#with an ethical backbone

[problemnyatic]

"I think this Category of human being is disposable" okay that not only sucks and is fascist but also makes getting you to deem someone to be disposable a simple matter of convincing you they're in The Category regardless of the truth. Also The Category is often misapplied to a vulnerable minority because it makes people like you agree they're disposable.

"Anyone who disagrees with me about The Category of people being disposable is a Category apologist or probably also in The Category themselves" Oh so you're just totally unconcerned with truth or justice or ethics or human rights and just are feeding your bloodlust for the sake of revenge fantasies. got it 👍

[fragilecapric0rnn]

Everyone who plagiarizes fic is slimey, it’s true we know this. But everyone who supports and reads plagiarized fic? Slimeballs in their own category.

Don’t think you’re getting away with it. We see you.

It’s not two cakes when one is entirely stolen cake!!!

[trumpet-vine]

theres a specific brand of "leftist" online that has the moral and political values identical to that of a libertarian white guy with the only meaningful difference is that they want free stuff. Umm yes I want a society that lets me do whatever I want, say whatever I want and gives me whatever I want but it is my GOD GIVEN RIGHT to do nothing, help no one, never contribute and never ever ever be compassionate to others & their struggles in any capacity

[mlmxreader]

I already wanted to read it but you make me want to read it even more!!!!

https://www.tumblr.com/mlmxreader/774772609408712704/the-fact-that-the-rex-breaking-loose-happens-in?source=share

the book is, in short, fantastic tbqh - but the "action" doesn't actually begin until well into it, so please be prepared for that 😭

also: Muldoon remains the most qualified and competent member of staff, BUT I also love Wu and Arnold working on the computers together as well 😭

[kraniumet]

noooot the episode where chase murders a dictator and gets divorce'd noooooo

[invinciblerodent]

Ngl, some people's "I wasn't allowed to be an irredeemably evil shitbird, ergo Veilguard is not an RPG" argument is extra funny to me, because I don't actually think there is a conceivable narrative in which, if your Rook did something as objectively amoral as selling people into slavery, they wouldn't wake up the next morning floating untethered in the raw Fade with Neve's bootprint on their ass, and the Lighthouse no more than a distant blip on the edge of their vision.

Like there is a lot to get into here that I just don't have the time or the spoons to go through, but I'd argue that one of the biggest strengths of Veilguard's writing is that the main cast are all very well-defined characters with their own sets of morals, ethics, and goals, and they collectively have more than enough of a backbone that if Rook did something that proved them incapable of leading the team to the story's climax and/or proved them to be of no benefit to them, they wouldn't fail their quest: they would just swiftly and efficiently get rid of Rook.

[demonic0angel]

DC x DP: Jazz decides her boyfriend and his dad need some family therapy over this whole "Kill the Joker/Only Lock Up the Joker" disagreement they have. Eventually they compromise: They lock him up in Walker's ghost prison!

“If you loved me, you would’ve avenged me!”

“You know I can’t break that promise to myself! If I kill, then what’s stopping me from killing others?! We are not judge, jury or executi—”

“Shut your damn mouth! You have no backbone, that’s why! You spineless, weak, pathetic excuse of a—”

“Jason!” Jazz barked, glancing at Bruce’s expression, which had entirely closed off from hurt. Jason winced, also realizing what he said, but he pursed his lips and didn’t say a word, too prideful to make the first move and apologize.

Jazz rubbed her forehead and looked at her notes. Why did she do this again? No wonder it was discouraged to have doctors treat families or loved ones. She could already feel the looming presence of Ethical Concerns over her shoulder.

“Okay,” she said, because she started this, so she’d be damned if she didn’t finish it, “let’s restart. First, let’s calmly—” she looked at them both in the eyes, emphasizing the word carefully, “—express our feelings about the situation to each other, okay? Everyone will have a turn to speak.”

“What’s there to say?” Jason grouched. “He won’t kill the Joker, I refuse to compromise and let that trash live on and kill others!”

“Okay,” Jazz said, “Bruce, what do you have to say?”

“… I won’t kill.”

Jason bristled. Jazz quickly interrupted, “How about we find another solution? Maybe we can think of another plan so both of you will be satisfied.”

“We put the Joker in Arkham,” Bruce said.

Jason sneered. “Yeah, but he escapes every few weeks, doesn’t he? Don’t lie, Arkham has never been a real solution!”

Bruce looked forlorn. “I love you, Jason,” he said, with a quiet sort of conviction.

Jason glared at him. “Fuck you.”

“Jason,” Jazz scolded, and he huffed out of his nose, crossing his arms. He was so lucky that she loved him to death and back and all of the cycles of life in between.

Wait a minute… death?

Jazz perked up and said, “I may have a solution.” Both men turned to look at her, giving her their full attention. “In the Ghost Zone, there is a prison there that holds all of our worst criminals. It’s been upgraded several times and it’s very secure. Every time someone has broken out— and it’s only been a few times in the last few centuries— they’ve been found and caught within a day. Also, since everyone in there is already dead, even if the Joker got out, he wouldn’t be able to hurt anyone.” She smiled. “What do you think?”

Jason and Bruce looked at each other and then at Jazz. They nodded once in frightening unison as they both crossed their arms and leaned back into their seats, expressions serious.

“Tell us how we can get the Joker in there.”

Jazz smiled and nodded. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad after all!

One family problem solved, only thirty-one more to go!

