#i know it's like oh maybe i just didn't feel that way then...i reread my journal and i did. 😭

[bonus-links]

rereading with the latest update to get caught up, and now I know its an option I am desperate for director's commentary on Ruins pt7, if you're willing, please

(Also I first started reading this before taking sign langauge classes, and while I am learning a different SL to ASL/whatever Slate is using, some things translate well. Which is to say I was very excited seeing Loft use thank you and other small signs, or recognising Slate's signs. Its very cool!)

OH AN OLDIE yeah sure!! i will do my best to remember wtf i was on about lol

first of all. this was posted in 2023. what do u mean it's 2025 and im only on ch2. explodes. ANYWAY.

I'm still proud of myself this this panel thing w the arrow lol where it's both coming towards the octorok and has already gone through it. this is something that didn't rlly end up making it into the final product but I don't think Slate actually makes a habit of just killing monsters willy nilly. I don't see him hunting down every monster in Hyrule after the calamity ends. He kills this octorok bc they antagonize the horses but also because. I needed an excuse for his bow to already be out HAHA

I have complicated feelings about the yiga and what their lore implies lol but for Slate's part, he has personal beef with them on account of how many times they're tried and nearly succeeded in killing him. I like to imagine the Yiga as both deeply goofy and also a serious threat at the same time lol, which i think sums up how Slate feels about them.

I did however want to take this opportunity to show his capacity to be a brutal fighter, the same way Loft is in the opening of ch1. Actually the idea for this scene even came about because in my own late-stage game I kept getting attacked by a blademaster literally every 2 feet in certain regions, and I was getting so frustrated by it I just started obliterating them with ancient arrows 💀 Slate using way more arrows than necessary was a nod to that. idk maybe this guy lived lol

this scene was also to spur comparisons between Slate and Loft's experiences. Loft is brutal with monsters, but he's never killed a human being. Realizing that the Yiga aren't monsters shocks him.

this is a failure of my own paneling bc I didn't have enough room on the page and refused to add another, but Loft is hallucinating this guardian being active. all the guardians are inactive since defeating the calamity. actually what I should have done was add a red targeting line that then disappeared in the next panel. MAN.

alright and probably what you actually wanted commentary on, first Champion sighting! The first time Slate actually sees Champion is at the end of ch1, so if you're wondering if Slate knows he's there in this scene, the answer is no. I think rather than following Slate around all along, Champion has spent most of his time just sort of. barely existing here at Fort Hateno, or sitting with the master sword. He's not exactly like the ghosts of the other champions, or King Rhoam. sorry buddy :-(

i do have a bonus comic the works re: ghost lore that I will hopefully finish. someday so I think that might answer some questions ppl have. and possibly introduce a few more. but on the whole I like to keep whatever's going on here a little ambiguous. like I said in this update's commentary, one part literal and one part metaphorical. maybe two parts metaphorical lol

I think that's all I got for this one!

[critters-crossing]

The forgotten child

Pairing's : fem! reader x peter parker, tony stark daughter! x tony stark, tony stark daughter! x peter parker

Warnings: really sad angst, jealousy, daddy issues, neglect, lmk if i missed anything! :)

Summary: dad of the year award? surely isn't going too him

a/n : I know the gif doesn't really match the theme of this story I just really liked it. I did not reread this so please ignore any grammar mistakes. Also, I'm not sure if i wrote a panic attack correctly but I wrote based on what their like for me. hope you all enjoy!

you really tried not to become the forgotten child, always tried you're very hardest to live up to your father expectations, trying to make him proud in hope's he'd show some form of attention.

always studying to get straight a's even through countless anxiety attacks from fear of failing and disappointing your father.

all you ever wanted was reassurance, and if you ever got lucky enough a "You did a good job" after getting a high score on a test.

but it never came, it would forever be something you longed to hear. he would usually just mumble a small, quiet "congrats" as his mind stayed focused on his work and his eyes stuck to the blueprint laid out on the table Infront of him.

