#so I just ordered them by medium on this one instead

[luxlightly]

I could write an essay on Warframe's use of forcing the player to walk slowly or limp as a way of creating a feeling of powerlessness and how masterfully it's used. And I could write an essay just on the segment where Stalker limps to his landing craft.

Stalker is extremely, almost comically powerful when he's in his element. The spy mission is laughably easy. He auto hacks every terminal. He can insta-kill every enemy. He can stay invisible basically the entire level and when he's invisible he doesn't trigger any alarms or tripwires. There's no challenge whatsoever. He's been doing this for centuries, to the point its become effortless.

This is juxtaposed with his complete and total powerlessness to help Jade. He doesn't know what to do or how to do it. He doesn't have any abilities or tools that help him with this. He can only watch her waste away.

Or, he can ask for help.

He can break the endless repetition and make a change. He can go to those he hates more than anything for help.

And, despite a thousand years of rage and pain, he does. Because, somewhere, deep down, in a part of himself he's long forgotten, the desire to protect is still what defines him, moreso than even the hate.

The second mission is slightly harder, as AOE damage circumvents his invisibility to a small extent, but is still pretty effortless. It's a change in why he's doing it, but not much change in what he's doing. He's still in his element and extremely powerful.

Then Sirius(or Orion) is born and Stalker's role, his goals, his whole existence, changes instantly. He's no longer the hunter, but rather the hunted. No longer a just a killer, but rather a Protector.

All of his abilities are disabled. All of his weapons besides the scythe are disabled.

The scythe that, in a written prelude, Hunhow praises for, unlike his other weapons, being a tool meant both for destroying and for growing. For creation and destruction.

A tool he uses as a shield. But, crucially, one that FAILS.

He CAN'T protect Sirius. He's defeated. He has to be spared. Someone else also has to choose to protect. To choose to go against the trait that has defined their life (greed/ambition in the case of Xeto) in order to protect something precious.

And they do.

Xeto gives up her chance to impress the Sisterhood and likely paints a huge target on her back, in order to help someone she doesn't know. She lets Stalker get to his feet and she and her men stand aside for him to escape.

And, in that moment, bloodied and beaten and dragging his broken form to his landing craft, we are given back control as the player over Stalker only to sell the effect of the powerlessness, physically, he has been reduced to.

And how, in that moment, as a person, he has more power than he has in a thousand years. Because he has chosen to break the endless spiral of grief he's been trapped in for a millennium and go against what he was crafted into to, once again, choose to love and protect instead.

Ballas tried to shape him into a tool of nothing but bloodshed because he hated how Sorren had defined himself with love in a way Ballas never could and, in that way, attained the love Ballas always saw himself as unfairly denied. He tried to destroy every bit of that love and every scrap of that man. But he couldn't. He could not destroy the child that Jade and Sorren created and he couldn't ever fully stamp out the love between them. And, even in the deepest depths of hatred and despair that Stalker fell into, the caring and loving man he was remained, never able to be destroyed.

Slowing those steps down and forcing the player to hold the command to keep going forward the entire time gets that feeling across in a way that is so poignant and part of what makes interactive media like video games such a powerful and unique medium.

He is reclaiming both his past and his future. Reclaiming the parts of himself defined by love. He is rejecting that easy path of wallowing in misery that he's chosen for so long and instead dragging himself forward, one limping, painful step at a time, towards something that actually matters to him.

And trusting the universe to stand aside to let him.

[sincerelystarry]

( ☆ ) . * and i can’t get enough of you baby . . . can you get enough of me !!

f!reader x co-worker!steve harrington — steve harrington masterlist

starry’s sweets — order #011

ask : "hii can i get a medium caramel tea cake with oreo crumbles 😋” — @imsogonesposts

summary : your best friend, robin, knows you’ve had a massive crush on your co-worker, steve, since forever. so why does she keep sneaking off with him? why do they keep whispering and giggling with each other? why does it seem that she’s trying to get him first?

warnings : lots of miscommunication & misunderstanding, suggestive content, making out but no sex, allusions to sex, reader is a bit of a bitch to robin, but it’s ok she apologizes and everything’s okay! best friend robin buckley, they all work together at scoops, canon-compliant but pre-russians

word count : 2.2k

Steve Harrington is a little bit pathetic. That’s probably why you’re so head over heels for him. You started working at the Scoops Ahoy ice cream in the new Starcourt Mall with your best friend, Robin, not too long ago. You always knew of Steve’s existence, Hawkins is a small town and you all went to school together, you and Robin only being a year below Steve. You never spoke to Steve until work, though, as you hung around different circles.

Summer break and Steve now out of high school meant no more cliques, and the three of you working together meant Robin bullying Steve for his horrible luck with girls. He continuously blamed the silly sailor hat that you were all required to wear as apart of your uniforms, saying it covered his hair, which was apparently where half of the charm was. 

You thought he was cute, hat or not, and looked great in the sailor shorts. Words you’d never utter to Steve, or you’d probably quit right then and there and move out of Hawkins, but you have told Robin of your interest in Steve on days where it was just the two of you and he was no where around.

You didn’t tell her of your feelings for him out of your own volition. Your friend unfortunately has a keen eye, and spotted the amount of times you would keep staring at the way Steve would flip the ice cream scooper in his hand on a slow day or laugh a bit too hard at one of his dumb pick up lines. What she didn’t know was how you wished so badly he was using those pick up lines on you and not some girls on a shopping spree that just stopped by for some ice cream. 

What Robin would hopefully never find out, and something you would never fess up until you were dead, was how you would stare as Steve would steal a bite of ice cream when the store was desolate and it was just you and him running a shift. The way his tongue would flick out at the cold treat on a sample spoon, and how you wished that tongue was working on you instead. Thoughts that would immediately be ceased by someone coming into the store and one of you had to tend to the register.

Just as she noticed the way you would stare at Steve, the way you’d laugh at his unfunny jokes, you noticed how she started to act around him too. How he started to act around her. They were comfortable with each other, in a way that you wish you were with Steve. Robin always poking fun at him every time he failed to score with a girl or dropped his scooper on the ground or complained about the sailor hats. Steve always looking over to Robin, the two of them communicating through wild gestures and facial expressions you can’t seem to decipher.

They would sneak away, too, during shifts where all three of you were working, leaving you to man the counter yourself. Into the hallway that Steve would let the gang of middle schoolers use to sneak into the movie theater for free. You could hear them talking and laughing, and Robin would always come back beaming, Steve sometimes with a slight flush on his face. You know you shouldn’t jump to conclusions. They’re friends, it doesn’t mean anything. But they seemed so comfortable around each other. The way they seem to act as if they were dating, giggling and sneaking off. 

Robin knows of the little crush you have on Steve, why would she do this? You have to admit, she’s pretty. Any sensible guy could see that and you couldn’t blame Steve if he’s attracted to her. But her entertaining him? When she knows how you feel, how you’ve felt since the start of summer. She’s never once showed any romantic interest in Steve so why now? Is she just doing this because she doesn’t like you?

All the thoughts and worries run through your head as you ring up ice cream for a group of girls one day, culminating into anger. You’re passive aggressive to Robin throughout the shift until she finally asks, when the store is empty aside from the two of you, “What is your problem?”

“What do you mean?” you answer, stealing a sample spoon of strawberry cheesecake ice cream, sucking and chewing on the plastic even when the ice cream is gone, just to give your mouth something to do. 

“I mean how you’ve been acting these past few days?” she says, perching herself on the sill of the window separating the front of the ice cream parlor and the backroom. “Did I do something wrong? Did I upset you somehow? Because I’m sorry— you know I wouldn’t hurt you purposefully. You’re my best friend. We’ve been friends since 7th grade.”

You scoff, tossing away the spoon. “You’re sorry?” you say, giving her an incredulous look.

“Yeah, I’m sorry. But it’d also be great to know what I’m sorry for.”

You take a breath, staring at her with wide eyes. “Going on your little trysts with Steve in the middle of shifts?” you start. “Giggling and whispering to each other and hiding your fucking relationship from me like you’re Romeo and Juliet or something?”

“Woah— wait— what?” She blinks at you, looking very confused. “What do you mean our relationship.”

“Don’t fucking play dumb, Robin. It’s pretty fucking obvious, with the way both of you keep sneaking off and leaving me to deal with customers alone. The way he’s always all blushy when he’s around you!”

Robin laughs at your words, as if they were the most ridiculous thing she’s ever heard. “You think Steve and I are dating?”

“Yes!”

She says your name as if trying to garner if you’re joking or not. “I don’t like men.”

“Well clearly you like at least one—” you start, thinking she’s saying it in some sort of feminist-y way. 

“No—” Robin laughs, standing and grabbing onto your shoulders. “I don’t like men. Especially not Steve.”

You stare at her for a few minutes, confused, before realization dawns on you. “You don’t… like men?” You repeat her words, getting confirmation with a nod. “Since when?”

“Since middle school,” she says.

“Why did you never tell me?” you ask her.

“I didn’t know if you’d still want to be friends.” She shrugs, grabbing two more sample spoons and handing you one with a glob of cherry vanilla on it.

“So the sneaking off? The giggles and secret hand-wavey messages?” you ask, sucking the spoon into your mouth.

Robin look at you, spoon of Reese’s swirl halfway to her mouth. “You cannot be serious.”

“What?”

“Steve is practically in love with you!” she says. “Him being all blushy around me? He’s being a tomato-faced mess around you. The hand signals and weird looks are me trying to convince him to ask you out and him being a chicken about it. We’ve been sneaking away because he’s been trying to plan this date to ask you out on and keeps needing to check in with me on what your favourite drink, or food, or dessert is!”

“Jesus Christ,” you mutter, leaning back against the counter.

“Jesus Christ is right,” Robin huffs. “I’ve been watching the two of you pine for each other for the past month. Do you know how infuriating it gets when neither of you are brave enough to actually make a move? It’s like a shitty coming of age rom-com but worse because you two are my friends.”

“Wh— So what do I even do?” you ask.

Robin takes a large breath, as if refraining from slapping some sense into you. “You ask him out,” she says, rubbing at her temples. 

“Right—” you nod. “When?”

“How about right now?” She nods to a certain sailor-boy walking through the door, just in time for his shift.

Steve greets both of you, hand running through his hair as he does, and it’s only now that you notice for the first time how his eyes linger on you for a bit as he says hello.

“Go get ‘em, sailor,” Robin murmurs, giving you a light push in Steve’s direction. 

“You’re a bitch,” you hiss, but your words are full of love for your friend.

“I love you too,” she says, moving to the register.

“I’m sorry for snapping like that,” you say before you forget.

“It’s alright,” she assures you. “I get it. Now seriously, go get him.”

“Steve!” you start, wincing at how oddly high-pitched your voice goes. You cough a bit and try again. “Can we— uh— talk?” You nod to the backroom.

“Sure? Am I in trouble or something?” he jokes, taking a small spoon and stealing a bite of ice cream, tossing the plastic utensil away afterwards.

“Not quite.” You look over to Robin. “You can handle being alone up front for a bit?”

“Yeah, I’ll be fine.” She nods.

You take Steve into the back hallway, not wanting Robin to eavesdrop on your conversation.

“So what’s up?” Steve asks, almost trepidatiously. 

“Would you like you have lunch together?” you ask.

“Yeah, sure. I mean, my break isn’t for a while since I just got here—” he starts.

“No—” you cut him off. “Not on break. More like— a date?”

“Are you serious?” he asks.

“Only if you say yes,” you say. “If you say no then I’m joking.”

A wide, almost giddy, smile blooms across his face. “Yes I’ll go out with you,” he says, almost relieved at your question. He sobers up quickly though, seemingly realizing something and telling you “Shit. I owe Robin twenty bucks.”

“What?” you ask, confused. “Why?”

“She bet that you’d ask me out before I could ‘grow the balls to’,” he explains. “Her words, not mine.”

You laugh at this, almost snorting.

“It’s not funny!” he insists. “I’m going to be out twenty bucks now! And if I don’t pay up she’s going to be mean about it! She’s like a bank when it comes to betting.”

“You’re ridiculous,” you say, tugging Steve closer to you.

“Uh-huh.” He doesn’t seem to process your words as you end up only a few centimeters apart, his eyes flicking down to your lips before up to meet your gaze again. 

“Steve—?” you start, voice soft, but you don’t get to finish your thought before his lips meet yours in a kiss you’ve wanted to have for a month. “You taste of rocky road,” you mumble against his lips, giggling a bit as he presses you against the wall of the corridor.

“Flavor of the week,” he jokes, pulling away from the kiss, head dipping to nip and suck at your neck instead. 

“Yeah?” you laugh, hands moving to tangle in his hair, tugging lightly. “What’s next week?”

“Last week was cherry jubilee,” he mumbles against your skin. “Next week will be a surprise. You’ll have to wait and see. Find out on your own.”

“God, you’re an idiot.”

“I’m your idiot,” he says, pulling away with his lips spread into a cocky grin.

You make some noise between a scoff and a huff but pull him in for another kiss, your tongue delving into his mouth, craving the flavor of the rocky road ice cream he had earlier, craving the flavor of him. He groans into the kiss, tugging your blue and white-striped shirt from your sailor shorts, hands creeping up, his palms rough against your skin. You tug at his hair again, eliciting a higher-pitched sound from him, one that makes you laugh at how unexpected it is, coming from a guy like him. 

“Don’t laugh,” he grumbles, his grip on your waist almost bruising as he kisses down your neck once again, biting and sucking.

“What am I supposed to do then?” you ask, eyes fluttering as he starts to suck at a particularly sensitive spot.

“Pull my hair again,” he mumbles against your skin, the vibrations of his voice sending jolts down your spine.

You oblige him, tugging at his hair a bit harder this time, and Steve practically melts under your touch. 

“Christ, I’ve wanted this for so long,” he says, moving back up to your lips, hands creeping higher up your shirt.

You’re not sure when, but his shirt eventually gets untucked from his shorts too, and the light indent of your teeth can be found littered across his neck, glistening with slight traces of your saliva. You’re sure you’re not in a much better state than he is. 

You’re only interrupted by a loud knock on the door separating you from the ice cream parlor and Robin’s voice calling out, “Stop fucking back there and help me out or I’m getting both of you guys fired!” You and Steve stare at each other and laugh for a bit, Steve’s laughter ceasing and yours only growing when Robin adds, “And you owe me twenty bucks, Steve!”

The two of you hurry to the front, attempting to fix your disheveled state as the two of you tuck your shirts back in. Robin looks both of you up and down when you return to the backroom, snorting.

“Nice hair, Steve,” she comments, prompting you to turn and look at him, you and Robin bursting out in a fit of giggles in the way it’s sticking out in odd places from your earlier tugging at it.

“What— what’s wrong with it?” he asks, running his hands through it in futile attempts to fix it.

“Well— let’s just say we’re lucky our uniforms require hats,” you laugh.

a/n: i think i was possessed while writing this. like i wrote a bit of intro, stopped, wrote the part where they start kissing, and like. blacked out and woke up with over 2k written. holy shit. ook it's like 2am excuse typos goodnight

taglist 🏷️ : none yet !

[kismetlotts]

Kinktober 🎃 day five: Rape!

cw: rape, obsessive König, coffee shop worker reader, mentions of oral sex, cumming untouched, submissive and dominant play? mentions of breast play, mentions of cumming on breasts, mentions of spitting, name calling e.g. 'whore', underwear obsessed König, mentions of killing, threatening a side character, public sex, sex at workplace, sex in the dark?, König is rough with reader e.g carrying and dragging, König’s ego is big, fingering, König finishing quickly, quick sex, pantie stealing, creampie,

König who gained an obsession with you. He would come in every Monday to Thursday at the local coffee shop you worked at, ordering the same medium cup of black coffee and sitting at the table in the corner. Big, dirtied and muddy fingers tracing the white ceramic cup, tracing over where your fingers touched.

Them gorgeous fingers that gripped onto the handle of the coffee machine, making another pumpkin spiced latte for all the boring, tasteless average women who’d come along. Waiting, paying and leaving- not appreciating the fine art of what you just created.

You’d thought he was weird, sat in the corner all day- no phone, no laptop, not doing a singlar thing other than sitting. Your coworkers had even discussed if they should kick him out from the mask he’d wear, a dark brown hood but you’d heard him speak, heard his manners and pleaded them not to.

He was mysterious of course but he wasnt intimidating in any way, he wasn’t causing chaos, simply just minding his buisness and taking sips off coffee from underneath the fabric. Taking subtle glances at him throughout your shift unaware hed be staring at you the whole time, pupils flicking away quickly before you could catch him.

Your first encounter with him, besides over the counter was when hed accidentally spilt his coffee, flooding the wooden table with the hot, steaming liquid, almost as if he wasnt looking at what he was doing or where his cup was. You quickly darted over. The sway in your hips and confidence radiating off of you as you used your rag to wipe the spillage with a cheerful smile, eyes meeting his own dark blue ones.

"Das ist meine schuld- I apologise!" He rushed to spit out, clearly caught off guard by his own actions as well. his large figure standing up and giving you room to wipe without hitting him but all you did was chuckle and pat the table, shaking your head and noting his accent. Russian? German? You werent very good at identifying accents.

His jeans tightend at the way you looked back at him, sexy body arched over the table as you cleared up the mess he made, what a naughty boy he’d been. Chest caving as he yearned to reach out and grab the back of your neck, rudely and selfishly shoving your face down to his crotch but he resisted, he couldn’t- not in such an open place.

"Its fine! Would you like another one? On me?" But all he could do was nod, face burning with embarrasment as the only thing he was focused on in that sentance was 'On me' and all the things that could mean. Oh you wanted him to cum on you instead of inside? You wanted to feel him paint you white, marking and coating you as his territory, watching as beads of his thick semen splurted onto your tits, your soft, kissable tits.

Or maybe you were talking about spitting- hed spit on you. On your face, on your chest, on your cunt because you were a whore for him and thats what whores get. Hed spit on you for sure. He looked down, seeing how the light reflects off of his black cargos, the small shine where his hard cock was confirming to him that he’d came in his boxers.

As more and more days carried on, you’d become more friendly with him. 'What would you like?' becoming 'Your usual?' and 'I’ll shout your order when its done!' turning into a 'I’ll let you know when its ready, König'. Hearing you say his name, so delicate and pristine: as if you were scared to butcher the pronunciation, was torturous and he’d have to ask you out sometime soon because fuck.

Just entering the store made him stiff, the smell of coffee making him thirsty for you- i mean he’d almost followed you home just to take a peak in your underwear draw but he didnt want to ruin the suprise of discovering what panties you wear- he was saving that for when you finally let him make love to you.