[smilesession]

old-school leftist politically radicalized professors are the backbone of this country. i am very lucky to be alive at the same time as old-school leftist politically radicalized professors. like the ones who seem like they’ve been about that shit since the 60s/70s and are still going. when that generation dies and we lose all the cool boomers and cool gen x’ers the sun might as well just explode. because the millennials who had the potential to carry the torch and have decent ethics otherwise nuked themselves with their favorite flavor of consumerism too much. video games and online pornography / YA novels and social media too much and now they’ll never break the bond from the wire-mother of their consumerism even if their higher self wants to. maybe someday when their dicks break down / postmenopausal they can catch up to a fraction of the oldheads. im serious. you’ll never hear an oldhead say “let people enjoy things!!” because they were too busy actually trying to resist societal programming and U thought it was cringe when lefty grandpa told you to get off that damn phone

[justmeinadaze]

In Your Corner: Prequel (Boxer Steve X Plus Size Y/N)

A/N: Prequel to In Your Corner where we get to see Steve's first fight. :).

Warnings: Boxer Dom Daddy Steve & Fem Sub Plus Size Y/N, SMUT, daddy kink (because I'm me), dirty talk, spanking, light choking, etc, FLUFF, Stevie had a crush on Y/N for forever <3, Not a whole bunch of ANGST, the first half is Steve's fight so blood is briefly mentioned along with the KO of his opponent. Very brief mentions of Steve being friends with kids who said stuff about your size.

I was just in a mood and desperately needed this version of Daddy Steve to make me feel good <3

Word Count: 3860

Part 1/ Part 2/ Donate to me

The sound of screaming patrons was slightly overwhelming as you took everything in from your seat in the front row near the boxing arena. 

It had been a couple of weeks since you ran into and got reacquainted with King Steve Harrington at a friend’s party a year after your high school graduation where you both went your separate ways. 

After your intimate evening in the bathroom where he fucked you till your eyes rolled, he took you to dinner where he revealed he had been training and working to become a boxer. Amused at your giggly reaction, he invited you to see him fight just outside of town.

While you weren’t able to see him before hand, he had instructed you to give your name to the ticket people who grinned wide when you introduced yourself before an usher guided you to your seat. You had never seen a boxing match outside of the movies so this was completely new territory for you. 

As the lights lowered, a man in a suit entered the ring and droned on about promotions as people clapped where needed. When he announced Steve and rattled off his stats, you had to admit you were impressed. You had no idea what any of the numbers meant but people in the crowd seemed excited as they cheered for him while he entered the arena. 

His whole demeanor seemed confident which was a complete contrast to the asshole, popular boy you had known as a kid. Even though he spent time around the kids who acted like they had it all figured out, to you he seemed pathetic, always agreeing with the majority even if he genuinely didn’t. 

They day he chased you down to say he wanted to get to know you better, his friend group he had been standing with had been laughing at your expenses just because you had a bit more meat on your bones than the other kids in class. 

You wanted a man with a backbone who would turn to people like that and tell them to fuck off because you were his girl. A man that would show you off and display you for the world. In high school, to you, he seemed to be hiding behind falsities of who he SHOULD be.

The man in front of you now seemed strong and determined; you loved it.

Steve’s intense eyes scanned the area as his opponent was introduced before they found you and immediately softened. As you smiled up at him, a flash of relief swept across his features as if he was hoping you would come and thankful you did. Silently, you mouthed the words “Good luck” and in return he gave you a little wink that had your heart fluttering as you bit your bottom lip. 

His coach whispered something to him and his face hardened again as he began to focus once more. Both men stood up and bumped gloves before a loud bell rung as they took their stances. The man Steve was facing was about his size which he explained during a phone call was normal because it wouldn’t be ethical for him to fight someone who was bigger or smaller than him physically but he did seem to have a bit more definition in his arms that made you nervous as he threw his first punch. 

Steve blocked it swiftly and fired back, knocking the other man down for a few seconds before he collected himself again. They danced around each other until the bell rung and they were designated to their corners once again. 

It wasn’t until his eyes flicked to you that you realized you were holding your palms together under your chin as if praying that he would be ok. He smirked your way, silently telling you he was alright and you smiled back. 

By the third round you were high on adrenaline as you cheered for him, chanting his name excitedly with every punch. You weren’t sure he could even hear you but the energy radiating from him screamed that powerful energy that just made you swoon. 

As his gloved fist connected with his opponent’s jaw and the man fell to the matted floor, your eyes remained locked on Steve’s sweaty chest as he heavily inhaled and exhaled while the referee counted down. 

The bell dinged signaling a knockout and he threw his arms in the air in victory as you jumped out of your chair, clapping your hands as you watched his amber eyes light up with a glow you had only ever seen one other time; when he finally got to kiss you.

***

As the door to his locker room opened, the sound of champagne popping hit your ears as laughter filled the area. 

“Steven, that was amazing. You see, that’s what I’m talkin’ about. You have to bob to the left and swing?”, his coach reiterated as the boxer grinned and nodded till his eyes landed on you. “We need to work on your definition a bit in your arms and…”

“Yeah, yeah, Jim. Thanks. Excuse me.”, he replied nonchalantly, wincing a bit as he got to his feet.

“Oh, don’t move to much if you’re in pain.”

“Meh, nothing I haven’t felt before. You look incredibly beautiful in that dress, honey.”, Steve smiled as he took hold of your chin and brought his lips to yours. “I’m glad you came. What did you think?”

