spot with every bounce. Your grip on his shoulders tightened as his hands moved smoothly over your thighs, finger tips digging into your fleshy hips when he got your reflection in the rear view mirror. Rear view, indeed. He let his eyes rest on the reverberation of your ass coming down on his hips and big legs with each shove down on his cock. The wet smack! of is crotch hitting against your soaked pussy making him want to fuck you even harder. He kneaded your body in his hands, grabbing handfuls of you as he got to your backside, humming while he felt it shake just out of his grasp.

You yelped when his warm palm cracked down on it, an angry sting running through your lower body. You couldn't help but tighten around him, slick dripping over him between your legs.

"Hm, you like that? You like when I smack that fucking ass?" he asked, holding your hips down so he could buck into you with a faster speed. Groaning while he pumped with vigor, you hear another hard crack on your ass resounding in the backseat before you feel the burn of it. Your whines made his cock twitch, slowing down to feel your hips grinding desperately against him for more friction. You slapped your palms gently against his clothed chest, pouting as you shimmied for more of his assault against your aching cunt.

“You love this cock, huh? Look at you, so fuckin' needy for it,” he gloated while your eyes narrowed in on him. Oh no, you weren't about to give Steve Harrington the satisfaction of telling him how fucking amazing his dick felt plowing into you. You weren't about to admit that all the things girls would say about him in high school were true. You reached for his jaw, holding it tight in your hand to look down at him while his hips slowed to a stop. He looked up at you, his eyes a little glassy, his grip loosening on your hips.

“Shut - your mouth,” you hissed down at him. He flushes, a smirk slips onto his lips as he leans back, putting his hands behind his head, his elbows splayed out next to him.

"Yes ma'am," he says with a soft raise to his eyebrows.

"If you'd like," he starts, taking his glasses off and tucking them into his breast pocket. He looks unbothered by your act of dominance while he runs a hand through his hair and leans forward to close the gap between you. His hands digging firmly into your ass to keep you balanced on his thighs.

His lips ghost yours while he speaks low and huskily, "I can take you back to mine and show you all the other ways I know how to use it."

He ate your pussy with the lights on and gave you his number before driving you back to your place.

'I like talking to you,' he shrugged, 'Call me whenever.'

And so began a so far, five year friendship -- you'd have long phone calls every few weeks or months when your busy schedules allowed. Staying updated on each other: how work was going, what bad dates you both had been on, what hijinks you'd been getting into with friends. Promotions, birthdays, hardships. It was nice to have a friend from home, someone who sort of knew the people you knew before you left. Nice to gossip a little, nice to laugh with each other.

Every time you came back to Hawkins, you'd meet up at Porter's for a drink. Have a real talk like you did the first night you got to know each other and then somehow, for some reason, you'd end up back at his place.

"What'd I say? Right on time, Harrington," you call out when he comes through the door. Steve groans, looking at his watch -- 5:57 on the dot. He'd had a long day, he was tired, and for a moment the sound of your voice made him grit his teeth.

You watch him check his watch and his smile tightens. He looks good -- suit much more refined from when you first really met him five years ago. Tailored, in a color that compliments his skin, his tie perfectly kept to his chest with what you assume was a pricey tie clip, shoes shined. He'd fit in great on Wall Street if he'd just get a fucking hair cut.

The way he walks towards you holds a different confidence than it had in the last year and a half when you were with Andy. Though it was clear he didn't particularly like Andy, he was perfectly pleasant -- able to slip right into a cadence of faux friendship you only wished Andy could've done. You once him over a second time as he sits in the stool next to you, his cologne was new, but expected. It felt like every man you knew was wearing Aqua di Gio.

"I know you're always so desperate to impress me but I gotta say, you look a little overdressed for Porter's. Were you nervous or something?" you ask sweetly, sipping on your red wine. You slide a whiskey double infront of him and he looks down at it, a frustrated smile breaks against his face. He bites the tip of his tongue between his teeth, shaking his head -- his hair moves with him.

"Looks like you didn't bother getting dressed up for me at all," he bites back, "C'mon, Manhattan -- a Hawkins High sweatshirt?"

Manhattan -- his favorite nick name when you got too big for your britches. A little too snobby for his liking, which was funny coming from a man with more designer clothing than you could dream to afford.

You looked down at yourself, you'd stolen the sweatshirt from your little sister -- your original one too battered and stained to see the light of day again. Sure, maybe your light wash bootcut jeans weren't screaming high fashion but your black square toed boots were cute! You swore you looked good before you left, but suddenly you weren't sure. You'd fallen off dressing 'nice' when you were home, it just wasn't worth it.

"Okay, mean," you spit, not giving off offense -- but not hiding it either.

"I like the boots, though," he shrugs, lifting the tumbler to his lips. The golden brown of the whiskey matched his eyes, they seemed to soften as the liquid met his mouth.

"Top shelf?" Steve's teeth are bright and straight in his smile while he sets the glass down.

"Do I ever disappoint?" you ask, crossing your legs. He burns pink at the question.

"Never," he's earnest in his response, finally making full eye contact with you, "You staying through the holidays?"

"Just for a few days, then heading back to wrap up Q4, I'll be back on the 23rd like always," you say. He nods and stands up, scooting his bar stool closer to yours -- just enough that your knees brushed. He leans forward, acting like it's too loud to hear you but the bar is only half full. You lean forward too, resting your chin on your hand, elbow drilling into your crossed thighs.

"And how's Carly?" he asks, you can see the delicate five o'clock shadow peeking through on his chin and neck. His lips full and wet with whiskey, he slides his tongue over them slowly to collect the flavor.

"So over being pregnant," you roll your eyes over your older sister's dramatics, "But you know -- she's excited. I'm excited, too! I get to live out my dreams of being the mysterious, hot, rich aunt."

"So, what -- Andy didn't want to be the rich uncle?" he asks, you note that he drops 'mysterious' and 'hot'. The mention of Andy stings a little and your eyes droop down to your wine.

"Sorry," he says, his comforting hand falling on your knee, "I'm sorry."

He squeezes your knee when you don't look up at his apology, a beat passes while you contemplate saying something mean -- but it's a little nice to see him feel apologetic.

"Do you wanna talk about it?" he asks, his thumb soothingly running back and forth over your thigh as his hand moves further up. Steve frowns at your disappointed face, he hated crossing the line by accident.

You shake your head no, tilting your head back up, "Let's wait on that. I wanna hear about that big promotion you got -- we haven't really gotten to talk about it."

Steve got promoted to Director of Sales six months ago and it was kicking his ass way less than his previous management position. What was most exhausting was how incompetent everyone was.

"Well, you were kind of too busy --" he started, but quickly shook his head out of the bit, "It's fine, it's a lot of work -- god, no one ever knows what they're doing. A lot of directing going into this director of sales thing."

"Aww, my little scumbag -- running the insurance show," you coo, "You should do car sales next, so sleazy, you'll fit right in."

"You're somethin' else, tonight," he laughs, taking his hand off your leg, "And are you any better? Working for a company that tells women they're ugly so they'll buy all your shit? How's it going at L'Oreal anyway?"

You sigh and roll yours eyes, "More like L'Ore-hell. I just transferred into the marketing team from customer insights and it's somehow -- boring? I already know the answers to all of the problems they come up with. It's like they don't know who their customer base is."

Steve's eyes sparkle while you continue to rant about ROIs and think tanks, he loves when you talk about how much you hate your job. You get so passionate, you talk so fast he can barely keep up.

"I wish I could check your blood pressue right now," he jokes, it's the kind of joke adults make. Sometimes it feels like you're both playing the parts of adults at these bar hang outs -- two kids in their parent's clothes on barstools, just giggling.

"When I went to the doctor they had to check it twice because I was talking about work when they checked it the first time -- that's how stressed out it makes me," you huff.

"Sorry, I just made that all about me, can you please let me more about your director job -- are you at least happy about the promotion?" you ask.

You miss his hand on your leg but it's probably just the wine talking. Paul comes over to replenish the glass without asking, you and Steve were both two drinks and go kind of people (sometimes you'd sneak a third if he wasn't paying attention).

"I mean, sure -- I'm a step away from getting into a chair position. I'm making more money than I know what to do with. My dad is thrilled for the first time ever," he explains, always so expressive but you catch him nervously swipe through his hair, "But -- fuck...y'know?"

"I don't know," you laugh into your glass, "What do you mean, 'fuck'?"

"I'm gonna be thirty next year and like, what do I have to show for it other than --"

"Other than being a wealthy hometown high school basketball super star, swimming in pussy, who got a cushy office job two years after graduating because your daddy was tired of seeing you work at Family Video, and now is the director of sales at a big wig insurance company after only what -- seven years in the company? And wears designer suits and is still swimming in pussy?" you say in one breath. He sighs at you and leans his head into his hand, elbow resting on the bar.

"Sure -- I guess," he smiles, but it's a sad smile.

"What more do you want, Steve?" you ask with a shrug, "You've got a pretty sweet deal here."

"I don't know," he shrugs, "I mean look at you -- every time you come back you have a new story to tell me, something exciting that happened to you. I have -- pfft -- 'They hired a new secretary! Here's the gossip about other people in Hawkins I learned from my mom! I'm still sort of a loser!"

"I mean sure, yeah, you're a loser," you agree, "But not, y'know, not like -- in the bad way."

He tosses you a look but you smile back at it, making him smile back at you. This time it's genuine, you figure the whiskey is helping. Steve sits back up to full height and leans back in his bar stool, knees splaying out. If he took his suit jacket off you'd swear he'd look like one of those 1950's husbands whose a little annoyed that dinner isn't ready yet -- your thighs press tight together.

"I think you sound bored," you suggest, "Like you need something different."

He drums his fingers on the bar, staring at them while he speaks, "I have some options I've been thinking about, but I don't know. Don't wanna make a fool of myself if it doesn't work out."

"Don't wait too long," you say with a shrug, "Another ten years will fly by like that." You snap your fingers for emphasis.

"What happened with Andy?" he presses, sipping his whiskey to down the rest and putting the empty glass on the table.

You 'ugh' under your breath and take a big sip of wine before you feel him tug at the end of the stem, "Sloooow down. Don't wanna to have to carry you out of here."

"You couldn't carry me, Harrington," you say flatly.