Maybe you wore big, comfy pants that covered you up well and allowed you to relax- no need to impress anyone just being cozy and warm. Or maybe they were small and pink, little bit of frill along the edges with a bow right in the middle, so innocent and sweet; like your appearance, like you’d taste. But no, it was something about the way you strut by him, the way your shoulders sit by your side. You were dripping with independence, a confident girl and maybe a bit of a brat too- a thong wearer, for sure.

Weeks of encouraging himself, days of persuading himself your answer would be yes and an hour of rehearsing what he was going to say, led to him fumbling it infront of you and asking you out for- ironically- a coffee. You’d let out a giggle and König felt pretty hopeful, but the second you lost eye contact something twisted in his stomach, your hand reached to collect his empty coffee cup from the table as you tapped your foot nervously on the floor. Stumbling over your words and coming up with some fucking fake- stupid excuse.

"I really would- but I have alot of drinks to make a serve- it’s October now- weather getting colder- drinks getting hotter and all!" A laugh falling your lips but he wasnt laughing, just staring at you. You were lying- why were you lying? Did he scare you? Was he not your type? Was this all just some friendly banter he misinterpreted this whole time? But he knew exactly what his was.

Laughing back at your words before standing up and heading in the direction of the toilets, shouting a quick and awkward 'I see' before quickly walking by the toilets and through the staff only door. Entering the office and heading for the computer because he wasnt heading to the toilet- or heading back home. He was heading to your home or dare he say, your partners? But before that, he’s got to find the address.

What a fat, lazy slob just reclining on the couch, drink in hand as he watched the television, not even realising it wasn’t you home from work but König there with a gun in his hand. Too focused on whatever show he was watching to actually turn his head and check up from you. Not even a simple, ‘How’s work?’

It wasn’t hard getting the man packed, petrified and silenced in under an hour while waving a gun in his face, brown hood on and towering over him pathetically. You were now König’s, he’d found you and claimed you- any man, no. Any boy, who wishes to go against that will have to deal with the consequences.

He wasnt going to kill him unless he had to, all he wanted, well, needed was for him out the picture. Threatening if he doesnt leave and end things with you over message later that day, that he’d track him down and kill him. And that if he even dares to hint that someone forced him into that decision to anyone, that his mother, father, little siblings and cousins would all be following behind.

He went along with it obviously, the fucking pussy. He stayed silent and left you forever, and it ruined you in the moment. You loved him so much and for so long for him just to abandon you like that? Something just didnt seem right. You slept on it or at least tried to, woke up and got ready for work, already wishing it was your day off. Slipping on a bring orange pumpkin hat because as if your day couldnt get any worse it was Halloween. Halloween where kids would run about, stealing sweeties from one another, Halloween where couples would cuddle up together and watch scary films- wearing homemade costumes with fake blood, masks store brought or made out of hoods- but your own train of thought made you freeze. Hoods?

Your stomach dropped but surely you were overthinking it. König wouldn’t know who you were dating, where to even find him- fucking hell what could he have used against him that would be bad enough to make him leave? You were overthinking big time, probably from your lack of sleep, but intuition told you that it was too big of a coincidence. The same day you reject someone your loving boyfriend leaves you without no explanation? It wasn’t adding up.

And what made it scarier was entering the building to find him already there, arms crossed at his seat with eyes staring into yours. Playful yet dark- sweet with a sprinkle of sinister.

You didnt look at him, you didnt collect his empty cup, you ignored the small laugh he let out at your pumpkin hat because he wasn’t your mysterious, polite, scary yet misunderstood customer whom you’d formed a friendship with. He was a fucking psychopath. A dirty, probably perverted psychopath that made your stomach churn and you wanted nothing more than to boot him out. You should’ve listened to your coworkers when they had a creepy feeling about him. You’d thought about asking them to kick him out now but since he’d come and gone for so many days now, he’d know something has changed with the way you saw him and he’d probably target you more.

Time ticked, people had left and all staff were now gone for the week, leaving you the only staff left and the door swinging as the last person to enter exited. The dark evening night seeping through the windows as the lights turned off, leaving the electric menus above the counter, lights from the machines and lamp posts outside illuminating the darkness of the room.

It was you and him, only you and him and if things weren’t confirmed by his eerie aura earlier, him waiting until you were both alone definitely sold you on the fact he was after you. You ripped the apron off of yourself, pretty much bolting for the pitch black staff room.

Muttering a fast, 'Put your cup on the counter before you leave' despite knowing deep down the staff room was only a room. There was no lock, no keypad- you were in a shitty old coffee shop in the middle of a quiet town, alone and at night. And ‘Before you leave’ meant nothing either. He wasn’t leaving anytime soon- and neither were you.

The squack of the wooden chair being drag out was audiable from the other room you were in, breaking the deafening silence and your loud heavy breathing. Your hands shook and trembled as you rummaged for your stuff, too weak to hurry and too focused on getting out of there to hear the door behind you open and shut.

His warm presence behind your back and pinning you- you shut your eyes tears pricking them before spinning around desperately. Pushing him off of you as he generously took a step back, allowing you to run back into the coffee shop. Past the tables, knocking a chair or two as you rushed and pushed against the door. Pushing and pushing using all your weight until you heard the sound of metal rattling behind you, the silver keys and silver loop swinging around his finger as he held them up. He’d locked the door, and now you were cornered.

"Why so scared?" He spoke softly, coming a step closer, his dark eyes mocking you with fake sympathy. He knew why you were fucking scared, he knew you feared him and you figured it turned him on from the lustful glimmer in his blue irises. Seeing the quiver in your lip, the tears threatening to spill as you swallowed your emotions like a pill you had to take. Thinking that putting on a brave face will trick your mind into believing you are brave- that you can stand up to him. He found it amusing so he gave you time, he wanted to hear your pathetic little attempt. It fed to his sick fascination- his fucking pleasure more.

"What is your problem? What the fuck did you do to my boyfriend?" The little crack in your voice: orgasmic, if he wasnt waiting for you to submit to his dominance and break the holding eye contact he was holding with you, his eyes would be so far back in his head.

It boiled him, fueled him, like spreading butter onto a fresh warm pastry and watching it melt and glide so effortlessly. Would your voice crack like that when he’s balls deep inside you?

"Now, now, why are you pointing fingers, hm? Du bist meim kleiner kurbis, why would I ever do that?" His body was so close to you, you could smell the sweat and grime of his skin and despite the situation it made your stomach heat in arousal, his touch and his manerisms, his accent- it was so fucking disgusting yet you felt yourself dampen. You didn’t even know what he said- and your body gave in slightly. His hand cupped your cheek, the cold metal of the keys hitting your soft skin as his eyes locked onto the pumpkin hat with an amused look.

You could grab the keys now, shove them in the door and sprint, shout for help maybe but would you even get time? His build was muscular and he had to crouch slightly to talk to you due to his height anyway. He would grab you and prevent you from doing anything before you could even turn around, and even if you tried it, his punishment could be worse from what he wants now.

You’d found yourself caught in a dead end with nothing to do but submit and get it over with.

His mask rubbed agaisnt your neck and clothed shoulder but you could still feel the heat of his breath, the smell of coffee making bile rise in your throat. His hands found your waist and gripped on tightly, lifting you slightly as he dragged you to the table he usually sits at, throwing you ontop as it wobbled from your weight.

Tears fell and a sob escaped your throat and he unzipped his jeans, leaning over closer and pulling down your panties from beneath the work uniform he’d spent hours dreaming of, slipping a finger agaist your folds and feeling how effortlessly you coat his fingers with slick and cum. Horny?

"Aww, you want this too?" He asked but regardless of your answer he would do what he wanted, it was his time and he was more than ready. You shook your head, fighting against the pleasure your body was feeling from his touch, he was skilled with his fingers for sure, applying just enough pressure to your clit to make your back arch and you wriggle your hips- away from his finger and subconcously back against it. He let out a groan at how wet his fingers were getting before pulling away from your juicy cunt.

Reaching under your arms to tug you closer to the edge of the table, aligning his cock with your hole and wetting himself up thanks to how damp you were, mentally promising himself he’d taste you one day, maybe next time. He looked back to your face, the frown on your lips as your covered your crying eyes with your small trembling hands, so embarrassed and ashamed you were letting yourself get used like this, get forced into sex- get raped.

"You ready?" He asked and all you did was let out another sob, with a sigh he pushed forward placing his dick against your flaps and stopped, looking down and not entering you, staying completely still as he store at your face. Watching as you continued to cry into your hands before slowly lifting the palms from your face slightly.

Looking into his eyes as he looked back down, a devilish smirk forming on his lips. What a little actress, you were enoying this. You could’ve pushed him away- could’ve kicked and fought but no, you lay still even after he paused.

Thick, hard and fast as he thrusted in harshly, no care for how it may feel for you- no remorse or guilt for if he was burning, stretching or hurting you. He’d been patient for this pussy for weeks, been waiting for it- god it was like he was a virgin again. So excited to bury himself inside he hadn’t realised how close he was already.

Taking a few more slow thrusts before leaking and pouring all his cum into you, your pussy squeezing and milking every last drop out of him. Moaning loudly and squeezing his eyes shut as he pulled out, fuck- fuck that was so good. Your body was shaking, breaths barely coming to your lungs as you trembled and lay there- broken, defeated and useless. Cum dribbling out of your hole and even he felt a little bad at the sight- you didnt even get a chance to feel a little bit good, maybe next time he will fuck you like you want it.

He picked your panties up off of the floor, smooth, white, floral and cotton- it wasnt what he was expecting from you. It wasn’t a thong, it wasn’t black and laced, not like your personality at all but everyone has a secret side to them, a side they keep stashed away and only allow a select few to see.

He fumbled with his jeans, buttoning and zipping them up before turning to you, hands fumbling with the panties, his palm hitting the fabric right where your pussy was and feeling a cold, sticky, dampness. You were wet before he began touching?

"Would you like them bac-" Earning a scream from you, telling him to get the fuck out and take whatever he wants. He’d already taken and destroyed your relationship, your work, and your own body so he might as well take everything else. He could take anything else as long as he leaves and never comes back.

He swallowed, slipping them into his pocket and placing the keys next to your body on the table- if you had the energy you’d get up and slap him, punch him, grab some scissors form behind the counter and cut his fucking dick off but from how disturbing and demented he seems he’d probably enjoy that.

"I’m sorry.” He whispered, voice seeming almost shy and hushed, tone the same as when he’d first spoken to you. Anxious: almost like a whisper.

“Next time, I’ll treat you right. I’ll make you feel so good, I promise, baby." He waited for you to speak but you just lay there now on your side, tears leaking and pouring from your eyes despite your still movement. With a deep breath he began to leave realising maybe it was best he left you alone for now. He couldn’t see what was wrong, or what he did wrong because in his own mind it was going to happen one day. His cock, his needs, how you expect him to live in a constant state of desperation and want. It’s like giving a child a lollipop and saying, just watch- you’re not allowed. Just watch how sweet and delicious it would taste, just watch at how the sugar shimmers in the light- when you get told you can’t have it you need it more.

He walked back into the staff room and out the back door, his hand pulling the door shut and once his footsteps echoes away, you were alone in the dark. He was gone, leaving you an emotional mess with a dirty mess to clean up, and you couldn’t move for a moment. His words haunting you and circling you like a carousel of derision.

Next time, meaning he wasnt done just yet.

[jesncin]

The Portrayal of Noah Ikumelo's Disability in Spurrier's Hellblazer and Dead in America run

Noah Ikumelo is a divisive new character introduced in Si Spurrier's 2019-2020 Hellblazer 12 issue solo (illustrated by Aaron Campbell and Matias Bergara, colors by Jordie Bellaire), he continues appearing as a recurring character in Hellblazer Dead In America (2024, 11 issues) Spurrier's long awaited continuation of his original run. Introduced in the very first issue as a Black, mute (hearing, but unable to orally speak) teenager who predominantly uses BSL to communicate.

We'll be discussing how Noah's disability was portrayed, how effective it was narratively, and thoroughly analyze the limits and ableist biases comics have as a visual language. Spoilers for Spurrier's Hellblazer and Dead In America run below. CW for ableism, racism, SA, police brutality, and general violence.

Disclaimer!! I am an able-bodied person with only occasional interactions with the Deaf community and am still studying ASL in my own time. All of these observations are made from an outsider perspective. I feel that starting a critical discussion from any source of knowledge for other more informed perspectives to follow up on is better than having no discussion at all.

However! I can offer some valuable perspective as a ~classically/formally trained~ comic artist- because we'll be discussing some inherit biases with how comic artists are trained to illustrate communication in this visual medium. I'll also be talking about lettering, which I'm nitpicky about so if I'm an expert on anything, it's those things.

I won't be going through each issue in as much detail as these first few issues for the sake of set up, but I will stop every now and then to discuss the portrayal of some scenes.

Let's start with Noah's very first appearance in Hellblazer 2019 #1. Noah is introduced as one of the very young members of a gang called the Ri-Boys. He's tasked with kidnapping a magic specialist to help get rid of murderous angelic spirits in their local park that are getting in the way of their prime location for selling drugs. He kidnaps John Constantine, who is quickly informed that Noah is mute.

Noah doesn't sign at all in this first issue, opting instead to communicate with a little notebook tied around his neck.

Despite K-Mag's (the gang leader) justification for recruiting teenagers as a "refuge" from a world that hates them, he's not afraid to treat Noah as disposable. He opts to send Noah's able-bodied friend (named Isa) on an errand instead of Noah because they "don't need no tongueless splesh backin' on ops-" and threatening Noah's life in order to get John to cooperate. So narratively the set up is clear: even though this gang is meant to provide jobs for the marginalized, it's still a bigoted organization that doesn't treat Noah well.

After accompanying John to the park where the angelic spirits murder another junkie, Noah is so traumatized by what he witnesses that he throws up on his notebook- rendering it unusable. Issue #2 starts with Noah raving in BSL (the image at the very top of this essay) to his gang mates that ignore him. When John asks if anyone knows sign language, he gets no response. It's clear that Noah is an outsider even among the Ri-Boys. Regardless, by the end of the issue in the following day, Noah is back to using his notebook (I guess he got a new one).

So. The notebook. I'll be honest I hate the notebook. It's such a clunky thing for Noah to carry around his neck, and it's clearly a set up so that Noah throws up on it and can't communicate to people who don't know sign.

On personal experience alone, I've been able to communicate with deaf people through texts on a shared phone. We'd just pull up notepad and write to each other to bridge the language barrier. And (as I've been informed by @scoliwings!) if phones running out of batteries is the worry, there's also pocket-sized boogie boards as a handy means of communication. At the very least Noah canonically has a phone (he is texting John in the panel above), and the Ri-boys can afford an ipad that K-Mag uses. These boogie board devices are much more affordable than either of those items and far better than a notebook.

Throughout Spurrier's treatment of Noah's disability, there will continue to be a sense of "we haven't even exhausted basic options to bridge a language barrier yet-" and this one is the first instance of that.

[this is not how the panels look in the comic, I chopped and arranged the last panel to save up on tumblr blog image space]

To keep this essay focused on Noah's disability, by issue #3 after some plot stuff progresses, John reveals to Noah that he actually can understand BSL. It turns out he knows "a bit" of BSL from a relationship he had with a deaf man in the 90s. Regardless, throughout Spurrier's whole run, John is shown to understand Noah's signing fluently. You might be wondering why John kept this a secret. Was he withholding his understanding of BSL so he could "eavesdrop" on something Noah signs to his friends without knowing? Nope. This reveal had no narrative purpose; John gained nothing from hiding this from everyone and it retroactively makes earlier scenes weirder. John just decides to reveal this to Noah for no other reason than to be a jerk I guess?

Once John fixes the "murderous angels in the park" problem, he also convinces K-Mag to let go of Noah from the Ri-Boys gang so that Noah can live a more honest life going to school (we will never see this) and uh. Being John's new personal driver. John used to have a friend, Chas, who drove him around everywhere but with Chas gone now- Noah is narratively set up to take his place.

Eagle-eyed readers might notice something odd about the way the scene where John reveals to Noah that he understands BSL is staged: if John supposedly understands what Noah is signing, why is he walking away, yet responding to what Noah is signing behind him? Yeah. This is one of the most annoying artistic blunders throughout all of Spurrier's Hellblazer runs with Noah. Despite Noah being mute, other characters still act like they can "hear" him.

Sign language isn't a language you can passively listen to. When someone is signing, that means you have to be looking at their hands and facial expression in order to understand what they're communicating to you. A casual irl example- in art school us hearing students could draw in our sketchbooks as the teacher lectured. A deaf student we had that year had to clarify that was not something they were able to do. As whenever the lecturer spoke- that meant that student would have to look up to their interpreter translating the lecture. So they weren't able to catch up with the classwork the way us hearing students could.

You'll notice in the panels above, John is preoccupied and talking to someone on his phone. Yet he's "hearing" what Noah is signing to him. John self identifies as someone who knows "a bit" of BSL- meaning he's not fluent. But this doesn't go anywhere since John's functionally fluent throughout both runs. It's like having a character say they know "a bit" of French only to show them being fluent through the whole story. Why bother mentioning a language barrier if it wasn't going to matter?

In these panels, Noah is signing while facing to the side- as in he's not facing John directly as he's signing, which obscures his signs from being clearly read. This wouldn't be a problem for folks who are way more fluent with any sign language (they can recognize signs at many angles), but for newbies you'll usually have people signing with their torso directly facing the other person to be as clear as possible. And they'll sign a lot slower. Little nuances like that make it clear that no one on the Hellblazer creative team have conversed with deaf people before- but why would something so obvious not be considered in the artistic direction of this run?

Let's quickly go over comics visual storytelling and how comic artists are trained to tackle staging a "talking heads" scene. Scenes like this are when characters are having a long conversation, visually giving the scene a "samey" vibe. Our job as comic artists is to keep the visuals interesting, so there are a ton of tricks we're taught to vary up how a conversation looks. We'll have a character hold a prop, walk around, look away to something else, have characters multi-task as they talk (bonus if it's thematic to the conversation), basically outside of zooming in and out it's good to keep a character busy to give the scene visual variety. Anything to break out of that silhouette of two characters directly facing each other.

[these are not how the panels are presented in the comic, I spliced these panels from 2 different issues to save up space]

Therein lies the problem: these tricks rely on an able-bodied standard of communication in order to function. Having a character like Noah communicate in sign, relies on the character he's signing towards to be paying full attention. Tackling "talking heads" as a comic artist explains but doesn't excuse these horrendous instances where poor staging of the characters ends up accidentally implying Noah "has a voice" because the able-bodied characters sure seem to be able to "hear" him even though they're facing all sorts of directions. Again, this just means the artist and writer have to rise to the challenge of keeping the scenes visually interesting while being inclusive to the disabled character the writer introduced into this world.

