#i don't think the transfer will end up going through

[leighsartworks216]

As If In A Dream

Zayne x gn!Reader

Sooooooo I had a thoughtttt..... I'm sorryyyy ;-;

@comatosebunny09 Here's the fic for the idea I told you about 💀

Warnings: fluff, angst, domestic fluff, children, cooking, kissing, blood, open ending

Word Count: 1,463

Main Masterlist

First Love and Deepspace Masterlist

Second Love and Deepspace Masterlist

AO3

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"You two! Stop messing around and eat your breakfast!" You turn to the children at the table, hands on your hips. Even though you're trying to scold them, you can't help smiling. The round faces of a boy and a girl smile back at you, cherry-cheeked and giggling. You step away from the stove to kiss both their heads. "C'mon, eat up, you gotta go to school soon!"

With chimes of "Okay!" they pick up their forks and dig into the pancakes you've made. You ruffle their hair and get back to the stove, flipping another pancake onto a plate. Strong arms wrap around you.

"Are they giving you a hard time?" Zayne's chin rests on your shoulder, light kisses peppered behind your ear and on your jaw.

You laugh at the ticklish feeling, but you lean into him all the same. He holds you tighter, as though holding you so close could transfer all the emotions he's feeling into you. Not that he needs to - you know him like the back of your hand already.

"Nah, they're just excited. They're bringing in those cards to school today - of the little monsters, you know?" You add more batter to the pan and kiss his cheek. "You can go ahead and make your plate, I'm almost done."

He hums, shaking his head. "If you're almost done, I'll wait for you."

"Daddy!" your little girl calls out. She managed to get all your energy. Zayne said as much when she kept refusing to be put down for naps, wanting to keep playing all the time.

He gives you one last squeeze and kiss before he pulls away. Your daughter is practically bouncing in her chair with unbridled excitement as he walks over. "What is it, snowflake?" He smooths down her wild hair as he kisses her head.

She points to two cards on the table that sit in between her and her brother. "What one is cooler?"

"What is this about?" he asks, all too aware of the mess he's being invited to step into. Still, he picks up the cards to look at them both.

Your daughter opens her mouth, but your son quickly taps her on the arm. "No, don't say anything!" he reminds her in a hushed voice (though quite loud, enough for you to hear over your cooking). "Just pick what one is cooler!"

He's fighting a smile as he compares the two monsters. Having played with them a few times, he recognizes them both, but feeling strongly one way or the other about either of them isn't exactly his forte when it comes to their designs. "I think they're both cool," he says instead.

Your son gapes up at him. He got your stubbornness. "Nuh-uh!"

Zayne nods. "They both have unique and interesting qualities that make them stand out. See-" He points to the long, catfish-like whiskers of the first monster, crouching down between them so they can both see what he's doing. "This one has very cool whiskers that it uses to sense things around it to see. And this one-" He points to the drill-point arms it has. "It can use these to dig through the dirt really fast. I think these are both just too cool to compare."

You turn off the stove and walk over with a plate full of pancakes. "What do you think?" Zayne asks before the kids can. They watch with eager eyes as you take the cards and look at them.

"Hmm..." You purse your lips, squinting playfully at the little monsters. "I think... You're gonna be late for school." You smile as you hand them back their cards, which they hurriedly shuffle back into their decks. "Go brush your teeth and get your shoes on.

"Okay!" they chime in tandem again as they rush out of their seats to run down the hall.

“And don’t forget your homework,” he calls after them. Then, Zayne smiles up at you. "That's cheating." He stands and rounds the table, his arms finding their way around your waist once more.

You wrap your arms around his neck, playing idly with his hair. He needs a haircut, but you quite enjoy messing with his longer hair. It slips between your fingers so nicely. "The drill one is much cooler," you tell him quietly.

He chuckles softly. "I rather liked the whiskers one myself."

He leans forward to rest his forehead against yours. Down the hall you can hear the patter of feet and chatter as they get ready. The warm aroma of pancakes fills the air, tinged sweet with syrup. They'll be cool by the time you both get back from walking them to the bus stop, but you don't mind. Not really. Not when you get to heat them back up and eat them with your husband, teasing him for the amount of syrup he uses and stealing sweet kisses.

His smile is infectious. His green eyes are warm and shining. He’s so handsome. You press a light peck to his lips and let your eyes close in bliss.

He says your name. You hum. He says it again. It's muffled. It's much harder to open your eyes now.

When you finally manage, his face is right there. But... he doesn't look the same. His hair is the same length it’s always been.  His eyes are sharp, flickering all over your face. His brow is furrowed. He's worried and... he's scared.

You try to speak, but no words come out. Instead, harsh coughs punch out of your chest. Something hot and wet lands on your chin with each cough. He holds something over your nose and mouth; an oxygen mask that eases the strain in your lungs.

"You're alright." He lifts the mask for a moment and wipes your chin with medical tissue. You can feel the rubber of a glove covering his hand, stained thoroughly red. He sets the mask over your mouth again. "Just take deep breaths. We're almost at the hospital."

Hospital...?

Oh.

Right.

There was a Wanderer attack. While you and Zayne were eating lunch, the Metaflux went off the rails and suddenly a whole swarm of them appeared. You forced Zayne to focus on getting everyone else out of harms way while you dealt with the Wanderers. It's your job, after all. It shouldn't have been a big deal.

You try to look down at yourself. There's a lot of red. So much red. Is that all yours...? How can it be? There's so much...

He uses the back of his gloved hand to press against your forehead and lay your head back down. You weakly grab onto his arm. More red.

"Did... everyone get.... out?" It's so hard to speak. Your throat burns. You feel cold.

He nods. "Everyone else is safe. The Wanderers are gone."

You let out a relieved sigh and try to nod.

He looks down at your body. He looks pale. Paler than usual. His attention shoots back to your face when you laugh, weak as it may be.

"Zayne..." Your hand slides down his arm, fingers interlacing loosely with his. He holds on despite the blood. "You should... smile more.... 's pretty....."

He only frowns deeper. "We can worry about that later."

You shake your head. It lolls upsettingly from side to side. "Now...? Please....?"

You look at him and your brain is confused. It keeps searching for that Zayne from moments ago, that looked at you with so much love and warmth in his eyes. The only Zayne here, now, has cold, calculating eyes that try to see through you to figure out exactly what needs to be done to treat you. Maybe if he smiles, you can get even a fraction closer to that Zayne. Your Zayne.

"If I smile now, do you promise to make it through this?" he asks. It's a silly question for how serious his voice is. But you nod regardless.

"Promise....."

It's difficult. Trying to smile when you're fading away right in front of him. He's determined not to let that light fully leave your eyes - he can't let that happen. He swallows, bites his cheek, and does his damndest to force even a slight smile. Whatever he manages to produce seems to be enough for you, because you smile right back, dopey and unfocused.

"So... handsome....." Something akin to a giggle gurgles from your throat, fading off as your eyes flutter shut. His smile falls instantly.

The ambulance stops. He wastes no time opening the doors and helping the EMTs and nurses as they wheel you to an already prepared operating room. He refuses to let that be your last smile. Your last words. Your last anything. He will save you. He has to save you.

---

Tag List:

@the-golden-jhope @deepzombieyouth @huen1ngk41 @armycaratlover @cheesemachine44 @nyx2021 @angel-jupiter @thelittlebutton @pikachuzhc @pomegranatepip @cordidy @an-ever-angry-bi @thejysemongko @deusfoundry @hawtlineblingz

[etirabys]

me, talking about my failure to get care transferred to anyone in the city I will be giving birth in this year: I reached an appointment-making person at the third hospital whose phone tree I went down, but she doesn't know the name (!) of that third hospital whose number I called to get to her

friend: wh…

me: they took a minute to locate that hospital and sent me to Admitting and Registration department for that hospital. the person who picked up said A&R can't make an appointment for me and I need to find a provider (I think they mean like a specific available doctor or something) through my insurance

me: but… I found the original number I called through my insurance's app? (at this point I want to clarify: I think I'm bizarrely bad at this – I have no common sense, and I zone out enough when listening to phone tree options that, on average, I need to re-listen to the options once. I'm sure I'm not doing the smartest things on my end)

friend: honestly the stuff you're dealing with is absolutely kafkaesque, there's no reason anybody should ever have to be good at it

me: you know, the thing about childbirth – you don't have to go on hunger strikes or set yourself on fire to protest a hospital's inability to admit you as a new patient via their publicly available number. you can. give birth at them

me: on their carpets.

[karmicpunishment]

can i be so real rn i really don't enjoy the "dazai will join the port mafia again" theories lol

like nothing against ppl who like 'em, obviously, i just think its. the least interesting route to take in this story and kind of goes against all the themes of the overall plot.

though i wouldn't mind a "dazai sets himself up to be transferred but the other agency members stop it" kind of plotline

[vaspider]

While I'm writing things that I've been intending to write for a while... one of the things that I think that a lot of people who haven't been involved in like... banking or corporate shenaniganry miss about why our economy is its current flavor of total fuckery is the concept of "fiduciary duty to shareholders."

"Why does every corporation pursue endless growth?" Fiduciary duty to shareholders.

"Why do corporations treat workers the way they do?" Fiduciary duty to shareholders.

"Why do corporations make such bass-ackwards decisions about what's 'good for' the company?" Fiduciary duty to shareholders.

The legal purpose of a corporation with shareholders -- its only true purpose -- is the generation of revenue/returns for shareholders. Period. That's it. Anything else it does is secondary to that. Sustainability of business, treatment of workers, sustainability and quality of product, those things are functionally and legally second to generating revenue for shareholders. Again, period, end of story. There is no other function of a corporation, and all of its extensive legal privileges exist to allow it to do that.

"But Spider," you might say, "that sounds like corporations only exist in current business in order to extract as much money and value as possible from the people actually doing the work and transfer it up to the people who aren't actually doing the work!"

Yes. You are correct. Thank you for coming with me to that realization. You are incredibly smart and also attractive.