"We both know that I can carry you, but okay," he says with a quirked brow, unimpressed with your attitude. The memory of him hoisting you up against the shower tile in his bathroom with your fleshy thighs wrapped tight around him flashes through your mind. Hot breath and hot water running all over you while he grunted into your ear with each desperate thrust. Steve notices your cheeks heat up -- he knows what you're thinking about, because he is too. A satisfied smile settles onto his lips.

"Alright, settle down," you say, pushing your glass a little away from you towards Steve while his next whiskey arrives. You aren't sure if you're talking to him or to yourself.

"I just..." you breathe out of your nose, "It wasn't working out. I was tired of taking care of him."

"Oh, you broke up with him?" Steve confirms.

"Yeah," you sit back a bit, furrowing your brow, "Did you think he broke up with me?"

"I don't know, you seemed really sad about it!" Steve says, his hands outstretched, "I thought he left you."

"He didn't," you say, "I left, but it's still a bummer. Thought maybe he could've been it, y'know? But, thinking back it would've been -- I don't know -- it wasn't going to happen."

"He didn't want to get married?" he asked, a little surprised.

"I don't think that was in his five year plan, he barely took me out to dinner," you complained, "I was paying for everything 'cause I had a better job."

Steve crossed his arms while you talked, frowning while you continued to ramble about Andy and the break up.

"I just felt like I was putting a lot of effort into him, and I wasn't getting anything in return," you shrug, "And like, that's okay. I'm so used to doing that but...I don't know, I think I just would like for someone to take care of me for a change."

You pause, considering what you said and shake your head, "That sounds so selfish, oh my god."

"I don't think it sounds selfish at all," Steve shakes his head, "I think you're sort of asking for the bare minimum -- I mean fuck, he didn't take you out to dinner? I've taken you out to dinner and you've never even been my..."

You're both quiet for a beat while he trails off, neither of you looking at each other. You reach for your wine and he moves the glass away just as your fingers graze the stem. You lift your butt of the stool and pluck it out of his hand, taking another - smaller - sip. He looks at you like a disappointed father.

"Maybe I wanted to try it? Ugh, you're right Manhattan, you're so selfish," Steve teased.

"You don't like Malbec, Stevie," you swirl the booze in your glass, "That's why I order it."

Steve knows that's why you order Malbec, that's why he kept ordering whiskey -- you don't like it, but he'll know you're getting a little drunk if you ask for a sip of his drink. That's when he knows it's time to take you home, he'd sleep with you another night. He doesn't want you to get too drunk tonight, something about your flushed cheeks. The way you look in those boot cut jeans -- especially when you excused yourself to the bathroom and he could watch you walk away. Whew.

Steve waits for the door to close behind you to hail down Paul to get the check.

"She's gonna get pissy that you're covering it," Paul said while passing him the bill for your drinks, "She told me not to let you pay when she got here."

"Paul -- What's she gonna do? Kill me?" he gestures his hand out while using the other to reach for his wallet. He pulls out a few bills, including a generous tip, and passes them to Paul indiscreetly.

"Steve -- come on!" He winces at your voice, "I told you last time I had it next!"

"My hand slipped -- suddenly the money just appeared in Paul's register, there was nothing I could do," Steve held his hands up.

"Paul!" you call down the bar, but the yell turns into a laugh, "You promised you wouldn't let him pay!"

"He threatened me within an inch of my life. Had to let the man do what he wants," Paul said, putting the cash in the register. You settle back into your stool and cross your legs again, smoothing your damp hands on your jeans.

"I'm gonna kill you, Harrington," you mutter to your knees.

"I feel like 'thank you' would've been a much nicer thing to say," he's always so cool when he talks. You envy how easy it is for him to be charming, to turn it on quickly. Sometimes he makes you feel nervous and seventeen again, even though you've done this so many times before. He looks at you over the whiskey glass while he sips it, eyes glittering behind his glasses. Neither of you have to say anything to know what happens after his finishes his drink.

When you left, he reached for your hand when the door to Porter's closed behind you. You didn't need the support, the parking lot wasn't icy or snow covered, you weren't drunk -- but you let his fingers lace with yours. He guides you deliberately to his car -- of course it's new -- a dark green Porsche 911. What a tool.

"You like my new toy?" he asked. It was easily the most expensive car you'd seen in Indiana.

"Steven," you're a little exasperated -- sometimes he was such a poor little rich boy, "Why?"

He shrugs, "Felt like it."

You let go of his hand to walk to the passengers side door, waiting for him to unlock it while you shiver. He notices you didn't have a coat on, shaming himself silently for not offering his trench for the short walk.

You both get in when he unlocks to doors and you eye the interior, the plush leather of the seats. You squint a little when you cast your eyes over to him, "I feel like you're compensating for something."

"Oh yeah?" he asks casually, starting the car and cranking the heat, "What am I compensating for? Wanna remind me?"

You cross your arms and don't answer because he doesn't have anything to compensate for. Steve Harrington was born blessed, if you were more religious you'd swear he was God's favorite.

"That's what I thought," he says with a grin while pulling out of the parking lot. His hand meets your head rest while he stretches his neck back to check for cars. The same hand falls to your thigh when you make it on the road, sliding his palm over the swell of it -- his fingers resting inside. He let his eyes glance at how your hips filled up the small passengers seat at a red light, your jeans tight over your thighs.

Steve gave you a soft squeeze when the light turned green, you put your hand over his hand at the gesture -- relacing your fingers. You don't notice the gentle smile blooming onto his face, too busy looking at Christmas lights on the houses outside.

You don't waste time when you both get into his house, slipping off your shoes at the entry way -- bolstering passed the darkened livingroom to the stairs in his mini-mansion. He follows quickly behind you, getting ahead of you to get into his room to turn on the bedside lamps.

"Are those new?" you whisper -- it's not like anyone is home, it's Steve's house, but the darkness makes you feel like you have to be quiet. He comes back over to you, quick on his socked feet and pulls you in for a feverish kiss.

"Yeah," he says between kisses, all harsh breaths and wet clicks, "I had a new -- mmm -- uh fuck -- new decorator come in."

His hands are wound in your hair while he keeps control of your head, his kisses go from fast and hungry to slow and controlled.

"I'll show you later," he mumbles against your lips. You nod in agreement, you did genuinely want to see. What fancy hotel was it based off of this time?

"This is okay, right?" he asks, pulling away, "I'm sorry I didn't ask I just -- old habits, I guess."

"It's okay, Stevie," you assure, his hands slipping out of your hair and onto your full cheeks. He squishes them together a little and smiles into a little chuckle. Sometimes you're so cute to him he can't stand it, he wants to eat you whole -- wants to keep you in his bed forever.

"Good," he mumbles again before settling back in for a deep kiss that leaves you moaning softly into his mouth, "Missed feeling you like this."

"You're so needy," you tease, his hands dropping from your face to your hips, feeling his own press against yours.

"Oh, you feel that?" he smirks, dick hard in his slacks -- straining despterately to get your attention.

"Needier than I thought," you scoff, "You gonna make it, Steve? You don't even have your jacket off yet."

"Watch your mouth," it's not mean when he says it, he likes when you tease him because you have nothing to back it up. You've never left unsatisfied -- even when you were on top calling him your 'sweet boy', you'd get in the shower after with your legs shaking. Shivering against him when he'd get on his knees and lick at your sensitive clit just to watch you leave hand print on the glass.

"You just sound so pretty, miss. I can't help myself," he'd say from below you, water droplets resting on his eyelashes while you gushed over his mouth.

Steve breaks away to take off his jacket and looks at it for a split second -- hesitating.

"You wanna hang it up, huh?" you know how he gets.

"Will you be mad? I just don't want it to crease," he pleads.

"You're gonna get the suit dry cleaned anyway," you say back, laughing.

"I know, I know, but I have to -- I just have to hang it up, I'm so sorry," he presses a chaste peck to your lips before disappearing into his walk in closet. You take your time getting undressed because you know he'll be at least seven to nine minutes while he puts everything back in the 'to be dry cleaned' part of the closet.

You keep your bra and panties on, white satin, a little lace. He's always a sucker for something angelic that's a little grown up -- but you guess you are grown ups now. It's weird to consider.

He emerges from the closet in his boxer breifs with a frown, "Why'd you take your clothes off without me?"

"You took your clothes off without me," you counter point, "Did you want me to just sit here and wait for you?"

"Kinda," he says with a half shrug, "Would've been nice."

You get a little giddy while he approaches you, his smile building when yours does. His hands skate over the flesh on top of your flared ribs, over to your back. His fingers gliding over the back strap of your bra before snapping it off of you, dropping it to the floor. He traces the indents on your skin from the clothing, red and raw. Big hands grope at your breasts before following the slope of your waist back down to your ass, filling his hands greedily.

"Missed her the most," another chaste kiss to your lips, "But I think you knew that." Steve had always thought he was a tits guy until he met you, maybe you were the exception. Maybe he liked all your parts.

"I knew that," you say, wrapping your arms around his neck, "Can you stop stalling, Harrington? This wine's gonna wear off soon."

With your hold on his neck, laying you back on the mattress was an easy feat. He spread you out wide, pushing your hands above your head while he settled his hips against yours. He couldn't help himself from starting to rut against you -- you were so warm, your pussy practically begging him to fuck you.

"Ooh," you moaned out against your better wishes, his covered cock giving you just enough friction in your panties to set you ablaze. You could feel yourself dripping into them, begging, waiting for him.

"You really want me tonight, huh?" he asked hungrily, knowing the answer.

"Y-yes, Stevie," you whined, letting go of his hands to let your nails graze down his back, feeling the length of him trapped in his boxers press against you.

"Oh-ho-ho, whose needy now, hm?" he teases in your ear, grinding mercilessly against you, his chest pressed up against yours while he keeps you pinned the the mattress.

"So quick with that tongue earlier, what happened?" he smirks, getting right in your face, brushing his nose against yours. You roll your hips against his, your thighs sliding against his hips as another mewl escapes you at the friction.

"Oh, I see. You wanna be good for daddy now, don't you?"

"Steven," your eyes pop open, your mouth gapes with a smile, "You can't just say stuff like that."

He laughs into a kiss on your neck, "C'mon, I think you liked it."

"I don't really think you're the 'daddy', type," you say, your voice taunting.

"No?" he asks his voice is calm, but his eyes are challenging you.

"No, you're too nice," you smirk while he comes up to kiss your mouth, "You've never won a fight in your life. And you're what, almost 30? Who're you bossin' around?"

He watches you raise a brow when you say it, your lower lip tucking slowly between your teeth in a grin -- god he loves when you do that.