While we're talking about comics, I'm just going to go ahead and say I'm not a fan of the letterer's choices to visualize Noah's dialogue. To differentiate from the other characters, Noah's speechbubble is more like a caption box- it's square and light green. Instead of a tail pointing out of it to indicate who is talking like a traditional speechbubble would, instead Noah's dialogue box has a long arrow coming out of it. The arrow pointing out is just so corny. It says: "look! here's where the words are coming from! His hands!! Whoaaa".

Moreover, the arrows ruin the visual flow of the comic pages. We humans are hard wired to look at where an arrow is pointing. It's what that symbol is designed for. It's why all those clickbait youtube thumbnails have arrows pointing on them, it steals your attention. The best kind of speechbubbles are unobtrusive to the art, complementing it. Having it so that whenever Noah has dialogue we get these annoying arrows that stick out of the page composition just ruins it. Here's what it looks like edited on other characters' speechbubbles. It's a lettering eyesore.

I see no reason why Noah can't have a speechbubble tail like everyone else. I personally like making the speecbubble tail a lil-squiggly when I'm drawing a speechbubble for a character signing. Differentiating the speechbubble enough but not to the point it's obtrusive to the page flow.

Additionally, Noah has "translation brackets" around his dialogue- it's a block of dialogue that starts with the "less than" symbol and ends with the "greater than" symbol to indicate a sentence being translated from another language.

<So you'll have a character's dialogue look like this in the speech bubble.> *

accompanied by a translation box clarifying that the dialogue is; [*translated from French, for example] in the first instance we see the language featured in the comic. Of course this isn't the only way to portray language in comics, sometimes letterers will go for using colored text to differentiate languages. There's no standard look! Noah's dialogue never featured an initial caption box that discloses what language he's signing in. I'm going to charitably presume that it's a stylistic move away from that practice so that the reader is put in the same confused position as John is upon first meeting Noah.

I don't personally have an issue with the application of translation brackets to Noah's dialogue. Because even though Noah is communicating in a type of English language (British Sign Language), what we're seeing written in the dialogue of the comic isn't a direct translation of what he's signing. Unless it's Sign Exact English, sign language has different sentence structure, grammar and syntax from spoken English. So if Noah signs something like "#BUS RED YOU SEE WILL", then that translates to him saying "You will see a red bus." in written dialogue. It's a translation of his signing, even if it's still English.

I don't think there's an indisputably correct way to portray sign language in comics. Something like this will go down to personal stylistic choice of the artist. Maybe one artist decides they don't want to put brackets on ASL dialogue because they'd rather use that to differentiate English language from non-English language. There's an argument to be made either way! So long as you commit to your set of rules, I can at least try to engage with where an artistic choice is coming from even if I disagree with how it's done.

Unfortunately, that's not the case for Dead in America:

It's in the very last issue of the run, but well. You forgot the translation brackets there, guys. Sloppy work.

To wrap up Noah's arc in Hellblazer 2019, Noah is revealed to be John Constantine's son. John had a graveyard fling with Liza Ikumelo, a police woman (barf), thereby insulting a demonic spirit (and by extension, me, the reader). Many years later the spirit hunts down the woman, cursing her to an eternal sleep. Her child, Noah, was nearby and by proxy lost his voice from the incident. So it's John Constantine's fault that Noah's mute, and that Noah's mom is in a coma. Hellblazer 2019 ends with John feeling an immense guilt for forcing Noah to kill a friend, meaning they now have to flee the country. John doesn't tell Noah that Noah is his son.

So despite the poor portrayal of Noah's disability in this run, his character overall at this point was a really interesting addition to Hellblazer lore. He has a unique background of hardship; cursed by John's shenanigans at birth without even knowing it, and despite all of that he still has it in him to want to help and be kind. The reveal that he's John's son adds a layer of tragedy to everything- what does it mean to be another continuation of the Constantine family? Without even knowing it? There's plenty of angst on John's end of things, having unknowingly been an absent father for years. We get to see echoes between father and son in their actions. They're both from harsh backgrounds but humanitarians at heart, in different ways. It's very compelling stuff.

Years later, Dead In America is released as the long awaited continuation of this story. John, his friend Nat, and Noah are in America now, going on a long cross country road trip in a double decker London bus. Why? Just because. Noah and Nat take turns driving because John can't drive. In my opinion Dead In America is a bigger, more convoluted plot so I will stick to summarizing things that are relevant to Noah's disability.

This run has all the same problems as the 2019 Hellblazer run does with characters not being staged properly when Noah is signing to them, but it's the very first issue that reveals something particularly damning about how Spurrier views sign as a language.

As Noah is driving the bus he is instructed not to stop for anyone. But later that night he suddenly does. John berates Noah, only to be surprised that Noah is speaking (and sounding uncharacteristically posh)! John suddenly can't speak, instead he signs. This is how he realizes he's in a dream and regains his ability to speak. It's clear what's intended by the storytelling here. Seeing an able bodied person sign is part of the surrealism that makes this scene out of the ordinary. It's supposed to be odd that John is signing, because it's weird that Noah is the one speaking. Signing is a thing only disabled people do, not anyone else. This dream sequence is the only time a character other than Noah signs.

This single narrative choice has a drastic ripple effect on the rest of the run; it means that through both runs, no one ever signs back to Noah. According to the National Association of the Deaf, 72% of hearing parents with deaf kids don't learn sign language. This leads to deaf kids struggling culturally within their own families. Sign language expresses things that written or spoken languages can't. So having their own family not bother to learn sign is deeply isolating for deaf kids. By not having anyone but especially John sign to Noah, any narrative attempt to portray familial care and consideration between the two is undercut by this barrier. Sure John cares for his son in his own way, but not enough to converse with him in his own language.

This is when it became clear to me that Noah's use of BSL functions more as "a voice but #diverse" instead of portraying sign language as a culture and community of its own. It's like characters of color being written as white, where their identities are just a palette change. Only here, it's more of "this character is speaking, but with his hands this time" never mind how that drastically changes how a character navigates the world and how people interact with him. Attempts at writing Noah's disability in this run continue to be lackluster at best and insulting at worst.

Don't get me wrong, Noah is not a "whitewashed" character- his Blackness is integrated into the narrative of both Hellblazer 2019 and Dead In America... for better or for worse. By this I mean especially in Dead In America, Spurrier really likes to use Noah as a prop to show how racist America is. I don't think there's anything wrong with showing some uncomfortable scenes of Noah facing off American cops. In fact I like how this scene in the first issue shows the specific struggles a Black disabled person goes through, being double profiled as someone dangerous when Noah's attempts to communicate are misinterpreted as a threat- it sets the tone for how dangerous the country is for someone like him.

The original Hellblazer showed plenty of scenes where John is brutalized by the cops in both the UK and US, so gritty commentary is right at home with the character's stories. The difference here is there is almost a giddiness to inventing scenarios for Noah to experience profoundly racist situations at the expense of Noah's own characterization in this run. It becomes more obvious as we progress.

This is another nitpick but when John, Nat, and Noah meet up with Clarice Sackville (an elderly magician lady) in issue #2, Noah discreetly signs to John, calling Clarice a "wrinkled old hag" only for John to whisper back "Be grateful she can't sign, Noah." meaning "be glad she can't understand what you're saying". If there was any opportunity to use sign language as a means of discreetly communicating around someone who doesn't understand it, this would've been the moment. But alas, only disabled people use sign language, right guys. John can only sign in a weird dream sequence.

The punchline here is that Clarice actually understood what Noah was signing, making a jab at him for calling her a "wrinkled old hag". I don't know how she understood what Noah was signing when she was clearly facing away from him the whole time but well. That's basically a tradition for Spurrier's runs at this point. Technically John's dialogue isn't wrong here. Clarice "can't sign". She understands it, but doesn't sign. Because that's a thing only disabled people do.

Let's put a pin on issue #4 and skip ahead to Dead In America issue #5. This is essentially an anthology issue containing short stories of little incidents John, Nat, and Noah encounter on the American road. I will be discussing the second story, "One-Way Ticket" written by Aaron Campbell (ordinarily the main artist of Spurrier's runs) with art by guest artist John Pearson.

It's a story about a ghost guy who wants to go home but everyone ignores him (because they can't see him), John helps out by discovering his dead body and bringing the spirit comfort. It's a cute and cozy story if it weren't for the abysmal way Noah is treated in it, completely contradicting its themes. Noah is horrified at the prospect of John leaving him alone in the red bus, fearing the cops will show up. John responds "You're mute, just pretend you're dumb too." Even for asshole-John standards this is unnecessarily cruel. Dead In America started with Noah being profiled by the police, so Noah's fears are as founded as it gets. This short story may not be written by Spurrier, but it is written by the artist who DREW THAT SCENE.

I didn't splice the panels above, that is exactly how they are presented in the comic. Not only do we have characters facing away from Noah as he's signing again (a tradition even guest artists continue to perpetuate it seems), but it's followed up immediately with a ghost being grateful that John recognizes him. The irony that John gets told that after ditching his son. Why not make the story about Noah relating to the ghost? Remember that scene where Noah is signing to the Ri-Boys and they all ignore him? He and the ghost could connect over how they're ignored and treated as disposable, how accommodation for people like them is considered an inconvenience, how no one cares when their life is threatened.

When John returns from discovering the ghost's dead body, just like clockwork Noah is being searched by a cop. Only now it's treated like a joke instead- with Nat taking a smoke on the side and John just slapping a spell on the cop to make him stop.

This nonchalant carelessness for the portrayal of cops is a big departure from how ACAB John was in his original Hellblazer run. John was a man who could outsmart and kill the Vampire King only to be immediately beat up by cops afterwards. He's called homophobic slurs for defending the dead body of his sex worker guy friend. It paints this image of a guy who can overcome the supernatural but doesn't stand a chance against mundane human cruelty. Because that kind of thing takes more than a magic trick to defeat. But in Dead In America, cops are a mild inconvenience to John. He can just cast spells on them and move on. It's disappointing how even in a run that's supposed to be a return to form for Hellblazer, John isn't as radical as he was written in the 80s and 90s. The cops don't have the kind of threatening authority they had in the older comics. Don't worry, it gets worse.

Let's hop and skip ahead to Dead In America issue #9. For plot reasons, John went missing. He disappeared to Hell and back for four weeks, separated from Noah and Nat. When he reunites with his friends, they want nothing to do with him. They're now running their own little film studio, shooting a film that metatextually reflects their road trip adventure. Again, for plot reasons. They're teaming up with a metamancer to speed filmmaking along. Nat's the director and Noah's the producer. He's practicing magic, and even found himself a girlfriend, Liz! She's an Asian girl though and that worries me. Because Asian love interests are usually seen as narratively disposable. A racist character assumes Noah is using "mind magic on her" because there's no way Noah would end up with someone so "hot", right? Right.

[spliced panels from issue 9 and 10]

Issue #10 is when we get very much needed perspective from Noah and Nat's point of view. Nat always wanted to be a writer, while Noah longs for a life of normalcy. The two narrate their backstories, building their life up to meeting John, to where they are now with their film studio.

We learn how Noah got into using magic, and. Urgh. Sick of dealing with a language barrier as a disabled person, Noah uses magic to communicate with people. It's another case of "we haven't even exhausted basic options to bridge a language barrier yet-" I get it, throughout this run Noah doesn't have his notebook, and he doesn't appear to have his phone either (perhaps to hide from the authorities tracking them down) but to that I say pocket-sized boogie boards are still an affordable option that won't get you tracked down by the cops. I'd even prefer him buying another notebook over this. In this issue he's even seen with a phone, so what do I know.

"huh! I just remembered that I, an American, actually do know British Sign Language! Hah how could I forget something like that ho ho" it's just so trite. Like we're not even going to try and grab a paper and pen to communicate? We're skipping to using dark magic instead? Okay. Worst of all, so you're telling me the racist loser was right about Noah?? That Noah wouldn't have a chance with Liz if it weren't for magic? What are we doing...

I'm not including the panel here but after Noah narrates "I won't use this shit to coerce people-- I'm not him. But... making things easier? Simpler? Why not?" the following panel is of him and Liz getting funky style in bed. Even with Noah saying he won't "coerce people" he still says that magic can make things easier. Simpler. There is this uncomfortable implication that Noah "made it easier" for Liz to sleep with him. Sure it can be read that he got close to her through them communicating on the same page. But when their relationship isn't developed, narratively she just kind of exists as a prop for his desires. To quote Noah himself in Dead In America issue #4: "It was rape."

Time to revisit that pin. So issue #4 is about John and Noah masquerading as an exorcist and...an enslaved person to trick a small town into revealing a coverup: a girl was assaulted by six boys in their local football team, ending her own life from her story being pushed aside for the bright future of the football boys. Noah is so infuriated by how she was mistreated that he beats up one of the boys. It's a heavy story about how far a town will go to protect the future of boys while discarding the life of the girl, who to this day is anonymous. If you're wondering whether Noah pretending to be an enslaved person was necessary to the con, I can assure you it really wasn't.

What's frustrating here is that are we really supposed to believe that Noah, a character who was willing to risk his safety by beating up a rapist, would then go ahead and "make it easier" to sleep with a girl later? Remember. The reason he did that was because his disability was apparently holding him back. Are we really having it so the only person of color in John's cast for this story did this? That if he wasn't disabled, he wouldn't do this? It's frankly disgusting.

Through John's silver tongue trickery, he pulls shenanigans that cause Nat and Noah to get arrested. Despite Nat being known to be violent, Noah is the one who is brutalized by the cops and put into solitary confinement. Because racism. Spurrier really wants you to know that American cops are so racist, guys.

I wonder where all this energy was for his Hellblazer 2019 run taking place in the UK. Where the only cop characters were noble people of color who are looking out for each other. Noah's own mom was a cop, even. He'll show Noah looking tense in a car as cops walk by in Hellblazer 2019, but for Dead In America? Noah is profiled by police three times, made to play an enslaved person for John's ends, and is in the receiving end of so many bigoted characters' racism. Spurrier is selective about his portrayal of cops when it suits him.

At this point it's transparent looking back at the treatment of Noah's character throughout Dead In America, that there's a giddiness Spurrier (and technically Campbell) have in crafting racist scenarios for Noah to go through. But it's okay because they have John say a lamp-shading comment to assure readers that the writers recognize "This Is A Racist Thing Happening".

Reading Dead in America reminded me of the discourse surrounding "Strange Fruit" a comic by Mark Waid and J. G. Jones. I won't belabor explaining the plot, but what they have in common is this self congratulatory "giddiness to put Black characters in compromising situations" I keep describing. Like, they didn't have to create a naked Black Superhero named "Johnson" who doesn't speak and wears a confederate flag while dealing with racists in the Jim Crow era South but...these white writers just didn't have a choice! It's the rules of story! John has to pretend Noah is his property!

"Strange Fruit's desire to make big, albeit familiar statements about America's sinful past and do justice to both the subject matter and history often comes at the expense of considerate or even dimensional characterization."

-Vox writer Tre Johnson, 2017.

This is the kind of giddiness to indulge in fictional cruelty that isn't written with Black readers in mind. It's to entertain white readers with an exaggerated depiction of racism to make themselves feel better about being British. And if anyone's excuse is "well it's Hellblazer! Vertigo comics are supposed to talk about uncomfortable topics, John gets beat up by cops too back in the day", then need I remind you that unlike John, the sheer frequency Noah is put into these compromising scenarios is at the expense of his characterization.

Don't think that Spurrier's done playing with his "America Sure Is Racist" prop yet though.

As Noah (still bruised and battered) escapes prison, John pulls a couple more tricks on him: he "accidentally" reveals that Noah is his son, tricks Liz into faking her death to freak Noah out (we'll never see her again after this), and gets Clarice to pretend to die in front of him. All this angers Noah into attempting to kill John- but he stops. Because Noah still isn't that kind of person.

This is all part of John's plan, supposedly he made a deal with demons in Hell that if John himself is killed in the allocated time, he won't actually die. But his plan failed. Unfortunately for John, Nat is still filming their road trip movie, and whatever the actors do, the real characters do as well. A script change happens, and John ends up killing Noah.

But aha, this is yet another trick. By issue #11, Noah wakes up bruise-free and alive (he even gets to smash in John's stand in actor for good measure). Turns out, John's deal with the demons of Hell was for his son to live, instead- a selfless act that none of the Gods and demons saw coming. After John does some more silver-tongue talking to a Dream Entity, he's able to grant people some rushed happy endings.

Noah's mom wakes up from her eight year magical coma, the policeman hunting down Nat and Noah deletes his files, and Nat becomes the boss of a major studio- her writer dreams come to fruition. I don't know how Noah's getting back home to his mom, but shh shhh it's a happy ending, Spurrier promises.

So we have a twist to the usual Hellblazer story. Instead of John surviving at the expense of his friends and family, now John sacrifices his life to Noah and Nat so they can live freely. Last but certainly not least, as Clarice dies she gifts Noah the ability to speak. And when Noah does speak, he sounds so out of character I thought I was misreading things. Is this another lettering mistake? No? Then what is this random poetry.

I recognize what the narrative is doing here. It's John's fault that Noah's mom is in a coma and that Noah is mute, so the resolution to that conflict is for him to undo the wrongs he did to the Ikumelo family- which includes Noah being "cured" of his disability. The problem here is not only is this an exhausting continuation of the "disabilities getting cured" trope- so Noah can join the "easier, simpler" life of able bodied people- but also that a large facet of Noah's identity is tied to John's character development.

Noah might not be the main character, but he's the deuteragonist of Dead In America- the beating family heart that ties John to someone who would otherwise be a stranger. Instead of narratively endearing us to Noah's character, Spurrier seems content to just have Noah drive the bus only to make occasional stops to demonstrate how Racist America Is. It's such a fall from grace to the intriguing character we met in Hellblazer 2019. All that characterization of someone willing to help despite a life of hardship is just out the window.

[spliced panels]

My overall feelings about the treatment of Noah Ikumelo is that whatever representation he embodies feels like being thrown a really shitty party. Noah Ikumelo is an original creation for these two runs. Si Spurrier didn't have to make Noah a Black disabled teenager, but he did. Spurrier takes up that responsibility of representation by half-assing it. The kind of thing a guy who gloats about a bi-colored comic cover would do before accidentally calling the character in it "pansexual" in said comic. And then backpedal on twidder when called out for it. Half ass behavior.

Noah went from being this interesting exploration of unintended legacy to being a prop to make shallow commentary on American racism. Noah is never drawn consistently between artists but he sure is adultified a bunch to the point that I even see readers describing him as "basically an adult" when he's only 16-17 years old. I get that it's supposed to be tragic that he's forced to grow up too soon, but part of that tragedy is that he still is a kid. The portrayal of his disability shows how no research was put into being inclusive in either the writing or the art to the point it's downright nonsensical. The research amounts to looking up a sign language dictionary for words and that's it. This isn't even touching on how there was no recognition of the intersection between Black culture and sign language.