You might also say, "but Spider, is this a legal obligation? Could those running a company be held legally responsible for failing their obligations if they prioritize sustainability or quality of product or care of workers above returns for shareholders?"

Yes! They absolutely can! Isn't that terrifying? Also you look great today, you're terribly clever for thinking about these things. The board and officers of a corporation can be held legally responsible to varying degrees for failing to maximize shareholder value.

And that, my friends, is why corporations do things that don't seem to make any fucking sense, and why 'continuous growth' is valued above literally anything else: because it fucking has to be.

If you're thinking that this doesn't sound like a sustainable economic model, you're not alone. People who are much smarter than both of us, and probably nearly as attractive, have written a proposal for how to change corporate law in order to create a more sensible and sustainable economy. This is one of several proposals, and while I don't agree with all of this stuff, I think that reading it will really help people as a springboard to understanding exactly why our economy is as fucked up as it is, and why just saying 'well then don't pursue eternal growth' isn't going to work -- because right now it legally can't. We'd need to change -- and we can change -- the laws around corporate governance.

This concept of 'shareholder primacy' and the fiduciary duty to shareholders is one I had to learn when I was getting my securities licenses, and every time I see people confusedly asking why corporations try to grow grow grow in a way that only makes sense if you're a tumor, I sigh and think, 'yeah, fiduciary duty to shareholders.'

(And this is why Emet and I have refused to seek investors for NK -- we might become beholden to make decisions which maximize investor return, and that would get in the way of being able to fully support our people and our values and say the things we started this company to say.)

Anyway, you should read up on these concepts if you're not familiar. It's pretty eye-opening.

[emiliaoleary]

Hooking rugs that look like dogs

Here's how I do it:

The process I use is called rug hooking (not latch hook or punch needle or tufting, though it is the forerunner of the latter two techniques). Rugs are hooked by pulling loops of fabric strips or yarn through the holes of a base fabric with a coarse open weave, like burlap, or linen, or rug warp. The loops are pulled through the fabric with a squat-handled hook whose business end is shaped like a crochet hook.  There are no knots and the loops aren't sewed down in any way.  The whole thing stays put just by the tension of all those loops packed together in the weave of the foundation fabric.

This isn't a true detailed tutorial but a walk-through of my particular process. The same information is on my web page, emilyoleary.com .

I hook with yarn, rather than with cut strips of wool fabric, which is what many rug hookers use.  I can get a looser, more organic distribution of loops with yarn than I could with wool strips, which are hooked in neat lines. 

Mostly I use wool yarn. In terms of yarn weight, I can use DK, worsted, or Aran.  If I'm using thicker yarn, I leave more holes un-hooked; if I'm using finer yarn, I hook more densely or double up lengths of it.  I particularly like using single ply yarns (like Brown Sheep Lamb's Pride or Malabrigo Worsted).  I don't keep count, but I think I usually use around two dozen types and colors of yarn per dog.  

This is my yarn wall in my apartment. Mostly brown and gray yarn!

I start from a small drawing in my sketchbook, then I head to FedEx office to use a copy machine, blowing up the drawing repeatedly and experimenting with how big the dog rug should be. 

After transferring the image onto my linen, I immediately go over it with Sharpie, because the Saral is really difficult to see and really easy to rub off.

The rug is held taut by a PVC quilting frame that I set on my lap.

I push my hook down through the fabric with my right hand and my left hand stays below the fabric and guides the yarn while I pull it up and through with the hook. Not every hole in the fabric is hooked. Hooking every hole would make the rug too dense. I do hook pretty densely, though-- If you pick up one of my rugs you’ll see they have a slight curl to them, which is because they’re hooked pretty tight. I'm using all different weights and types of yarn, so it's a challenge to keep the overall tension even.

I hook my loops at varying heights to create a very low relief. Sometimes I trim the loops to make them fluffier or wispier or to shape a particular part. I look at a reference photo while I work and pull out and redo sections a lot.

My q-snap frame can accommodate the growing dog rug. I have extenders to make it bigger and I can clamp around my hooking.

The back of a rug looks like lines of little stitches. The lines are little worm trails snaking around because lines of hooking are not supposed to cross over each other. It's important to start a new length of yarn rather than cross over a stitch you already made! I read this when I first started and took it to heart. It makes it much easier to undo and redo hooking if you have to (and I redo sections A Lot). It also keeps the back from getting too bulky and resulting in uneven wear on the back of a functional rug that gets floor use.

When I’m done hooking everything I turn the rug over and brush watered-down Sobo glue on the edges of the dog, making sure to get one or two of the outermost lines of hooking. I do a couple coats of this thinned out glue. I'm careful not to use so much that it seeps to the front of the rug. When the glue is dry I cut the rug out, but I don't cut so close that the loops don't have any linen to keep them in.

​ It generally takes me at least several months to finish one dog rug. My hooking frame and yarn bag are very portable (though bulky) so I can hook out and about at coffee shops or the library or a brewery if there's enough space and light.

Hooking in the wild makes me an ambassador for making things in general and rug hooking in particular. I answer people's questions and always emphasize how relatively easy it is to get started hooking. Sometimes I get anxious that other people will hook rugs that look like mine but better, but I think that working in a traditional medium means you should share your knowledge for the good of the craft.

[rhysazriel]

Hidden Videos [College!Azriel]

SUMMARY: Y/N's a camgirl and Azriel's roommate, Azriel borrows her computer for his college essay and finds something he never expected to see. (3.3k)

WARNINGS: teasing, swearing, dirty talk, masturbation (Azriel watching Y/N's videos)

A/N: this is another old fic from an old fandom I used to write for... but there's just something about college Az getting off over his roommate hehe

"Fuck!"

She hears his curse before a slam of something hard is followed and rough footsteps carry him into the kitchen. Azriel's got his fingers tugging on his growing hair, face red in aggravation and she stops mid-chew on her slice of toast, eyeing him with raised brows.

He lets out another gruff sigh and shakes his hands through his hair, slapping his arms down to the sides of his thighs. She quirks a brow higher. "What's up?" He eyes her tiredly.

"Fuckin' laptop is broke, again!"

She gnaws on her inner cheek, glancing down at her watch and nodding with a wince. "Thought you got it fixed like two weeks ago?" She ponders aloud as she finishes typing up her sentence.

Azriel leans on the kitchen counter, nodding and huffing once more. He's only in a pair of sweats and an old shirt and Y/N's got on a pair of jeans and a nice blouse. Azriel thinks it's new, he hasn't seen it before.

He nods again. "I did, but it's still not fucking working. Stuff won't save and I need to get this assignment done by Friday."

Azriel has always been one to leave assignments and classwork to the last minute and more often than not, Y/N has ended up sacrificing her sleep to help him meet his deadlines. She's lost count of how many sleepless nights she's been faced with during the year she's been his roommate.

It wasn't exactly the first choice for both of them to share the flat. Azriel needed a roommate as he couldn't afford the rent after his last one bailed midterm, and Y/N was a transfer and in desperate need of accommodation.

They didn't know each other before she moved in and they were both desperate enough to just go for it. It turned out to be one of the best decisions they've both made. A friendship was quick to blossom between them in the first week of Y/N moving in, and over the year, they've only gotten closer.

And sure, on a few nights where they've been intoxicated at parties, they've shared a kiss or two. And yes, they both know they find each other highly attractive. And okay, maybe once or twice they've got off to the sound of the other person getting some. But they've never let anything change their friendship.

Azriel peers up at her, leaning down on the counter and pouting out his lips. "You’ve got work in a bit, don’t you?" He ponders innocently, nicking a grape from her plate and popping it into his mouth.

He waits patiently as she hums, eyes fixed on her screen and he knows she's finalising her conclusion. "Seeing as you’re gonna be at work, can I borrow your laptop to get a start on this essay?" His words gain her attention and she peers up over her screen to him.

She's always been a little sceptical about Azriel handling her laptop and he's never known why. At first, he supposed it was because she's very serious about her studies and she didn't trust that he wouldn't accidentally delete something important. But as time went on, he started to think maybe she's just a bit more personal than she lets on in person.

She pauses for a moment, like she's thinking it out before she nods hesitantly and tells him to hold on. He thinks she's saving her work and submitting it off, probably filing it under whatever folder it goes into.

He only knows one thing about her laptop. It's organised. She's got subfolders for subfolders and her tagging system is overly impressive to Azriel. She stands from her seat and stares at the screen, gnawing on her inner cheek and she's trying to make sure everything is in place.

"S'all yours. But I need it back when I get home tonight and don't go through any of my folders. Everything is all tidy and organised and I don't need you going through my notes and messing it all up."

Her words hold a promising threat and Azriel holds his hands up in surrender, nodding slowly at her. He has a sheepish smile as she spins the laptop to face him and gently shoves it across the counter – his smile morphing into one of a grateful grin and Y/N rolls her eyes playfully.

"I finish at eleven tonight, you've got twelve hours." She rounds the table, pressing a kiss to his temple and ruffling his already mussed up hair. He wraps an arm around her in a side-hug and leans across to kiss her bicep as she pushes off him.

"You’re an angel, thank you. I'll leave you some dinner in the fridge for when you come home." He calls after her when she leaves the room, can hear her call out a plethora of thanks and grumbles as she shoves her feet into a pair of trainers and grabs her bag.

He's too busy opening up a new document to hear her shout a goodbye or to hear the door slam behind her. He's twiddling his fingers before they start on the keyboard and he begins the introduction of his essay.

//

It's around 7:30 pm when Azriel starts to get a stiff neck and thinks he needs a break. His eyes have been glued to the laptop screen for eight hours and he's starting to get a headache.

Azriel makes up a quick few dishes of a chicken pasta salad, refrigerating Y/N's after he's eaten and opting to take a quick shower to ease his burning muscles.