"Lot of secretaries to go through in the office, mmm," he hums when your lips graze his neck, your tongue striping up to his jaw, "Learned a couple things."

"You think I can't boss you around?" he asks, pressing up off of you and leaning onto one of his forearms.

"I know you can't boss me around," you say, your brows quirking while you push at his chest to get on top of him like you always do. Already soaking at the thought of him whining for you to fuck him, to cum all over him, grabbing at your thighs, hips, and ass desperately. His heaving breaths after finishing, resting his head on your stomach while you stroked his hair, feeling his lips press against your soft, pudgy, belly to let you know he's ready for the next round.

He caught your wrist as you pushed and pressed it back down into the mattress.

"Oh c'mon Stevie, I love hearing you beg for me," you tease before he presses his mouth against yours, noses squishing together. Over the years, Steve craved closeness from you -- pulling you flush against his chest when you were on top, wrapping his arms around your back. Clutching you, fingertips sinking into your cloud-soft flesh while you moaned into his ear.

"Think you can beg for me for a change," he mutters, pulling away as you reach to kiss him again. A little whine pulls from your throat and he purrs at the sound. Right where he wants you.

He gets on his knees between your legs and looks down at you, eyes roaming the expanse of your body -- your broad shoulders, soft skin, delicate curves and indents. His personal Aphrodite -- flesh turned fine art. All the Rennaissance paintings in the world couldn't do you justice. He stuttered the first time he saw you naked, overwhelmed by you and how not shy you were for him to see you. Steve let's a finger trail along the lining of your silk panties at your thigh, you shiver at his soft touch.

"Take these off," he says, but it comes out as a demand.

"So mean," you tease, tugging at the elastic and lifting your hips up to push them over your butt and thighs. He shrugs off your jest, grabbing your underwear when they get too far down for you to reach and throwing them on the floor. He's rough when he flips you over to your stomach, the flesh of your ass bouncing with the movement and he salivates immediately.

"I'll show you mean," he says, it's more playful than menacing. He brings a hand down hard on your soft body, ass reverberating with the action and you gasp -- tensing all around.

"Ow -- Steve!" you cry out, trying to catch your breath.

“Oh, shit,” he smooths over the pink handprint blooming on your skin, “I’m sorry.”

"It's okay, it's fine, just -- I don't know, warn a girl," you laugh. His hand drags over the curve of your ass to your thigh.

"Did you like that?" he asked, his voice dropped to his lower register and you inadvertently press your thighs together. Your face drops into your arms on the mattress, blushing.

"Is that a yes?" he asks, fingers snaking to your inner thigh and your hips roll slowly at the feeling. He hums when he sees you nod into your forearms.

"On your knees, baby," he suggests, tapping your thigh. You adjust onto your knees, forearms still on the mattress in a perfect deep arch. He sits back at first, taking a moment to marvel at your ass in the air -- committing it to memory. He keeps his hand on your inner thigh, massaging gently while you settle into position.

"Open up a little more for me," he's gentle, pushing at your flesh so you open up wider. You adjust and he grins, sliding his boxers off -- you whimper when he does.

"You okay?" his voice laces with acute concern, it wasn't a sexy whine or cry like you usually do. He stands up so he can soothe you from the side of the bed, his hand smoothing over your back.

"I thought you were gonna -- I didn't know we were immediately gonna fuck," you say, leaning your face to the side to look at him.

"Oh no - I wasn't just gonna - when have I ever just gone in and fucked you?" he laughs, "I just wanna jerk off while you sit on my face, is that okay?"

"So much for me begging for you," you smirk, "Sitting on your face, just like old times."

He huffs a breath through his nose looking down at you, his face unimpressed. He leans forward, face inches away from yours, "Who was just whining over the idea that I might not eat her pussy tonight?"

You burn at his words and he notices, "Was it you?"

You nod with an embarrassed smile, "If you're a good girl, I'll let you be the boss next time. I'll teach you a few things, yeah?"

"Steeeeve," you whine while your skin is in flames, "You can't say that."

He gets on the bed behind you, one hand on the bend of your hip, the other with his fingers sliding against your open folds -- finding slicknes without surprise.

"Can't say what?" he asks with a smile, "Can't call you my good girl?"

Your hips push back on his fingers when he says it and you scold yourself at your body's betrayal. You hear him tutt behind you and you clench around nothing at the sound, "Sure feels like I can."

He slides under you like a well versed mechanic, arms and hands immediately wrapping around your thighs, stifiling their nervous jiggle. He guides you down to his mouth, your posture changing while you sit further up and back so you can see his eyes and he can see all of you. Your hips wiggle as you feel his breath on your opening.

"Are you excited?" he asks, you nod and he can't hold out anymore at the sight of your smile. You feel his tongue drag, poking between your folds once you relaxed -- his fingers reaching to keep you spread open to start.

Your smile transforms to a pornographic gasp, head immediately thrown back as his tongue stripes you again. Your hips rock against his mouth, Steve smirks to himself into the next lick, flicking over your clit and a peal of mewls escape your lips.

He feels at home here, your full, thick thighs keeping his ears warm in the December weather. This big cold house suddenly feeling full with your voice moaning his name. He didn't need the whiskey if you were offering to quench his thirst like this.

You feel his tongue lap at your opening, the thick, wet, muscle pushing in past your walls trying to desperate to out maneuver him. His face was coated in your juices, dripping freely own onto his chin and cheeks while he fucked you with his tongue. He watched as your hand reached down to tease your clit, he caught it in his, pushing it up to your breasts.

"Play with your tits f'me baby, let me watch," he says, scooting up a bit.

"But Steve I --" you huff, desperate for some extra stimulation.

"I'm getting there, if you'd just be patient for like, twenty seconds," his voice sounds like he's back at the bar, admonishing you like you're rushing him to get out of the bathroom.

"You're ruining the mood," you cross your arms over your chest, pouting.

"Aww, I'm ruining the mood?" he mocks, a fake frown matching yours. He slides a finger slowly past your tight walls and you falter a little but hold to your convictions. He holds eye contact with you through his glasses, pushing a second finger in to meet the first.

Your mouth gapes, eyes pricking with tears as your walls close down hard on him, "Am I still ruining the mood, baby?"

A silent cry rattles your chest, falling quietly out of your open mouth. Your eyes close tight while he snickers, pumping his fingers in a steady rhythm, "It's all better now, isn't it?"

His voice makes you dizzy, he used to talk to you like this when you first started fucking. Cocky and confident -- certain he was making you feel good, and fuck he was. What did he ask you to do before? Your brain was racking for the command, but too overwhelmed with pleasure when he hooked his fingers to find your g-spot.

"Stevie -- oh fuck, fuck, please more," you whine out, you sound pathetic but you can't even find your self to care. It feels like a roller coaster reaching it's peak with every curve of his fingers teasing your spongey center. 'Play with your tits f'me baby, let me watch.' There it is, that you could do. You palm your breasts, pulling and pinching at your hard nipples looking down at him over your belly pooch. He winks when his tongue finally makes contact with your clit and you shudder instantly. You gush over his fingers, taken by surprised by your own orgasm -- already feeling the second one building.

"That's my good girl," he purrs beneath you, "Stay just like that, okay? I'm not done."

You gulp, feeling his soft kitten licks back on your clit start to ramp up to fast flutters -- Steve didn't want to start you back up slowly. Your breath had barely steadied before it picked back up again, flexing your core to keep yourself hovering above him. Your hand reached down to his hair, tugging while your thighs tensed.

"Ride my face, baby, come on," he encourged, "You've never been nervous to do it before."

"I --," you hesitated, "I didn't with Andy -- it's been a while."

"What?" he asked, surprised, pushing up so his full head peeked out from between your legs, "Are you fucking with me?"

"He...ugh, Steve," you leaned your head back and then turned it back down, mumbling, "He said I was too heavy."

Steve's eyes furrow, mouth open, unsure at first how to respond -- aghast, "This guy sounds like a fucking loser. You're not too heavy -- god -- who says 'no' to that? What's wrong this this guy?"

Steve shakes his head and pushes back down, "Sit on my face, baby. Fuckin' suffocate me."

You don't have a choice, he pulls you down onto him, your knees sliding further apart and you can't help but start grinding your hips against his tongue. The whole act sounds as lewd as it looks, wet and sticky as he captures your slit in his mouth to suck on it. Spreading your ass in his hands to spread you further apart, moaning low into your pussy so you can feel the vibration through your core.

"Ohmygod, ohmygod, ooh daddy just like that," the words just pour out of you while you start reaching your second peak, hips writhing onto him with your back arched. Steve grips your ass cheek hard before smacking down on it with a loud 'thwap!', satisfaction burning in his stomach -- daddy, daddy, daddy. The same hand reaches for his neglected cock, covered in pre, leaving a patch of cold liquid on his hard, muscled stomach.

Steve feels your hips hump his mouth in quick succession, his nose bumping your clit rapidly. Your moans get shorter and higher with each flick of his tongue against you until they're just huffed breaths.

"Mmm, come on," he nods up at you, "You can do it, angel."

You nod back, face contorted while tears stain your cheeks, the next roll of your hips his mouth makes contact with your clit again. You see stars, you cum so hard you swear you're pissing. You can hear Steve's grunts under you, collecting your slick to add friction to the fist he's fucking behind you.

"Get on your back," he demands, "Need t'fuck you, holy shit."

You get on your back, looking up at him now on his knees, both of your eyes lust blown in the low light. You weren't a stranger to his cock, but every time you saw it you couldn't help but feel spit build in your mouth. It was angry tonight, tip red and leaking, veins pulsing while he stroked himself looking down at you.

"I don't know, Stevie -- it might be -- it's too much," you say, thighs pressing together to protect your sensitive cunt.

"Two is nothing, honey," he shakes his head opening your legs up, crawling over you to line his tip up with your entrance, "You've given me four in less time."

You whine like a child, but you don't stop him when he slides the tip against your entrance, building up the slickness to slide over his cock. When his tip pops in you hiss, back arching to feel another inch push into you.

"Oh, that shut you up, huh?" that voice was back again, Steve was starting to feel so confident, you might as well start calling him Manhattan. He pushes deep into you, all the way to the hilt -- your legs springing up against your chest automatically -- heels hitting his back.

"You feel so good, Stevie," you moan into his mouth while he leans in to kiss you.