“It was…amazing. You did so well, Steve. I’m really proud of you.”

“Thank you.”, he murmurs seductively with a cool smile that has a heavy breath escaping your lungs. “Let me get my stuff and we can get out of here.”

“Y-You don’t need to stay or talk to anyone?”

“No one I’d rather talk to right now than you, baby girl.” Steve’s grin grows as your palms take hold of his cheeks to bring his mouth back to yours. “Ah ah, sweetheart. Daddy needs to grab his things.”

“I need you, Daddy, please.”, you whisper as you press your forehead to his and your hands glide down his back to pull him closer. 

“You need me, Y/N? Fuck, baby, I love hearing you say that—”

“Steven!”, a man behind him shouted excitedly. “That was phenomenal. I got your check. Why don’t we go to dinner and celebrate, huh?”

Begrudgingly, Steve pulls himself away from you but not before kissing your forehead and clasping your hand in his. 

“Not tonight, Mr. Burton, but I appreciate the offer. Maybe next week?”

��Oh, Come on, son! It’s Sean to you and I insist you at least let me buy you a drink.”

“Thank you, Sean, but I have to decline. Tonight, I want to spend my win celebrating with this gorgeous girl right here. I’ve had a crush on her since high school and I don’t want to waste any more time not being with her.”

Your eyes widen in surprise again at his confidence as the man in front him beams widely in amusement as he extends his palm out for you to shake. 

“It’s nice to meet you. I’m Sean Burton, Steve’s manager. Tell me, what was he like in high school?”

“Hi, I’m Y/N Y/L/N and honestly he was an asshole.” Both men chuckle at your response. “But it was an experience seeing him up there like that. You can tell how hard he’s worked and trained to get where he is.”

The boxer lightly squeezed your hand at your compliment as his cheeks turned a bright crimson. 

“Yeah, he has. Well, I’ll let you two get to it. It was good talkin’ to you.”

***

“Y/N.”, Steve laughs as you cling to his side while he drives to your apartment with you kissing and sucking on his neck while your hands roam. “Baby, I’m going to kill us.”

“Well, don’t.”, you tease making him laugh harder. “I can’t help it. You were just…I don’t know…”

“It’s the adrenaline. I get it before and after a fight.” Feeling your pause, his eyes flick briefly to your face, noticing you taking in the light bruising on his skin. “Hey. I’m genuinely ok, honey. I promise. I’ve been through way worse especially when I lose.”

Raising his free arm and placing it around you, you scoot closer and place a light peck on the purple starting to form. 

“I don’t know I feel about that part. I don’t like seeing you get hurt.”

“You get used to it.”

“Should you?”, you counter quickly. “But that’s why you train right? To prepare so you’re hurt as little as possible.”

“Kind of. I mean with boxing, sweetie, it’s going to happen. I’m going to get hit but yeah I prepare and train to block and fight back so I can knock him out as quickly as I can.” As his car comes to a stop light, his palm pets the back of your head as he softly smiles your way. “It’s nice having someone care about my wellbeing.”

“Your parents don’t?”

“Naw. My parents have never actually come to a fight and I don’t think I’d want them to. They wouldn’t cheer me on like you did.”

“Pfft like you could hear me.”, you giggle.

“What do you think kept me goin’?”, he smirked. “I could hear you screaming my name…Steve…Steve. Fuck, you’re lucky it didn’t distract me.”

“Are you easily distracted?”

“When there’s a sexy woman in a gorgeous purple dress chanting my name, yeah.”

With a mischievous smirk, you tilt closer to his ear as you place your palm on his bare thigh. 

“Steve.”, you whisper as your hand gradually slides over his shorts to the hard bulge of his cock that has him swallowing to hide his moan. “Steve…Steve…Steve.”

The sound of a horn honking behind his car makes him jump as he angrily waves and starts to drive forward. 

“Fucking asshole.”

 “Pay attention, Daddy.”

Playfully, he lightly spanks your upper thigh as he tosses a smile your way. 

***

“Wow, this place is nice.”, the boxer compliments as you let him into your apartment. 

“Mhmm nice.”, you casually agree as you lock the door and run around to lock your lips with his. 

“Such a needy…girl. Aren’t…we?”, Steve chuckles between kisses as you tug off his shirt. 

“Please. Like you don’t want to throw me around this room.”

His large palms grab the back of your thighs as he bends down slightly to lift you into his arms.

“You’re not wrong but I’d rather toss you around your bed. Now where is it?”, he asks in a lighthearted tone as he looks around making you laugh and he relishes the sound. 

As you verbally guide him, your fingers play with his hair, smile growing at the persperation that was still sticking to his neck underneath. 

“How can you still be this sweaty?”, you giggle as he falls back first onto your mattress bringing you with him. 

“Does it matter? I’m about to get a whole lot sweatier.”, he jests as he cups your face and brings your lips to his. “Usually, I take a quick shower after but…I really wanted to spend the rest of this evening with you.”

At his genuine sounding tone, you pull back a bit to glance over his soft features.

“I want to spend all my evenings with you if I can, baby girl. God, I never stopped thinking about you, Y/N.”

“Gasp! Steve Harrington thought about something other than his hair!?”

Beaming up at you, he playfully spanked your ass before literally ripping your dress off your body and tossing it aside. 