you always tried you're best not to feel jealous whenever your father held morgan, you had no ressentiment towards morgan whatsoever, in fact she was the one that kept you smiling most days. although you couldn't help but feel your heart tighten from jealousy as you watched them have daddy daughter time

you really did try you're best to be happy for your younger sister, but you couldn't ignore that aching feeling. all you wanted was the attention she had that your heart ached so desperately for, but it never came despite your countless attempts.

you we're astound to hear a new avenger had been recruited, you always enjoyed meeting new people. mainly because they gave you attention they didn't even know you craved.

you always seeked to see the best in people, no matter what the circumstances we're. including peter parker, there was nothing wrong with him, he wasn't a bad person in fact quite a good one, and if you weren't so envious of him you possibly could have been friends with the boy. but you watched how peter and your father clicked so easily becoming like father and son.

it made the knots in your stomach tighten as you watched them spend time together, it made you feel as if something was wrong with you, like maybe if you tried harder or changed, he'd give you the attention you deserved.

your mother, pepper always said he loved you just as much as he loved morgan or even peter, but you knew the truth as much as you ignored it you knew. but oh, how you wish he did.

"Mom, I'm home" you called out knowing if father was home, he wouldn't answer you. after not receiving an answer, you decided to look through the house in search of your mother, after a couple of minutes searching you still hadn't found her and decided she probably went out and took morgan with her. you heard talking but it sounded like your father, and peter?? "what's peter doing here?" you wondered. you decided to peak you're head through the door and saw peter and tony standing with their backs faced away from you, working on some upgrades for peter's suit.

"you're a pretty great kid peter" tony told him as he smiled at him patting his shoulder. a wave of jealously hit your chest as you watched them, your throat tightening. "Thank you, Mr. stark," peter smiled cheekily as your fingers clenched into a fist at your side.

"Becoming like my son."

once those words left Tony's lips, your mouth went dry, your head aching as you backed away from the door as quietly as possible, you're breathing picking up rapidly. you quickly made your way to your room, tears forming in your eyes, you walked into your room and shut the door softly as your hands started shaking as you paced around your room quickly, trying to stop the tears from rolling down your cheeks. you never liked crying, it made you feel weak.

you're breathing came out in heavy gasp as you struggled to breathe. you leaned against the wall coughing as you squeezed your eyes shut as you tried to stop the words from replaying in your mind.

"Becoming like my son" continuously echoed through your head as soft sobs left your lips, you didn't want to feel this way, envious of what your father and peter had. it's not peter's fault about what your father feels about you so why hold him accountable. he'll never love you, at least not like he loves peter. you can't figure out why? you always tried you're best to impress him, but nothing seemed to be enough for him, it's like he didn't even care about your existence.

you stumbled over to your bed, taking deep breathes as your body grew exhausted from crying. you plopped down on your bed tiredly as you snuggled up against your blanket that was where your pillows we're supposed to be, you grabbed a pillow and hugged it too sleep.

you didn't want to put the blame on peter because it wasn't his fault, but a little piece of your heart blamed peter parker.

a/n: CLIFFHANGER!?!? I decided to leave it for now because I haven't come up with an ending that I thought fit the way I wanted so if you guys have ideas, please let me know. reblog's are highly appreciated, thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed!

[doudouma]

Heyo! I'd like to request a top three upper moon x s/o! Reader who is kind of mad at them and refuses to cuddle them (but ends up the one cuddling when they thought that they fell asleep- which they didn't.)

“wait, i thought you were sleeping?!”

upper3 reaction to you cuddling them but you’re angry! _______________________________________________

╔══ஓ๑♡๑ஓ══╗

you’re upset at the upper moon trio (separate), but you cuddle them when you thought they fell asleep〜

there are no warnings, my dear lotus.