"Pussy's fucking made for me," he rasps while his thrusts pick up, forceful and deliberate. Steve loves fucking you because he knows how well you can take it. You were built sturdy, plush, soft -- he loved how it felt to slam into you. He'd heard it on the radio, some cheesy line 'more cushion for the pushin', but fuck if it wasn't true.

Steve knew he wouldn't last long inside you, your pussy tight and wet -- hugging him in place, resisting his exit. He filled you completely, your eyes rolling back the second you felt the hair at the base of his cock tickle your skin over and over again.

"Steve, oh god Steve," you moan through gritted teeth, tears back to rolling down your cheeks as your nails dig into his back, "Just like that daddy, fuck me like that."

His mouth falls open at your words, the girls on his desk never talk like that. He can't fuck them how he wants to, never throws them around. They don't look at him the way you look at him, soft and pretty. They don't wanna wash his hair for him in the shower after, and kiss the freckles on his back. He doesn't wanna make them dinner after, or give them a ride home. He doesn't blush the way he does when it's you that calls him daddy. When you call out his name. When you look up at him with those eyes. When you hold his hand in the car. When you tease him for coming to Porter's early. When you call every time you come home just to see him when you could see anyone else.

Steve's hand finds your jaw but you guide it to your throat while you bounce against his thrusts, he chuckles wickedly, "When'd you turn into such a whore?"

His fingers press down expertly on your neck while you attempt to moan out an answer that he doesn't wanna hear. He just wants to keep watching your fucked out face and body while he drills into you deeper. His voice lilts into a mocking coo, your cunt drools.

"Just for me, isn't it?" he asks down at you through his glasses, and you nod quickly in his hold, "They're not fuckin' you like this in the city, huh?"

"Had to come all the way back to Indiana to get this dick, didn't you? All the way back home so daddy could fuck you just how you like it," he huffs, feeling himself get close.

"Yes, yes -- had t-to come back for you - oh fuck, fuck," you whine out, raspy and nasal from lack of blood flow.

"Who fucks you like I do, hm? Who else is makin' you come like I can?" he eases up on your throat, moving back to your jaw -- leaning in to give you a sloppy tongue kiss into your gasping mouth. You tighten again over him, gushing whatever creamy spend you had left in you, gripping his shoulder tightly while your eyes pinched closed.

When you're nose to nose again you look up at him, "Nobody, Stevie. Just you, it's just you."

He growls at the confirmation, his hips stuttering -- 'Nobody fucks her like I do,' ringing in his head while he feels his vision start to go white.

"Baby, baby," he starts, his voice softening, "God, fuck -- can I come in your mouth?"

You nod and he groans, panting while your wet walls keep his cock warm and tight inside you. Steve slows his thrusts which just makes the feeling more intoxicating, your sticky thighs meshing with his soaked hilt. You whimper and cry with every push into your overstimulated cunt, your legs almost giving out from being pressed against your chest.

"Jesus Christ. Gonna come in your mouth," he whispers into your neck, "Feels -- oh shit -- fuck, it feels so good in your pussy, though."

Steve knows he can't hold back, quickly pulling out of you while you shoot up onto your elbows. He pulls your head forward with one fell swoop of his big hand, your mouth and thrat sucking in his cock in a vice grip. You can feel the warm liquid start shooting into your mouth immediately, but it doesn't stop you from obediently sucking on it. He's peak caveman brain while he watches you, your eyes shining up at him while he holds his weight up on your head -- grunts and snarls coming out of his mouth while he finishes thrusting into your face.

You take your mouth off as he softens and swallow, gingerly sitting up slowly. Your thighs ache, you're exhausted. He sits down onto his calves, both of you panting on the center of the bed.

"Let me -- let me get you some water," he huffs out, sliding off the mattress into the attatched master bathroom. He's only gone for ten seconds, passing a clear glass into your shaking hand. You sip slowly to start before gulping it down.

"You okay?" he asks, leaning over to kiss your forehead, "You're quiet."

You nod, taking a deep breath and letting it out, "That was...insane."

He laughs, it makes you laugh, and he lays down onto the mattress to stare up at you. You look down at him, offering Steve a weak smile before looking back at your empty water cup. You slide off the bed like he did before, putting the glass back on the bathroom counter, peeing, washing your hands, and walking back out.

You let out a tired sigh, reaching for your clothes strewn about by his dresser -- sliding on your panties.

"What're you doin', Manhattan?" he asks, sitting up, "Got somewhere to be?"

"I'm getting dressed, Steve," you explain, putting your bra back on. Steve's chest hollowed, normally you'd have some pillow talk after -- talk it out. He still had to show you the new house decor.

"Hey, stop," his voice is soft as he waves his hand at you, "You don't have to do that."

"I gotta get home, Steve," you assure, "It's getting late."

"You..." he trails off before taking a deep breath, replenishing his confidence, "You could stay. I can drive you back in the morning."

"Steve..." you start, shimmying a little to get your jeans over your hips and thighs, "I never stay. That's not us, that's not what we do."

"It could be..." he suggests, his voice cracking a little, "Please?"

You stand there, in your bra and unbuttoned jeans, your tummy poking out where the zipper is undone. Your bra suddenly feels tight and uncomfortable, your underwear constricting you under the jeans that feel a size too small.

He looks you over, watching you contemplate it and gets up out of bed to meet you by his dresser. His hands reach to each side of your face, warm and big. His fingertips graze the hair at the edge of your scalp, pinkies and ring fingers on the back of your neck. He tilts your head up slightly to look at him and your heart hammers, more than it did the first time he started kissing you in his car. Steve's heart matches your cadence, remembering how nervous he was the first time he talked to you -- desperately wanting you to be impressed by him.

"I --" you start blushing, he's never looked at you quite like this, "I don't have anything to wear to bed."

"I don't want you to wear anything to bed," he says, leaning forward to capture your lips in his while you both step awkwardly as a unit back over to the bed, "It'd just get in the way in the morning."

"Please stay," he pleads again, pressing a gentle peck on your lips, "Please -peck-, please -peck-, please -peck-. "

"Okay, okay," you laugh, "Are you sure?"

"I'm begging you," he smiles, leaning his forehead against yours. The tops of his frames hitting your brow bone. He lets go of your face to make work of the top of your jeans, shoving them back down until they pool at your ankles. He unhooks your bra, a little too expertly, and snaps the band of your satin panties before rolling those down too. He moves down with them so he can skate his hands over your thighs and leave a warm kiss on the flesh over your hip bone -- apologizing to the bruise he left there earlier.

"Can't believe you kept your glasses on," you tease, "Dweeb."

He comes back up, sliding his glasses off smoothly, like he did in the back seat of his BMW five years ago, "I like being able to really see you."

"Am I blurry without them?" you asked, trying to take them out of his hand. He snatches them out of your grasp, hiding them behind his back.

"Not really," he says, walking over to the bedside table and placing them next to the lamp, "You told me they made me look handsome back in - think it was -- '94 maybe? -- So I just wanted to keep them on for insurance."

You look down at the floor, "I always think you look handsome, Harrington."

You feel his hand at the back base of your neck and turn to see him behind you, "Come back to bed."

He gets under the sheets and both duvets and turns down the covers next to him, slapping the pillow you're going to sleep on to beckon you forward. You want to roll your eyes but you can't force down the giddiness building in your chest -- sleep over!

You maneuver over to your side of the bed, slipping under the covers while he turns them back over you to tuck you in. Fuck are the sheets nice, they had to be some luxury brand you can only order through a catalog.

Steve clicks off his bedside lamp, leaning over you to click off yours and you catch the remnants of his cologne on his skin. It's not long before you feel his hand skate over you under the covers, sliding over your belly, up over every curve and bump on your body before resting a warm hand on the side of your breast. He hums sleepily and pulls you close to him, pressing his chest against your shoulder. His hot breath fans against your neck where he's settled his head.

"Isn't this nice?" he asks. You nod, turning onto your side to face him while his hand splays across your back to pull you closer. You slide a hand under the pillow, and savor the coolness on your hot skin. Steve looks at you with soft eyes, studying you.

"Can I tell you something?" he asks, "Or, well, can I ask you something?"

"Yeah, of course," you say, looking at him, trying to read his expression.

"Remember -- ah fuck, okay I'm doing this," he says, trying to psyche himself up, "Remember when I said I had some options? To make changes?"

"Yeah, I remember. You can't wait when those opportunities come, Harrington," you lecture, "I've fucked myself so many times with that."

"There's a position in the New York office," he blurts out, "In the head quarters that they're eyeing me for."

Your heart races, "Okay."

"And I'd be...I don't know, sort of demoted but I'd get a huge -- like, huge fucking pay raise," he explains, "And I -- I wanna take it."

A beat passes while he tries to figure out what to say.

"And maybe, I don't know -- maybe we could try this out? Like for real? Instead of just fucking around every Christmas."

You consider it, heat blooming in your cheeks -- the good kind. Your heart starts to swell -- not Steve Harrington asking you out when you're twenty-nine. Sixteen year old you would be screaming.

"What do you think?" he asks, he swipes his hand through his hair and even in the dark you know his cheeks are pink.

"I don't think it's a bad idea," you say, "I think it's the excitement you're looking for -- New York I mean, not me."

"I think you're really exciting," he leans in to kiss you with a grin.

"And I think," he presses his lips against yours again, "I'd do a pretty good job at taking care of you, if you let me."

You laugh through your nose, blushing hard while he kisses your cheek, "That sounds nice, doesn't it?"

"It does sound nice, Steve," you agree, but you don't want him to feel too good about it. You had a reputation to uphold, still. He leans back to look at you, thumb caressing your cheek as your lids fall half down your eyes, "I think I'd really like that."

"You wanna shower? You too tired?" his voice his so gentle you start to melt, but exhaustion weighs heavy on you.

"Too tired," you say, nuzzling forward into his neck -- your head now partially on his pillow.

"We can talk about it more in the morning, yeah?" he asks, a hand reaching up to smooth over your hair.

"Yeah," you said, your breath steadying, "I'll see you in the morning."

He knows you don't like eggs for breakfast but it's all he has in the fridge. It's fine. He'll just order in.

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fan fiction #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x readder #steve harrington #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington smut #dom steve harrington #steve harrington x you smut #steve harrington x reader smut #steve harrington x y/n #stranger things au #steve harrington au #steve harrington x thick!reader

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is-the-snake-video-cute · 1 year

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Thank you for you blog! I love it so much - I come here daily to read your latest posts.

I'd love to own a snake but alas, I currently live in New Zealand so no snakes for me.