“I did, pretty girl. I thought about that quick wit and kind heart all the fucking time. Your beautiful eyes that used to look at me with so much distain.”, he chuckles as you grin. “These sexy lips that I just wanted to kiss constantly along with your gorgeous fucking body. Fuck, Y/N. I used to dream about you begging me to let you cum while I ate your delicious pussy. Fucking riding my face till you couldn’t breathe.

“Steve…”

At your breathy moan, his hand reflexively shot out to grip your throat and bring you down till your nose was level with his. Blinking, he started to let you go but you immediately took hold of his wrist to keep it in place.

“It’s ok. I like it.”

“Have you played like this before?”

“Kind of. It never felt like this though.”

“Like what, baby, tell me.”

“Real.”, you answer honestly as his eyes search yours. “I trust you and I feel safe with you. Hearing you talk to me the way you do and seeing you these last couple of weeks… I like playing rough but more than anything…I like playing rough with you, Steve.”

With his arm secured around your lower back, he flipped you around till he was on top of you and his fingers reached up to move some of your hair out of your face. 

“You are safe with me, sweetheart. This is the way I’ve always liked to be intimate but I agree this feels different. Hearing you call me Daddy just—shit—gets me so fucking hard.”, Steve groans as he delicately took hold of both your wrists and lifted your arms over your head. 

“Like this, Daddy?” At the word, you roll your panty covered core against the bulge in his shorts making his mouth fall open as he groans. “Is there anything I should know, Daddy? Things I shouldn’t do?”

“Fuck—not that I can think of but…I can get in my own head sometimes…If I go too far or you feel uncomfortable I want you to say ‘Red’, ok?”

“Yes, Daddy.”

“Good girl. I’ll also always have some part of my body near you just in case you need to tap out or anything. Just tap three times ok?”

“Yes, Daddy.”

Smiling, he leans down to kiss your lips as he reaches to pull off your underwear. 

“What about you, baby? Anything I should avoid?” He sees it before you say anything; a thought that quickly flashed through your mind and displayed before your eyes. “Yes, I do spank and slap but, Y/N I would never do any of that on the level that I bring into the ring. I would NEVER hurt you that way.”

“I trust you. I just…I didn’t want to make you think I thought you were capable of…I know it would be for play but…and now I’m rambling.”

Steve smiles, reflecting all of his teeth as you blush. 

“I like hearing you ramble. Don’t every be afraid to tell me thing, ok? Sometimes especially after a fight I can have a temper but you never have to be afraid of anything with me. I got you, honey.”

After quickly kissing your lips, his own trail down your now naked form eliciting soft moans from you as one of his palms remain gripped to your breast while his thumb circles and lightly flicks at your nipple. 

The bed jostles as he pushes down his shorts with his boxers as his cock springs free before nestling back between your legs and lifting one over his shoulder. 

“Fuck, baby, you smell so good and look how wet you are.”, Steve lightly teases as he utilizes two of his fingers to spread your pussy lips open wider for him. “Is all this for me?”

“Mmm—yes, Daddy. All for you.”

“God.”, he groans as his face falls into your cunt and he envelops you with his mouth as his flat, wide tongue presses to your clit.

“Oh…Oh my…”

The man’s gorgeous, determined eyes shift up to your own as you feel his tongue touch every part of you, slowly sliding into your hole before finding your nub to flick and repeating the process. 

“D-Daddy, please.”

Backing away for only a moment, you watch as he licks the palm of his hand and reaches down to stroke his cock.

“Goddamn it, Y/N, your little pussy has me feeling like a fucking virgin again. You taste like heaven.” Tilting forward, he devours you again and your eyes roll back as the mixture of sounds of him pumping his dick and his tongue moving at an incredible pace against your bundle of nerves pushes you right up to the edge. 

“Fuck, Daddy! Just like that…I’m gonna fucking cum.”

As your fingers thread tightly into his hair, his head shakes from side to side as your orgasm crashes over you and your legs shake at the intensity. Silently, he crawls up your frame and clings to you as he rolls onto his back and slaps your ass. 

“Come on, little girl. I want to see that sexy ass ride my dick.”, Steve pants as his hands dig into your meaty hips. Grinding your waist against his, your dripping folds smear your slick along his shaft and you can’t help but smile at the twitches of pleasure on his face at your movements. “Don’t tease me, baby. Go ahead and put Daddy’s cock inside of you.”

Both of your gazes shift between your bodies as you take hold of him, and slowly sink down inch by inch. 

“Fuck…that’s my good girl.”, he grunts, tilting up slightly to take one of your nipples into his mouth. When his teeth delicately but firm pull at the erect bud, your cunt clenches around him. “Does that feel good, honey?”

“Yes, Daddy.”

“You’re taking me so well, Y/N. I can feel your little pussy stretching open for me. That’s it, baby girl. Lean back and really ride Daddy’s cock.”

Straightening your back, you bounce on top of him while his palms hold on to your waist guiding your movements as you whimper and moan. It takes every ounce of energy you have but you somehow manage to open your eyes and run them along his sweaty frame underneath you. 

He looked utterly delicious as his muscles tensed especially in his neck as he tried not to cum to early. Steve wanted to feel you around him for as long as possible and you could tell as his own eyes continuously raked along your body. When he realized you were watching him, he smirked up at you as his hand cupped your cheek and pulled you down for a kiss. 

“You feel so good, Y/N. Driving Daddy crazy. I want you to cum for me now, pretty girl. Cum all over my dick.”

After you nodded, the man circled his arms around you while your head fell beside his. Feeling him holding you tightly, Steve braced his feet into the mattress as he thrust up to meet each one of your movements with a hard slap of his own. 