The problems with Noah Ikumelo are not unique to Hellblazer, or Si Spurrier or the Hellblazer creative team. They're a reflection of a predominantly able-bodied and white industry that is comics and media as a whole. The very way comics as a medium is taught carries with it an ableist standard for portraying communication. All this to say that tackling a character like Noah would mean doing the extra work to be critical of what we're used to seeing as the norm. But if you were just going to half-ass setting up a party for Black disabled readers, then why even bother y'know? It's not like Spurrier was held at gun point to create a disabled character. Frankly he was too busy crafting scenarios for guns to be pointing at Noah instead.

[ontologicalmoki]

easy pan chicken! (soft, edible, tasty, not at all rubbery or chewy, you’ll wow your guests but also just like. Have some chicken, which is a cheap and easy and delicious protein)

this works best with about as much raw chicken as you can fit in the bottom of the pan you’re using. I really do cram it in there. If you’re only cooking for yourself, you can use a small pan, or just have leftovers, or just only put one piece of chicken in there, but I find it’s easier to burn it or make it too dry that way.

Also I like using boneless skinless thighs best, but it does work with any cut of chicken, bones or no bones. You can dice it before you start, stirring instead of flipping when you get there, but I find it easier to dice afterwards.

(your pan should be cast iron or enamelled or non stick. If you’re using one that isn’t, you will basically need to turn the chicken into a soup base to keep your pan from being a nightmare to wash.)

once you have obtained suitable chicken and a pan to put it in!:

Heat the pan over medium heat and put in enough butter to cover the bottom of the pan. Wait till the butter melts.

over the melted butter, put a layer of salt. You’re unlikely to do too much, meat needs a lot of salt.

add the chicken. You want it to sizzle when you put it in, but it’ll turn out fine if it doesn’t.

to each piece of chicken add a splash of vinegar. I like rice wine vinegar, but literally any works. So does vodka.

layer of seasoning. My favorite is a bottle of pre mixed “garlic butter and white wine” seasoning, but anything works. Chicken is not picky. Options include:

Paprika and garlic powder

Italian seasoning and garlic powder

tarragon, coriander, and garlic powder (noticing a theme here?)

curry powder

just garlic powder

garlic powder and parsley

whatever you feel like today

then put a lid on it. If you don’t have any lids that approximate your pan, a sheet of tinfoil works. Heck a plate works. Just cover the chickies loosely. then forget about them until they start to brown on the bottom. This takes like 5-10 min depending on how much chicken is in there and how thick your pan is. You’ll be able to smell it before it burns irreparably (it’s artistically blackened, thank you very much) and it’s fine if it fails to actually brown, so don’t worry too much about this step. Just leave the lid on for a little while while you do other stuff (boil noodles, make veggies, stuff like that.)

Flip the chickens over. Add butter or vinegar if the pan is for some reason completely dry, but this should not happen. Turn the heat down if it does. Cover it back up.

when you come back to it, again 5-10 minutes later, check if it’s done. Do this by cutting into the two biggest pieces and making sure the inside is white like cooked chicken and not at all pink like raw chicken. No pink is allowed. This is not burgers. Put the lid back on if there’s any thing that looks raw. If you’re paranoid about this and unsure, you can just like. Dice the chicken up in the pan. Or use a thermometer I guess.

your chicken is edible! If there’s seasoning stuck to the pan add a tablespoon of water or lemon juice or wine if you’re feeling fancy (do not use rice wine it caramelises. Which actually tastes ok) while it’s still hot and scrape the seasoning up. You can then mix it back into the chicken. This chicken can be served like this, or you can dice it up, or you can turn the heat down a little, cook it a little longer, and then shred it with a fork for shredded chicken.

tldr!:

medium heat

In order:

butter

salt

chicken

Splash vinegar

seasoning (whatever)

cover it

cool till brown, flip, cook till done.

voila, you can pan fry chicken! I have never yet made it inedible doing it this way, you really won’t mess it up.

[boombox-fuckboy]

2024 Fiction Podcast Zine Festival

When: The entire month of September, 2024

Goal: During the month of September, make one (or more) zine of any quality, that is in some way related to fiction podcasts. You can share it using the tags #fiction podcast zine event and #fiction podcast zine festival

On Zines: A zine is a paper booklet that can function as art or an informational pamphlet. These are traditionally very cheaply made and hand-folded.

Zine vs Art Book: Sometimes, fandom or personal projects function under the title "zine" to produce glossy, professionally printed projects. These are more often elaborate, gorgeous group art efforts, and more art books than true zines. You could make one of these if you really wanted to, but I'd encourage you not to, and instead spend just a spare hour (quick), afternoon, or weekend (long) on it.

What should it be about? Whatever you want, so long as it is related to fiction podcasts! Click here for a list of suggestions, or ignore those entirely.

What medium should I use? Literally whatever you like. Hand-drawn/written zines that can be photocopied are traditional, but digital art or documents are fine too. You could experiment physically with all kinds of mediums, too.

Do I have to make them printable to contribute? You do not! While I'd encourage you to if you're able, you can also just make one for yourself.

I want to make something, but it won't be very good. Do it anyway.

I don't own a scanner/printer/copier but would like to make use of one. Any suggestions? Associates who work in offices and schools might be willing to scan or print them for you. You can also check your local library, post office, corner store, and university (in that order, probably). The first three will often charge a small fee for printing, rarely more than 20c, the last will definitely charge a fee higher than that.

Hey, I've got something to add! Let me know! If you have advice to give (to me or more generally speaking), or useful resources, I'd appreciate you sending it my way.

Resources:

Wikihow: How to Make a Zine

Google drive folder containing personal templates (.docx) for one-sided and 2-sided 8 page digital zines.

[strangesthirdeye]

Me to you (Arthur Morgan x deaf wife! Reader)

Summary: When love is not just through words Warning: IT'S ARTHUR MORGAN! WE LOVE HIM! Modern au, half deaf reader but the reader becomes fully deaf, faint, arguments, workaholic Arthur, Arthur being guilty about the reader, sign language, Arthur learn basic sign language just for you, medium angst, fluff, comfort, reader wearing hearing aids, a bit misunderstanding, police officer Arthur and the gang. Arthur is crying, Arthur is soft husband, Arthur loves his wife, I might make Arthur a little soft here because he's seeking forgiveness from his wife, mentioned of silent treatment.

As usual, I'm sorry if there are any wrong sentences or typos or grammatical mistakes, please forgive me and again English is not my first language, so I try to improve my language and writing in this way.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

A ringing in your ears greeted you as you stirred your tea in the kitchen. You winced at the noise and immediately pulled your hearing aids out of your ears and placed them on the kitchen counter. You sighed. The hearing aids are not comfortable to wear but then again, they also help you hear. Lately, your hearing aids have been having problems. Probably because they are old or the batteries are getting weak. But then again, the cost of buying new hearing aids is not cheap. One hearing aid is half the cost of renting a house.

So like it or not, you have to rely on these old hearing aids. You close your eyes as you stop stirring the tea. The sugar in the tea has long been dissolved as you have been staring into space not noticing how long it has been dissolved. Silent is all you hear. Obviously. You were born with a hearing problem. Not fully deaf but still, you need aids to hear. But there is a chance that you could become fully deaf if something unwanted happens and you don't want it. You sighed as you looked at the clock on the wall.

12:00 pm

Arthur is back at 1pm so you have an hour to yourself before your dear husband gets home from work. Oh, Arthur. He is such a gentle soul that you don't regret having a relationship with. Although he seems rough and grumpy all the time but deep down he is just a bear that needs gentleness in his life.

You still remember how you first laid eyes on him. He was doing his work as police officer at the time. With his police uniform on as he took a seat in your cafe one evening. Having a lot of work that day and he just happened to take his time off duty at your cafe ordering strong coffee just to ease his stress? that's what you thought. Seeing him tense and tired at work, you offered him some chocolate bread that had just come out of the oven.

This made him surprise as you told him that it was free. Stating that he was a police officer, he deserved some kind of appreciate for protecting citizens. And that made his day brighter with just your simple gesture.

One or more chocolate breads later (with 7 months of dating) you and him are now husband and wife.

Arthur is a gentle and polite man (he always is) and he doesn't care about what you lack instead he supports you and helps you whenever your hearing aids are giving you problems. He even learned basic sign language when you don't wear hearing aids which is very important to him if you decide not to wear hearing aids for one day but when it comes to some gestures that he doesn't know how to sign, he takes out his journal to write a sentence before handing it to you. Sometimes he insists that you wear them. He doesn't force you but whenever there is a day when you need to wear them, you wear them. Like working.

You started sipping your neglected tea as you walked to the living room. Hearing aids clutched in your other hand as you took a seat on the sofa. Tea was placed on a small table in front of you as you put your hearing aids back on. Slightly adjusting the volume on the aids. You winced slightly when the ringing struck but then it stopped and your sense of hearing was fine again. You started hearing the sound of the TV channel playing.

You returned to your tea and sipping it slowly with eyes watching the tv. You chuckled slightly at the joke made by the actor on the tv. Minutes passed, the door of the house was opened wide by someone. Heavy footsteps were heard entering, car keys were tossed into the cabinet along with shoes. Someone sighed heavily as they hung their jacket on the hanger. You turned.

There Arthur who had just returned from work sighed tiredly with a lot of duty hung on his shoulder. Lately he has been working non-stop at the police station. No rest, late night back home, go to work before the sun fully rises and repeat the next day. You ever wondered when he would rest. You watched him as he pulled out a few things from his work pants pocket. Cigarette box, lighter and wallet were placed on the cabinet by the door.

You decided to greet him. You placed your tea on the table, you stood up and walked towards him with a gentle smile. Arthur looked at you with love.

"hey there, sweetheart" he greeted tiredly.

You smiled as you hugged him. "everything alright?"

Arthur sighed as he placed his head into the crook of your neck. "stressful as usual. More emergency calls and duty to keep up as usual"

You parted away from him with concern. "you should have taken a short break, love"

Arthur sighed as he closed his eyes then shook his head dismissed. "can't do that. The station needs me, sweetheart"

"and you need a break." you replied.

"i can't. I have to do duty. You know what Dutch is like" he said tiredly.

Dutch Van der Linde. The head of the police in this town. He always needs Arthur as Arthur is a reliable police officer. As if he is the only police officer here. Always pressuring him to do his duty.

You sighed in defeat. Once Dutch's name came out of his mouth you couldn't fight back as he was loyal to him.

"You hungry? I can heat up the dishes" you offered as you walked to the kitchen.

Arthur shook his head. "I think I'll sleep for a while. Maybe I'll eat later" he said.

You nodded in understanding as you watched him climb the stairs to the bedroom. Your poor husband. You walked back to the living room. As you sat down, a painful ringing greeted you harshly making you ripped off the hearing aids. You closed your eyes as the ghosted ringing was still felt. It was quite painful and loud. You winced slightly. The world around you became silent that evening.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

It was around 8 pm when you half woke up from your sleep and noticed your husband's shadow coming down the stairs. He took a long nap, probably he was hungry so you started to sit up from your lying position on the sofa and yawned. Stretching your body, you started to reach for your hearing aids that you previously threw on the table and put them back in your ears. You adjusted the volume as you walked to the kitchen to heat up the food for Arthur.

"I'm heating up the food for you, it won't be long now" you said loudly.

Arthur walked past you in a black t-shirt and fancy pants, suspenders tight on his broad shoulders. His face fresh, his hair slightly wet but neatly combed with the smell of mint cologne on his body. If he wasn't in a hurry, you would take him there and now. But he was in hurry.

He started kneeling to put on his black socks. You frowned as you walked towards him.

"Where are you going?" you asked.

"duty call, Dutch calling me that there's a crime scene that I need to be involved in" he replied without looking at you as he put his feet into his work shoes.

"Tonight? but what about food? you surely need to eat" you said with your eyes wide in disbelief.

"I'll grab food at work, sweetheart" he said as he reached for his black jacket that was hanging. He then started to reach you to kiss your cheek but you took a step back.

"stay" you insisted.

"I can't, please. I need to go" He replied tiredly.

"you just got back a few hours ago and now you want to go back to work after Dutch called you? Aren't there any other police officers at the station?" you exclaimed in frustration.

Arthur sighed heavily. "Dutch.. He needs me. I know there are other police officers at the station like John and Charles but I am the most important person at the station and Dutch.. He is the chief of police, I can't disobey him"

You nodded bitterly. "It's all about Dutch, isn't it? Why can't you just take a damn break for a while? You work non-stop without resting nor do I know if you're eating or not at the station. And you just care about duty other than your well being? Can't you see that Dutch is using you, Arthur? He's pressuring you! Why can't you just notice it?!" you yelled.

"You don't talk about Dutch like that!" Arthur yelled as he slammed his hand on the cabinet next to him.

A loud ringing started to struck making you visibly winced and it went unnoticed by Arthur as he kept on yelling at you.

"he's the one who hired me in this job, to take care of everything in this house! This job is also the one who gives you enough money to pay for everything at your cafe when you're short on money! This job is also the one who gives you food and anything you want while I work hard to make you comfortable. Why can't you just understand it?! " he slammed his fist into the cabinet loudly, creating a loud bang.

You winced as the ringing got louder and louder, making your head dizzy. Arthur kept on rambling furiously about the job and kept on slamming his hand into the cabinet. His emotions were now pure anger and frustration. You could only keep quiet and narrowed your eyes. Try to focus with your sudden blurred vision. All you could hear was ringing in your ears and Arthur's voice getting muffled.

You try to focus on your vision and listen to what Arthur is saying but all you get is a muffled voice with loud and painful ringing with your sight getting blurred and blackened.

"I work because it is my responsibility as a husband, to support you in this household. And you should do the same!" he yelled loudly as he slammed his palm on the cabinet in frustration.

Your vision darkens as Arthur's voice becomes more distant and muffled as if you are underwater. All you can see is Arthur yelling and moving furiously with extreme anger. Your head hurts and so does your eardrum, which is ringing loudly and painfully, making it difficult for you to focus.

"Why can't you just appreciate what I do if you really love me!"

And you fall into darkness.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Hearing aids were put away in a drawer and locked by you as you sighed heavily. Well you don't need them now, you are officially fully deaf with no hearing aid to help you. Sometimes you forget that you don't need it anymore. But old habits die hard, they said, nor did you care about that as it only made you sick. Sadly, you can't hear the birds chirping in the morning, the rain, the car engine, the annoying sounds from the TV and mostly Arthur's deep voice that made you fall in love. Thinking about Arthur makes you bitterly scoffed.

After the fight, if you call it a fight as he is the only one yelling, Arthur began to distance himself with guilt and regret. The moment you suddenly fainted in front of him awakened something inside him. Guilt and regret haunted his life the moment the doctor announced that you were fully deaf. And that was 2 weeks ago.

Arthur barely looked at you since you and him got home from the hospital. Whenever he looks at you, all he sees is his fault against you. You just wanted to take care of his health, his whereabouts and this is what you get in return.

The feeling of regret, disappointment in himself rises whenever he remembers the fight. And you standing in front of him trying to stay upright with the painfully ringing in you head when he stands there. Yelling with anger, the feeling that he can't hold in as he lets out everything resulting in you becoming fully deaf.

He distances himself from you, Sleeping in a separate room, only exchanging a few looks at each other, going to work until late at night and coming back late.

You keep on working at your cafe. Sadly you can't hear the sound of the coffee machine buzzing, the sound of water being poured, the sound of customers talking, the sound of vehicles that you are used to hearing during the day you can hear with hearing aids. Although it is only through hearing aids, it is enough to make you feel grateful to hear clearly. But then again, the pleasure is taken away from you.

Your work is done in silence. Making a few employees at your place concerned and sympathetic knowing that you are unable to live your life as usual. You are a good manager and friendly to your employees but when you inform them that there is a slight accident, they are all sympathetic and angry with your husband.

Sean Maguire your bright young waiter suggests that you file for divorce against Arthur but you dismiss it as you tell him that it is not necessary.

"I can't file for divorce, Sean.. He doesn't abuse me or anything besides I can be categorized as deaf because I have been wearing hearing aids from the beginning..." you replied to his message making the young man silent digitally.

"I'm just givin' ye a wee suggestion," he replied.

You sighed as you started to stand up to get ready for work while humming. Since you can't hear, there's no point in talking if you can't hear your own voice. But when you're humming, you can feel vibration in the back of your throat.

Your room door opened, you stopped for a moment when Arthur stood in front of you. The eyebags under his eyes were visible, his tired and gruff face and his slouched body seemed to be carrying a heavy burden.

Your mouth agape with surprise seeing him but you closed your mouth and slightly looked at him with cold. Arthur eyes widened at you but then lowered his gaze with shame. The same look you received from him throughout the past 2 weeks.

But then again, he was the one who caused all this to happen. You walked past him without looking at him. Arthur's mouth opened but he closed it. What's the point of talking if you can't hear his voice. His eyes follow your figure with melancholy.

But Arthur didn't miss the opportunity, he chased you to the door and blocked your way. His body towering over you. You looked up at him coldly.

"what" you signed.

Arthur tried to sign what he knew. "wait-" he stopped. He clenched his hands in frustration. Arthur looked at you pleadingly. He doesn't know how to form some words in sign language. He only knows basic sign language.

But then he got an idea. He fished out his phone and opened the note apps. He quickly tapped the keyboard on his phone before showing you what he was writing.

"What time will you be back?" the word was written.

You read it with no reaction on your face. You looked at Arthur who looked at you as if he had kicked the puppy.

"why do you care?" you signed with a frowned.

Arthur was stunned. He didn't know what you signed. He sheepishly turned his phone and typed.

"i don't understand it.. sorry :("

You sighed before taking his phone and typing the sentence you signed earlier.

"why do you care?"

Arthur frowned at the writing. He then replied.

"because I'm your husband. That's why I care" he showed it to you.

You read it and scoffed before replying back to him.

"now you want to use that word after what happened"

Arthur read it with the senses of guilt and regret. He nervously typed.

"i'm sorry.." he showed it to you.

You shook your head after reading that and glared at him. You snatched his phone and aggressively typed.

"tell me, do you even care that I as your wife try to know your day? Tell me, do you even care that I care about you where you have eaten or not? what time are you back or do you need space? No. You shouldn't use the word husband to me when you make me like this. This is what I get when I care about you. And now you care about me? really" you showed it to Arthur with eyes glossy with tears.

Every sentence Arthur read, every time his heart broke reading what you wrote. He realized his mistake. He was blinded by his work to know your well-being while you were blinded by his well-being. Care for him and he reciprocated your kindness with something that made him regret it.

He lost his words to reply. He realized his mistake was not just something that could be solved with an apology. He realized his mistake was bigger than he thought.

You looked at him furiously. "You made me like this" you signed before walking past him.