Do you have cool facts about tuatara? I do but I'd love readers of your blog to learn about these cool little reptiles!

It's a huge dream of mine to work with tuatara one day! I've always loved the reptile life of Oceania and literally the only reason I haven't already moved to Australia or even Aotearoa/NZ is because of the limitations on keeping non-native species.

Anyway, aren't tuatara just the coolest? For those unfamiliar, tuatara (Sphenodon punctatus) might look like lizards, but they're not! Tuatara are the only surviving members of Rhynchocephalia, the sister order to Squamata, the scaled reptiles (lizards, snakes, and amphisbaenians).

Rhynchocephalians used to be very widespread, but today they exist only in limited populations in Aotearoa. They were almost driven to extinction by habitat loss and pressure from invasive species, and for a long time the only wild populations were on offshore islands. In a huge success for tuatara conservation, though, populations were reintroduced onto the North Island and there are now hatchlings being born on the North Island for the first time in centuries. There's still so much work to be done to help these amazing reptiles, but it's worth celebrating! The Chester Zoo in England has also welcomed tuatara hatchlings, meaning tuatara have been successfully bred outside of Aotearoa for the first time and indicating possible future success for wider zoo breeding programs across the world!

Tuatara have many anatomical features that are unique among reptiles, and they tell us a lot about the extinct rhynchocephalians. Their teeth arrangement is unique among reptiles, and their lower jaws can slide to cut through bone. They're the only known amniotes who have hourglass-shaped vertebrae, and they have gastralia (belly ribs). Even if they might look kinda like lizards on the outside, their skeleton is wildly different!

Tuatara have the most well-developed parietal eyes of any vertebrates. These are "third eyes" that sit on top of the head, and in most reptiles who have them they're extremely primitive, but in tuatara they have well-developed retinas and a cornea-like structure! Parietal eyes are covered by a thin layer of skin and probably help with thermoregulation and day/night cycle regulation.

They are carnivores and eat a wide diet of insects, lizards, and birds. Juvenile tuatara will hunt during the day so they can avoid being eaten themselves by adult tuatara, who hunt at night.

The name "tuatara" comes from te reo Māori, and means "peaks on the back," a reference to the spines along a tuatara's back. Tuatara are sexually dimorphic, and the spines are larger and more rigid in males. They're used in breeding and defensive displays!

One of the challenges for tuatara conservation is how long it takes them to reach sexual maturity - about 10-20 years, and they tend to have very small egg clutches. They've been recorded to lay up to 19 eggs, but a more typical clutch is as small as 3-6 eggs or even a single egg. These eggs also take over a year to be laid and hatch. They have the slowest growth rates of any reptile, reaching full size at around 30 years and having an average lifespan of around 60 but lifespans closer to 100 not being uncommon.

The oldest known tuatara is named Henry, and he lives at the Invercargill museum on the South Island. He's at least 120 but may be as old as 150, and is still fathering healthy clutches!

Tuatara are simply incredible. They're so unique among living reptiles, and they have so much to tell us about a mostly-extinct order of reptiles. Plus, like, you can't deny they're so cool and adorable!

#not a rating #tuatara #tuatara anatomy #sorry for the long post. being asked to talk about tuatara awakens something within me #long post

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am-i-the-asshole-official · 5 months

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WIBTA if I backed out of an overseas wedding trip that's in less than 6 months that I've been invited to for over 2 years

(Slight context first. The wedding was meant to be last year but got pushed back to this year. The wedding is for my fiancé's best friend who I've only met a few times. All of us are mid 20s early 30s.)

So this couple is getting married overseas for a destination wedding, and my fiancé (F) is a best man. He's known the groom (J) and his family for most of his life and loves them a lot, and they basically see him as their son. When F and I started dating (about 3 years ago), I met J pretty early on, and was told that naturally I was invited to the wedding. In the nearly 3 years my fiancé and I have been together, I've met J's fiancé and family twice, and each time they've been nothing but very kind to me and told me I was already family to them.

But, I'll be honest, I'm not very comfortable with the family. They are very big partiers, drinkers and smokers (including super early in the day), and I've had bad experiences with substances and people I know to where I intentionally keep my distance from the stuff, and if I'm put in a situation with it where I can't escape I shut down hard. I've previously had a conversation with my fiancé about how uncomfortable I was going to J's family's house because of it, and we talked through it and things are OK, but I still feel bad. Regardless, knowing that the family is very into the kinds of party scenes and stuff that I intentionally stay away from, my willingness to go to the wedding has dwindled for the past few months, especially knowing that for safety I'd have to stay with the party the whole time (about a week).

A few days ago, my fiancé started talking about how we needed to start getting things ready to go with tickets and travel plans, and then noted how unenthusiastic I was being about it, and ended up calling me out on how I was clearly just convincing myself that I NEEDED to go vs actually wanting to go.

He ended up telling me I needed to make a choice about it within a week, because he needed to work on travel plans, and I agreed. I worked through all my anxieties and concerns and reached the conclusion that I shouldn't go after all, since I'll just be in a stressed and panicked state the whole week and won't be able to enjoy myself.

My fiancé and I are going to talk officially about it in a few days, and we're meeting with J and his fiancé this upcoming weekend just to hang out, and while there I'm going to tell them that I'm not coming. I feel like the asshole because they've been really nice to me the few times we've met, these are people my fiancé really cares about and arent going anywhere for the foreseeable future, and I know the whole family will be pretty upset that I'm not coming, especially this soon before the wedding. However, I don't think I'd be able to enjoy myself or properly celebrate them if I went, and would feel like I'm trapping myself in a situation I'm extremely uncomfortable with.

So, WIBTA for my decision?

#aita #am i the asshole

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boundlessdaisy · 4 months

Text

Merthur Only You AU hear me out:

A fortune teller tells young Arthur that his soulmate's name is Myrdinn Emrys. He buys into the idea for so so long.

But at 26 years old, now an English teacher, Arthur does end up proposing to his college girlfriend Gwen, a surgeon and colleague of his sister Morgana.

Anxious to start making wedding plans, Arthur comes to Gwen's office only to learn that she's in surgery. Impatient and bored, he answers her phone when it rings. Someone's secretary is calling to reschedule an appointment because her boss is going to Rome. Arthur takes the boss's name and, what do you know... Myrdinn Emrys.

Posessed by his hopeless romantic childhood, Arthur - upon learning from the secretary that her boss's flight leaves in 30 mins - runs to the airport to see his soulmate... but he misses the flight.

Feeling stupid, he attempts to reach Gwen again but her line is still busy so he calls Emrys' secretary instead and asks her where her boss is staying in Rome. Upon learning this, Arthur makes the impulsive decision to book the next flight out to Rome to meet his soulmate at last.

It's not until he's standing at Emrys' door, dressed to the nines, smelling like a flower shop, that he realizes how insane of a decision it was to come here. Christ, he couldn't just have Facebook'd her? What if she was married? He was getting married, dear God, what was he doing-- A lady opens the door. Blonde. Curvy. Was she a model? Arthur tries to stop himself from drooling and says, "Emrys? I'm Arthur," as if she would just recognize him. Well, she doesn't, and it turns out, she wasn't Emrys anyway.

She tells him Emrys won't be back until morning so Arthur packs it in for the night and says he'll come back tomorrow.

He oversleeps of course. He runs up to Emrys' room and knocks on the door. Someone's inside, thank God, says they'll be at the door in a moment. Finally, Arthur thinks, he's gonna meet Emrys. His soulmate. The woman of his dreams... is a man?

Merlin opens the door of his hotel room to see the most handsome man he had ever seen in his life... with the most disappointed look on his beautiful, beautiful face. "Can I help you?" Merlin asks. "No. No, sorry about the intrusion." Arthur replies and starts to turn away but Merlin stops him, "You seem upset." Arthur laughs. Yeah, he was upset. He tells Merlin how he flew a thousand miles to see a delusion he had when he was a kid, he really thought he would meet his soulmate, my God, he is twenty six-- Merlin presses him about it, "Soulmate?"

Arthur explains everything. How when he was a kid he went to a fortune teller and the fortune teller gave him a name. The name of his soulmate, and he held on to the idea for longer than he should and just as he thought he had fully let it go, turns out he didn't. He still believed his soulmate was out there. Hearing himself now, it sounds so ridiculous-- "What was the name?" Merlin asks. "No, forget about it, it's stupid--" "Come'on, tell me, I might know him. Who knows?" Arthur hesitates, but finally tells him, "Myrdinn Emrys." Merlin couldn't help but laugh. Arthur starts walking away in shame but Merlin stops him. "Hey, no, don't go. Listen." Merlin smiles at him, "I'm Myrdinn Emrys."

Okay, so Merlin lied. So what? Arthur likes him, or he's beginning to. Sure, he spent the first half of the day having a full on bisexual crisis, but Merlin methodically eased him out of it with a series of historical facts about ancient sodomy (just so happens to be the dissertation he's working on right now, actually) as they go around the most beautiful city in the world. Love is a strong word, but when Arthur kisses Merlin at the end of the night, he's feeling something dangerously close to that. They just fit so well together. It's like they've known each other all their lives.

They're in Merlin's hotel room when Arthur comes out with it. "I have to tell you something." Merlin keeps kissing him, "I know you're bisexual, and I'm proud of you--" "It's not that" Merlin gasps, "I knew it." "You do?" "You're secretly a prince of some faraway country who's running away from the limelight because you can't handle the pressure. No?" "Emrys. I'm engaged."

Arthur tells Merlin about Gwen, and how he proposed to her just because he thought it was what he was supposed to do. Sure, he loved her, but it just felt so... simple, what they had. It wasn't memorable. It wasn't what he thought his love life would be like. "What did you think it would be like?" Merlin asks him and Arthur admits, "Like... this. Like a cheesy romantic comedy where I rush to the airport and follow you out to Rome without question because I knew. I knew I was meant to be here. I knew I was meant to meet you and.. and kiss you. I knew ever since I heard your name-- Oh god, I have to call off my wedding."

Arthur grabs his phone and calls Gwen at once but before the call could go through, Merlin stops him. "Wait. Wait. Before you do this. I have to tell you something." He takes Arthur's face in his hands and says intently, "I'm supposed to be in England right now. Ten hours into an all-nighter at the only cafe in campus that's open at this hour; I'm supposed to be alone and miserable, but instead I'm here, with you, in Rome for crying out loud, during the best day of my life, because my colleague got sick and they had to ship me to the conference instead-- and because you're my soulmate. Do you believe that?" "I do..." "But..." "But what?" "But my name... isn't Emrys. My name is Merlin."