He's getting tired and he needs at least another two cups of coffee if he's going to survive another three hours on this essay. He knows that really he should split the time up to be writing it, to not force the majority out in one sitting, but his creative juices are flowing and he knows Y/N needs her computer for her own studies. And Azriel doesn't much like the student library.

Dressed in a pair of sweats and with damp, messy hair, he toes his way into a pair of socks and gets himself comfy on his desk in his bedroom. He's opening up her laptop again, popping it on charge and he gnaws on his inner cheek, looking at the little Spotify icon on her dashboard.

He opens it up, plugging in a pair of wired earphones and he squints as he looks through her playlists. There's a couple on there he thinks he'll like: road trip music, shower music, sex music — his eyes widen and a smirk tugs on his lips at that — but he clicks on her study playlist and is pleasantly surprised by the plethora of Fleetwood Mac and a fair share of piano ballads.

His earbuds are back in as he picks up where he left off, gnawing on his inner cheek as a peaceful piano piece fills his ears. His room is fairly dark, an environment Azriel has always managed to work better in. His curtains are pulled closed and the lamp on his desk is the only light illuminating his room along with the bright screen of the laptop.

It's another thirty minutes of relentlessly typing before he pushes away from his desk to crack his neck and stretch his arms out. He's starting to reap the consequences of taking on the extra subcourse on his Law classes and he can feel a migraine start to migrate its way through his head.

"Fuck sake," he grumbles to himself. Azriel rubs his eyes, pulling himself back to his desk. He saves his document, minimising the tab to open up Google. He's midway through typing up a word he needs the definition for (a frazzled brain does this more often than not to him,) when a suggested search fills in the rest of it and his brows are furrowed.

How does onerous translate to a suggestion of Only Fans?

His eyes widen, mouse hovering over the link below the top search bar and gnawing on his bottom lip, he clicks on it. His heart is thumping in anticipation but he'll never admit to the way it drops when he's met with the login screen and her details aren't saved.

There's a dot of sweat on the arch of his brow and he squirms in his seat. There's no way his roommate – his friend – has an account on a site like that. Azriel wants to forget he even accidentally came across the frequented site, but he can't. Because now, he wants to know if she's just a viewer... or a creator.

He knows it's wrong, but he closes the browser and takes a look at her home screen. There are a few folders lined down the left-hand side – all titled with the names of the courses she's taking, a couple on the right with photos from birthdays and parties and memorable things she doesn't want to lose or forget.

His eyes flitter back over to the right side. Sociology. Psychology. Creative Writing. Business. Azriel squints. Y/N has never taken a business course in her life. His finger hovers over the touchpad for a moment. His eyes are squinted, his nosiness getting the better of him. Curiosity killed the cat. He gnaws on his inner cheek, clicking onto the folder and he's met with videos and videos, all titled with one word and a date.

Each video preview square is black and if Azriel squints enough, he can see a tiny naked Cupid with a bow and arrow. He's gnawing on his lower lip now, sucking it into his lip as he scrolls through the hundreds of videos dating back to last summer.

His brows are knitted when he gets to the bottom and he sees today's date. Curiosity eats at him again and his twitching finger is eager to know what's behind the blank preview box.

Azriel's brow raises involuntarily, spinning in his chair at his desk and he calls out Y/N's name, awaiting her response. He waits a moment then nothing comes. She's still at work. He turns back to his laptop hovering the mouse over today's video and he clicks it, the black screen only enlarging.

He pauses his Spotify playlist, minimising the tab and the second he clicks play, his bottom lip slips from between his teeth and his eyes grow wide, jaw falling slack.

The video is of her bed – rumpled sheets and soft, parted thighs as someone stands on their knees. Her lower body is adorned in a pair of pink panties, "all you can eat" in bold, black writing across her pussy and Azriel feels his throat growing dry.

He feels blood rush to his cock, feels a shiver run down his spine. He watches her lean closer to the camera, careful not to get her face in the shot but he sees her swollen lips that are either coated with saliva or gloss – he can't tell.

Azriel hears a breathy sigh as soft hands gently fall down her body and she sits on her heels, gorgeous tits standing perky on her chest and Azriel wants to reach out and touch her through the screen.

He can't believe this is happening. He's found a stash of naughty videos Y/N takes of herself and posts online. His cock is bloating in his pants at the sight of her tweaking her pebbled nipples and rolling her head back deliciously. He watches her part her legs further, can see a sticky, wet patch on the crotch of her panties before she's kicking them off and laying on her back.

His hand finds its way to his bulging cock, palming himself through his pants as his eyes flutter blurrily at the screen. The lights are dim on the tape, he can tell she's put a gentle filter above it, giving it a vintage and homemade-looking effect. He thinks that's what makes it all the dirtier.

He can see the strings of fairy lights that she's got draping down the wall her headboard is pushed against – the light twinkle of the lights casting a soft, warm glow over her gentle body and she thrashes softly in the sheets, thighs parted as he hears a buzzing come to life.

Her nipples are pebbled and hard, the swell of her breasts gently quaking as her head rolls back into her pillow. He doesn't need to see her face to know it's her. He knows her room like the back of his hand and if that wasn't a dead give away, the little sunflower tattoo on her ankle surely is.

Azriel lets out a shaky breath, fingers dipping into the waistbands of his sweatpants and he massages his length greedily in its confinements. His lips are parted, throat dry but his mouth is watering. He watches her part her thighs through the screen, her little pussy peeking between thick thighs and his mouth salivates as his cock springs to life.

She's glistening on camera, swollen lips and puffy clit. She's desperate, he can tell and though he feels like the biggest creep, watching her without her knowledge, he supposes it's not much different from the hundreds of viewers she no doubt gets. The thought makes his blood boil and his cock twitch.

"I'm so wet." He hears her shaky voice breathe, soft and teasing. He lets his eyes roll back for a moment as he tugs himself out of his pants, palming generously and reaching down to cup his balls.

Azriel lets himself picture her in the room with him, lets him imagine she's lying before him, forcing him to watch her touch herself. "You've got me so fucking wet." His cock jumps again and as a nimble moan teeters off her lips, his eyes blink open and he gawks at the sight he's blessed with.

Unholy, yes. Sinful, in all the best ways a man's soul needs. She's teasing her plush folds with the little purple bullet, the sounds of the vibrations tingling through his ears as her breathy moans sound through his speakers and fade into the silent room.

His fist is tight around his length, harsh, yet tender and eager tugs. She's holding the toy to her perfect clit, just enough pressure that he sees her thighs quiver and tremble and her hips buck deliciously.

The buzzing is numbing to his ears but fuck does he love the sound of her moans that follows. He hates himself for doing this to one of his close friends – to his roommate. But he can't bring himself to stop. Not when she looks like that and is touching herself with such gentle vigour he thinks he's gonna scream.

"Holy shit." Gruff moans are falling from his lips at the sight of her rolling her hips. He can see her cunt glistening on the screen, watches the way she tweaks a nipple between two slender fingers before bringing her hand down to her cunt, swirling the tip of her middle finger over her hole.

"Want your mouth on me, baby. Want you to taste me." His eyes are rolling back and he almost misses the way she brings her soaked finger up to her mouth and suckles off the juices with a sexy whine and hum of appreciation.

She pulls her finger from her mouth with a wet kissy sound and brings it back down to play with her cunt. "Wish you could taste how sweet my pussy is." Her voice is eager, desperate. She's a little nasally as she whines but Azriel thinks it's the hottest thing he's ever heard.

His mouth is salivating at the sight of her pretty cunt, of how wet and swollen it looks – how desperate it is to be eaten. He halts his pumping, spits down directly on the head of his meaty cock and winces deliciously at the feel of it.

Azriel smears the wetness across his head and shaft, twisting his hand as he goes up and down in a rhythmic state. "Want you to fill me up with your big, hard cock." His eyes roll back, jaw slack at the sound of her breathy moans. He can't believe what he's hearing.

Y/N's swirling her finger through her wetness again, dipping her middle finger into her dripping hole and her gasp is what brings Azriel's attention back to the video. His eyes are wide and hooded, teeth clenched and lips tightly shut. He's focused now, he doesn't want to miss a thing.

"God, my pussy is so tight. Please, need it, baby. Need you to fuck me."

He's tugging his cock faster, fondling his balls with an eager goal in mind. Her pussy sucks up her finger, clenching as she adds another. He can't see her face but he doesn't need to, he already knows her jaw is slack and her eyes are clenched shut.

He watches her turn up the vibe, the sounds of the buzzing twice as loud and he knows she's close. Her moans are louder, higher and Azriel can't help but wonder when the fuck she recorded this. Surely not when he's home or he definitely would have heard her.

But the date says it's from this morning, so he's forced to believe she filmed it when he was at class, just before he came back and his laptop broke. The thought excites him even more and his cock twitches in his hold.

All he can think about is burying his face in her sweet little cunt, devouring her pussy until she's screaming and begging for him to stop. He wants her cum on his tongue and then again on his cock and on his fingers. Fuck, he wants her cum to be the only thing he'll ever taste again.

"Tight fucking cunt, baby. So fucking good." His praises slip out but he can't help them, just wishes she could hear them, see what she's doing to him.

Y/N's hips start to buck eagerly, jagged movements that follow with her legs thrashing as her body is sent into a state of euphoric bliss. He watches her clamp a hand over her mouth to muffle her pornographic cries and screams and he wills his eyes to stay open as his own release washes over him and spurts out in whitish ribbons over his hands and pants.

His head rolls back when she relaxes into her mattress, her vibrator off and thrown to the side. He's got a heavy grin on his lips as he hears her sheepish giggles slip from her lips. Azriel wants to hear her fucked out laugh in the crook of his neck as she cuddles into him, tasting her cum from his fingers.

He shakes his head, cock softening in his hand as he looks back at the screen. He expects it to go black, to see no more of her and to clean himself up. But she lays still for another moment before she sits up and brings her cum-soaked fingers to her lips.