Arthur stared where you had previously stood with guilt and regret. His heart sank when he understood what you had signed.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Later that night, you came home from closing your cafe. You opened the door to your dark house. You assumed Arthur was still at work doing god knows what. Probably one of the many things Dutch told him to do.

You sighed as you entered your dark house - The jacket is opened and hung on the hanger, the cut key is thrown into the basket near the door. The shoes are opened and arranged on the shelf. You now walk into the living room with only socks on. But then you stop when you hear the sound of the television playing. The dim light from the living room makes you feel interested to see who in the goddamn person is in your house watching TV.

But what was surprising was that Arthur was sleeping sitting on the sofa with his head tilted to the side. The TV playing in front of him was long forgotten. This makes you feel weird. Usually, Arthur always comes back late but this time here he is sleeping with the tv still on. You walk towards Arthur. Arthur silently snores with mouth slightly agape. Hand sprawled at his side. His position is enough to make you grimaced with discomfort especially the nape of his neck.

You touched his shoulder trying to wake him up but Arthur just let out a quiet groaned before he continued to sleep. You huffed. This time you shook his shoulder hard making him jerk in shock. His sleepy eyes looked around him before settling on you.

You looked at him with displeasure before you signed a simple word.

"what are you doing?"

Arthur blinked a few times before he seemed to just realize what that meant.

"I'm taking a temporary leave" he signed even though the motion for the leave was a little off but you could still understand.

"why" you signed.

"i.. want.. to.. spend.. time..with.. you" he sheepishly signed slowly.

You scoffed. "how long?"

"3 days"

"3 days?"

Arthur nodded several times. "i was waiting for you" this time his signed smoothly.

"why"

"because I want to spend my time with you" he signed this as if he had taken practice with how smoothly he signed without mistake.

"why" you pressured.

Arthur was silent. His mind blank. He nervously took out his phone and opened the notes app. He typed.

"I want to make up for what I did to you." he showed it to you with the looked of pleading.

You stared at Arthur's phone for a moment. Eyes darted from the phone to Arthur's face several times. Arthur seemed genuinely to be seeking your forgiveness. He couldn't bear this silent treatment anymore. He was dead. He was losing you day by day.

You noted that he wasn't getting enough rest nor did he eat enough. The eyebags under his eyes were very obvious so was his body which was losing weight though he was still massive with his big muscles under those shirts.

You softened your look.

"oh, Arthur" you signed with sympathy. All the walls you built crumbled seeing your husband crumble day by day without you. You kneeled in front of him and took his big hand and stroked the back of his hand gently.

Arthur avoided looking at you. He still felt guilty about what he had done. He let his anger out on you. Now he paid the price. You then got up and sat next to him.

Hands palmed his face - trying to get Arthur to look at you.

You sighed and then without wasting time, you hugged him. Arthur's hands automatically around you. He hugged you tightly as if he didn't want to let you go. You stroked his back gently.

You could hear Arthur sobs on your neck. Never have you ever seen Arthur breakdown this badly until he shed a tear. The strong and fierce man now crumbled in his wife's arms.

You could feel his chest rumble so was a ghost of his mouth brushing your neck. He was mouthing sorry a few times on your neck. Although you didn't hear it you could still feel it.

Arthur's body shook - you rubbed his back gently trying to comfort him.

Arthur parted from your embrace. His cheeks wet with tears. His hands then signed.

"i'm sorry" he signed several times.

You took his hands and put them on your chest. You looked at him with sympathy. One hand signed.

"i forgive you"

He leaned his forehead against yours.

"I shouldn't have done this to you.. I'm sorry" he signed a slight shake.

You stroked his arm. "it's okay.. Things have happened" you replied.

He closed his eyes and then he leaned his head a bit forward just to catch a feeling of your lips against him after several weeks of silent treatment and rejection. You leaned forward - kissing him back with a feeling of sorrow and acceptance.

[wandascosmic]

you've got a smile that could light up this whole town (2)

wanda maximoff x fem!reader

part two of 'you belong with me' series

summary: basically a wanda series inspired by jim and pam from the office

word count: 3868

warnings: sexual harassment in the workplace, talks of sexism and racism, small mention of blood in a joking setting

part 1 part 2 part 3 part 4 part 5 part 6 part 7 part 8 part 9

“That’s the thing. It’s very sturdy paper,” you speak to the client on the phone. “And on the back it says 100% post-consumer content.” 

You’re on the phone with Mr. Deckerd, the CEO of one of your biggest clients who amounts to about 25% of your commission for the whole year. Wanda makes fun of you for buying a mini bottle of champagne every time you make a sale to him and his company, but you can’t help but celebrate a little. This year, you’re pushing recycled paper on them for about 1% more, so maybe you’ll buy a medium-sized bottle of champagne if you make the sale. 

Suddenly, you hear a static noise in your ear. “Hello?” you ask, wondering if your client is still there. You plug the ear that isn’t touching the phone to hear Mr. Deckerd better, but the static sound continues. “I’m sorry, Mr. Deckerd I think I’m losing-” 

But then you can’t hear anything because your stupid desk neighbor is shredding his papers at his desk. 

“Hello? Hello?” But you can’t hear anything because of the stupid shredder. “Hold on one second,” you reassure your customer, even though you have no idea if he’s still there. 

“Sam! Do you really have to do that right now?” you yell over the shredder.  

“Yes, I do,” he responds, barely paying you any attention. “I should’ve done this weeks ago, actually.” 

You flip him off under your desk. 

“Mr. Deckerd, I'm really sorry,” you speak on the phone. “What were you-” 

You still can’t hear anything, and it makes you give Sam an annoyed expression. “Can you give me one second?” you tell Mr. Deckerd on the phone in your fake nice sales voice. “Yeah, just one second. Thanks.” 

You press the off button on Sam’s shredder with your pointer finger, and he narrows his eyes at you.

You shrug back in response. 

“Hello? Oh, that’s it. Perfect,” you let Mr. Deckerd know. “So, what I was saying-” 

Sam hangs up the phone for you by pushing a button on the docking port and you want to slap him in the face. 

“Hello?” when you hear nothing but the dial tone, you set the phone down and run your hands over your face. “Thanks a lot, Sam.” 

“Retaliation, Y/N. Tit for tit.” 

“That’s not the expression.” 

“Well, it should be.” 

Now you want to punch Sam instead.

“Solitaire?” you ask Wanda, popping a jelly bean from the candy dish at her desk into your mouth and leaning over it to peek at her computer screen. 

“Yeah, freecell,” she tells you, brows furrowing in focus at the game. 

“Six on seven,” you point to the digital cards. 

“I know I saw that,” she nods.  

“So, why didn’t you do it?” you ask. 

“I’m saving that,” she gives a shy smile, “cause I like it when the cards go…” she imitates the shuffling cards. 

“Who doesn’t love that?” you shrug, smiling at her. 

She giggles in response, and you help her win the rest of the game.  

Tony comes out of his office. “Everyone in the conference room,” he announces. “Diversity day seminar.” 

Everyone gets out of their desk to go meet in the room, but you stay on the phone in order to make the sale to Mr. Deckerd.

“Y/N,” Tony states. “Wrap it up.” 

“Yeah,” you nod. “Uh, Mr. Deckerd-” 

“L/N, hurry up, please.” 

“Uh, Mr. Deckerd, I'm actually going to have to call you back,” Damn it, you were so close. “Thank you, sorry about that.” You hang up the phone.

Wanda meets your stride as you both walk in together and she wraps her hand around your elbow absentmindedly. 

The two of you usually sit together, but unfortunately, you were both the last to walk in due to your phone call so you both take a seat on opposite sides of Thor.  

Once you sit down a man from corporate hands you a blank card for you to fill out by writing down a work-related incident you found offensive, and you and Wanda look at each other, knowing exactly what incident you were both going to write. 

A couple weeks ago, the head of corporate, Thaddeus Ross had made disgusting remarks and had acted completely sexist and racist to every single female or ethnic worker in the office. He had reduced every single person to just their ethnicity or sex and had made incredibly vulgar remarks that you didn’t want to think about again because of how offensive they were. In fact, they were so ugly that those who had taken the worst of his comments didn’t come into the office for the next 2 days because of how violated they felt.  

You bite your tongue as you remember the lewd comments he had made about Wanda that day. 

“Wanda’s really easy on the eyes, don’t you think?” he had whispered to you, his coffee breath making you want to push him as far away as possible. “I bet she’d make way more money on her knees rather than behind that desk…” 

You had frozen in your seat, shocked at the words Ross uttered out of his mouth. You were about to reprimand him and let him know how inappropriate his comments were, but you didn’t get the chance because he got called over by Tony right after uttering those awful words. So instead, once he was gone from your sight, you had immediately stood up and gone over to Wanda at her desk while she was faxing documents Bruce had given her to let her know about the disgusting comments Ross had made. 

Wanda’s expression had hardened once you told her, and she had taken many deep breaths to reel in her emotions. “Thank you for telling me,” she had breathed out. “Honestly, I’m not surprised with the amount of times he’s cheated on his wife,” she had told you with a weak smile. Ross always confided in Wanda about his affairs for some reason, and he gave her a copious amount of detail about his nights spent in bed with other women. 

You had watched her brave resolve crumble as she played with the rings on her fingers, a nervous tick of hers, and it made you see right through her act. “Are you alright?” 

“Yeah, I'm ok,” she had told you, “But I’m never staying within six feet of him again for safety reasons,” she gave a shaky laugh.   

For the rest of the morning, you were able to tell that she was still rattled, with the way she kept zoning out while doing her work and kept playing with her rings and biting her nails. 

So, you decided to do something nice for her to calm her down. During your lunch break, you had gone out to buy all of Wanda’s favorite things. Initially, you had told Vision to do it after letting him know about the incident while he was working down in the warehouse, but all he had responded with was that he was busy and would check on Wanda when he had the chance. 

You knew of his busy schedule, so instead, you thought it would be good to go yourself, and it ended up being so worth it. 

That day, you had bought Wanda chicken paprikash from her favorite restaurant, many packages of the obscure Sokovian candy she really likes, a pocket-sized package of her favorite book series because she was a sucker for miniature items, her favorite perfume because you could tell she was running low based on the way it was becoming less and less strong as the days passed by, a box of chocolates just because, and a mini disco ball, which you bought as a joke hoping it would put the smile back on her face. 

You had definitely gone overboard based on how your bank had called you that day because of how much money you spent, but Wanda didn’t need to know that. 

Plus, you didn’t really care because, well, it was Wanda.  

“Hey, Wands,” you had gone up to her at the end of the day with a plastic bag in your hand. 

Which to Wanda by the looks of it, seemed very heavy. 

“Hi, Y/N,” she had greeted you back softly from her chair. “What’s in the bag?” 

You smiled as you pulled out the mini disco ball, pressing the button so it lit up and placing it on the ledge of her desk. 

“For you,” you had told her, “so every day is a party,” you joked. 

Wanda had picked up the disco ball between her fingers, “you bought this just for the sake of making that joke,” she had answered back with a grin. 

And the disco ball had worked just as you wanted it to, because she had smiled again for the first time that day. 

You shrugged. “Maybe, but it did make you laugh, Maximoff.” 

“Smiling isn’t laughing Y/N,” she said cheekily. Before you could respond she asked, “What’s in the rest of the bag? It’s definitely not that heavy with just a tiny disco ball inside.” 

You slowly pulled out each of the items one by one, making sure to keep the mystery for as long as possible. And it was so worth it, because with every item you pulled out Wanda’s smile widened more and more. 

“Wow…” Wanda trailed off, slowly dragging her index finger over each item as if they were made of glass, until her finger stopped at the candy. “Y/N! They only sell these at that store 40 minutes from here!” her eyes gleamed with worry as she looked at you since there was a snowstorm that day too.

“30 minutes,” you corrected, “and it was nothing, Wanda, honestly. This is supposed to be kind of like a ‘Ross Sucks’ fund. You were shaken up, so I wanted to do something nice for you.” 

Wanda had pushed her tongue against her cheek as she watched you with tears in her eyes. She made her way around her desk until she was in front of you, and had hugged you as tight as possible. “Thank you,” she had whispered while squeezing you as tight as she could.  

As she pulled away a couple moments later, she had kissed your cheek and gave you a soft look while whispering the words, “I’m really glad I have you as my best friend.” 

It was the best gift anyone had ever given her. Somehow, you had singlehandedly turned Wanda’s awful day into one that would bring a smile to her face for the rest of her life. 

The next day, the mini books and disco ball had ended up displayed at Wanda’s receptionist's desk, and Wanda had given you a cheeky smile while popping a candy into her mouth. 

The man from corporate took each of your papers back with a small thank you, eventually creating a large stack. 

“Alright, so I’m here today to talk about diversity,” the man began. “It has come to my attention that a recent issue from an anonymous source has made you all very uncomfortable, so I was called here. We are all still unaware of who made the offensive comments we have heard of, so corporate thought it would be best to put all of the Shield Industry branches through this seminar to be safe. Let’s get started.” 

You started zoning out in worry at losing your biggest client, since Tony had made you hang up the phone due to his lack of patience when it came to being late to an event. After this morning’s exchange with Sam, you hoped he would continue to remain with you as his salesperson. 

You didn’t even notice that you had stopped paying attention until Wanda tapped your shoulder to whisper about how the man from corporate looked a lot like Dracula from Hotel Transylvania, and you responded that you should test if he’s really a vampire by putting blood in Sam’s bag so he’s the first to go.

You don’t know how much time has passed until suddenly, Tony’s voice brings your attention back to the meeting. “Hey man, I’m sorry, but you need to leave.” 

“What?” The man whose name you still don’t know responds. 

Long story short, Tony kicked out the man and forced you all to get back to work simply because he didn’t like his face. 

“Uh, hi, is Mr. Deckerd around?” you spoke on the phone. “Oh, well, could you just have him call me after lunch? Thank you.”

You ran your hands over your face in stress, god, you really hoped you didn’t lose your biggest client. 

“Attention, everyone!” Tony yelled out stepping out from his office. “The replacement seminar corporate is making us go through will occur immediately after lunch, so don’t be late!” he stepped back into his office. 

You’re too anxious to eat anything, so you spend your lunch break playing solitaire with Wanda while she eats the sandwich she packed this morning, since she usually spends it answering calls anyway. It’s the perfect pass-time because you’re still near the phone in case Mr. Deckerd calls, and she’s excellent at distracting you and making your worries fade away. 

The last ten minutes of your break are spent at your desk staring at your phone, the busy tone ringing out suddenly seeming like it's mocking you.

Around 1 pm, a tall short-haired lady walks in, “Hi, I’m here to lead the diversity seminar?” you hear her introduce herself to Wanda at the front of the office. 

Wanda stood up to shake her hand. “Welcome, I’m Wanda. I’ll let Tony know you’re here.” 

She ran into Tony’s office to inform him of the woman at the front, and from your point of view, you could tell that this new woman was attracted to Wanda based on the way she was staring at her from behind. 

“Everybody in the conference room!” Tony yelled out as he stepped out of his office, leading the orange-haired woman corporate hired in the direction of the room. 

Thankfully, this time, you and Wanda walked in a little earlier so you could sit next to each other at the back. 

Wanda had a clipboard in her hands to take notes as part of her job as a receptionist, and while she wasn’t looking, you drew a small smiley face at the corner of her page, a long-time tradition since you first joined the office a year after her. 

“Alright, now that everybody’s settled in, hi, my name’s Pepper, and I’m here to lead the diversity seminar after this morning’s complications,” the lady said, giving Tony a look. “To start off, what can you tell me about diversity?” 

Sam raises his hand. “It means having a diverse background.” 

“Yes, very good. Anybody else?” 

“It means being inclusive to people of all race,” Bruce answers. 

While Nat is answering, Wanda notices the small smiley face at the corner of her page and smiles softly. 

“What about you, hon?” Pepper asks Wanda while she’s lost in thought. 

Wanda’s head snaps up, “Sorry?” she clarifies. 

“What do you think about diversity?” 

Wanda pauses to think for a moment, “I think it’s acceptance of people of different background that’s not only limited to race but also gender, economic status, age, social class, and sexual orientation.” 

“Wow, impressive,” Pepper smirks, staring Wanda down like she’s almost a piece of meat.  

Wanda’s eyes widen and she shifts uncomfortably under Pepper’s stare, as she feels incredibly objectified once again. 

“Nerd,” Sam coughs into his fist. 

But Wanda can’t focus on Sam’s comment, because for some reason Pepper’s gaze is starting to remind her a lot of the way Vision looks at her. 

But it’s probably nothing, it’s probably just that he’s attracted to her because they’re engaged. 

Pepper’s seminar goes on for another 30 minutes, and while she’s discussing an acronym called HERO, you hear the phone ring. 

You don’t mean to be rude, but you’re so anxious you’re going to lose the sale you sprint out of the conference room to answer the phone. 

“Hello? Hello?” you answer, but you get no response. You tap your foot nervously on the ground and hang up the phone, running your hands over your face. 

You really hope Mr. Deckerd answers soon. 

Back in the conference room, Wanda still feels Pepper’s gaze on her and it makes her increasingly uncomfortable. The way Pepper was eyeing her like she was her prey to devour mercilessly made her feel so awfully degraded, like she was just an attractive object to be used and not another person. It made her want to jump out of her seat and run away as far as possible, or at least to you, since you were her best friend after all and you could calm her down with just a touch. 

But Wanda calms down when you walk back in and take your seat next to her, giving her your infamous smile despite the way she can tell you’re stressed due to your stiff posture, and it fills her heart with warmth. 

Pepper is still on the same slide as when you left, so you don’t think you missed much. 

“Diversity, equity, and inclusion are the three factors needed in running an office that feels safe to people of all background,” Pepper continues and you can tell that everyone is starting to get sick of the seminar. 

“How much did I miss?” you whisper in Wanda’s ear. 

“Barely anything,” she whispers back, and Wanda feels her nerves settling. “She’s been repeating the same thing in different ways for the past 5 minutes.” 

You let out a small laugh. 

And Wanda does too. 

And you both try your best to suppress your laughter for the next two minutes.

You sit there for a while trying your best to listen to Pepper’s speech, but it proves to be an incredibly hard struggle because her presentation voice is ridiculously robotic. 

“Excuse me, Pepper,” Sam states. 

“Yes?” 

“What’s diversity again?” 

God, this was going to be a long seminar. 

You were in the middle of zoning out for the third time when the phone rang, causing you to spring out of your seat and sprint out to answer it. 

“Mr. Deckerd!” you greet into the phone the second you get in your chair. “We didn’t lose your sale today, did we?” you chuckle. “Excellent! Okay..” you pull out a pen. “Let me just get your– What’s that? No, we didn’t, we didn’t close last time,” your brows furrow in confusion. 