Arthur. storms. off. Oh my god. He was going to cancel his whole damn wedding for this... fantasy! He flew to goddamned Rome like an idiot, and for what? Just to make a fool of himself that's what. Merlin's tailing him saying things like "Arthur, come on, it's just a name!" and "What's in a name?!" as if quoting Shakespeare would make everything better. He just hated himself for buying into all of it. Of course there was no such a thing as a soulmate, just as there was no such a thing as Myrdinn Emrys.

Or at least that's what he thought until he's about to get on a plane home and someone pages Myrdinn Emrys. He tries to let it go, he really does. Who cares? Even if it was a real person, he or she wouldn't be his soulmate because soulmates aren't real. They keep paging Emrys and Arthur keeps trying to act like he doesn't hear it, but he does hear the footsteps running up to their boarding gate and the flight attendants saying "Myrdinn Emrys?" and, dammit, he couldn't help himself. He turns around, it's a beautiful woman, brunette, she looks just his type... but all Arthur could think about, as the woman he'd been waiting for all his life stood before him, was how disapponted he was that she wasn't Merlin.

Because Arthur does live in a cheesy romantic comedy where someone rushes to the airport to follow someone anywhere without question, who else does he see just outside the boarding gates but Merlin. The attendant asks him if he's getting on the plane or not. "Of course not," Arthur responds, and runs out to meet the love of his life where he stood.

Merlin starts shouting an explanation before Arthur even gets to him, "I'm changing my name. Legally. I don't care what my name is. It's gonna be a very weird conversation with my mom but if that's what it takes--" "Shut up, Merlin," Arthur pulls him into a kiss, which Merlin interrupts. "What about Myrdinn Emrys?" "God, don't make me say it." "Say what?" Exasperated, Arthur says, "What kind of name is Myrdinn Emrys anyway?" He tries to pull Merlin back into the kiss but Merlin interrupts again, teasingly this time. "It's Welsh. It means immortal. It's from these legends, around the 1200s, there was this magician--" "Merlin." "Yes?" "I can't believe I want to kiss you so bad."

On their flight back home, Arthur exclaims, "Oh shit." "What?" "I forgot to call off my wedding!"

#im just gonna keep doing these like shark tank #i have covid and im only watching romcoms #merlin #arthur #merthur #bbc merlin #au #au ideas

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bill-ciphers-nightmare-blog · 11 days

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I'm still the person that told you to get over that break up because it's been 30 years and whose bones you then proceeded to seal

I forgot to mention this but

I'm pretty sure you worked with Standford Pines less than 30 years and if 30 years is like a weekend for you

Isn't this equivalent to a human obsessing over someone they've known for like a few hours

that's just pathetic man

you should talk about it in therapy :)

THAT’S- SO MAYBE IT WAS AN EXAGGERATION. WHO DOESN’T? MAN, YOU TAKE THE MEANINGLESS TOO LITERALLY! THINK LESS!

ANYWAY, TIME WORKS DIFFERENTLY WHEN YOU’RE IN ONE BIPEDAL BLEEDING HEART’S MINDSCAPE FREQUENTLY. YOU HAVE TO SLOW DOWN LEST THEIR CRANIUM POP! SIXER WAS PRETTY GOOD ABOUT IT UNTIL THE END, WHEN HE DECIDED TO HAVE OPINIONS. BLAME IT ON THE ECCENTRICITIES OF AGING! ALMOST USELESS.

AND PLEASE, I DON’T HAVE TO TALK ABOUT ANYTHING. DO NONE OF YOU SERIOUSLY GET THAT A GUY MIGHT BE A LITTLE MAD OVER A DEVOTEE CHICKENING OUT AND BLASTING HIM OFF THE METAPHYSICAL PLANE AND THEN LAUGHING ABOUT IT WITH THE LESSER-THANS? WHAT, WANT A NOBLE CAUSE FOR YOUR MORAL-STRICKEN MIND? I WAS GOING TO MAKE A BETTER WORLD. NOTHING TO IT. ME TRYING TO CONVINCE HIM? IT’S JUST CONVENIENT! HE SHOULD ..SEE.

..THAT’S ALL. IT DOESN’T MATTER WHATEVER WAY. SOMEONE WILL LET ME OUT. IT’S ONLY A MATTER OF WHEN. WANNA BET?

(-3 BONES. IT’S YOUR MUSCLES NEXT.)

#buy gold #bill cipher #gravity falls #billford #ford pines #raise an eyebrow at Bill everyone

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terras-domain · 11 months

Text

Trick or Be Tricked

Characters: Hwang Yeji, Yoo Jimin (Karina)

Tags: Halloween, shrinking, trick or treat, Dungeons & Dragons (DnD) kinda style (?), game master, lowkey story driven, somewhat bi

Note from writer: (HIYAAA ALL! I'm trying a bit of a new format for my smuts so it looks more organized. Plus, I'll be trying to finish this Halloween story before the end of this week, 5th of November 2023. Cheers all and happy Halloween <33)

(just a lil fyi to readers, DnD heavily relies on the dices results, the higher the number, the higher the damage. how much? depends on the one that controls the game aka me :3)

Halloween, that time of year again. Where the self-proclaimed 'spooky' seasons are at. Children running around in costumes, even adults too to celebrate with a well known tradition, trick or treating. Both JYP and SM Ent have proposed a collaboration of the festive season by making a 'trick or treat' event, where two leaders from their respective companies; Yeji and Karina will knocking door to door to greet fans on the occasions. At first it was kind of a fun event, meeting people excited to see them, gifting nice presents and candy, not to mention the children's heart melting wishes for them, making both Yeji and Karina enjoy the day, until they reached the last house in their little event.

For some reason, the production crew was nowhere to be seen when they reached the area of the house, a deserted terrace, well decorated for Halloween. 30 mins goes by and still, nobody there, not to mention the bad reception there. "Maybe they're waiting for us inside?" Yeji suggested, the two leaders both shrugging and though maybe they are already in there. So they walked up to the front door, two knocks on the door from Karina's knuckle as they called out. "Trick or treat~" the two girls were in sync, hoping for a response. The wooden door creaks open as an old man peeks through, checking out who was knocking on his door. "Oh my, visitors!" He exclaimed, shocked to see the both Karina and Yeji stood in front of his front door, not because they're idols but rather because he has nobody knocking on his door, which clearly left the two girls with question marks.

"I thought the crew told the neighborhood about us coming." Karina whispered to Yeji, only for her to just nod in confusion. The old man guided them in, walking into the large interior of the terrace while the oldie kept on going about and talking until they reached the living room; where it was decorated too well for only that man to be living alone. A bonfire well lit and beautiful scenery of beauty and ominous vibe, a coffee table that is filled with jars and boxes of sweets and chocolates. But the thing that caught the eyes of Karina and Yeji weren't the mouthwatering sweets, it's the board game in the center of the table. "Are you a DnD player sir?" Karina asked, which the old man happily nodded and chuckled. "I used to be a game master for my friends back in the day, before they all moved away..." he kept a big smile, but something about him just makes everything so horrific, worse than any other horror movie they've seen.

Both Karina and Yeji sat together at the coffee table, facing the old man as they made some small talk. Eventually they grabbed some of the chocolates from the boxes and jars, and not gonna lie, it was good, until a sudden blurriness covers their eyesight. Yeji smacks the table, coughing as she faced difficulties to breath, and so did Karina. "Nghhh-! What's in that thing?" Yeji asked, looking up to the old man who was silent, smirking as the two girls were looking like they were on the verge of death itself, as if their lungs are shrinking. "Yeji....I can't...breathe" Karina voiced for help, but what can Yeji do? She's in the same boat as her. "Fuuuck....help..." Yeji's defeated voice fades as both her and Karina collapsed, soon everything turns black.

"Huh???" A confused Yeji shook her head, looking around. Karina just got up herself it seems, shaking her head as they looked around. "Where are we?" Karina asked, but the deep stare they gave each other just amplifies their confusion. "Well good morning girls~ welcome- to my WORLD" the old man's voice echoes, introducing himself as The Game Master. "Game Master....board game...DnD! Yeji! We're in a DnD game!" Karina yelped out as a staff suddenly appears in her hands. And so did her appearance change from her usual wear to one that a mage would wear in the medieval shows. And so did Yeji, transforming into what seems to be a knight, with a sword and shield on each hand and a shining silver armor. "Much better! Now, your mission girls...is to amuse me!" The Game Master exclaimed, clapping his hands once as he announced. "I summon, 20 bandits!" His orders turns to a reality, 20 bandits equipped with knives surrounding them.

"Hnggh- guess there's no running here." Yeji grabbed her sword and slashes one of the bandits, no effects happened. "What...?" Yeji, looks puzzled, she was sure to have killed that thing. Yeji's clueless face just made Karina sigh. "I cast fire spell on the 20 bandits" She casted, and with her wand, a gigantic 20-sided dice is shown. as it bounces around it shows the number 17, making Karina smirk. "Bingo." As the dice disappears into thin air fire ignites as 17 of the bandits reduces to ashes, leaving them only to deal with 3 more of those mobs. "OHHHHH~ so that's how you do it" Yeji nodded, starting to understand the game a bit more, it just made Karina shook her head, hiding her laughter despite the dangerous game they're playing.

"I slash the bandit with my sword!" Yeji's commands reappears the dice, rolling it but only casting a 4. It made Yeji's sword didn't make much damage on the bandit, only 2/5 of it's hit points (HP) down. Now, it's the bandits turn. "The bandits will target Yeji, attack her!" Again, the dice reappears, this time rolling 11. Thanks to her outstanding armor, Yeji managed to tank the damages, only losing 4 out of her 15 HP. "Yeji!!" Karina screamed, trying to help her, but she can't. It's Yeji's turn and the only thing she can do is wait and hope Yeji can save herself out of the situation. Yeji's chest moved up and down as she looks at the three bandits surrounding her. Fear in her eyes, scared for own life but as soon as she realized the lustful eyes from the bandits, she find a solution to get her out of this situation.

"Can I attract or seduce the bandits?" the question wasn't answered, instead the dice shows up, rolling. And oh boy, the 20-sided dice shows a 19. Yeji's cat like eyes widen as she stood up, her body starting to move on her own, loosening her armor to show her tight body to the three men. Swaying her body left and right she winked at them. And seems like her seduction is working, looking from the bulges in their pants. Karina's turn got skipped due to the effectiveness of Yeji's seduction. With their pants now off, the 3 bandits now crowd Yeji, grabbing and groping around her soft skin. Yeji couldn't fight back, instead she just moaned in pleasure, getting in the center of attention and all these bandits touching her, she just gave in and kneeled before them, ready to please.