She spreads them slowly, strings of arousal connected between the two digits and she breaks the link with her tongue, suckling them both into her mouth and humming at the taste. Her lips are swollen as she does so, cheeks hollowed and he wishes she would dip her head down a little more so he could see her blissed-out eyes, too.

She doesn't. Instead, she pulls her fingers from her mouth with a pop and a cheeky grin tugs on the corner of her mouth until she's got a shy smirk on those lips. Azriel feels his cock twitch in his hand, hardening slowly and he doesn't think he can coax another orgasm out of himself so soon. But then she speaks and he's complete fucked.

"And that's what happens when you accidentally catch your roommate getting off in the shower." His eyes are wide, lips parted and mouth dry. He watches her shy smile morph into one of a teasing smirk before she pouts her lips into a kiss that she blows to the screen.

"Thank you, Azzy."

Curiosity killed the cat, but satisfaction brought it back – twice as curious and twice as hungry than before.

//

Thank you for reading!! If you enjoyed it please give it a reblog so it can reach other people too. Feedback is also always appreciated <3

[alfheimr]

My Favorite Cheap Art Trick: Gradient Maps and Blending Modes

i get questions on occasion regarding my coloring process, so i thought i would do a bit of a write up on my "secret technique." i don't think it really is that much of a secret, but i hope it can be helpful to someone. to that end:

this is one of my favorite tags ive ever gotten on my art. i think of it often. the pieces in question are all monochrome - sort of.

the left version is the final version, the right version is technically the original. in the final version, to me, the blues are pretty stark, while the greens and magentas are less so. there is some color theory thing going on here that i dont have a good cerebral understanding of and i wont pretend otherwise. i think i watched a youtube video on it once but it went in one ear and out the other. i just pick whatever colors look nicest based on whatever vibe im going for.

this one is more subtle, i think. can you tell the difference? there's nothing wrong with 100% greyscale art, but i like the depth that adding just a hint of color can bring.

i'll note that the examples i'll be using in this post all began as purely greyscale, but this is a process i use for just about every piece of art i make, including the full color ones. i'll use the recent mithrun art i made to demonstrate. additionally, i use clip studio paint, but the general concept should be transferable to other art programs.

for fun let's just start with Making The Picture. i've been thinking of making this writeup for a while and had it in mind while drawing this piece. beyond that, i didn't really have much of a plan for this outside of "mithrun looks down and hair goes woosh." i also really like all of the vertical lines in the canary uniform so i wanted to include those too but like. gone a little hog wild. that is the extent of my "concept." i do not remember why i had the thought of integrating a shattered mirror type of theme. i think i wanted to distract a bit from the awkward pose and cover it up some LOL but anyway. this lack of planning or thought will come into play later.

note 1: the textured marker brush i specifically use is the "bordered light marker" from daub. it is one of my favorite brushes in the history of forever and the daub mega brush pack is one of the best purchases ive ever made. highly recommend!!!

note 2: "what do you mean by exclusion and difference?" they are layer blending modes and not important to the overall lesson of this post but for transparency i wanted to say how i got these "effects." anyway!

with the background figured out, this is the point at which i generally merge all of my layers, duplicate said merged layer, and Then i begin experimenting with gradient maps. what are gradient maps?

the basic gist is that gradient maps replace the colors of an image based on their value.

so, with this particular gradient map, black will be replaced with that orangey red tone, white will be replaced with the seafoamy green tone, etc. this particular gradient map i'm using as an example is very bright and saturated, but the colors can be literally anything.

these two sets are the ones i use most. they can be downloaded for free here and here if you have csp. there are many gradient map sets out there. and you can make your own!

you can apply a gradient map directly onto a specific layer in csp by going to edit>tonal correction>gradient map. to apply one indirectly, you can use a correction layer through layer>new correction layer>gradient map. honestly, correction layers are probably the better way to go, because you can adjust your gradient map whenever you want after creating the layer, whereas if you directly apply a gradient map to a layer thats like. it. it's done. if you want to make changes to the applied gradient map, you have to undo it and then reapply it. i don't use correction layers because i am old and stuck in my ways, but it's good to know what your options are.

this is what a correction layer looks like. it sits on top and applies the gradient map to the layers underneath it, so you can also change the layers beneath however and whenever you want. you can adjust the gradient map by double clicking the layer. there are also correction layers for tone curves, brightness/contrast, etc. many such useful things in this program.

let's see how mithrun looks when we apply that first gradient map we looked at.

gadzooks. apologies for eyestrain. we have turned mithrun into a neon hellscape, which might work for some pieces, but not this one. we can fix that by changing the layer blending mode, aka this laundry list of words:

some of them are self explanatory, like darken and lighten, while some of them i genuinely don't understand how they are meant to work and couldn't explain them to you, even if i do use them. i'm sure someone out there has written out an explanation for each and every one of them, but i've learned primarily by clicking on them to see what they do.

for the topic of this post, the blending mode of interest is soft light. so let's take hotline miamithrun and change the layer blending mode to soft light.

here it is at 100% opacity. this is the point at which i'd like to explain why i like using textured brushes so much - it makes it very easy to get subtle color variation when i use this Secret Technique. look at the striation in the upper right background! so tasty. however, to me, these colors are still a bit "much." so let's lower the opacity.

i think thats a lot nicer to look at, personally, but i dont really like these colors together. how about we try some other ones?

i like both of these a lot more. the palettes give the piece different vibes, at which point i have to ask myself: What Are The Vibes, Actually? well, to be honest i didn't really have a great answer because again, i didn't plan this out very much at all. however. i knew in my heart that there was too much color contrast going on and it was detracting from the two other contrasts in here: the light and dark values and the sharp and soft shapes. i wanted mithrun's head to be the main focal point. for a different illustration, colors like this might work great, but this is not that hypothetical illustration, so let's bring the opacity down again.

yippee!! that's getting closer to what my heart wants. for fun, let's see what this looks like if we change the blending mode to color.

i do like how these look but in the end they do not align with my heart. oh well. fun to experiment with though! good to keep in mind for a different piece, maybe! i often change blending modes just to see what happens, and sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn't. i very much cannot stress enough that much of my artistic process is clicking buttons i only sort of understand. for fun.

i ended up choosing the gradient map on the right because i liked that it was close to the actual canary uniform colors (sorta). it's at an even lower opacity though because there was Still too much color for my dear heart.

the actual process for this looks like me setting my merged layer to soft light at around 20% opacity and then clicking every single gradient map in my collection and seeing which one Works. sometimes i will do this multiple times and have multiple soft light and/or color layers combined.

typically at this point i merge everything again and do minor contrast adjustments using tone curves, which is another tool i find very fun to play around with. then for this piece in particular i did some finishing touches and decided that the white border was distracting so i cropped it. and then it's done!!! yay!!!!!

this process is a very simple and "fast" way to add more depth and visual interest to a piece without being overbearing. well, it's fast if you aren't indecisive like me, or if you are better at planning.

let's do another comparison. personally i feel that the hint of color on the left version makes mithrun look just a bit more unwell (this is a positive thing) and it makes the contrast on his arm a lot more pleasing to look at. someone who understands color theory better than i do might have more to say on the specifics, but that's honestly all i got.

just dont look at my layers too hard. ok?

[feralforbeanix]

Manfred Von Karma did not burn Phoenix's letters to Miles.

Like, I'm not even saying this to defend Manfred's character (though the fanbase does get a little crazy with what he actually did and didn't do) I'm saying this because that's not canon. I'm not sure it was even possible in canon.

Phoenix didn't write letters to Germany. He didn't know Miles was in Germany, let alone Von Karma's address. He didn't even know who Von Karma was until Edgeworth told him about Manfred in Turnabout Goodbyes.

In the game canon, Miles just stopped showing up to school one day. All Phoenix seemed to know was that he transferred schools suddenly. He didn't know why or where to. Remember, Phoenix didn't even hear about DL-6 until Turnabout Sisters when Maya mentioned her family's involvement.

Even in the anime canon (I haven't watched the anime in a while so I might be off about this) where Phoenix and Miles get a chance to properly say goodbye, Phoenix still doesn't have a direct means of contacting him. His best way of doing so was dedicating a song through the radio using Signal Samurai codenames and hoping Miles would hear it.

Phoenix mentions trying to contact him several times when explaining their relationship to Maya, but this was after finding out Miles was this "Demon Attorney". Miles would have to be at least 20 at this point in time, living back in California with at least a few trials under his belt. With how young he reached success, it's not impossible Miles was living on his own at the time. Even if he wasn't, I doubt Manfred was going through this grown adult's mail.

No, what the game seems to be implying is that Miles ignored Phoenix. (Maya even says, "I guess he didn't want to hear from his old friends.") And I don't think this was out of hatred or anything, I think Miles just wanted to forget his past entirely because even the good memories of his childhood would be bittersweet at best.

And to be honest that makes it even more tragic to me. Why do we need Manfred to intercept their connection when Miles' trauma and guilt complex is already doing that?

I like to think Miles knew Phoenix would be asking questions if he ever responded to those initial attempts at contact. Questions he of course doesn't want to answer because they'd at best open old wounds or at worst risk his childhood friend finding out he might have committed patricide.

I also like to think he knew Phoenix of all people would stubbornly try to find the answers Miles wouldn't willingly give because he literally mentions Phoenix always being "single minded in his work" and "always seeing things through to the end". If anyone was going to press and bring those uncomfortable and painful memories out in the open for the sake of "helping him", it would be Phoenix Wright.

Why do we need Manfred to take away all that complexity and tragedy? That is such a waste!

[piggycyberwarrior]

Task Force 141 with a Reader that grew up in a ‚be an independent woman and never rely on a man‘-household >>>>>>

They immediately love you- such a pretty thing, always working hard, beautiful smile on your lips and so so kind.

They have enough money (a reward for putting their life on line) so why not spend it on you? Of course their wallet gets lighter when your gaze lingers on an absurdly priced jewelry. How can't they shower you with gifts, when you deserve this and so much more?