“I’m gonna cum, Daddy. Don’t stop!”

Your body shook against him as your pussy quivered around him like a vice as the coil snapped. Bringing you both to a sitting position, he held on to you as he breathily grunted against your lips. 

“I’m gonna—mmph—I’m fill you up, honey. Beg Daddy to give you his cum.”

“Please, Daddy. I need you to cum. I need to feel your cum inside me. I want you to cum as hard as I did. Please!”

Steve’s fingers pressed roughly into your back and after a few more sloppy thrusts and strangled moans, he stills you against him as his release painted your insides. While you waited for him to come down, you tenderly kissed his skin as his humid breath warmed yours. 

“Are you alright?”

“Yeah…yeah, I’m perfect actually…”

When you giggle at his answer, he grins as he falls against the bed and carefully lifts you off him so you can lay on your side with your head on his chest. 

“Did you want to take a shower?”

“Not right now.”, you sigh pleasantly as your palm rubs his chest down his stomach and back around.

“Do you need any water or immediate like ice or anything—”

“Steve!”, you laugh as you press up onto your elbow to look down at him. “No, I wasn’t in a boxing ring like you. I’m ok. I just want to hold you if that’s ok.”

After bringing your lips to his, he presses your head back down to his chest as he begins to play with your hair.

“It’s more than ok.”, he chuckles. “I like having you in my arms like this.”

“You don’t need anything right? After the fight, I imagine having me on you may have exacerbated some of your bruises.”

“No, ma’am, and even if it did it would have hurt so good.” Steve laughs harder when you lightly punch his chest. 

“Steve?”

“Hm?”

“I really am proud of you and everything you’ve accomplished. When I saw you up there tonight, I didn’t see the kid from school but a strong, powerful man who seems to finally know who he is.”

“Thank you, sweetheart. That means so much to me, you have no idea.”

“Can I ask you something?”, you asked and he answered with a soft but exhausted hm. “What triggered this? What made you say, ‘I’m going to leave Hawkins and get hit in the face for a living’?”

Steve rolled onto his side to face you as he reached out to brush some stray hair out of your face. 

“Short answer…you.”

“And the long answer?”

“When you compared me to my dad and talked about me trying to impress those other assholes, it triggered something in me. I definitely don’t want to become my dad and I hated the way you looked at me when you said I was just like those other kids. I couldn’t stop thinking about it. I did some research and came across boxing. Y/N, you have no idea how liberating it was for me when I threw that first punch and hit the bag in front of me.”

Your fingers tenderly caressed his face as his own hand slid down your back to bring you closer to him. 

“I always thought about you. I told myself whenever I came back here my first goal was to find you and FINALLY get to know you better.”, he chuckled.

You smiled as you blushed as his words. “What if I had been with someone!?”

“Pfft. Then I would fight him.” Steve leaned back and pretended to box the air making you laugh.

“Or what if I saw you and I was like ‘Ew. Look at the god-awful Steve Harrington! With the muscles and the pretty hair. Ugh!” His lips cut you off mid-cackle as he rolled his body on top of yours. 

“Then I’d fight for you. You’re mine, pretty girl.” The way his eyes were penetrating yours had you shiver at the intensity. His face hovered as his nose grazed the tip of your own. “Can you say it for me, honey?”, he whispered, your eyes fluttering closed as he trailed kisses down to your neck. 

“I belong to you.”, you moaned as you ran your fingers through his hair. 

“Mmm…you belong to who, baby girl?”

“I belong to Daddy.”

###############

I don't think I have any tags for boxer Steve. If I do I'm sorry!

Steve Harrington Masterlist

[urcoolgf]

INTRODUCING . . . CEO¡READER

ceo¡reader who . . . doesn’t take shit from anyone, but is petty enough to play along with people’s games (as long as it ends in her getting what she wants)

ceo¡reader who . . . built the business from the ground up herself, prides herself on her work ethic, && absolutely hates slackers or people who feel that everything should be handed to them

ceo¡reader who . . . went to college for business / finance (&& checks over every. single. payroll statement for errors). if you’ve messed it up one too many times, or if you’re trying to steal from her? fired. no exceptions. that’s how she built this empire—on guts && a backbone made of steel

ceo¡reader who . . . loves budgeting, but also unforgivably loves shopping, && has no problem dropping a pretty penny on herself (or her friends / family) && she loves that she can travel for work

ceo¡reader who . . . has the most sarcastic sense of humor, but only she can do it—because if you do it to her? give her attitude? good luck . . .

ceo¡reader who . . . is constantly taking calls—one of the reasons she’s never had a long-term relationship. she’s married to her work && her friends, no time for guys (but maybe a casual hook up every now && then to release some stress)

ceo¡reader who . . . has a closet full of designer—designer clothes, bags, shoes, jewelry—she’s quite a collector in that way. mainly wears blacks, greys, whites, or neutrals for a professional business look

ceo¡reader who . . . was almost a lawyer just because she’s always been one to argue—even if she knows she’s wrong (which she hardly is) && as a result she’s drawn to court tv && true crime documentaries

ceo¡reader who . . . has a hard exterior, but isn’t exactly ‘un-friendly’ && is always willing to lend a hand (or assign someone to lend a hand) to new hires

CEO¡READER WORKS.ᐟ

꒰ა $ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚ got her own

JOIN MY TAGLIST

© 𝐔𝐑𝐂𝐎𝐎𝐋𝐆𝐅. est. 2025

[suzukiblu]

Ooh!! Stray cat strut please!