Karina watches how well Yeji controls the situation, both hands getting to work to stroke the bandits and her mouth to pleasure the remaining bandit. "Fuuuuck....", moaned the Game Master from above, looking at how the game he set now changes it's trajectory. Yeji using her pretty and curvy body to weaken her enemies while they take turns using her perfect body features, hands, mouth and even pussy to pleasure themselves. Yeji getting penetrated by two bandits while the other occupies her mouth made her loud moans muffled, turning on an immobile Karina who stood there and watch, using her magic wand to rub the cloth that shields her golden pyramid, as she watches the group of bandits play around with unarmored knight, Yeji. Using her in any way possible, which turns Yeji on more, they started to reach their climax and eventually shooting their seed all over her pretty face, covering her face with their sticky gooey cum. That made the bandits weaker, tired. "NOW, KARINA!"

"Good thinking with there Yeji", Karina giggled, walking with Yeji away from the group of bandits they wiped out with a single blow from Karina's wand. Yeji got back into her armor as they marched forward into the game. The Game Master gave us a mission to find the princess hidden in a tower to beat his game, and beat it they will. Once they reached the gates of the castle, a huge buff man, with an axe, standing 7 feet tall awaits them. "You shall not pass." He claimed, bending his knees ready for battle. The two girls mirrored the giant man's actions as Yeji lunges, screaming her attack. "I slash the Gatekeeper with my blade!" And as usual, the dice roles, this time landing a solid 9. Wasn't enough to take down the brute, but enough to break his axe which was probably gonna cause trouble for them.

Without the axe, the gigantic man was basically defenseless, leaving Karina an easy blow to finish it quick, or so she hoped. "I cast thunder spell" she casted, the dice roles, and my god what luck is it to role a 1 at this time. The lightning bolt struck Yeji, not just taking out half of her HP, but also her paralyzing her for one turn. The giant man now has a chance to strike Karina, who defensively isn't as strong as Yeji. "The Gatekeeper, take her down." The Game Master ordered, the same routine. Dice role, 15, effective. The ogre physique like man manages to plunge Karina on to the wall of the castle entrance. A few quick stares on Karina's tight mage dress made the Gatekeeper smirk, looking up and down. A deep, growling voice then follows as he opens his mouth. "Forget fighting, I have a better plan for you, little one."

With ease, Karina's leggings were ripped by the Gatekeeper's strong hands. Karina's cute squeaks of moans only excite the guard even more, pitching a huge tent underneath her torn pants. With his hands pulling down her top, now revealing Karina's round chest, it made the monstrous human more lustful. One hand groping her soft left chest while the other held her in position so the smaller Karina couldn't run away. "Ngghhhh fuck off you monster" Karina struggled, trying to break free despite her lewd mind from the incident with the bandits and Yeji was still fresh, her wet pussy dripping on the floor. "I don't think you're being honest, sweet mage~" His voice continues to sounds full of lust, enjoying his time moving his fingers to feel the softness of Karina's boobs, which made her so wet and horny, eventually letting out moans of satisfaction. The paralyzed Yeji is suffering the same thing as Karina before, stuck in place, a mere spectator of the scene.

As The Gatekeeper's boner is fully erect, he couldn't contain it any longer. He stopped his pleasuring time of groping and kissing Karina's voluptuous breast, he wants her pussy now. Tearing off his own garment sprung out his large 7 incher, already poking on Karina's tight tummy. Starting slow by rubbing on her belly, The Gatekeeper slowly moves his crotch lower to align it with the gates of Karina's insides. "Admit it. You wanted this, didn't you?" The brute smirked, pausing when he pushed half the tip in, only to tease Karina more. "Y-yes~ I needed this. Please~~ fuck me~!" Karina submissively plead, her horny mind taking over as she voluntarily grind on his cock with hope it can force his meat deeper inside her, and that is exactly what she'll get.

The Gatekeeper now plunges his cock inside, penetrating Karina's tight vagina with all 7 inches inside, making Karina yelp and scream. "Aaaaah~!" A loud sweet moan came out of her mouth, her lungs screaming out both pain and pleasure. Feeling his thick cock ramming in and out of her hole really made it feel like heaven despite the situation they're put in, a death game as the Game Master suggests. Karina didn't care; she's enjoying this, and she won't let this chance go. Having a huge dick ramming her insides so good as she held tight to him, The Gatekeeper can now carry her while thrusting, his hips moving like pistons in her tight hole, precum lubing her insides. "Fuuck cutie~ you sure are tight. I love it" He grunted, more liquids coming out of his penis as his hips thrusts faster, pumping in and out of the now entranced Karina who forgot about her paralyzed colleague, only dick is in her mind, The Gatekeeper's cock as he sucked on her breasts making it more arousing for Karina. It didn't take too long for him to get close though, he wanted to cum quick. "Ngghhhh you slutty mage I wanna cum!" He growled. "Then cum in me you brute. Fucking fill me up!" Karina's words were barely audible from the moans she was making. With a few last thrusts, The Gatekeeper finally shot out his load, finishing himself inside of Karina's tight pussy, filling it with warm cum.

The Gatekeeper cumming too much, he couldn't think much and immediately fainted on the spot, letting Karina and now cured Yeji a free walk into the castle, straight to the princess' room. They knocked on the door, no answer. "Hello? Princess, we're here to rescue you." Yeji asked. Again, no answer. "Well, fuck it we tried Sleeping Beauty." Yeji sighed as he lift her leg up. "I want to kick the door open." Dice rolls as Yeji orders. And lucky enough, an 18 pops out, smashing the door open only to find no princess there. "What the fuck?" Karina and Yeji were in sync as they were filled with question marks. "Muahahahaha you've been tricked you whores!" The Game Master exclaimed, laughing at them. "There was never any princess to begin with. Your actual mission is; please me. Give me a show worthy of your freedom."

"Fucking pervert." Yeji scoffed spiting on the floor as she looked at Karina, already loosening her clothes already, which made Yeji gulp. "W-wait, Rina! We're really following this creep's orders." Yeji's cat-eyes widened, not that she didn't want a taste of Karina's smooth and sweet body, just not for the reason of being watched by the creepy old man. "It's okay Yeji...besides, let's not pretend we didn't want to do this in the first place~" Karina giggled, pulling Yeji by her armor as she threw each piece of one by one before they were soon naked, without a sting attached to them, falling on the bed that is the only furniture in the room.

With Yeji on top, she took the lead by going in for a kiss, striking her tongue inside Karina's mouth. Both leaders were now into it, hugging each other tight as their bodies clash and rubs against one another. "Fuck~ Yeji you have no idea how horny I was watching you getting fucked back there." A moment for air was used to let those words out, making Yeji smirk and want her more. she started biting on Karina's left boob, making Karina squeal in pleasure. Sucking on her boobs while fingering her pussy, Yeji just looked to see the entranced Karina, having the time of her life from having her body pleasured at both of her sensitive points, making her scream louder every moment.

Yeji wanted some pleasure too. So she pulled away and stopped, immediately catching the weak Karina off guard. "Ngh- why'd you stop, Yeji?" She asked, clearly unsatisfied. "It's my turn to feel good baby~" Yeji smirked as she spreads her legs wide, taunting Karina to come to her. Karina, still in heat, followed the Itzy leader's commands and crawled towards her pussy, kissing and sticking her tongue out to lick it, savoring the taste of her wet pussy in her mouth while looking up to her. "Does this feel good Yeji?" She asked, holding on both of Yeji's thighs to put her in place so she can have an easy time eating Yeji while looking up to the cat-eyed girl. "Fuckk~ just like that Rina yes please...more please" Yeji's loud moans fills the room as Karina's mouth worked her magic on Yeji, no wonder she's a mage. A few minutes later, Yeji couldn't hold on any longer. "Baby, I wanna cum with you."

The words that came out of Yeji's pretty mouth never made Karina happier. She understood it immediately as she climbed up, aligning their wet pussies together as they started to grind against each other, making their moans out together, making the empty room supposedly for the princess, now for two princesses of K-pop to scissor each other with their soaking pussies. "Fuuuck Karina you're so wet shiiiit" Yeji exclaimed, a hand grabbing Karina's thigh, both for balance support and to grope her thick thighs. Karina's moaning mess gave no direct reaction, instead she moved her face to Yeji's smooching her as she started to make out with her, slowly they started kissing deeply, suppressing their moans as their wet body fluids from their vaginas squish between each other as they edge closer to their climax. "Yes....yes...yes....MORE! I WANT MORE!" The perverted Game Master sounded like he was enjoying himself, touching himself while watching. "Karina...cum with me~" Yeji plead, her voice being breathy from the tiredness of their adventure, which puts a smile on the thick aespa leader. "Fuck...yeah cum with me Yeji" They went back to loud moans, going faster and rougher on their griding, reaching their climax as they went faster and faster. "Cu-c-CUMMIIIIIING!" The two girls screamed out simultaneously, as a bright light shined the room, blinding the scene.

"Nghhh- Wha?" Yeji opened her eyes, Karina beside her, both back to the clothes they wore for Halloween, THEY'RE BACK! "Yeji, we're back!" The two leaders cheered as they hugged tight, celebrating their liberty from the pervert's game. "Hehehee, that was soooo entertaining." A familiar annoying voice was let out. The 'Game Master', now on his couch with tissues around him and white liquids splattered around him while he's half unconscious. "This fucker." Both Karina and Yeji cracked their knuckles, looking down at the smirking pervert, passed out.

A few bruises and bumps on his face, the police came by to arrest him, guilty of possession of dangerous substances which most likely is responsible for putting Yeji and Karina in that 'game'. "Well, glad that's over." Karina sighed, relieved they got out of the life and death game with no casualties. But a pair of hands were holding her hips, making Karina look back. "Who said we're done? We clearly just got started~" Yeji smirked, her lips travelling to Karina's neck to give it a kiss followed with a soft giggle to her ears. "Oh right...silly me~" Karina snickered, smiling.

"Happy Halloween."