“I just need your, uh–Oh! What code were you given?” you’re still confused. “Oh, okay. Yeah, no, he’s actually another salesman here.” Oh, now you realize what’s happened. “Yeah, I can redo it if you want to do that. He gave you a discount?” Well played. “No, no worries, I don’t blame you,” you reassure him. “Okay, thanks, have a great day, Mr. Deckerd, it was nice speaking to you.”

You slowly place the phone back onto its docking port, sighing, and putting your head in your arms on the table.  

It was official. 

Sam had stolen your biggest client. 

You walk back into the conference room with your hands in your pocket, noticing that Pepper is coming to the end of her presentation. 

You sit down, thinking about how you hope that Sam enjoys the mini champagne you left on his desk. 

Then, all of a sudden, you feel a soft weight on your right shoulder, causing you to snap out of your thoughts, and the scent of your favorite vanilla perfume fills your senses. 

You turn your head to take a closer look at her, and once you see her face, a huge smile breaks out across your own. 

Wanda Maximoff has fallen asleep on your shoulder. 

And it’s the cutest thing you’ve ever seen. 

Her features are soft and relaxed, devoid of all the stress the office usually brings her, and Wanda’s delicate beauty is completely on display for you to see. She looks ethereal, as if she’s been crafted piece by piece by every single goddess to ever exist. 

You stare at her for what feels like an eternity, and she seems so soft and so Wanda that it feels like a small delicate butterfly has landed on you, and you never want her to go away. 

The smile doesn’t leave your face as you do your best to sit as still as possible for the next few minutes in order to avoid waking Wanda up while Pepper wraps up her speech.

“All right, everyone, it’s after 5, so you’re all dismissed,” Pepper announces once her presentation comes to a close. “Hope you learned something today.” 

Slowly, everyone makes their way out, and you hear their soft muttering about how the seminar was completely useless as you watch them from your seat, careful not to disturb the brunette angel sleeping soundly on your shoulder. 

“I didn’t know you two were together,” Pepper says once everyone has left, packing up her bag.

“Hm?” you ask. 

“You and Wanda,” she points to you and the receptionist. “She seems very nice, you’re quite lucky.” 

“Oh!” you laugh. “No, Wanda and I aren’t dating. She’s engaged,” you clarify. “And yes, she’s wonderful.” 

Pepper laughs, “Oh, good to know. Sorry for assuming, she just seems very fond of you.” 

“No worries,” you reassure her, “I’m very fond of her too. She’s my closest friend,” you say, giving a small smile.

“Well, I wish you two the best. Have a good day, Y/N,” she waves goodbye to you. “And tell Wanda I’m sorry for making her uncomfortable during the seminar, I recently got out of a breakup and was looking for a distraction and she was the first thing I saw, but it was wrong of me,” she admits. 

You frown. “I’m very sorry to hear that,” you respond. “Thank you for letting me know, I hope things get better for you soon.” 

Pepper smiles and nods, heading out the door. 

As she walks out of the office she can see you staring through the window of the conference room, and she knows that Wanda’s not just a close friend to you.  

You and Wanda are left alone together, and you give her one last soft look before deciding to finally wake her up. 

“Hey,” you whisper causing Wanda to begin to stir. 

“Hm?” she asks groggily, rubbing her eyes, slowly coming back to her senses. "Oh,” she quietly murmurs, slowly blushing as she realizes she fell asleep on your shoulder and lifting her head off.  

“We can go now,” you let her know with a small chuckle. 

“Yeah, um, sorry,” she mumbles apologetically, getting up from her chair and grabbing her clipboard. 

“That’s okay,” you let her know with a soft laugh. 

“Um, I'll talk to you later,” she says shyly, walking out. 

“Yeah, talk to you later,” you agree, following her with a smile still on your face as you look at your shoes. 

And as you pack your bags, the phone at your desk where you lost your best client only a foot away, suddenly, it’s not a bad day anymore.

part 3

[pixeltwix]

Alone Together Au (except it’s the other half left behind)

In which both Stanford and Fiddleford fall through the portal and both Stan and Emma May work together to bring them back (even with two people it still takes thirty years, oops)

Together though they keep a marriage of convenience so that the town doesn’t suspect anything odd of them. Everyone still thinks Stan is Stanford and Emma May simply says she got a divorce from her old husband and remarried

“Come one, come call, to see the awe inspiring ability of Madame Mystery! Only 30 bucks a pop, and there ain’t no refunds, the spirits hate refunds~“

Emma May works as a sort of telepath and psychic medium in the mystery shack before the Gleeful’s rolled into town. Her true inspiration however is from the twins mother, Caryn. She recalls all of her tricks and swindles she watched the woman do when she was younger and was happy to apply them for herself <3

All together though her get up resembles much more of a fairy godmother type appeal than anything else (which Mabel loves)

Even though Stan and Em were friends in the past it was still undoubtedly difficult to yknow, pass as a married couple at first.

Eventually they pulled it off effortlessly in public, but there’s still a lot of emotional turmoil behind closed doors. Em missing her actual husband desperately and Stan having to juggle that, Tate’s bitterness towards him, and the fake identity

They don’t hate each other or anything though, quite the opposite, they feel they’re the only support the other has after Tate moved out to live by the lake. Ultimately at the end of the day while it seems they’re just a ‘bitter old married couple’ they’ll be the first to back each other up

Emma May acquired a pretty nasty scar after the portal incident, so she began to style her bangs over her eyes to prevent anyone from seeing them. The only one who occasionally does is Stan, but when you’re working into the ams on a portal you can’t comprehend it’s hard to care too much about said scar

But this doesn’t stop Dipper from speculating what she could be hiding under the bangs

“I don’t know, but I reckon it feels like the end of the world.”

In order to convince Stan to come to Gravity Falls, Em sends the postcard copying Fords handwriting to bait him to Oregon. Once he shows up though he’s shocked to find his brother actually didn’t want to see him at all and it was instead her who wants to talk

She promptly explains she needs backup confronting Ford and Fiddleford because while she can get through to Fiddleford she worries no one can get through to Ford. Her last resort was asking for Stans help

Things do not..go very well though. Ford and Stan still fight, Fiddleford tries to break them up and accidentally gets shoved alongside Ford. Meanwhile Em is the only one close enough for Stan to actually grab hold of before the portal shuts off and the two are left alone together

And then the last silly detail atm regarding Tate

Little dude ✨hates✨ Stan

He blames him for his father falling through the portal and he absolutely detests the ‘uncle/friendly paternal’ type role he tries to fill as he grows up

He can’t help but feel bitter towards his mother as well considering she was so quick to marry Stan as well, even with the context of the situation, even if it was just on paper, even if he knows they’re working to get the two back. It still felt like a betrayal

Once he was old enough he moved out to live by the lake where he eventually opens his tackle shop, but fishing isn’t exactly the only job he has

Knowing Tate is potentially even more intelligent than his father he found the memory gun when he was around the twins age, made himself leader of the society of the blind eye as he’s ‘the heir’, and promptly continues to run the cult in the bg as he feels it’s what his dad would want him to do

[layla4567]

Shanks with a Fem!dancer

I was on Pinterest and I found these videos and then this idea popped into my head.

Summary: Shanks meets a dancer in a bar and becomes infatuated with her.

Warnings: smut time 👀, cunnilingus, p in v, no protection (use protection pls), rough make out, fingering, face fucking, riding, age gap kinda (both of legal age tho), Shanks only has one arm this time, at first I used the third narrator instead of the second one unintentionally, use of y/n, cursing

Wc: 2k

Shanks had just set foot in a new town and as usual he thought of drinking in a bar so he could feel truly welcome and at home. He saw the nearest tavern and without thinking twice he entered smiling and confident that the alcohol in that place would be strong enough to burn his throat. Inside, it was packed with people, but they didn't seem to be paying attention to the bar, but rather to a small stage in the center with red velvet curtains. A girl dressed in a long skirt and blouse that left her shoulders and collarbones exposed was standing there smiling at the audience. The captain hesitated, and without taking his eyes off the young woman, he walked over to a stool and ordered a beer. Suddenly, she put her fingers to her mouth and whistled loudly like a morning bird to get attention. And she began to dance, her hands clasping her skirt, her feet moving rhythmically, making small jumps, almost seeming to float. Shanks couldn't take his eyes off her, just like everyone else. Her beauty and movements were captivating; the woman oozed confidence and joy. As the speed of her dance increased, the people began to clap and cheer to the beat of the drums. Almost at the end, she began to spin like a top, but she did it with such grace, combining arm and head movements, making her loose hair wave, that it almost seemed effortless. Anyone else in her position would have looked clumsy and unbalanced. Finally, the girl stopped in place, breathing heavily but with a wide, joyful smile on her face. The audience applauded wildly, and she gave them several bows and blew kisses with her fingertips. After the girl stepped off the stage to head backstage, Shanks seemed to have recovered from his trance and whistled softly, completely amazed. He blinked several times and only then realized his beer was almost full. That performance seemed to have frozen him in time. In one big gulp, he drank what was left in his cup, feeling the warmth of the alcohol in his veins. That gave him the courage to head backstage now that the bar seemed quieter and emptier. Behind the curtains was a medium-sized windowless room with a brown door in the center. Shanks knocked and waited impatiently. When you opened the door, he already had his best gallant smile on. "Is this heaven or why am I seeing an angel in front of me?" the captain said mischievously. Far from being angry or disliking that clichéd compliment, you smiled. Very few men dared to speak to you without stuttering. Your aura was always striking, captivating, and a little intimidating, so you admired his confidence and courage. You sensed that he also had a bit of that hypnotic energy, and your intuition never failed you. You opened the door a little wider and leaned an arm against the frame. "Alright, wonder boy, what can I do for you?" You smiled, blinking slowly. Shanks was tempted to get closer to you but held back, staying in place. "I just wanted to meet the beautiful lady behind those dance moves." You laughed "Well, you're already watching her, did you come just for that or do you have other intentions?" You looked him up and down and he smiled biting his bottom lip, now Shanks took a step closer "Maybe, that would bother you?" You pouted thoughtfully. "Let's just say it wouldn't be the first time a handsome man wants something from me." Shanks tilted his head slightly, "So, what would you say if I asked you out on a date?" You moved closer to him, feeling his face close to yours. "Better, what would YOU say if I invited you to see me every day at my performances?" The captain licked his lips. "Oh sweetheart, I was going to do it anyway." Smiling, you stepped back and held the door again, ready to close it. "Good, I'll see you there." The redhead, still smiling dazedly, suddenly realized that you were about to kick him out and quickly asked, "Wait, what's your name?" Instead of answering you replied with another question "What's yours?"

"Shanks"

"Y/N" you smiled

Now you closed the door slowly. Shanks stared at the closed door for a few seconds, sighing until he walked away, still feeling the heat in his veins even though the effect of the alcohol had worn off several minutes ago.

~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~

The following days, Shanks returned to that bar to see the woman who had so amazed him perform. Each performance made it harder to get you out of his head. He soon discovered that you would dance to anything your heart felt like, even belly dancing. It seemed like your dancing skills and knowledge had no limits.

One afternoon, he walked into your dressing room holding a red rose. When you opened the door, the first thing you saw was the flower, then his smiling, radiant face.

"Is this for me?"

"Of course, a flower for another even more beautiful flower"

"Why thank you, I'm flattering"

While you smelled the flower with a smile Shanks scanned your body from top to bottom, you were wearing a low-waisted skirt that left your hips exposed and a pearl bra that enhanced your bust. When you felt his gaze pierce you, you snapped your fingers in front of him, making him blink.

"Hey! My eyes are up here" you teased.

He chuckles a little embarrassed "You're right, sorry" he smiled

Before closing the door, you gave him a goodbye kiss, which he hadn't expected but enjoyed deeply. The following days, he continued to visit you at the same bar. The red-haired captain didn't usually stay in one place for so long, but for you, he made an exception. You had him wrapped around your finger; you had captivated him body and soul, but you had also submitted to his charms. From the day he gave you the rose, Shanks noticed that you wore it in your hair at every dance, in full view of everyone, as a silent reminder of who your heart belonged to.

It got to the point where Shanks couldn't take it anymore and invited you to his ship for the night.

"Are you sure you want to take that risk?" There was a hint of defiance in your voice.

Shanks' desire to caress you and mark his territory on you grew stronger and harder to control.

He tried to suppress his eagerness "That's not a risk for me, unless you don't dare" he mocked.

That comment hurt your pride a little, so with your chin held high, you agreed to go with him. Shanks smirked and pulled at your wrist without waiting for you to grab something or change your mind.

It was already night when you ran out of the bar like fugitives. You boarded the boat, and the captain, without letting go of you, guided you to his quarters.

"Sorry love, I couldn't wait any longer" He growled eagerly

"But the crew is sleeping, what if they hear us?"

Shanks brought his body dangerously close to yours and you felt his breath on your ear.

"You'll have to be quiet"

Immediately afterwards, the captain, with his nose under your jaw, lifted your chin to make room for his hungry mouth, which began to run desperate kisses down your neck. His hot breath tickled you and made your skin prickle. He cornered you against the door and pressed his body even closer against yours, fitting together like a puzzle. The tight bulge in his pants pushing against your core made you gasp, and you grabbed onto his shoulders with your nails. Shanks growled softly now, his lips moving toward yours. When his mouth found yours, a fierce battle for dominance of the other's tongue began. Shanks's hand firmly grabbed your thigh and lifted it to help you wrap your legs around his waist. You never thought he had so much strength despite having only one arm.

His tight groin kept pushing and rubbing into your intimacy through your clothes which made you moan into his mouth.

"If you want that, just ask." he exhaled on your lips between kisses

Now his hand was traveling dangerously along the inside of your thigh very close to your core, you closed your eyes enjoying his touch

"Yes please, gimme more.." you moaned

Shanks smiled against the skin of your shoulder and without letting you move from your position he simply pressed his hips against yours to stabilize you against the wall and prevent you from falling and with his hand he began to lower the elastic of your skirt to your knees. Without stopping kissing your shoulder he slid a hand over your underwear and groped your privacy making you moan slightly

"We just started and you're already so wet for me" he chuckled softly

Without waiting for a response, he began rubbing your entrance with his thumb. Even with your clothes or underwear on, you could feel the warmth of his finger touching your wetness. You bit your lip, trying to suppress the moans that bubbled in your throat, wanting to get out.

"What's wrong? You won't say anything?" He teased mischievously.

You didn't respond. You just frowned and closed your eyes, trying to hide the pleasure he was causing you. He didn't give up, however, and he slipped two fingers inside your clothes and began to pump your entrance slowly.

"Oh my god! Shanks!" You moaned in surprise

"That's my girl.." he purred

Your hips began to rock on their own, wanting more friction. You tried your best not to moan so as not to wake the others, but instead, you gasped, your mouth parting in a muffled moan. Your hands tangled in his hair as he returned to kissing your collarbones, also trying to smother his own pleasure in your skin. His fingers pumped faster as your hips moved back and forth as quickly as a wave, and your breathing became labored. You threw your head back against the door, your chest rising and falling. You were about to cum, you could feel it.

Shanks felt it too and instead of continuing to stimulate your insides, he stopped abruptly. You opened your eyes, annoyed and confused, and he laughed.

"What? Did you think I'd make it so easy for you? That would be boring"

"B-but..!"

He silenced you with a passionate kiss and let you slide your legs from his waist. His kisses also went down and found your chest. He removed a strap and you helped him get rid of the bustier. Shanks kissed the center of your bust making you shudder but he didn't stop there, he ran kisses down your body until he reached your stomach where with a single skillful hand he finished removing your skirt and thong. He kissed your mons pubis and your legs making you sigh with desire. The crouching captain looked up to contemplate you from below.

"You're perfect"

You weren't expecting such a loving and genuine compliment, which made you blush. He stood up and laid you down on the bed, took off his cape and got rid of his shirt. You looked at his toned chest and his marked abdomen, unable to resist, you ran your hands over his torso, wanting to pull him towards you, but he giggled, caressing your hand.

"Uh, uh. Not yet, angel"

You grumbled impatiently as he bent down and approached your crotch. You wanted to protest once more, but you didn't have time because the redhead began kissing your inner thighs fervently, as if you were his favorite food that he hadn't tasted in years. The warmth of his mouth, along with the passion with which he kissed you, made you wet again.

"Shanks, please.." you cried

"Okay, I'll reward you after all." smiled mischievously

Without wasting any time, he parted your folds and tasted your juices. The first touch of his hot tongue made you arch your back and moan his name. He seemed to be skilled at everything he did, not just with his hands. His tongue drew circles here and there and pushed against your clit. Remembering his words about his crew, you covered your mouth, muffling your cries of pleasure.

Another thing Shanks loved was teasing you so he raised your legs so you could hook them on his shoulders and have more access to your wet center.

"Oh my god!!"

"Shh, this way you will alert others, dear" he teased, smiling

In response, you grabbed his hair and pulled lightly, drawing a pure, genuine moan from him. This way, you kept his head close to you, preventing him from moving away, and you could fuck his face. You concentrated on your own pleasure and Shanks's wonderful tongue while he hummed into your folds.

Again you felt that tingling in your lower belly that threatened to grow and boil over. You rocked your hips faster as he took you to the edge. Suddenly, a wave of pleasure washed over you, and you felt yourself cascading down. The captain's stubble was covered in your juices, but he didn't care; licking his lips, he climbed on top of you. You were still recovering from the stimulation when he came out with a question.

"Hey, are you alright there?"

You exhaled and caressed his face, trying to normalize your breathing. He lovingly kissed your palm and then looked at you with a smile that hid something else.

"So... would you like to continue or would you prefer to end here?"

This motherfucker. He managed to have you at his feet with his charm and loving smile. Oh, but he was the devil in disguise, and you loved it. Biting your lip, you decided to continue, but on one condition.

"Now I'm in charge"

You knelt on the bed and knocked him down, making him fall onto his back on the mattress. You helped him get rid of his pants and underwear. You didn't waste time with foreplay or kisses; you needed it now. He smiled at your desperation. However, the moment you saw his erect member, you decided to tease him a little. You straddled him but didn't go down completely, just letting the tip enter. You looked at him mischievously, and Shanks moaned, pouting.

"C'mon babe, don't do this"

"Oh I think you're the needy one now."

You stayed in that position for a few seconds until Shanks couldn't take it anymore and raised his pelvis making you enter him fully. You gasped in surprise while he looked at you smiling triumphantly.

"That's not fair!"

"All is fair in love"

Shanks began to move his pelvis up and down to make you follow the rhythm. You joined him by moving your hips in circles and back and forth while your breasts bounced on the spot. The symphony of moans was delicious; at this point, neither of you cared about waking them all up. Suddenly, Shanks's member hit your G-spot perfectly, drawing a stifled cry from you. Their hips seemed to be one, growing in motion. Without warning, they both came in unison, and you collapsed tiredly onto his chest.