Tim doesn’t even know if the cat cares about getting looked at like that or if he even enjoys the attention, but intent matters either way, and he very much does not want to emulate any of the designer-dressed slime with the moral backbone of a wet box of cream puffs in this situation. At all. Ever. In any way. 

Yeah, he’s gonna resist the temptation to sneak a pic of the hot cat for Bernard. Unfortunately, having ethics has once again proven itself to be an annoying inconvenience in his life. 

Though probably he should avoid saying it like that around Bruce if it ever comes up. Bruce is still annoyed about the last time Gun Batman was in the time period. 

[oddlittlestories]

Chase has a fawn response btw

He also resents this, which is why he gets that annoyed teenager thing going on

Additionally, like House, he doesn’t actually believe sticking up for himself does any good. Chase believes that doing what the person in power wants is the only thing that MIGHT protect him. This is an ingrained belief. By season 3, he has not yet truly realized that sometimes HE is the one in power in certain situations.

Chase also feels an overwhelming need and responsibility to protect vulnerable women and children. Particularly single women and children. I’m sure this has nothing to do with his past at all /sarcasm.

Which is why he frames himself as negligent when he causes the death of his patient, despite the extenuating circumstances. No one else was going to protect her. That was HIS job. And he failed. Shouldn’t he be punished?

He comes off as a person without a backbone or ethics because he’s made a life out of looking which way the wind was blowing, finding who was making the weather. Ethics, to him, are a luxury.

Or a self-sacrifice.

All of this leads to him preferring bad things just happen—not that they’re his fault. He feels very little agency in his life, and his own reactions are counter to his agency. He’d rather have done nothing than done something wrong.

But that’s not a great way to live. And really, Chase’s whole story is about learning to make his own choices. To embrace his own agency, whether that brings him successes or losses.

[zweig-eater]

hitting partners | patrick zweig

part one

patrick zweig. even the way his name sat in your mouth annoyed you. everything about him did, from his smug smirk, to his attitude he convinced everyone was charming. everyone but you. you saw right through him. patrick zweig was nothing more than a privileged rich kid who never had to work for anything he got. and even worse, he believed he deserved it.

you on the other hand, devoted every moment of your life, since you were 8 years old, to tennis. you breathed it. you worshipped it, like a god. your family wasn’t wealthy, but they were good enough off to afford a tennis coach for you, and your equipment. but that was it. you sacrificed every birthday, christmas, and any other gift worthy milestone for tennis. and you were good, great even, though still young, and bursting with potential. but you would never be a prodigy. where you lacked natural talent, you made up for in discipline and utter devotion to your craft.

something patrick zweig could never even begin to comprehend. patrick was passionate about tennis for all the wrong reasons. he wanted to be great, the best even. but he had no desire in becoming the best. there was no work ethic, no diligence. potential? sure, tons of it. but no backbone to fulfill it. patrick zweig played tennis like he thought the trophy already had his name engraved into it.

and now? now he was your hitting partner.

you had never spent much time considering a career plan besides tennis. for that reason alone, the idea of college never really excited you. you weren’t interested in playing girls with no chance of going pro. matches that didn’t challenge you felt like a waste of time, and a risk of injury not necessary to take. you wanted to be a tennis player, a professional tennis player. so you started touring as soon as you graduated high school and were eligible.

unfortunately enough for you; that was also patrick’s plan. you first bumped into one another at the Tampa Bay Challenger tournament. it was both of your firsts. you watched the men’s final, zweig vs. tornids, and that was when your annoyance began. you had heard of patrick before then, seen his playstyle, you knew the reputation he held. his nickname of ‘fire’ following him into professional play. but without his ‘ice’ counter part, he played more like an inferno.

throughout the final match, you witnessed him smashing his racket to bits, audible swearing, and a brief verbal altercation with a line judge. none of these things were particularly character damning offenses, but they showed a lack of respect for the game. tennis has always been a clean sport, elegant almost. the behavior and temper of the players directly impacts the scoring of the matches. he was giving points away over anger. anger at himself no less, as he was the one tanking in the final set. you found it embarrassing. you knew you could be a bit of a prude with the seriousness you placed on tennis, and its equally prude rules at times. but it was all you had, all you had ever known. and watching someone as naturally talented as patrick zweig, throw games away got under your skin.

at the after party, later that night, you had the displeasure of meeting mr. zweig. you, the women’s Tampa Bay Challenger champion, and him, the men’s runner up. your managers knew each other, so they insisted you meet. you decided to play nice, as patrick had never done anything to you; his play style just had a way of annoying you. your managers briefly pointed to one another before occupying themselves with a conversation with each other.

“patrick zweig, it’s nice to finally meet you” he said outstretching his hand. “and congratulations” he added, as he nodded to the glass trophy settled atop your manager’s table next to you.

“y/n, yes, we must have just missed each other during juniors” you said as your hand, gently reached out and shook his. the gesture feeling a bit formal, but appreciating it nonetheless. his hand was warm, and much softer than you expected. your fingers ghosted past one another, almost aching not to be separated. before you could start out a lie about how he played well and had an unlucky break in his match, he met your eyes directly and asked

“do you always play so timidly, or was that just today?”

“excuse me?” you blinked at him and cocked your head slightly, thinking he must have misspoken and had a different intention behind the question.