↑ (reader spooning character, if you’re worried about that.)

reader is gender neutral.❀ 〜

a/n : for some reason, i couldn’t comprehend this request. after all, it was late at night〜apologies my lotus, this request is cute！

！anon, i want to apologize to you. right when i finished writing, i reread the request and realized i slightly misunderstood it, and i do not know how to fix it. i decided to post it anyways. m(_ _)m

╚══ஓ๑♡๑ஓ══╝

ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻ੈ✩‧₊˚ ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻ੈ✩‧₊˚

kokushibo

kokushibo.. your straight-forward silent lover…

he knows why you could potentially be upset, but doesn’t see the purpose of being upset about it.

you were upset at something that happened earlier, and tried to ask for a solution from your beloved〜

he gave you your answer, alright.. but he worded it in a way that might’ve made it seem like it was your fault on what happened.

he didn’t try to! he just tried to get you to realize where exactly it went wrong.

now… he’s just waiting in anticipation for your response.

but instead, you just sit there just trying to pinpoint what his goal in mind was. looking a more upset than before.

forgetting it all, you end up heading to bed, attempting to just relax.

drifting off to sleep (if you’re able to sleep), you suddenly remember that your lover didn’t join you to bed. will a small disagreement split the two of you up into separate rooms tonight?

your eyes quickly widen and see that kokushibo is there, but with his back facing you.

when did he even get in here?! it looks like he’s been here for a minute too. sneaky uppermoon one…

now that you’re relieved, you move closer to him, and place your arm around him to his heart♡

he slightly smiles, only smiles. eventually he tells you as he rest his eyes..

“i apologize for the way i initially communicated with you. we may talk this out tomorrow, with less misunderstandings, (name).”

douma

douma wouldn’t understand why you’re mad at him!

teasing is just his nature! no matter how harsh it is, to him, he’s only speaking out of love.

which he is, but.. he doesn’t consider that other people could find it offensive or annoying.

he’ll listen when you voice your opinion on his absurd way of showing love, but, it’ll only result in more teasing〜

eventually, you get too fed up with his cockiness and foul teasing to the point where you just go to bed! without him!

even while upset at your love, you do fairly want him by your side, even if he is being a little s- -

- -so like i said, he wouldn’t fully understand on why you’re upset, so he’s not giving you any personal space.

therefore, he ends up joining you in bed〜

in bed where it feels like forever, with the both of you facing opposite ways.

you silently look over, and to what it seems like he’s “sleeping”.

soon enough you flip over and spoon him, while a smirk appears on doumas face, as he places his hand on top of yours♡

somehow in a span of three seconds, now he’s spooning you, hugging you while saying,

“oh, my love! i knew you couldn’t stay mad at me for too long〜 oh how much i’ve missed you♡”

akaza

akaza is aware of where this all went wrong, but in his brain (if demons have one atp) he just tried to help.

today was just not the day for you.

maybe someone was being annoying, you lost a fight, woke up on the wrong side of the bed, who knows.

whatever happened, akaza was determined to fix it, because he only wants his lover to be happy!

but… you just wanted to be alone. sometimes alone time is all you need〜

but akaza kept bringing you things you like, kept staying near you, and kept asking if everything was alright♡

you accepted his kindness and offers, but you genuinely just wanted to be alone to recharge, but your lover being persistent as he is only made you feel more annoyed.

you expressed that, but he just kept following you like a lost puppy!

in due time, you end up vaguely telling off akaza for “pestering” you and how you just had a awful day.

he stands there, with a blanket and pillow in his hand, not saying a word as you walk off to bed… and he follows you.

he tucks both of you to bed, and you both lay there facing opposite ways.

you lay there, thinking over your day. you shortly realize that akaza was there for you even at your lowest, but you didn’t see it because you were already upset.

you turn around, and swiftly spoon the “sleeping” akaza, holding his hand〜

he lets out a little chuckle and caresses your hand to tell you,

“i’m sorry for ruining your day even further. but i’m glad to be here for you now. sometimes just a hug is all you need, my love.”

ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻ੈ✩‧₊˚ ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻ੈ✩‧₊˚

besides me accidentally messing this up, the request was fun to write! i’m trying to dive into other fandoms and post more often. i look forward into having your support, my precious flowers.❀ 〜

[iceman-kazansky]

The Burn of Jealousy

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙

Requested by: nobody

Pairings: Ayrton Senna xf!reader

Warnings: Kissing. Jealousy. That's it, I think.

Word Count: 1,102

A/n: Wrote this a week or more ago, just reread it and thought it was ready to publish :))

Taglist: nobody

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙

For Ayrton, he'd always been a little sour towards you. Standoffish maybe was easier to explain it. It wasn't that he was rude, no, not at all. He’d just.. had a few difficult times with you at first, but things had improved. Only, you were teammates, a little less than friends, but more than rivals. In some ways. You were both competing for a championship, as were every other driver, so on occasion it put some strain on your relationship.

Yet here he was, sitting on the opposite side of the bar, watching some man practically groveling at your feet for your attention and attraction. It made him feel all sorts of ways he didn't know were possible to feel about you. The way you were laughing at his probably stupid and corny jokes; how you were smiling so beautifully, flashing your precious pearly whites wastefully at him; all of it made his whole being burn with course, bitter jealousy. What did that loser have that he didn't?

Ayrton was sipping on a glass of liquor, watching you two from his seat with a sour look on his usually cheerful, relaxed features. Only when you reached forward and touched his arm did he finally snap. Downing the rest of his drink, he made a beeline to the two of you.

He appeared behind you, arriving just in time to overhear the discussion of this pathetic man taking you on a date. It made a bitter jealousy surge through his veins as he interjected, “She's busy.”

Ayrton didn't spare you a glance as he continued his hard glare at the man who had been hitting on you. Raising an eyebrow, the stranger protested, “Who are you?”

The Brazilian man wasn't in the mood for any further argument and made the, in hindsight, irrational decision to reply with something that would make all of the strangers' advances come to a screeching halt. “I'm her boyfriend.”

Without waiting for another reply from the stranger, Ayrton's jealous gaze snapped down to you and he spoke in a tight voice, carefully curbing his angry jealousy, “We're leaving. Now.”

The seriousness in his voice left no room for argument and you were forced to follow him as he practically dragged you away.

Ayrton clutched your hand tightly and began walking, not stopping to glance back at you as he pulled you outside and away from the bustle of the bar.

Only once he'd pulled you to somewhere secluded did Ayrton stop, turning to face you, “What were you doing with him?” He asked pointedly.

“Talking?”

Ayrton clenched his jaw, his eyes narrowing at your flippant response. “It looked like a lot more than talking,” he retorted, “You were getting really.. comfortable with him.”

You rolled your eyes. “Oh, so I'm not allowed to be comfortable or have fun with anyone else anymore, am I?”

Ayrton's jaw ticked, his irritation growing with every word you said. He felt the hot, tingling sensation of his carefully concealed anger growing steadily, his eyes hardening. Why didn't you understand where he was coming from? “You know that's not what I meant,” he all but growled at you, taking a purposeful step forward. He could feel the heat radiating from your body, his eyes locked with yours. “It's not about you having fun with someone else, it's about how you were acting with him.”

Sighing in exasperation, you respond in irritation, “He was just trying to ask me on a date!”

Ayrton couldn’t take this anymore. Without fully thinking through what he was about to say, he blurted, “That's exactly my point! I don't want him to take you on a date! Take you away from me! What does he have that I don’t?”

A heavy silence settled over the two of you. Ayrton began to regret his words, the full weight of them sinking in. Had he just possibly ruined a friendship with the person he cherished most?

The Brazilian could hardly hold his gaze with yours, but he braved this feeling of shame, meeting your gaze. Your eyes were wide, your mouth parted slightly in shock, making him feel even worse about his mindless words. “What?” You asked suddenly, blinking at him.