Buying you this, that- things you threaten to kill them over if they buy you a $2000 purse- because thats just so absurd- yeah you liked the design, but thats too much money for a piece of leather.

Their cash is yours now- even though you do not accept that fact. Green paper traded for clothes, accessoires, food, shoes, lingerie- oh how they love to buy you lingerie…

Always paying for your meals- snacks, getting pouty when you give them the glare while pressing your card onto the terminal, a tad faster than them- paying the food.

You were raised like this- to pay for your own things- standing up for yourself, never rely on men and that you don't need any gifts from them. They know that but oh boy- they do not care. In the end- they shower you with money because they love you, not because they want you too love them.

Soap and Gaz are the ones who do it the sly way.

Let me explain.

They shop with you- making you try on all different kids of clothes- because you just look so pretty in them :( ... how can you not say yes to their begs and pleads.

pretty pretty please with sugar on top..?

Seeing how your eyes light up in the mirrow- Soap and Gaz share a glance- an unspoken promise. (One slowly getting up- making his way through the endless option of clothes- softly talking to an employee, pointing at your happy form- and everything you seemed to like is bought in a matter of seconds.)

"Are you serious??" "Aw- do nae be like tha', bonnie" Soap laughed quietly- carrying the shopping bags with such a proud smile. "Yeah, we had to buy you them, you looked so good, sugar" Gaz said- pressing a soft kiss to your cheek before his warm hand on your lower back pushed you foward gently. "But-" you tried to reason, being shut up with a tut from the two men. "Just accept it, baby, yeah?"

You don't even argue when it comes to Simon. He just buys it- and when you try to obliege- one of his intimidating looks is enough and you fold. You tried outsmarting him by not going shopping with him but the gifts just stack to the ceiling in your home so you stopped that aswell..

So when you did go outside with him you had to literally threathen him "Simon, I am going to staple your large intestine to your nose if you even think about buying me that" you growled while looking at some mannequins while strolling through the city.

"but do you like it?"

yes "No, its ugly"

He doesn't buy it then and there but again- he has enough money so why not spend it on you? yada yada yada- in the end you have some strange bag that you do not recognize on your bed- with that ugly pretty dress you saw while walking with Ghost.

Stubborn man

The worst one in the group must be price tho- he never and I mean neverrr lets you pay for anything. The others gift you many things, but this man? When he is around you don't even have to bring your wallet with you of course you do because fuck them (...please)

You‘re struggling to pay rent? Paid. Wanting to relax? Spa Appointment booked. Feeling hungry? Meal's already on the way. Flat not that cozy? Lets go shopping decor, love.

This man can read you so good- its creepy. And he won't accept a 'no'"

He randomly transfers money onto your bank account- "Luv, I have enough" "John.. I cannot accept that! Thats too much"

-

Oh yes you can. They will make you accept it all...

Everything.

!please do reblog!

My mutuallsssss ✨🌷: @stargirlstabber @cricricorner @captain-of-caption @enfppuff @missroro @peachy-aisha @thelrina @gaiagurl05

[caldella]

SINSMAS SPOILERS AHEAD

Fan theory time!

This part of this episode had me SCREAMING because I hope they're hinting at a headcanon/theory I've had for a long time!

The way this scene was such a DIRECT callback to S1E1 Muder Family, down to looking through a window and one of them being hesitant to go through with the job because there's a happy family?

In Murder Family it was the same situation (murdering someone responsible for a marriage falling apart), but Blitzø didn't think anything of it even though he had done the same with Stolas. Blitzø and Stolas' situationship vs. Stella could've well been a Martha and Mrs. Mayberry situation, if you remove the later knowledge he and the viewers didn't have at first. Mrs. Mayberry as a client could have very well been a Stella if we didn't know the context later in the episode said otherwise. Mrs. Mayberry was more angry that the public viewed Martha as a hero for surviving being shot than anything else.

And the entire Sinsmas mission making Blitzø hesitant, because now he's realizing that he relates to his target? Like, suddenly he's examining that his revenge murder stuff isn't always the best solution, and this might be hurting someone who has been through shit and should be happy? That he could be killing a Stolas or a Blitzø? That he could be ruining a family of kids like Loona and Via who don't deserve it?

That maybe like he's been doing with his personal life, he should be asking some more questions about the impact of the jobs he's taking on, too? Add in the way Blitzø insists constantly that he's an assassin, not a bodyguard, but he is super protective of his loved ones and has proven to be really, really good at saving people...

Incoming IMP revolution theories might mess this up, but I am going to be SO, SO HAPPY if the eventual end-of-show route for IMP is that they transfer from murder to being bodyguards for hire. Like IMP is now Imminent Murder Prevention or something. Blitz is getting over his mentality that he can only make people's lives worse, and what better symbolism for that than his entire company eventually being devoted to protecting/saving people instead of destroying them?

They still get to fight/shoot/kill if needed, but to help instead of harm. The absolute symbolism. The way that would probably be really good for Blitzø's mental health once he makes that connection because he loves helping people he likes or thinks need it. Moxxie might like it, too. Just everything about this possibility.

I would love it SO MUCH.

[boyfhee]

✶ JEALOUSY, JEALOUSY !

jealously looks good on them

pairing enhypen x reader / fem reader in hoon's genre fluff warnings kissing in jake's, ignore the typos pleek notes happy reading ^^ requested

HEESEUNG

you know he's the jealous type just three days after dating him. it's in a fun way— of course. despite being the jealous type he doesn't overdo it ( or at least tries not to. ) you're gushing about your favourite character from a show or a celebrity you like and he's sulking on the inside.

“byeon wooseok is hot but not hotter than me. right, darling?” he would ask the moment he catches you watching the edits of the actor on tiktok. with eyes fixed on you, his lips morph more and more into a pout when you take more than a few seconds to respond. “i can't believe this,”

you watch him sit on the far end of the couch, away from you, refusing to spare you a glance even though you know his attention is on you. “c’mon hee, are you jealous of an actor? he doesn't even know me,”

“well, good for me because with how pretty you are, he will definitely fall for you if he gets to know you,” he replies through a frown, eyeing you through his peripheral gaze, arms crossed. it only makes you laugh at how cute he can be sometimes.

“and i'm in love with you so it doesn't matter,” and he's back to normal, crawling to your side and wrapping his arms around you. you just have to remind him that every time jealousy gets the best of him, even though he already knows it; but he likes to hear you say it. 

JONGSEONG

jay thought it would be cute to ask you out on a little convenience store date until your neighbour's son crashes it. well, not literally since he only happened to be there at the store. however, despite all, being the person he is, he doesn't think much of it.

that is until that guy decides to follow you around throughout the time you two shop. even when you two make it to the counter, he's next to you, talking to you and you're responding nicely, considering he's your neighbour.

“um, we're dating,” he says with an awkward smile when that guy asks if you're single. and jay has always been patient but he grabs the shopping bags and your hand, and walks out of the store with the speed of light.

“you can let go of my hand,” you laugh at the look of pure jealousy on his face. it's not really obvious, but you can see it. you've known him long enough to know how he is when he's jealous.

“nope,” he shakes his head, lacing his fingers with your own while you two are walking back to his place. “not until we're home,”

JAEYUN

he thinks he's being subtle about it but you don't miss the way he keeps scooting closer while you're texting a friend. he's not trying to peek, he's trying to get your attention.

“who even have you been texting for so long?” he asks after a few seconds, sitting lazily next to you on the bed with a faint pout residing on his lips.

“my friend. it's her birthday soon and she wants me to go shopping with her,” you don't even look up at him as you respond, smiling at your phone screen. he stares at you for a brief second before laying down with a slight whine.

“you're leaving me,” his words reach your ears and you turn your head towards him, brows furrowed. “i need to die,”

and the ‘j’ in jake stands for jealousy, it was never a secret. however, you didn't expect him to act like this right now. “jake, it's not that serious,”

“it’s four in the evening and not a single kiss today,” he sits up and says with a dramatic gasp— eyes wide open as if the situation is oh so scandalous. he sighs, putting a hand on his chest, shaking his head. “i'm afraid this is my last day. any last words?”

and you chuckle, putting your phone away before scooting closer to him and cupping his face, pressing his lips against his. “you're so dramatic,” 

SUNGHOON

sunghoon was all up for an evening stroll around the campus after classes but definitely didn't appreciate the transfer student from your class ruin this little date.

subtle glares and his fingers intertwined with yours, and yet that guy couldn't catch a hint. sunghoon knows he's hitting on you, perhaps you do too but knowing how nice you are, you can't be rude when all that guy is doing is complimenting you. so, he'll do it for you— sunghoon is going to eat him up.

"i know, right? my girlfriend is the prettiest girl on earth. and guess what? she's smart as hell— i love my girl. oh you want her number? well, she's mine," all in one breath, followed by an awkward silence and sunghoon's prideful smile. "now, me and my girl have somewhere to be so if you'll excuse us,"

he doesn't even give a chance for your classmate to speak, walking away while bringing you along with him. as funny at it is, you know he wasn't taking any of it.

"was all that necessary?" you ask, fingers still laced with his as you two walked down towards an ice cream parlour.

"what's necessary is for us to get married," he says it in the most casual way, getting you your favourite ice cream flavour and handing it too you. "too many guys looking at you. i can't take the risk,"

SUNOO

"i thought you're no longer in touch with him," sunoo says quietly when you bid your goodbyes to your friend, holding your hand as you two walk back to your class together.

"yeah, but we're classmates so it was unavoidable," you respond with a smile, looking up at him. it only takes you a fraction of the second to notice the troubles expression on his face, behind the smile. "what's wrong?"

your boyfriend shakes his head, the smile getting wider but it's only an attempt to throw you off the topic. "nothing,"

"sunoo," you stand in his way, hands on your waist, looking at him with a cheeky grin. it's not often you catch sunoo with such an expression. "are you jealous?"