“I mean your play style” he continued with no hesitation. “you looked like an entirely different player for the final set. you looked scared, almost shy. you didnt even really celebrate when you hit the winner” he had looked away from you by now, eyes drifting as if he was replaying your every move from the match in his head.

“do you always play that way?” he finished, eyes finding yours again. when he saw your furrowed brows, and blank eyes staring back at him, something washed over him. maybe it was a hint of regret, sorry for the way his question must have sounded, but you were in no mood to pay that any attention.

“actually patrick” you started, eyes locked on his, practically spitting the words down his throat. “i play to win. which i did. which i usually do” you placed your drink on the table, keeping a cool tone, despite the anger bubbling within you. “maybe if your play style were a bit more adaptive, or you showed any hint of control, you would as well” you retorted with a smug smile fueled by the signs of annoyance, your mention of his loss left all over his expression.

“hm” was all he could muster before he picked up the drink you had placed on the table next to you both. your eyes never parted, as if who ever looked away first was resigning the match. his hand steadily brought the glass to his lips and he took a big sip of whatever it was you were drinking. as he placed the glass back down, he smirked slightly, seeming almost fueled, or intrigued, by this rather polite argument. you broke the silence as you wanted to limit any possibility of him getting the last word.

“i have practice early tomorrow, so i need to get going. im sure you have an off day scheduled tomorrow, so please do enjoy the party.” you turned on your heels, perfume catching the wind and blowing right into patrick’s face. you walked away, swaying, content with how the conversation ended in you favor. a tiny part of you wanted to turn around, wanted to know if he was watching you walk away. the larger part of you, somehow, already knew that he was.

two hours later in your hotel room, showered and tucked away for the night, you brooded over his line of questioning again. how dare he? after everything, after how hard you worked, after securing your first professional tournament win, people like patrick zweig still questioned your skill… scared? shy? you were none of those things. you were a tennis player. the very thing patrick had yet to prove himself to be. yes he was talented, incredibly so. but he played tennis how he wanted to. you played tennis how you needed to.

you stirred, unable to drift asleep, thinking about him. you were hung up on the idea that he was willing to ruin your night, question your skill, despite having more than proved yourself just hours prior. hung up on the way he stared back at you, fire burning in his eyes. god, he was so annoying. somewhere, deep down, you were also hung up on the slight shine of your lipgloss painted across his bottom lip; where he had laid his lips a top the gloss stamp yours left on the rim of your glass.

[peachi-blossom]

No really, if hazbin hotel wasn't so safe the characters could have the backbone to tell Charlie 1. she's lazy and has no work ethic 2. her idea sucks because she hasn't even been to heaven but wants strangers she supposedly cares about to move there 3. she's not even that friendly because she doesn't ask anyone about themselves, she watches sinners being killed and doesn't react, she's not interested in making friends or helping anyone whose in trouble 4. she's a selfish bad leader, she dragged them into another war with the angels and prepared herself by wearing a dress. She is the worse.

This also reflects on Vivienne Medrano's actions on the people she screwed over.

[femmefatalevibe]

Femme Fatale Guide: Top Career Tips To Set Yourself Up For Success

Figure out where your skills and passions align. Then determine the lifestyle/work culture you thrive in and what sacrifices you're willing to make in your chosen career path (for some, it's always traveling/talking to people 24/7, working late hours, unpredictable/unconventional hours, potentially lower pay/less predictable income, etc.). It truly depends on your top values, your personality, and your goals/priorities in life.

First focus on getting incredibly talented at your craft. Find a mentor(s) who will push you with their feedback/suggestions. Take classes/skills courses/read books & articles to gain more applicable knowledge/hard skills. Join clubs, apply to internships, volunteer, and request informational interviews in your desired field.

Make your skills marketable. Create a professional resume and/or neat portfolio/collection of work samples. Discover and articulate your USP (that should essentially serve as the backbone of your elevator pitch). Frame your skills through a customer/business-centric lens. How does your experience/skillset solve their problems and help a company/client achieve their goals?

Build a network for yourself. Don't be shy to reach out to companies/individuals who inspire you. Speak with your secondary school teachers and professors for connections. Create peer-to-peer networks, too, so you can grow together. Be a fearless networker and connector. Help others, do favors, and make the person glad they met/hired you. Make it your objective to be memorable through your work ethic/providing high-quality work products and showing up with a motivated & overall positive attitude allows people to like and trust you with their time, clients, money, etc.

Master the art of a killer email/cold pitch. Especially in today's world, learning how to sell yourself through intriguing emails/LinkedIn messages is the key to unlocking potential success. One client or opportunity can create momentum that will be useful years down the line, too.

When in doubt, follow up – on an email, pitch, job opportunity, connection, etc.

Be ruthless and relentless with your research. For new contacts, connections, opportunities, and information to support your pitches/job interviews/networking conversations, new technologies, and trends within your field. Read everything credible you can get your hands on. Display working knowledge and practical applications of these concepts and how they can benefit the person in front of you/their business.

Create systems. For how you structure emails/pitches, conduct research, different types of workflows/ work template structures for different types of projects, time-blocking, client funnels, etc.

Get comfortable with rejection. Use it as a primer for self-reflection and refining your craft/processes or help you pivot your approach to help you achieve your goals. Never take business decisions on behalf of a company personally (and vice versa).