The warm liquid continued to drip from your legs, but you didn't pay any attention to it; you just wanted to fall asleep on top of him. Shanks pulled you closer to him and stroked your hair, inhaling your scent deeply. He kissed the top of your head, whispering sweet nothings to you.

"You make me very happy, Y/n"

But you were too asleep to hear him. He looked at you and, smiling, closed his eyes as well, not worrying about having to explain to the crew the next morning why there was a woman sleeping next to him.

[cottonlemonade]

hii! may i please order a medium pineapple lemonade with extra ice for suna? your work is always so wonderful 🥹🌸

Accidental Confession

word count: 1317 || avg. reading time: 6 mins.

pairing: rival!Suna x chubby!Reader

genre: fluff with some suggestiveness, enemies to lovers

warnings: mdni

request: fluffy-spicy accidental confession with rival Suna

It all started with a meme. If Suna hadn’t taken that picture of you stretching during class and added a little Simba into your hands, you wouldn’t have photoshopped his face onto a mop.

To be fair, his was harmless. Yours was downright rude and so he fell in love immediately.

He followed you around - not as inconspicuously as he might have hoped - to sneak a photo in the most meme worthy moments, flooding his camera roll with dozens and eventually hundreds of snapshots of you. The whole front of a silly little meme war was a great excuse to mask his steadily growing crush and his friends didn’t think anything of it when Suna set a picture of you mid-sneeze as his lock screen. Granted, he himself was still very much in denial about his feelings as well, so it wasn’t that difficult to pretend that he wasn’t bothered when you talked to an upperclassman and laughed loudly at his, undoubtedly, mediocre joke - although Suna did sweep his pencil case off his desk in an attempt to wave Osamu off when he asked if he was okay.

The class groaned when the teacher announced that for the impending field trip they’d be split into teams of two via random lottery. Half the students got assigned a number while the other half drew a little piece of paper from a box held out to them to match with said number. Quiet cheers and not so quiet disappointment could be heard and the teacher called for silence.

Annoyed that he didn’t even get the minuscule chance to work with him, Suna leaned over to Osamu, “Who do you have?” His friend unfolded his paper and turned it over to read.

“5. That’s…”, he craned his neck to check and count, “Y/n, ya?”

“Switch with me.”, Suna said.

“Why? Who do ya have?”

“Don’t care. Come on.”

Osamu frowned and raised an almost disappointed brow.

“What happened to ya, dude? Ya know, yer bein’ real obvious at this point, right?”

Suna rejected the allegations, waited a moment, then simply exchanged his slip of paper with Osamu’s.

“Ya owe me.”, Osamu noted.

“Yeah yeah.”

Meanwhile, you seemed less thrilled about the match and when the bell rang you threw an annoyed look at Suna who gave you a blank stared wave and went to lunch with your friends. He was a very unfortunate long-term crush you had nursed since the beginning of the year and was as handsome as he was annoying. In spite of this, you had a great time complaining about your matched partners over your bentos while enjoying the mellowing summer sun under the shade of a tree.

When the next morning arrived, Suna made sure to be only two minutes late instead of his usual 15, so he could secure the spot next to you on the long drive to Kobe. The class would be headed to the big art museum in the city and as an assignment got a list of 15 art pieces they had to find, like a scavenger hunt. The first team to get a picture from each of their art works would get to choose where to go for lunch.

With a sigh you dropped in the seat next to him, frowning at his sleepy grin. When you only scoffed and looked away, his heart started pounding and he had no idea why. And this wasn‘t a “oh Suna, you‘re just in love, silly“ kinda pounding. No! This was more similar to that one time when he went out for coffee with his friends and instead of admitting that he wanted his favorite - a sickeningly sweet vanilla latte with extra syrup pumps - he ordered an iced Americano with a triple shot because he thought it sounded cool and for hours it had felt as if a tiny panicked bird was trapped in his chest. In short, he concluded, you were not good for his health.

“Alright.”, you said once you turned to him. You stood in the entrance together with the rest of the class, holding the reference paper in hand listing the artwork, “I’ll take the top 8, you take the bottom 7.”

He bit back a comment about how there was nothing “bottom” about him, but one look from you and he was quiet. That icy stare of disdain made him want to do the cooking and the cleaning and ask how your day had been while he finished up the ironing. “Let’s do this.”, he replied and nearly whimpered when you rolled your eyes at him.

With some quick online searching, the artwork was quickly found and the pictures taken. To keep up appearances he snapped a few pics in between of the NPCs in baroque paintings with increasingly weird facial expressions, fully intending to ask, “This you?” the next time he saw you. He could also airdrop them during class and looked forward to receiving a less than flattering emoji or thumbs down.

But now he had a different objective. Excited at the prospect of finally having an excuse to get your number, he jogged through the museum to your previously agreed upon meeting spot, finding you seated and waiting for him on a bench. You were scribbling on a notepad precariously balanced on your knees. He snuck up behind you, leaned in close to your ear and in a low calm voice went, “Boo.”

The yelp you let out had museum goers turn to you and a man with a lanyard, who was guiding a tour, threw an exasperated sigh in your direction.

“You better sleep with one eye open.”, you pressed out through gritted teeth, a deep red tint on your cheeks.

“Don’t threaten me with a good time.”, he said simply and in one smooth movement sat down next to you.

“So, how do you wanna do this?”, he then asked casually, waiting for you to say the words.

“Just airdrop them to me.”, you frowned.

“Oh.”

“What?”

“Nothing.” Luckily his deflated shoulders were masked by his chronically bad posture and he quickly selected the necessary pictures.

Your phone gave a little buzz and you accepted the stack. “That’s all. You’re excused. Go off and do… whatever it is you’re doing.”

“I can stay and help, you know? I skimmed some of the plackets.”

“What great work ethic.”, you deadpanned but moved your notepad closer to him so he could see.

With your other hand you swiped through the photos, double checking if you had everything.

He was too busy catching a whiff of your shampoo to notice you furrowing your brow.

“Uhm, Suna.”

You turned your phone screen to him and the blood drained from his face.

It was a picture of you - of course, what else could it have been. You were absently staring out the window in the classroom, your hair a little messy from a regular day of fending for your life in high school. Your chin rested on your palm and the sun shone beautifully against your face. He knew the picture well, because just last night when he couldn’t sleep, he edited it. Black and white hearts bordered the snapshot, a slightly blurry filter gave it a dreamlike feel. He gagged when he saw just how mushy he must have felt to add words around your head. Pookie. Baddie. Loml. My Bbg.

“What kind of prank is this?”, you asked, suspicion clinging to every syllable.

Suna thought.

Telling you that this picture was born out of post-nut hormones would only lead to a somewhat compromising confession that he fondled and humped his body pillow thinking of you, having no problem at all imagining your so very tempting love handles spilling between his fingers.

“Would you believe me if I told you my dog took my phone?“

You stared at him for a moment, then broke into giggles.

a/n: thank you so much for continuing to participate in my events! I’m so happy when someone comes back for more 🥺 I hope you enjoyed this one! 🌟

And once again thank you to @haikyu-mp4 for letting me surf her brain through the storm ✨

[sincerelystarry]

( ☆ ) . * if u saw my tears wld u touch me . . . kiss me on the mouth say u love me !!

modern au — f!reader x best friend!steve harrington — steve harrington masterlist

starry’s sweets — order #007

ask : “Hello, I'd like to place an order. Could I get a medium caramel tea cake with strawberry puree, oreo crumbles and rainbow sprinkles?

Thank you!” — @xplrnowornever

summary : “king steve” always knew how to throw a fucking rager, and who were you to miss your best friend���s party? things only get a little complicated when he sees you with some other guy’s tongue shoved down your throat.

warnings : hurt/comfort, reader and steve have liked each other since middle school  but they’re both fucking cowards abt it, suggestive content aka they make out and also there’s tit grabbing, what can i say steve harrington likes boobies, i’m not writing the smut part but it’s basically all the shit leading up to them having sex, steve and reader are both inebriated DONT HAVE SEX WHILE INEBRIATED

word count : 1.2k

You didn’t realize grad parties could become absolute ragers so fast, but those might just be the perks of parents never being around. Music is blaring, some sort of upbeat song everyone knows the words to about snorting coke that you think is fine, just a bit too loud. You shove through the crowd of drunk teens (though most would probably argue they’re adults anyway, being freshly 18), attempting to find the host, your best friend from childhood, none other than Steve Harrington. 

Attempt is the key word here, as you don’t see him anywhere. Instead, you’re taken aside by some guy, who you don’t really care enough to remember the name of. He flirts with you for a bit as the two of you stand in the kitchen beside the bowl of vodka-spiked Hawaiian Punch. You hadn’t been dating for ages, so, bored and slightly pent up, you reciprocate.

You can hardly remember what words were exchanged between the two of you. Maybe something along the lines of the guy calling you pretty and you picking invisible lint off his shirt as an excuse to touch his chest before you’re pressed up against the kitchen counter, red solo cups and your original goal of finding your friend forgotten as the guy kisses you messily. Not the best makeout session you’ve ever had, but not the worst either. Being a bit tipsy also helped you bear through it a bit. 

Lost in the stranger’s tongue down your throat, you don’t notice as Steve walks into the kitchen, searching for you. You don’t notice the way his face falls, the way the plastic cup crumples in his hand as he squeezes it a bit tighter. You don’t notice the way he turns and pushes through whatever girl was flirting with him, touching his arm, tearing his gaze away from you and the guy. 

You and the stranger swap saliva for a few torturous minutes before you break apart and you excuse yourself with a slightly condescending pat on his cheek, thanking him for the distraction from your currently-stale love life. Refilling your cup with punch, you remember the goal you previously had before being distracted by a hot guy that was a bad kisser (as most of them unfortunately are), resuming your search for Steve.

The party really is amazing. You’ve acclimatized to the noise, LEDs flashing colors making you all giggly as you continue to sip at your punch. You get distracted a few more times, dancing with a few girls, making out with some other guys, accepting a mystery gummy that was definitely an edible, but it’s also pineapple flavored, so you mark it off as okay, taking a second strawberry flavored one to give to Steve when you find him.

Some girls tell you they saw him heading upstairs as you dance around with each other, so you excuse yourself from the crowd. You to easily make your way up after refilling your drink and getting one for him, knowing the layout of his house by heart. You assume he’s in his bedroom and enter without knocking. Luckily enough, it’s Steve sitting at the edge of the bed, looking extremely dejected, and not some couple bumping uglies.

“I come bearing a gift,” you say, shutting the door behind you and setting your drink on the nightstand before sitting next to him, handing him his cup of punch and fishing the ziploc baggie with the gummy in it out of your pocket, holding it out for him to take.

He accepts the gummy, popping it into his mouth with a quiet “Thanks.”

“You good?” you ask. “Shouldn’t the host be downstairs fucking it up with everyone else? I heard there’s a keg contest about to happen soon. Aren’t you the king of those?” You poke fun at him in some attempts to lighten the mood, but some of it is due to how giggly and spacey you feel from the weed and the alcohol.

He chews and swallows before answering. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just needed a breather,” he says, sipping at the punch. 

Despite your state, you can tell he’s lying. “That’s a cute story,” you say, patting his knee in a patronizing manner. “What’s wrong? The doctor is in, tell me what’s up.”

“What if I don’t want to?” he argues petulantly.

“Well, then you’d be acting like a baby,” you point out. “Come on, Steve. We tell each other everything! If you tell me what’s wrong I’ll tell you about how bad of a kisser a guy I made out with earlier is.”

“Please don’t,” he practically begs.

“Why not?”

He doesn’t respond for a minute, maybe two. It feels like an hour. “Because that’s the exact thing that’s been bothering me.”

You snort. “Trust me, it’s been bothering me too. You’d think at least one guy at this party would be a good kisser but no, apparently not—”

“Stop—!” he cuts you off abruptly. “Sorry— God—”

You stare at him for a bit, a bit perturbed by his tone. “Sorry. I’ll go if you want.” You move to stand when his hand grabs at your wrist, tugging you back. 

“Don’t go— Just— Fuck.” It happens in a blur. You’re not sure when he puts his cup of punch on the nightstand or when you end up under him on the bed, your tongues and teeth clashing.

You welcome him in eagerly despite your slight confusion at his change in demeanor, sucking on his tongue, nipping at his bottom lip. “Steve,” you mumble through the haze as you feel his hands start to creep up your shirt, warm against your skin.

“I love you,” he says against your lips, voice hoarse and breathing ragged.

You laugh breathlessly, “Yeah, man, I love you too—”

“No,” he cuts you off. “No. I love you. I’m in love with you. Fuck— I think I’ve been in love with you since freshman year.”

“Why freshman year?” you ask, seemingly unphased by his declaration.

“It was homecoming. You didn’t have a date and mine stood me up. You offered to dance with me for the slow dance. That— that was it. Slow dancing in a high school gym to Taylor Swift. I don’t know why that was it but—”

It’s your turn to cut him off as your lips press against his in a softer kiss than before. “I love you too,” you speak softly against his lips.

The kiss becomes heated again quickly as his tongue seeks entrance into your mouth and you allow it, Steve’s lips trailing down your neck before he pulls back to pull off your shirt, eyes not leaving your chest.

“My eyes are up here, Harrington,” you tease, even as his hands go to grab at your tits. 

Your lips meet again and you both forget all about the party downstairs, some CharliXCX song as the background to your drunken fucking, muffled through the walls. 

Maybe twenty minutes later, the two of you are naked, curled up against each other.

“What time is it?” you ask sleepily. 

Steve glances at the alarm clock on his nightstand. “Midnight.”

“You should kick people out. So we can sleep.”

He smiles at your usage of the word ‘we’. “I’ll do that in a second. Just wanna stay here for a bit.”

You don’t argue. “Will we forget about this tomorrow?”

“I hope not,” he says, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head. “Will you regret this tomorrow?”

“I don’t think so,” you say honestly.

“Good.”

A beat of silence passes between the two of you before you speak again. “Steve?”

“Yeah, baby?”

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

a/n: she's short but sweet and also a little horny

taglist 🏷️ : none yet !

[auspicioustidings]

Kinktober Day 13

Moniker: Ghost, Mace Risk Level: Low-Medium. Both are permanent residents of the Kennel. Brief: Pussy gaping, DVP, fisting, degradation Safeword: Refer to first brief.

Ghost will not ignore a safeword and Mace will not defy Ghost. Fair warning they’re both big men, the stretch will be a lot but they’re both experienced so they’re not going to do permanent damage - Price

This is going to feel incredible, promise (don’t clench)- Soap

“Loosen up slut.”

Mace punctuated his order with the heavy thud of him using his cock to slap your thigh. He was a terrifying man, huge and impatient. You had been barked at to strip when you came in and you had done so even while your head spun at seeing two naked men.

Both were heavily scarred, but while the silvery scars on Ghost’s face and body were clearly from abuse, Mace had them in patterns of raised bumps as decoration. They extended on him to his heavy cock and you couldn’t imagine how painful it must have been to nick the skin there, to heal into scarring when the skin needed to stretch.

They were both terrifyingly big men right down to the heavy weight between their legs. Taking one of them would already cause you to gape, taking them both surely could not be possible.

Already you felt stretched to the limit with Mace’s four fingers inside of you. He kept spreading them out and you could barely breathe. While you were spread open on the bed with him kneeling up between your legs, Ghost was stood by the bedside watching quietly, his judging eyes on you as he lazily pumped his cock.

“Your mutt did a half decent job Ghostie, she creams up real quick” Mace said to Ghost, pulling his fingers out abruptly to show him which caused your poor cunt to spasm around the sudden emptiness he had just left behind.

“Why do y’think I pushed for him to have a go at her first? Never met a doll Johnny couldn’t turn into a whore given a couple of hours.”

You were just trying to gulp in breaths, knowing he wouldn’t give you a break for long. Mace was pushing so quickly, those four fingers had been worked up to far too fast so your body was always just on the edge of tearing. The stretch was always intense enough that all your brain could do was focus all of it’s attention on the invasion and try to withstand it.

When he pushed his fingers back in he pumped them fast, impatiently, up to the third knuckle. You squealed like a stuck pig when he started to twist his hand back and forth to get his thumb in and he laughed while Ghost bent over to get in your face.

“That’s a cute little noise, but I didn’t fucking ask. You squeal again without permission and I’ll gag you.”

You sunk your teeth into your bottom lip so hard it hurt and nodded at him in submission, all of your focus on him instead of Mace because you were sure if you actually saw his fist start to sink inside of you, your body would realise what was happening and you’d black out.

Ghost held your eyes, fully aware that it’s what you needed. You were so different from Johnny, but so alike in some ways. He needed this too. Anytime him and Mace played with him together his boy would need to stare at Ghost, need the reassurance that he had his full and undivided attention even as he was being obscenely opened up by Mace. A nice, wide open cunt was a pretty sight, but even sweeter was the eyes of the person trusting him and his to be the ones stretching it at their pleasure.

It was so tempting as the squelching sound of fist in pussy rang in the air to slip his cock past your pretty lips, stretch them out too and watch as you broke into someone that knew they only breathed at his say so and thanked him for it. But no, Price had been very insistent on this whole sticking to the brief thing so he’d follow orders. For now at least, Johnny seemed to be very fond of you and anything his pup wanted, he got. If it came down to it, Ghost would ignore any protests or safewords to serve you to Johnny on a platter.

“You can scream for this next part” he said like he was indulging you.

You furrowed your brows, looking up at him in innocent distress. Oh you would look so lovely ruined he thought.

It took a moment for you to process what was happening. Something hot and pointed was pushing in alongside Mace’s fist. Oh God. Oh God. He was pushing his cock inside you without taking his fist out.

You screamed alright. You screamed and tried to shove back and away, tried to sit up and batter your fists against Mace to get him to stop. He laughed at your attempts because he was no stranger to a feisty bitch, that’s why he had Ghost here to roughly pin you down with a hand to your chest and land the other sharp on your pussy in warning.

“There’s a good cocksleeve, won’t ever tighten up when we’re done with you sweet thing. Won’t be able to feel nothing at all unless you’re stuffed full of fists in that loose cunt.”

He started to thrust his cock up inside you, his fist punching at the same time. He was going to shake your fucking organs loose. He was going to rip your apart. There was nothing but the stretch, nothing but being stuffed so overfull that you were ready to burst open.

“T-too much! Please” you tried to yell, only managing breathless, gasping words.

“Hm, seems to think you’re not doing it right Mace.”

“Yeah? Any suggestions?”

“Got one” Ghost replied, obviously in on a joke you weren’t.

Mace kept his cock deep inside you, wrapped his fist around it and pumped once and then ripped his soaked fist out. His big arms wrapped tight around you and rolled you over, him now driving up into you from underneath. It was dizzying how fast the angle had changed and there wasn’t a moment to adjust, you just had to claw at his shoulders and try survive.