(3150 words)

#kpop smut #itzy fanfic #aespa fanfic #kpop fanfic #karina fanfic #yeji fanfic #idol x idol #female x female #female x male #gg fanfic

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duckprintspress · 6 months

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hey, i'd like to just throw this out to you, since you're a press so i have a feeling you might know. if i was seeking to publish a book but i didn't want it to ever be sold through amazon, what would my options be?

Hiya!

I'm assuming you mean you're interested in self-publishing? If yes, then yeah, I can give you at least some information about your options. :D

If you don't want to use Amazon, you definitely still have some options for self-publishing a book. I can sympathize with this sentiment; we hate Amazon and I've done what I can to keep our works off there (and, ultimately, failed, but still kept it to a minimum).

There's two overarching questions you'll need to consider when deciding how to proceed:

What formats are you selling? Are you doing e-book only or e-book + print or print book only? What about audiobooks? Which will influence your choices.

Are you mostly interested in direct sales (as in, you personally sell the book to the customer) or sales-through-an-intermediary (as in, a bookstore sells your book to a customer) or distribution (as in, you list the book with someone who acts as an intermediary between you and other vendors)?

As briefly as I can, first, here's what Duck Prints Press uses:

Ingram - e-book (and, once we have one - we're working on our first! - audiobook) distribution. Ingram is the biggest book distributor in the US and has a virtual monopoly on distribution. Even places that aren't technically Ingram, such as draft2digital, usually use Ingram. Because they're a near-monopoly, Ingram has a lot of ability to, well, screw people, and one way they've tried to screw people is they keep making it harder to get into their better services, pushing people to their much-less-supported service IngramSpark. I managed to get the Press grand-fathered in to Coresource, which is their e-book and audiobook distribution system, even tho we don't meet the current minimums for number of titles for that product. I CAN'T get into Lightning Source, which is their better-supported print book distribution service, because we don't have enough titles (we'd need 30, we currently have 10ish). If I wanted to use IngramSpark, I'd have to ditch Coresource, and I don't want to do that because Coresource works great and has good customer support, and so I had to settle on a compromise I don't love until we meet the minimums for Lightning Source - I use Coresource through Ingram for e-book distribution (and don't distribute to Amazon), which is...

draft2digital - print book distribution. This was my work around for not losing Coresource in the name of getting Ingram print on demand (pod), and it came with a price: d2d doesn't let me opt out of Amazon, much to my irritation. So the three titles we currently have pod on ARE on Amazon.

our webstore - e-book and print books, directly sold to the public. Our website lets people download e-books; I package print book orders made through the webstore myself and mail them myself.

in-person sales - I started vending at events last year; this year I'll be doing about a dozen.

All of which goes to show, even trying to publish while avoiding the most evil places is really hard and a source of frustration. If anyone knows a good option for ethical publishing distribution, I'm honestly all ears. Competing with Ingram is extremely David vs. Goliath (see also the recent death of Small Press Distribution).

So: remembering that Amazon is easily the worst but that there's still basically no ethical consumption or production under capitalism...

Ingram

Of the places I'm familiar with, the best-known option with the widest reach for self-publishing distribution is IngramSpark. As mentioned, I don't use Spark, but Coresource lets me completely customize which of Ingram's partners (vendors, wholesalers, libraries, etc.) I actually distribute with, and I've assumed that other Ingram products are the same. I believe IngramSpark is currently free per title; they get paid by charging fees per sale and because they get better listing deals with partners than an individual would get (like, Ingram might get charged x per title they list with, idk, Barnes and Noble, whereas you as an individual would get charged y, where y is larger than x, and Ingram pockets the difference).

I know a lot of people who use IngramSpark and my impression is that when it works, it works really well, but when it doesn't, getting help/customer service can be a nightmare. Virtually everyone I know who has used them has stories about late titles, support taking a week+ to reply, that kind of thing. I believe they have an option to pay for better/more rapid responses from customer support, which I feel kinda tells you everything you need to know about IngramSpark.

Draft2Digital

Another option is draft2digital. They use the Ingram distribution network, but again they can do so cheaper than an individual can because of their bulk sales through Ingram. They also offer e-book, audiobook, and print distribution. I use draft2digital for print and I've been quite satisfied with their customer support, but their print distribution doesn't allow opt-out of Amazon. HOWEVER, I believe their e-book distribution does. At minimum, there's a checklist on d2d about "steps you have to take to distribute e-books through d2d" and I'm assuming if you just. didn't do that checklist. then you obviously wouldn't get your books distributed through them. The other big thing I don't like about d2d (which may also be true of IngramSpark, idk) is that they charge after the first revision. Which is to say: you put together your book, you upload your book, you get it all set... and you notice a mistake. Okay, fine. You fix the mistake and re-upload. Re-uploading uses a "change token." You only get one free change token per title per six months. So, you notice another mistake you feel you have to fix a few days after that first? That'll cost $25. I've personally just kinda... tried to find all my mistakes right off and fix them, and anything I spot after that, I keep a log and will update all of them at the six month point. (I understand why they do this, btw - they have actual humans doing set-up on their end, so if you revise eight times in a week, that's a lot for an actual human, and charging for the tokens forces people to be careful, helps ensure people submit books that are actually ready in good faith, and helps keep costs low. That doesn't mean it's not annoying, though.)

Bookvault

Bookvault is a UK-based print-on-demand option (so NO e-book distribution, just print) that has recently started offerings in the US too. They currently have a relatively limited distribution network, but they're growing, and especially for UK-based people they're a strong alternative. I've heard a lot of positive reports about their printing in a FB group I'm in (Kickstarter for Authors - do recommend, lots of great info there), but I'll own my personal experiences weren't great and I've decided not to keep using them for now. However, if what you primarily want is print books as print-on-demand, and some limited distribution choices, they're a good choice, and they can help with option five below.

Do It Yourself Lite

A fourth option that's a LOT of work is...you add it everywhere yourself. Most places will let you. For example, here's how to sell on Barnes and Noble.com. When I self-pubbed a book a few years back, before I ran the Press, I submitted my work by hand to several different options (B&N, Kobo, Amazon because I still used them then, Smashwords, to name a few). However, doing this isn't the same as distribution - it only will sell through that specific vendor - and as far as I know there are no options for doing print-on-demand those ways (I THINK, tho I'm not sure, that Amazon is the only place you can set up both e-book and pod through a single vendor - it's not something I've researched tho, cause with the Press, doing single-title-at-a-time entry across so many different vendors is simply not realistic).

Side note on this: I don't believe there's a way to list self-pub books on Bookshop.org, but don't quote me on that.

This method also doesn't work well if you want to get your title in with libraries. I researched this a bit well over a year ago now, so I don't recall all the details, but before we signed up for Ingram I DID try to see if there was a way for us to publish and get in libraries especially without involving them, but there...wasn't really. Places like Overdrive that handle e-book-to-library distribution don't really have a way for individuals to submit; I have this vague memory I found a way to do it that involved paying per title but tbh I can't even find that now (though while I was looking I did find this decent-looking article about how to get your self-published book out in the world, echoing a lot of what I say here).

Do It Yourself Difficult Mode

Your fifth major option, and what we originally did as a press, is: do it all yourself. You can get your own storefront (ours is through Woocommerce + Wordpress). You can do your own crowdfunding. You can run your own newsletter (I use Mailerlite), do your own advertising, etc. You can do your own printing (we currently use Booklogix and I'm quite happy with them, their customer service is A+++). You can vend at events, you can market to local bookstores, sell through bookstores that do consignment, etc. You can learn to format your own e-books (I use a combination of Affinity software and Calibre, with an assist from Daisy to improve the accessibility of our e-books). You can get access to stock images and vector art to make things look nice (I use vecteezy). There's a LOT you can do entirely on your own. And that's what I did for myself before I ran the Press, and what I did for the Press for the first couple years we operated.

The reason I changed how the Press handles things? I hate to say this but the sad truth of publishing is that not using Amazon is utterly crippling to a publisher. As of 2 years ago, Amazon represented 67% of all book sales in the United States. Not selling through Amazon means accepting you'll simply be completely unable to reach more than half of the people reading works in English all around the world (works not in English may be different, I don't know that market since I publish in English). And for myself, alone - for my works? I could make that choice. But the Press currently works with well over 100 authors, and I ultimately felt I couldn't make the same choice to them. I tried so so hard not to compromise this, but refusing all distribution, when we were also avoiding Amazon, meant completely hamstringing the ability of authors we work with to market and sell their books. It meant, to work with us, people would have to sacrifice so much of their ability to earn money from their words, and it just didn't feel right to continue in that avenue as we grew. So, I was forced to compromise: first to use Ingram, which I did on the condition that I'd be able to reject Amazon specifically, and then by having to use draft2digital, including their goddamn Amazon print-on-demand, at least until I qualify for a better option, which as soon as I can do? You bet your butt I'll be switching and opting out of Amazon again.

The current climate makes these choices really hard, and I didn't make them lightly, nor did I make them alone - there's about 20 people on the DPP staff, and they all contributed opinions and voted on the final decisions I implemented for the Press in these regards.

(and sorry, I know "what DPP does and why" is a bit to the left of your actual question, but I felt like it'd be weird to make a list of recommendations without including the decisions I've personally made and why - like, why would I recommend you something I don't do myself with the books I publish? So sorry for the info dump.)

The TL:DR of all this is, as far as I know, and as I've been forced to accept as part of the realities of running a small press in the modern world of publishing, is that avoiding one Big Evil (Amazon) with any hope of achieving even a modicum of success basically requires partnering with at least one other Big Evil (Ingram especially). It's a very hard game to win.

HOWEVER, you are doing this FOR YOURSELF, NOT for all the people involved in a business larger than just you. If you're willing to put in the extra work to figure out a lot on your own and manage your own marketing, you can theoretically build enough of an audience to go it alone without Amazon OR Ingram OR places like Kobo/B&N/etc. You'll have to outlay more out of pocket - things like webhosting cost money - and you'll have to be a lot more careful - if you're running your own website instead of using someone elses, you gotta go above and beyond making you're in compliance with privacy rules and such - but it can be done.

And if you don't want to go that route, and your only real "to avoid" is Amazon specifically... use IngramSpark.

Sorry I'm long-winded. I hope this helps! Good luck with your publishing goals!

(and if others reading this have some other advice and resources, things I may not know about, please do weigh in! I bet the asker would like to know, and I'm always eager to learn about new options too.)

#duck prints press #about us #self publishing #faq #yeah ya'll know you can send us asks like this right #and i'll spend way too long answering them and talk your ear off #sorry (not sorry?)

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