"i'm not!" he quickly defends himself, eyes going wide and cheeks heating up out of embarrassment. however he sighs, giving up the very next second. "well, maybe a little. he's your ex after all,"

"he was my friend before we started dating," and you couldn't help but chortle at his actions, nodding as you get back to holding his hand, this time a bit more firmly than earlier. "besides, i have you now,"

"right," he couldn't help but smile at your words and pulls you a bit closer to him, speaking with a triumphant grin. "you're too good for him anyway,"

JUNGWON

jungwon has been watching you for fifteen minutes now, laying on the bed, eyes squinted at you. "do you remember you have a boyfriend?"

"of course, i do. why would i forget that?" you furrow your brows at his question, looking up at him briefly before looking back at your boyfriend's pet dog.

"i don't know, seems like you did," he sighs, getting off the bed and sitting next to you on the floor, looking at his pet dog. "i called you over to spend time with you. not to watch you play with maeumi,"

and you laugh, caressing maeumi in your lap while looking at your boyfriend with a teasing grin. "i can't believe you're jealous of your own dog,"

"and what if i am?"

"it's a bit silly," you nod, the smile never leaving your face. "it's cute," his eyes follow your actions as you lean down to plant a soft kiss on maeumi's head and then lifting him up slightly. "but can you really ignore this cutie?"

and that was the end of his patience. jungwon gets up, picking maeumi before putting him away in the living room. "yeah, he's going up for adoption,"

"jungwon!"

RIKI

"he's so ugly," riki comments bitterly as you walk out of your class, eyeing one of the classmates you've been talking to while he was waiting for you in the hallways. "what a creature,"

"creature?" you repeat his words in disbelief, even though it's not really unusual for him to say that. "riki, that's my classmate. he was giving me yesterday's notes,"

"yeah, he's still ugly," he shakes his head, scoffing, grabbing one of your hands while sliding the other in the pocket of his pants.

you simply laugh at his words as you both get downstairs, a few students passing by you two, rushing towards the school exit. "you look stupid when you're jealous,"

"jealous? me?" he scoffs yet again, a prideful grin on his face as he stops in his tracks, looking at you. "you have quite an imagination,"

"what i have is a jealous boyfriend who sucks at lying,"

and who even is he kidding, because both of you know he's the more jealous one between the two of you. about the lying part. . .he's not too sure. "well, at least i look better than him, don't i?"

you nod, tip toeing slightly to kiss his cheeks, still holding his hands in the process. "the best,"

[wheelie-sick]

people way underestimate the needs of wheelchair users.

there's a lot of what I'll call walkism (bias towards pedestrians and against wheelchair users) among disabled pedestrians (people who primarily walk, assisted or not, as their means of mobility)

diminishing our needs is walkism.

people within the community see us as ableds minus legs. they see our disabilities as simple- just can't walk, it's that easy. they see us as having low accommodation needs and as having the accommodations that we do need met. they see our access barriers as being as simple as ramps and curb cuts.

we are frequently compared to low support needs (LSN) non-physically disabled people by ablebodied disabled people and physically disabled people alike. we are compared to people who walk through life (literally) with little to no support, who make it through school with minimal accommodations, who have access to the whole world.

people are so incredibly out of touch with what wheelchair use actually looks like. people don't personally know wheelchair users, often don't even follow them on social media. people assume they can understand our entire lives by looking at our wheels and imagining. that doesn't work.

this belief that our disabilities are simple especially goes for paraplegic wheelchair users who are so often used as the "closest to abled" examples. they don't consider how many paraplegic wheelchair users experience things like spasms, chronic pain, bladder spasms specifically, both urinary and fecal incontinence, among much else that I'm sure I'm not aware of as I am not paraplegic. they especially don't consider that fact that wheelchair use is absolutely not close to abled.

they don't consider the extent of needs that full time and near full time wheelchair users experience. have you ever had to wait in the grocery store parking lot for 30+ minutes so an accessible spot with an access aisle could open up? how deep is the washing machine in your apartment? how large is the room it's in? is your sink too tall? what about the cabinets? how high is your bed? how low is your dining table? how easy would it be to fit a wheelchair in your car? how reliable is your bus? how reliable are the people on it to not put their groceries in the wheelchair spot? does your workplace have a ramp?

when people become wheelchair users they often have to uproot their entire lives to rebuild in a way that allows them to access things as vital as their home and workplace. when people already are wheelchair users they experience shortages of everything- jobs with accessible buildings, apartments they can get into and use, cars they can put their wheelchairs in easily.

this isn't even getting into things like access to businesses and other locations wheelchair users may want to go.

wheelchair users always have significant disabilities. yes, always. yes, even that disability you think is mild. people don't end up as wheelchair users because they have mild chronic pain or lose balance occasionally. people end up as wheelchair users because they have significant mobility disabilities. significant mobility disabilities rarely act alone. I cannot name a wheelchair user who only experiences mobility disability. everything, yes, everything comes with other effects.

while I've spent a lot of time talking about the comparatively low support needs wheelchair users there are high support needs wheelchair users as well. people only look at those of us who have ability to do all or most ADLs with our wheelchairs, this is not the case for every wheelchair user. there are wheelchair users who use group 3 powerchairs. there are wheelchair users who transfer via hoist. there are wheelchair users who need to control their wheelchair with their breath. there are wheelchair users who can't move their wheelchair independently at all and rely on someone else to push them. there are wheelchair users whose disabilities cause significant disability in areas other than mobility meaning they have feeding tubes, ostomies, suprapubic catheters, and ventilators. these presentations of disability are not even uncommon.

true high support needs wheelchair users are so often erased from every conversation (including conversations among wheelchair users) but I have not once seen a pedestrian mention quadriplegia & tetraplegia or muscular dystrophy or spinal muscular atrophy or any other number of conditions that leave someone needing both a wheelchair and very high support. I never see mentions of intellectually disabled people who use wheelchairs for conditions connected to their intellectual disability and I never see mentions of conditions like sanfilippo syndrome.

ultimately though, wheelchair users are just not a monolith. I will stand by the fact that, while some wheelchair users may have low support needs compared to other wheelchair users and high support needs neurodevelopmentally disabled people, none of our support needs are so low that they are at all comparable to those of low support needs non-physically disabled people. it's erasure of our disability to suggest there is no difference in support required between a low support needs autistic person and a wheelchair user on the low support needs end of the wheelchair support needs spectrum.

it is especially erasure to collapse all wheelchair users down to the lowest level of support needs a wheelchair user can have. it pretends that our higher support needs siblings don't exist.

the community does not understand us or our struggles. it won't understand us or our struggles until we are included, until people stop seeing us as the most privileged part of the community and until people stop minimizing our struggles. walkism is the reason wheelchair users have built our own communities separate from the rest of the disabled community. it is made clear time and time again that we are not welcome and we will not be understood.

A note: by wheelchair user I am specifically referring to people who use a wheelchair on a regular basis for day-to-day tasks. for the sake of this post I am not including people who only use wheelchairs at the mall/Disney/theme parks/other long distances.

[all dividers are described in alt text]

[ldrfanatic]

this happens once every few lifetimes

mattheo riddle x reader

synopsis - reader transfers to hogwarts from ilvermorny. she and mattheo fall in love with each other at first sight.

warnings - none, i think?

listened to while writing - the alchemy by taylor swift

i have a clara bow theo one in the works right now that i'm excited to drop at some point. ngl this gif of benjamin in deadly class inspired this idea A LOT.

part two?

slytherin boys works

you waited with baited breath outside of the great hall.

any moment now the doors would swing open and albus dumbledore, who you knew only through legend, would announce your transfer to hogwarts.

it was terrifying honestly. leaving ilvermorny was indescribably difficult. but when your father got a job opportunity at the british ministry of magic, it was decided. already you were feeling overwhelmed. you'd done your research but hogwarts was much larger than ilvermorny. it was much older as well, and thus had gained a reputation over a thousand years of producing some of the greatest witches and wizards the world has ever seen.

the large magnificent doors opened and every pair of eyes was on you.

you walked forward with sweaty palms, subtly attempting to dry them on your plain, black hogwarts robes. another change. the wardrobe was much more strict here than back in america. and where every student at ilvermorny wore the same blue and gold, students at hogwarts wore colors representative of their house.

finally, you reached the end of the walkway and stood face to face with a dusty and rather ancient looking hat. to your light surprise, it spoke. a woman whom you'd met briefly beforehand, professor mcgonnagall, picked up the hat gently and motioned for you to sit on the stool.

it was time to be sorted into one of hogwarts four houses. you'd been in wampus, the house of the warrior, at ilvermorny, and despite hours of research, you couldn't distinguish what the hogwarts equivalent would be. all four houses seemed to be good choices but there was one in particular that stood out to you.

no shorter or longer than exactly fifteen seconds after the sorting hat touched your head, a declaration was made.

"slytherin!"

an older student in green robes gestured you over to the table on the far right. not wanting to sit at the very front and continue to be gawked at, you briskly walked a little further down and took a seat at the middle of the table.

once you'd taken your seat, dumbledore began to explain that hogwarts would be hosting the triwizard tournament this year. after a flashy introduction from beauxbatons and durmstrang, you effectively decided that you were not the most interesting shiny new toy at hogwarts this year and silently thanked the universe for this turn of events.

at last, it was announced that you could eat and the tables filled with food. all around you students' plates began magically creating complex dishes. there were even some dinners that held food that you were sure you couldn't see anywhere on the table.

frustrated, you stared down at your empty plate. it was a long journey to hogwarts. you were hungry and quite frankly tired of things being so different. if one more complicated situation made its appearance at this school, you were undoubtedly going to lose it.

"just think about a food you really want to eat. it can be anything."

a boy next to you with brown hair and bright blue eyes leaned over. a thick italian accent levied on his deep voice.

you closed your eyes and thought about a delicious juicy cheeseburger with golden-crisp french fries. sure enough, when you opened your eyes, your plate had filled with food.

absolutely giddy with glee, you turned to thank the mystery man.