“Slow down” you panted as he hammered into you.

You had thought now his fist was gone it wouldn’t be so insane a feeling, wouldn’t be completely scrambling your brain, but your cunt still felt too tight for the throbbing, scarred, monster of a cock inside of it. It was hardly the break you thought it would be, but he stilled within you and you could have wept with the relief.

Stupid to think it was for your benefit.

“Say ah” Ghost said and you realised too late that you had taken your eyes off of him while you were being manhandled into a new position and he was now kneeling on the bed behind you.

There was no going slow, no easing into it. He pushed his cock in above Mace’s all the way to his balls in one motion.

“Too full, fuck, too full, oh my God, please, please I can’t” you babbled incoherently, driven entirely insane.

“Quit your bitchin’, sluts don’t get to say I can’t. Open up nice and wide and fucking take us” Mace said, mocking.

“Jesus she’s strangling me.”

“Play with her clit, she’ll loosen up.”

Ghost reached around, was rough in how he almost lifted you up a little so he could wriggle his hand past your stomach and between your legs to pinch hard at your clit. You yelped and he pinched harder.

“What did I say about needing permission for your bitchin’?”

“S-sorry! I’m sorry, please just…”

“Just what?”

“I don’t- I need- please I need to cum, everything is too tight” you begged.

You needed to cum. You needed to have your muscles clench and then just relax. You were so fucking full and something had to give. Either you came or you were sure you would just unravel, burst apart into viscera on the bed between them.

“Aww she begs almost as pretty as your mutt Ghostie” Mace cooed.

You wanted to comment, but the air was knocked from your lungs when Ghost thrust hard as Mace did, no longer keeping a rhythm where only one was balls deep at a time but instead now keeping pace with one another. You were writhing between them, or at least trying to but unable to really go anywhere sandwiched two massive bodies as hard and heavy cocks slammed into you again and again.

Ghost’s clever fingers were lethal on your clit, knowing when to rub gentle as a whisper and pinch rough as a scream. Your body fought against the rising tide, knowing the consequence of giving in was you tightening around them. If you tightened anymore your cunt would snap like an elastic band you thought, but it felt impossible that you could keep going if it didn't.

“Let her squeal” Mace said with a growled laugh.

“You’re going soft Mace, but fine. You can bark bitch, let everyone in the Kennel know who your owners are.”

It was not a loud scream, you couldn’t breathe enough for that. Instead you sounded like a dying creature when you came and your cunt bore down on their cocks. It was a keening death knell as your body finally gave in and went slack between them, went loose and plaint so they could have their way with it.

“Want to feel you pulse big man, cum on my cock” Mace said, like you weren’t the one being fucked here.

“Brat” Ghost replied, but never the less he repositioned himself so he could hit the exact right angle he wanted as he chased his orgasm.

You felt him cum, felt his cock twitch against Mace’s inside you as he made a fucking mess of you. It was disgusting when he pulled out, his cock dragging cum with it while the rest was thoroughly coating Mace’s still inside your cunt.

“Oh that’s a pretty sight” Ghost said, hooking two fingers in your cunt and tugging up.

You felt the stretch, felt the hollow space he made above Mace’s cock. Oh God you were gaping open around it when he tugged like that to keep you from tightening back up.

“She’ll not stay loose forever.”

“Hold her open would you?”

You weren’t sure what exactly Mace meant by that, you felt pretty fucking open already and every scrape of those scars on your walls was making you think you might never be the same after this.

More manhandling without any warning. Ghost picked you up unceremoniously off of Mace’s cock and it was so much worse than when Mace had taken his fist out. Your poor cunt was fluttering violently, not sure what shape it was supposed to be anymore without anything inside of it.

You were settled on your ass between Ghost’s legs, you back to his and Mace grabbed your ankles to get them spread. Ghost hooked two fingers from each hand into your hole, pulling and pulling as he added more fingers. You were sure Mace must be able to see inside of you.

He started stroking himself and you made a noise of protest when you realised he was aiming for the gaping hole presented to him. It was so humiliating and yet as he groaned and spurt after spurt splattered against your insides you couldn’t help a whine escaping that wasn’t entirely negative.

“Make her cum again, want to see her insides twitch.”

“Careful, you don’t order me around Mace.”

“Make her cum, please sir?”

Ghost snorted at Mace’s saccharine tone but rearranged his hands anyway so he could brush against your clit with his thumb. That was all it took. Your cunt desperately tried to clench shut but he was solid, pulling when you were clenching to keep you wide open for Mace’s viewing pleasure.

“You’re a mess. Fucking slut, all that cum just sloshing around in there. I can see it dripping” he groaned.

There was a sudden glint in his eye that scared the shit out of you, but you were so exhausted that you didn’t try to move. Your eyes started to drift shut as Ghost pressed a kiss to your cheek. You had done it, it was unreal but you had taken both of them. And yeah maybe Johnny was right, it was sort of incredible.

Fuck you just felt tired and aching. Thank God for Price, making sure you were cleaned, dried, cuddled and laid in a wonderfully cosy bed to sleep.

[pedge-page]

Plushie 1 - Kitty

Joel x f!reader where you give him a squishmallow to help him sleep but he makes you hump it instead.

Plushies Series Masterlist

Can be read as stand-alone.

Warnings: stuffed animal masturbation, humping, squirting, small daddy kink

18+ ONLY

Joel makes fun of you for still sleeping with stuffed animals but you tell him it provides supportive comfort. You eventually convince Joel to use squishmallows since he always complains about back pain when he sleeps. He tries it one night, shoved under his lower back and he slept for 8 hours straight.

Now he keeps one (a kitten plushie, courtesy of you) on his bed. Tommy comes over and laughs his ass off at him.

Which is how you find yourself in this position, the medium sized plush stuffed between your legs as you ground your naked wet pussy against it and the bed.

"Bounce some more for me. Need it to soak right through," Joel ordered, his eyes watching the wet spot slowly spread onto the patterned fabric.

You obliged, face warm with embarrassment. It didn't matter that you weren't a kid anymore: stuffed animals are like your friends: meant to be treated with love, kindness, respect. You'd even face them away from you when Joel came over to fuck you so they would not bare witness to your incedency.

So humping your stuffy like a needy whore made you feel--conflicted.

It felt too good. Soft in all the right places. Made you feel dirty, feeling your stickiness smear across its face. You gripped it with both knuckles to keep it bunched up right in place, angling it to hit your nub with each rock of your hips.

"Dadddyyy," you whined.

"Hump daddy's plush like a little whore. I'm gonna bury my face in it and smell your cum all night, baby."

That made you rock your hips faster. You wanted him to remember you scent on the one innocent thing in his room -- now not so innocent thing.

"Kitty feel good on your little kitty?"

You nod. Leaning back, you pull it from below, instead spreading your legs wide and fisting the misformed plush against your cunt, pressing its face against your swollen clit and rubbing it against you.

Joel stood up, his raging boner from the last hour of watching you slapping his tummy as he approached the bed. He kneeled on the matress, grabbed the plushie and pressed it even harder against your cunt, causing you to whine.

"You like it when I use Kitty's little button nose against your clit? Filthy girl."

It's true; the obscene sounds and feeling of its softness against your most intimate and moist place made you feel dirty. Dirty and sooooooo good.

Joel pressed his hips to you, trapping the poor plushie between both of your naked crotches. He started grinding it against you, causing both of you to moan.

"Fuuucckkk. So soft, baby. Just like you."

He made you squirt on it three times, snatching it front between your legs so he could lick it each time, before slapping your pussy a few times to get you to cum more. Joel sent you and your aching cunt home while he pressed his hooked nose into the now drenched, sex smelling stuffed animal, sleeping better than the nights before.

Next: Puppy

[shigayokagayama]

What are the biggest losses between the manga and anime? I just finished watching mp100 and I'm curious what the manga has!

ok biggest losses are kind of hard to define because like. anime and manga are two inherently different mediums and there are a good amount of cuts that improve pacing and then a good amount of cuts that people sort of argue over the merit of so im just going to go for biggest differences. i would also highly recommend reading the manga just because it is a pretty different experience tonally along with the minor plot differences and cut scenes + theres a bunch of omakes that both flesh out characters that dont get too much focus and have some really good bits in them. putting the rest of this post under a cut bc i ramble

mogami arc

this one is kind of inescapable i feel like but the anime version of the mogami arc had a LOT of things trimmed for a couple different reasons. season 2 already got an extra episode in order to do the fire scene as a cliffhanger so with the way things shook out the director had to choose between a. cutting a bunch of stuff out of separation arc to make it one episode so mogami arc couid stay three episode or b. cutting a bunch of stuff out of mogami arc so separation arc could stay two episodes. imo they made the right choice, whats even the point of adapting mob psycho if you dont get confession arc right, but some of the cuts to mogami arc will be dearly missed and others will be fought over to the end of time. cuts include:

minori being established as a brat in a video everyones shown and the video being part of how reigen deduces shes possessed (reigen deducing her possession in the manga is generally just a lot better done and after you read the manga the scene in the anime feels so awkward because you know whats missing

the psychics deciding to band together to beat this little girl to death to save themselves and shinra stepping between them to protect her and getting utterly thrashed, not by mogami, but his fellow psychics

reigen trying to convince mob to leave without him and call for help while he distracts him which leads to this

the general mogamiland section lasting a lot longer and being more brutal (notably the stray cat mob feeds getting killed in front of him)

mob getting fucking torn to pieces by spirits during the fight instead of ambiguously dying offscreen

generally would recommend if nothing else reading the manga version of this arc and confession arc because i feel like these are the only two where you lose like. a significant amount of the story and themes from the cuts. speaking of....

2. WHY THE FUCK DID THEY CUT THIS I WILL BE MAD UNTIL I DIE

maybe its just because i reread this arc on its own probably 50 times before the anime came out but this is the only arc where the cuts actively piss me off because there is absolutely no reason they had to do it. they cut a bunch of important shit, left in things that didnt need to be there, and added scenes that contribute literally nothing to the overall point. if they just did any one of those things or combo of two of those things i wouldnt be as mad but it feels like they put a bunch of filler in then speedran the actual story

cut #1 that pisses me off: HOMOPHOBIA?????

THERE WAS SUPPOSED TO BE A HEART IN HIS EYE. WHY DID THEY NOT INCLUDE THIS. THIS IS THE CULMINATION OF TERUS ARC. THIS IS HIM SEEING THE PERSON HE HAS IDOLIZED AND DEIFIED IN HIS HEAD AT THEIR LOWEST AND STILL CHOOSING TO LOVE HIM, AND THROUGH THIS HE IS CAPABLE OF BEING LOVED EVEN THOUGH HES NOT PERFECT BECAUSE NO ONE IS. WHY WOULD YOU CUT THIS?

cut #2 I NEED WHOEVER CUT THE DIALOGUE FROM THE FIRST PANEL IN PRISON

the lack of inclusion of the first panels dialogue along with the cuts to the mob and shigeo conversation (WHICH WE WILL GET TO) make me think the person who adapted this arc fundamentally misunderstood what was happening. this line. is. THE POINT. THIS ISNT SOME SEPARATE SCARY THING. THIS IS MOB. HE IS CHOOSING TO DO THIS BECAUSE HE IS SCARED AND ANGRY AND HURT BUT HE IS IN CONTROL OF HIS ACTIONS AND ALWAYS HAS BEEN.

cut #3 HE DOESNT WANT TO BE HELD ACCOUNTABLE FOR HIS ACTIONS

this entire conversation is so good and i was looking forward to watching it voice acted for so long and its just. gone. for me the "i am shigeo kageyama who are you" reveal felt like a gut punch because the opening being "i knew i would be needed" made me go "oh hes like possessed or his powers are sentient or something" and this conversation was the slow unraveling of my view of these as two separate people and instead as a scared, traumatized teenager who has convinced himself that the parts of himself he hates are something else outside of his control instead of an intrinsic part of who he is because if he's convinced that the parts of him that are able to feel desire and frustration and anger and malice are him then he'll lose all these relationships he's worked so hard to cultivate as his perfect, non confrontational self. and of course that isnt true. all his friends and loved ones are making their way to the center of a damn hurricane because they see he's in distress and want to help him. but he cant see that so he pushes them away. ugh. mob. protagonist of all time.

cut #4 WHY WOULD YOU CHANGE THE COMPOSITION OF THIS I CAN LITERALLY SEE HOW THIS WOULD BE ANIMATED IN MY MINDS EYE W

can you imagine how beautiful this would be in motion. just. god.

cut #5 HE WAS TALKING OUT LOUD. REIGEN HEARD ALL THIS

:(

cut #6 the bowling arc

so the scene where reigen takes his shoes off is supposed to be a lot more solemn bc like. taking your shoes off before killing yourself is a trope in japanese media (ive heard it started in media and bled over into real life but i might have it backwards?). reigen knew he was probably going to die. anyway i cant take this scene seriously because of this edit

the bowling arc.

cut #7 WAAAAAAAAAAAA

WAAAAAAAAAAAA *sniff* AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

cut #8 homophobia again

rip pensive fruity tea sip

cut #9 mob threw the cake directly in reigens face on purpose

i literally experienced every stage of grief realizing this got changed. why. its so perfect. why would you change this.

3. World Domination arc

so WD arc is in a very interesting place where it had a lot of scenes cut but unlike the other two most of the cut content youre like. yea probably best not to include that. ill start with the good content that got cut then go into the weird content

serizawa got his power drained by toichiro. i am quite sad this scene didnt make it in because its sorta heartbreaking

teru fighting off the claw assassin is shown and we see that teru can both make shadow clones AND hold a barrier while attacking, he seems to be the only esper with this ability!

the reason dimple could tell mob's family was alive is that there was no sense of grudge at the house which would have been left behind by people passing in a violent manner

mob briefly goes unconscious during the start of the toichiro fight and dimple possesses him and says "shit"

dimple possessing mob shoots shibata with a gun

we get mukai lore.

it doesnt make any sense and just raises more questions but we get it.

toichiro has a team of telepaths to recap where everyone is because this arc took an entire calender year to update

literally everyone shows up to fight shimazaki. i cannot stress enough how many people show up to fight shimazaki. it would be faster to list espers who dont show up to fight shimazaki

the middle school delinquents show up and start fighting the claw grunts literally completely out of no where and this is never brought up or referenced ever again

when mob and ritsu get home ritsu says all their stuff is in boxes and they need to hurry and redecorate the house before their parents get home which implies that shou packed the entire households worth of belongings into boxes and hid it somewhere before lighting their house on fire which is such a funny mental image that i cant even be mad at it. loony toons ass plot point.

4. other random interesting cut things

takenaka is just generally more of a bitch during alien arc. "ah i think they took him" remains one of the funniest goddamn panels in the manga

peak

alien arc overall is a lot funnier in the manga, i have a slight preference for the manga version just bc theres a lot of really good bits that didnt make it to anime but the anime version is so heartfelt and nostalgic it makes me happy

between omakes and small things that got cut or changed for the anime teru just feels way more fleshed out in the manga. like. anime teru is a completely different person. its hard to explain if youve never read it.

the all girls school part originally went right before the ghost family stuff and was the beginning of mob's existential crisis about why spirits and people get different treatment but tbh it works well where it is i just wish it werent. like that.

the scene where ritsu and teru shake hands was teru draining ritsus power which he seems to have learned to do from encountering ???%

teru.

ow

thats all i can think of off the top of my head, im sure ill realize i forgot something some time after posting this but. yeah. read the manga its good

[sitp-recs]

Thank you for all your lovely recs. I have been reccing for a friend who doesn't do Tumblr, using my own loves and some from you. However, they have a much lower tolerance for angst than I do, and I have kind of run out. Do you know any gentle loooong fics? Have you got a previously made list...I wasn't sure what to look for.

Hello friend! I’m honoured that you’ve thought of my recs, I hope your friend is enjoying them! Long fics usually come with significant angst to drive the slow burn so I can’t think of many, but maybe these would be a good fit? I also have a list for tender fics that might be helpful, although most of them are short/medium length. I hope my followers have more recs to share!

On Our Way by evils (E, 30k)

Draco is trying to spend the summer keeping his head down, but a repair project and a certain snowy owl have other plans for him.

All Things Go by @sorrybutblog (E, 33k)

Draco’s back at Hogwarts by court order. Harry’s back for no particular reason at all. Some things change, some stay the same.

Like Lightning at Your Fingertips by potterwatch (T, 43k)

The problem with living with another insomniac is, eventually, they find out you’re one, too.

The July Tree by @oknowkiss (E, 51k)

Neither rain, nor snow, nor sleet, nor hail… nor well-meaning friends, nor questionable communication skills, nor seven years of hating each other’s guts can keep Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy from falling in love.

Sweeten to Taste by @saintgarbanzo, @babooshkart (E, 51k)

It starts with Draco's buckwheat crepes with honeyed oranges. Or maybe it starts with his porridge with toasted walnuts and homemade apple butter. Or perhaps it starts with the cinnamon buns Draco made from scratch with mascarpone icing. Harry just knows he's hungry for more.

The Promise of Summer by Omi_Ohmy (M, 67k)

How was Harry supposed to know that coming back for eighth year would be so confusing? Everything is the same, and yet not the same. And nowhere is this more obvious than with Draco Malfoy.

Home Truths by @skeptiquewrites, @fantalfart (E, 67k)

In the off-season Harry decided to fix up Grimmauld Place and found that Draco Malfoy was the only person who could help him.

Headlights in the Snow by Saras_Girl (M, 71k)

What’s big and purple and smells like tea? Harry is about to find out.

Among Ancient Pines by @graymatters (M, 74k)

In his final term of Healer training, Draco is unfortunate enough to find himself on a plane, the only means of traveling to a small, magical town in rural Alaska.

Helix by Saras_Girl (E, 93k)

Seven months after the end of the war, Harry is feeling lost. Fortunately, he is about to be offered an unexpected and sparkling chance to find himself again.

Little Deaths and How to Avoid Them (or Draco Malfoy's Guide to Stop Dying and Start Living Instead) by nerakrose, dustmouth (T, 96k)

Malfoy is way too interested in coroner reports for somebody who's definitely not looking for ways to die, Harry wants to be friends with him, and Ginny wants to break up with Harry.

The Liars Department by DorthyAnn (T, 103k)

This is a story about Harry meeting up with Draco Malfoy four years after the war. And a story about Harry, well, not hating his job per say, but it's not like he has much to compare it to and it seemed fine.

When Times are Dire by @aibidil (E, 130k)

Magical Britain is screwed, and it's once again up to Harry to save it. This time, by marrying Draco Malfoy.

The Brightest Constellations of Our Souls by @thecouchsofa (E, 256k)

Harry doesn’t know how to cope after the War. The only things that make him feel even remotely normal again are taking risks while flying and fighting with Malfoy. It’s not likely to end well.