Give yourself breaks, but don't give up. Tapping out for good is the only surefire way to fail at an endeavor. Be flexible in your path, but zeroed in on your goal(s). Learn when to quit or pivot, and when it's time to coast or seek growth.

[moonstruckme]

Hello lovely! I LOVED your Sirius x coquette reader and was wondering if you could do an Eddie Munson x coquette reader as well! 👀

Hi sweetheart, thank you for requesting!

cw: smutty implications (?)

Eddie Munson x fem!reader ♡ 968 words

You’re trying to keep your teeth from chattering, as if Eddie can’t feel your entire body quivering as you press yourself close to his side. 

“Ethically, I don’t think I can let you go on like this,” he says. “You’ve gotta take my jacket, baby.” 

“I appreciate the offer,” your reply is a well-rehearsed line, “but I’m fine, thank you.” 

“Yeah, you seem great. You’re shaking like a chihuahua.” 

“Your jacket,” you chitter, ��wouldn’t go with my outfit. We’re almost there anyway.” 

You’re several blocks away, but you grip his arm and speed up your steps, and Eddie follows. He doesn’t see what’s so wrong with his jean jacket. At least it’s thick. The wind has to be going right through that little cardigan of yours and he knows the floral tights, while adorable, aren’t helping. You’re practically jogging by the time you get to the bar. Eddie ushers you in, and you release a great shudder. 

“Christ, it’s freezing out there. Since when did Hawkins enter the ice age?” 

Eddie rubs your arms through your sweater, steering you both out of the way of traffic entering and exiting the bar. “It’s winter, genius. What did you think was going to happen?” 

“My cardigan was good enough yesterday,” you mutter. Then shake your head, seemingly making the conscious decision to perk up. “Anyway, it’s fine. How long do you have before you go on?” 

He grins, sheepish. “Actually, we’re a little late. I should get back there as soon as I get you set up.” 

Your eyes flare and your mouth forms a pretty O. “You should go! I can set myself up.” 

“Are you sure?” He glances towards the stage. He can see his bandmates moving around in the back. “I can at least get you a seat and a drink.” 

“Go,” you insist, shoving him (lovingly, he hopes) away from you. “I’ll be fine.” 

Eddie knows better than to try to argue with you; your cutesy, innocent appearance does not translate to a lack of backbone. He finds his bandmates backstage, weathers the slew of ensuing slander and complaints about his tardiness, and a short time later he’s leading them onstage. 

The meager crowd shouts and stomps at their arrival, mostly friends of friends and a few groupies they’ve picked up at other gigs. Eddie grins and soaks in the energy, but his eyes are elsewhere. 

It’s not hard to spot you. He’ll always think you look out of place in a joint like this. You’ve found a barstool and are sitting with your legs crossed primly in those dainty fucking tights, a bright spot amidst the sea (or, if Eddie’s beng realistic, small lake. Smattering of ponds.) of dark clothing around you. Everyone, including Eddie, has a beer in hand, but somehow you’ve managed to sweet-talk the bartender into making you what appears to be a shirley temple. You pop a cherry in your mouth, curving your lips around it to pluck out the stem and sending Eddie a wink. He reads it as Knock ‘em dead, hot stuff. (You’ve never specifically called him hot stuff before, but he can imagine it if he likes.)

You don’t flinch like you used to at the first booming chord. You’re not a mosher and don’t go to join the crowd, but Eddie catches you bobbing your head and tapping your foot as you sip from your straw. He plays his fucking heart out, thinking about tearing those tights off you (he knows you’ll never let him, you like them too much) and putting his mouth on all the spots where you spritz perfume. When you lock eyes, you give him a smile like you can read his thoughts. 

Playing to a crowd like this, being up on a stage, this is the shit Eddie lives for—and it’s not over soon enough. 

He packs up their equipment in record time, hustling over to the bar. You squeak as he wraps his arm around your waist, swooping you off your seat. 

“Hey,” you say, tilting your head back to see him. You sound endearingly breathless. “I saved you some cherries.” 

“Yes! That’s my girl.” He opens his mouth, letting you place it inside and closing his teeth so you pull the stem out for him. You do it willingly, but a flush spreads across your cheeks. “Thanks, sweet thing.” 

“No problem,” you reply, not quite able to look at him.

Eddie repents, curling a finger under your chin to tilt your head up and giving you a smile that says Okay, I’ll stop playing for now. 

You return his smile, relieved. “Want more? The bartender gave me a bunch extra, so.” 

He reverses course instantly. 

“What a fucking flirt.” He peers around you, eyeing the not-hideous twenty-something passing out beers behind the bar. “He thinks he’s gonna steal my girl.” 

“I doubt it,” you laugh. “I told him my boyfriend’s in the band.” 

Eddie grins, fiendish. “Good.” He gets in close, making his voice sweet and smooth as honey. “I’ve been thinking. You got some pretty panties under that getup, sweetheart?” 

Your eyes widen a second before you scrunch them shut, dropping your head to his chest. You say something into his shirt. 

“What was that? Couldn’t hear you.” 

You look up, grimacing. “You know I do,” you mumble. 

A low laugh rumbles through Eddie’s chest. “Just wanted to check,” he says, immensely entertained by the agitated coloring of your face. “I think it’s time we hit the road, baby. Y’ready?” 

You hum, picking up your bag and grabbing a cherry for the road. Despite your show of reluctance, there’s a bit of pep in your step as you start towards the exit. 

Eddie shrugs off his bulky jean jacket, dropping it on your shoulders. “You’re gonna need that.”