"no problem. i'm theodore nott. this is draco malfoy next to me."

the platinum blonde boy didn't even look up to acknowledge your existence. theodore, seemingly sensing your mild displeasure, spoke up.

"don't mind him. welcome to slytherin house. riddle, say hello to our newest recruit."

the dark haired boy directly across from you who you assumed was 'riddle' did in fact look over from his conversation with a boy with a chestnut colored complexion. yet, when your eyes found his, he didn't say hello.

he didn't say anything actually. he just sort of stared. as you held eye contact, it was like lightning running through your veins and sizzling at your fingertips.

for a moment, you wondered if he'd ever seen a person before.

then, as if he'd snapped out of a daze, a gentle smile played at his lips. dark curls fell over his brown eyes that seemed to sparkle the longer you looked at them.

his large hand crept over the table until it was outstretched towards you with a kind smile.

"mattheo."

you shook his hand with a shy smile. mattheo was currently looking at you like you were the only thing that mattered. in fact, your little interaction had gone on so long that theodore and the boy mattheo had been speaking with had both strucken up conversation with other students at the table.

"y/n."

mattheo eyed your appearance. his gaze flickered across your face, then to your hair, and all over the parts of your body he could see.

"sorry if this is a little awkward, but i can't remember the last time i was this captivated by someone." mattheo finally released your hand and you had to stop yourself from begging him not to.

"welcome to slytherin house. you're in the snake's nest now, beautiful."

---

7.8.2024

[heavysighing-dreamyeyes]

imagine like reader being a detective or something, being on the case to catch Red Hood (while he’s still a crime boss)/ the Arkham Knight, but being in a relationship with Jason, unaware of his nightly business. And then boom, they find out one day and it’s all angsty 🤞🤞 love ur work btw hihi

Betrayal

Hi, nonnie! I thought I had this done earlier, but then I had to keep world building. Stuck with Red Hood on this one. Hurt/No comfort warning. Non-graphic, very minor character death. ~1.8k words

Gotham is cursed. That's what they told you when you transfered to the GCPD. Yeah, you've heard the stories, but they're just messing with you, right? Trying to scare the newest rookie cop.

Except they were telling the truth. A few years later, more cases than you can keep track of, enough masked rouges to fill arkham three times over, and a promotion to detective, you tell the rookies the same thing they told you. Gotham is cursed.

"Alright, Detective, this one is yours." You make a face at the case file the Commissioner drops on your desk.

"Sir, I took care of The Penguin robbery last week, isn't it someone elses turn to deal with the high profile cases?" You gingerly pick up the file, reading over the name Red Hood stamped on the front.

Gordan sighs at you, already turning away to move onto the next poor detective. "We cycled through everyone else after the Black Gate breakout. Anyone who didn't work on it has active cases. That makes this one yours."

You grumble reluctantly, cases like this lead to more press coverage than you want to deal with, but start flipping through the file, mentally noting down the sparse facts and theories about the up and coming crime lord.

That was four months ago. In such a short amount of time, Red Hood has taken over more territory in Gotham than any other crime lord and completely changed the game. No dealing to children, no human trafficking. You hate to acknowledge it, but crime technically has dropped since he took over the majority of gangs in Gotham under an iron fist.

The work is exhausting, he's always one– no, five steps ahead of you and your growing team of detectives and beat cops. You don't think you've even gotten a real glimpse at him that he didn't mean to let you have.

The closest you've gotten to Red Hood was out of uniform, weeks after you got the case, when he was still a new name on the streets.

It was a robbery, some desperate punk in a mask that didn't conceal anything, was dragging a little girl out of the store as a hostage.

"Take me instead, she's just a kid." You had protested, heart sinking at the terror in the little girls face.

"Not a chance." He barked back at you.

"Look, she's scared, she'll only slow you down."

The gunman stares at you, you see his fingers twitch. "Fuck it. Fine. Both of you are coming with me." That's how you ended up in some alley, familiar sirens wailing in the distance and your hand curled protectively with the child's.

"Shit. Man. Shit. The cops weren't supposed to be here. What am I gonna do? I can't go to jail." He's snapping. Rambling and desperate. Your eyes dart for some kind of plan, a way to help the little girl stay safe. But the alley is empty, not even a dumpster to seek shelter behind. "I just gotta get rid of the witnesses. Yeah. The witnesses."

Your eyes dart to him, he's lifting the gun. You don't hesitate to grab the little girl, wrapping your arms around her and turning your back to the man, tucking her to your chest to provide as much cover as you can provide.

A gun fires.

There's a thud.

You look over your shoulder, the girls face still hidden against you. He's not moving, gun unshot and laying next to him on the ground. There's a pool of dark liquid forming around him. You look up.

You manage to see a red glint, the shine of a gun, the eerie glow of a luminescent eyes. Red Hood.

That's all you manage to see before you're swarmed by cops, guiding you and the girl to safety.

It's a memory that plays in your mind sometimes, when you hear testimonies of how Red Hood saves people in crime alley, despite his crime lord status. It's confusing, exhausting even, to try and sort between the good and the bad, the duality of one man. At least you have your loving boyfriend to come home to.

Jason. He makes you feel like Gotham might not be so cursed. It's great, he gives you butterflies. He makes you happy. You cook meals together, and you both work the weird twilight/night shift hours. He holds you like you're precious under your shared comforter. You think you might love him. He whispers sweet nothings into your hair when he thinks you're sleeping. You kiss his palms when his eyes get that far away, haunted look he can’t seem to explain.

He's insisted on cooking dinner tonight as you watch him, a little starry eyed. You can't really blame yourself when he's shirtless and working over your favorite meal.

"Oh, Jason, I need to wash my clothes. Do you need anything done?" You ask, finally remembering that you do actually have a job and responsibilities and you can't stare at your handsome boyfriend all day.

"No, I'm good, baby. Go ahead and do your thing. Dinner's almost done." He answers idly, shooting you a lazy grin as you stand.

You smile back before leaving the kitchen to gather your clothes. As you dump the dirty laundry in the washer, you realize you never refilled the detergent. Mumbling an annoyed curse, you head to the spare bedroom you rarely use. There should be some extra necessities stock piled in there. You know, for the next time a criminal messes with Gothams chain supply.

You're more focused on the delicious smells floating through the apartment as you open the closet door, idly looking around for the detergent. That's why it doesn't really click in your mind what you're looking at. Guns. Armor. Your thoughts freeze to a stop. Are you dating some kind of henchman? A bright red helmet takes up your vision. Nope. You're dating a crime boss.

The helmet is in your hands and you're fumbling your way to the kitchen before you even have your thoughts sorted. Should you call for back up? Shouldn't you try to catch him by surprise? Sure. But, you need answers. You want this to be a misunderstanding. You want Jason to be your partner– not– not what the evidence that's heavy in your hand says he is.

Statistics run through your mind. Stories of Red Hood saving working girls. Stories of him leaving bodies of dealers that sold to kids. Then, memories of your boyfriend. How he leans down to kiss your forehead. How runs his hand up and down your arm while you watch movies together. If there was a sign. If you were too blind and in love to realize.

He turns to look at you when you stalk in. You throw the helmet at him. The helmet you'd recognize anywhere, even if you've never gotten close enough to touch it before. He catches it with the grace of a predator. "The hell is this, Jason?"

"It's a helmet." He says evenly, turning off the stove and placing the helmet down on the counter.

"No, duh, it's a helmet, Jason. Don't patronize me. Is it yours?" You nearly hiss, hands curling in anger and frustration and heart break you're not ready to admit you're feeling.

He studies you, eyes dark and calculating. It makes you bite the inside of you cheek. His eyes never looked at you like that before. "It is."

You laugh out of disbelief, stepping back. "So you've been using me? Is that what all this was? Just a way to get information about the GCPD and what we had on you?"

"What? No." He says your name a little pleading, "it's not like that. Not anymore."

"But it was." You bite out, cursing yourself for the sting of tears in your eyes.

He steps closer, you step back, trying to keep your hands from shaking. He whispers your name, and you think you see hurt flash in his eyes before it disappears. His voice goes steady, even. "It was. But I haven't tried to get anything like that since–"

"Since when, Jason?" You cut off, anger and hurt clear in your voice, in your face. "Was it before we raided the warehouse at the docks? Is my computer bugged? Did you hack my phone?"

He winces. You don't need to be a detective to know he has. "I haven't used them since we started getting serious."

"And when was that, Jason?" You ask, voice breaking at his name. "Because it's been serious this entire time for me."

He doesn't answer at first, gaze leaving you to stare at his helmet. "Since I– I saw you save that kid. Instead of going after that shooter. When I realized you weren't just another one of the corrupted cops. That you care about this city. And the people. I realized I couldn't keep doing that to you."

You go quiet. What can you say to that? "Were you ever going to tell me?" You settle on.

"I don't know." He shrugs helplessly, eyes leaving the helmet to meet your teary gaze. "I didn't know how. I don't– think I wanted you to know. " He stutters over his last sentence, and then says your name, pleading coming back to his tone. "I can't lose you over this."

"You never had me!" Your voice raises, a shout in anger before you can bury it down. You shake your head, wrapping your arms around yourself protectively and lowering your voice. "You never had me if everything this was was built on a lie."

"It's not a lie." He says firmly, snapping to attention and stepping towards you. He gestures between the two of you, says your name like he demands your attention. "This is not a lie."

"It is, Jason! You're only here to gain something from me! From my job!" You push back, throat tight and head spinning. Maybe you shouldn't be yelling at Gothams most dangerous and deadliest crime boss, but your heart is too broken for your head to think straight.

"No, pretty." You think he's pleading. You think his mouth might even be trembling as he speaks, but you can't make it out through the tears in your eyes. "No. It was like that at first. I know. I know that hurts you, but, it's not like that now. It's nowhere near that now."

"I don't care." You choke out.

"You don't mean that." Jason protests, but he doesn't sound certain.

"I don't want to see you anymore." You say the words before you're even sure you want that.

His face drops. "You don't mean that either."

"I do." It tastes like a lie. It sounds like the truth. You're turning and leaving before he can speak again, before you can unpack what you really want, locking yourself in the bathroom.

You fall asleep to the sound of your own tears, curled on the cold tile floor. You wake to silence. His helmet is gone from your counter when you enter the kitchen.

Your favorite dinner is wrapped in plastic when you open the fridge.

It makes the truth of it all worse. Gotham really is cursed.

Part Two

[woso-dreamzzz]

Proud VI

Hardersson x Teen!Reader

Georgia Stanway x Teen!Reader

Summary: You join Bayern Munich

The transfer was a long time coming.

You love North London. You love Arsenal - a bit too much according to Magda - but this transfer was something that you didn't need to think about.

You loved your mothers more than Arsenal and you wanted to be with them again.

You'd gotten a taste of it during your last year in London, living with them both and then they'd gone to Germany without you, stuck in your two year contract with your club.

Arsenal had tried to re-sign you but Bayern Munich had come knocking and Bayern Munich was where your mothers were.

You wanted to be where your mothers were too.

Contract negotiations were easy. They moved quickly and without much fuss until finally your name was on the dotted line and there were two Harders on the team.

It's the first time you'll be playing your club football with Magda, the first time you'll ever be playing football with Pernille.

It's not that you're nervous but you want to do well.

You want to prove to them that they've made the right choice in letting you come with them again.

Oberdorf has also joined from Wolfsburg and you think her signing is a lot more ground breaking than yours so you slip under the radar a little bit as the media and fans clamour over Oberdorf's switch from one German giant to another.

"Different kind of red than you're used to, little Eriksson?" Georgia Stanway teases as you step out onto the training pitch for preseason.

"Red is red," You say," And it's Harder, not Eriksson."

Georgia frowns. "But I thought you were Swedish."

"I am Swedish," You reply," And I'm still a Harder. Two things can be right at the same time."

Goergia laughs at your affronted look, reaching out to ruffle your hair. "I was just playing around with you. No harm, no foul."

You still purse your lips though, unsure how to take this teasing.

Everyone at Arsenal already knew you. They knew how you were. They knew how you acted. They knew that either one of your mothers would pick you up when practice ended so their teasing couldn't go too far.

"Leah's talked about you," Georgia continues," Said you usually had a sense of humour."

"I do have a sense of humour! I just..."

Magda's hand falls onto your shoulder. "She's just nervous. This is her first time in Germany, you know. She's left all her friends behind in London."

Your cheeks go red. "Morsa," You say," You're embarrassing me."

Magda pinches your cheek. "Good. That's what I'm here for."

Georgia watches as you try to squirm away, but Magda's got you in a headlock and is rubbing her knuckles in your hair.

"Come on! Come on! Get off!"

"Are they always like this?"

"You should have seen what they were like after a London Derby," Pernille says, fondly watching the two of you as you manage to tackle Magda into the ground, wrestling with her in the dirt.

"Magda said she left her friends behind?"

"Magda exaggerates. I'm afraid y/n has never really had time for friends outside of football."

Georgia frowns. "No friends outside of football? None at all?"

"She's lonely," Pernille says," Not that she would admit it but I know she is."

"She seems pretty cool. She scored that worldie on her last game for Arsenal. I was impressed."

Pernille laughs. "Don't tell her that. She hates the compliments."

"Alright, I'll keep my awe to a minimum but the goal she scored against us in the Euro Qualifiers was equally as impressive. She's good off the ball as well."

Pernille grins, puffing out her chest as pride runs through her system. "She's the best. Magda and I are so lucky to have her as ours."

"You don't mind if I steal her for a bit though? I reckon I can get her more settled."

"If you think so." Pernille moves to loom over you and Magda, getting a foot between your two rolling bodies. "Magda, leave her alone. Y/n, Georgia wants to show your something."

You shove Magda off you, hurrying to your feet before she can grab you again.

Georgia grins, arm being thrown over your shoulder as she leads you to another group of girls.

"Sydney! Have you met Magda and Pernille's kid?"

"No. I haven't."

"Well this is y/n. y/n this is Syd. She seems like your speed."

"She does?"

"I do?"

"Well...no not really but you look like you need someone to help you out of your shell. Syd did that with Sam. She can do it with you."

Sydney grins at you and you find yourself grinning back. Her smile is kind of infectious.

"So what do you do outside of football?"

"Nothing really."

Sydney's grin widens. "Don't worry. We'll find something."

[steviewashere]

Late night fic idea that I'm definitely going to try and write at some point!!

Definitely very angsty. Steve's got bad parents. A few arguments. And Steve basically restarting his adult life. But it would definitely have a happy ending! Walk with me here.

In early 1987, Steve gets into a nasty argument with his parents. About how much of a disappointment he is, how he can't hold a good enough job, that he's just not who they wanted him to be. They tell him, pretty loudly, that if he can't grow up, then he needs to get out.

He, of course, is very upset by the result of this argument. Because he's trying his damn hardest at this whole adult thing. He's trying his damn hardest to be the person everybody wants him to be; the older brother, the best friend, the boyfriend—the good guy. Yet, even though he's completely emotionally devastated, he still goes to Eddie's because they have a date.

He's not very attentive during the date. Ignoring Eddie's comments sometimes. Giving half answers. And Eddie takes it the opposite of something wrong with Steve—no, he thinks there's something wrong with him. They end up having their own nasty, explosive argument. One that ends with Eddie muttering something along the lines of, "God, I hate you so much right now." He doesn't mean it, knows he doesn't mean it because it's too easy to just say a bullshit claim than talk it all out, hash it out as it is, figure out the root of the problem. However, Steve doesn't know this. Steve thinks Eddie means it.

Thinks that Eddie's just been putting on this interested facade to save Steve's lonely, battered heart. That maybe the novelty of their relationship ran out a long time ago. Eddie's just now telling it as it is; the same way Nancy had. A bullshit relationship, one that never meant anything. (And similar to Nancy, they don't really mean it. It's all just moment of passion stuff).

Steve leaves Eddie's. Leaves with his heart dropped out of him, wet and dead on Eddie's carpet. He leaves with bile in the back of his throat, eyes that ache, a head that's too messy to sort through. And then, the only idea that becomes clear to him: he has to get out.

Get out of Hawkins.

Because if Eddie was thinking something like that all along, who else has been thinking the same thing? Dustin? Max? Robin?

He goes to work. Submits a letter of resignation. Gives the courtesy of two more weeks. And then...

He packs all that he thinks he needs in a couple bags: a backpack and a duffel bag. He sells his car, the only money he now has to his name, plus whatever his last Family Video paycheck is. Steve gets on the closest bus, one that'll take him to a shuttle, and he takes a train out of Indiana.

Goes west. Goes to a shitty neighborhood in Sacramento, as far as he can get. He got the transfer request sent over to a Family Video here, he'll start there soon. He stays in a hotel for a couple nights, a couple nights before he finds a last minute lease for a shitty apartment.

And he just stays there. Stays in Sacramento.

He calls Robin's house once on a payphone, that way he can't be tracked. Robin's not home when he calls. He gives a message to her mom: "Tell Robin that I'm sorry. And...and that I love"—he'd sigh—"Yeah. Yeah, just tell her that I'm sorry, please. I did what I had to." He hangs up, doesn't give another way for him to be contacted and he moves on.

Some years pass. He hasn't been taking care of himself all that well, it's noticeable in how he looks. Scraggly facial hair, heavy eyes, lanky and skinny body, he's mowed down most of his hair. Just looks like an imposter in his own skin. He's working a different dead-end retail job—some supermarket, one that's owned by a corporation, he's one in thousands; somebody not cared for. His social life is nothing. He's weird around other people, weird in general; trauma that's been left unsolved, nightmares that keep him awake (so his neighbors now have a vendetta against him), stares too hard, doesn't like to talk anymore. He's hollow. A man who nobody knows, no connotations, no stupid hierarchies or nicknames attached to him. He's just Steve Harrington, some guy.

Yet, in the time he's been there, he takes up a few hobbies. Ones that work well with his secluded lifestyle. He picks up painting and photography. Things he never thought he'd be interested in. But...but he gets too bored, so he tries.

Finds out that he's good. Finds out that he's good enough for his own small studio space. For a small exhibit in the local art museum. And there, on the floor of his exhibit, idling between people who want to know more about the guy that keeps showing up in his paintings: brown eyes and pink mouth and smiles that are too big for his face; and the woman: a bob with bangs, crystal blue eyes, and a kindness that shows in her soft smiles; it's there that he sees an all too familiar face.

Eddie meets his eyes. Older, grown into his body, same brown eyes, same long curly hair. And there's a sheen of tears in his stare. A recognition he never thought he'd receive.

And there's silence. People passing them by.

Until, when the exhibit is empty except for them, Steve can only muster a simple, "Hey." And a smile, something thin that doesn't feel very real. Didn't want to be found, not yet. But in the paintings, he's been dreaming; he's been searching.

From the entryway of another exhibit, one that connects to Steve's, Robin appears. She's got that '90s pixie. And cherry stained lips. Grunge eyeshadow and an ill fitting, hole-riddled t-shirt that Steve slowly realizes is one he wore; those red Converse from Scoops, faded black Sharpie, but the only text that's still dark (as if it's been written over and over) is one he put there: "Dingus was here". She doesn't even speak. Only knows. Tripping over her own feet, dashing across the waxed floor, sliding across it with clumsy limbs. Crashing straight into Steve, hefting him up in her arms, squeezing him so tight he can't breathe.

When she places him back down on the ground, standing side by side with Eddie, the two of them simply staring at him in awe and relief, Eddie finally speaks for the two of them.

He fucking speaks. His voice is dripping with relief, yearning rich and honey-sweet in the vowels. Words full of love that's been stirring slow like a stew in his heart, thick and clogging.

"There you are, sweetheart. There you are."