Licking his lips, Ayrton pondered whether to continue or to hold his tongue and try backtracking. “I-” He stuttered, mentally cursing his inability to speak. He was better than this. He knew he was. “I want to know what he had that I didn’t.”

Suddenly, Ayrton realized he was past the point of caring about what his words might do now, he couldn’t stop himself anymore, “I want nothing more than to take you on a date myself. Every time I see you flirting with another guy- I just can’t help it. I get so jealous. Maybe I had just hoped that you would look at me like you looked at them. Hoped that you’d flirt with me like how you flirted with them.”

For a long time, you’re silent and Ayrton feels an unusual dread settle over him. Suddenly everything seems so loud. The cars on a not so far away street roar in his ears, the shadows of the alley he'd stopped in front of to talk to you seemed to grow in size, threatening to swallow him whole, and the streetlights cast a blinding light on him.

“I’m sorry.” He’s quick to apologize, hoping this hasn’t changed anything, but deep down he knows it will never be the same. He feels it.

“Don’t apologize-” Your voice snaps Ayrton from his reverie. He had begun to lose all hope but your voice is something that distracts him, “I feel the same.”

Ayrton’s face visibly brightens, his eyes widening with glee, “Y-you do?” he asks incredulously. He can’t believe it.

You nod faintly. Ayrton is overrun with an immense joy, and for the third time that evening, he acts upon an impulsive thought, this time when he leans down and captures your lips in a searing kiss.

After a few seconds he pulls away, his chocolate irises staring down into yours with a newly defined affection swirling amidst them.

“I’d agree to going on a date with you,” you say to him, smiling as you bring up his earlier statements.

Nothing can stop the smile that creeps onto Ayrton’s face as he beams down at you and nods, “I’ll be taking you up on that”

To Ayrton, this was way better than winning any grand prix. Better than winning a world championship. You were the best prize of them all and you were certainly prettier than any trophy.

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙

ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ || ᴛᴀɢʟɪꜱᴛ || ɴᴀᴠɪɢᴀᴛɪᴏɴ

𝐋𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐦𝐲 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤? 𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐠! 𝐈𝐭'𝐬 𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝!

[maddy-ferguson]

that's because it was a real crush👍

is having a friend crush more embarrassing than having a real crush. maybe

[ann1-wr1tes]

Tiring Exams

Synopsis: You are dead set on studying for your finals that you don't notice when your boyfriend calls you...(I suck at summarizing)

Warnings: None!

Word Count: 1,339

A/N: I dug up this old fic I wrote like last year. Hopefully this somewhat makes up for my lack of content and my nonexistence on this blog lmao-

----

You narrow your eyes at the paper in front of you. Your mind seems to be running so quickly but also somehow not at all? If that was even possible. You just focuses your eyes on the words that were on the paper in front of you and you swore this must've been your fifth time rereading this one sentence, but for some reason your brain just wouldn't put any of it together. None of it was sticking like it should!

You let out an exasperated sigh and rub your eyes and head tiredly. These damn final projects and exams were going to be the death of you. You also thought that if you had to reread this sentence one more time…you may just combust. Your mind just felt like it was bursting at the seams with overwhelming and frustrating thoughts. But alas, that was what exams were all about right?

You take a deep breath and look at your wall for a moment. Your eyes needed to look at something that wasn't a stark white piece of paper, covered in a jumble of words that you for some reason couldn't read or understand. You take a few moments to clear your mind and then you finally look back down at the paper and you reread over the words, this time they somewhat stick.

Your eyes continue to scan over the rest of the article and suddenly your phone is vibrating. You can feel the vibration going through the table and you are snapped out of you trance when you see the contact picture of your boyfriend on the screen of your phone.

You frown. Oh, how you wished that you could answer so badly. What you would give to hear Leon's voice right now but with a sad sigh you decline the call and toss it onto your bed. You couldn't have any distractions…..you had to finish this.

Leon felt his heart pick up just a little bit when you didn't answer his call. He knew that it was normal for people not to answer calls. Everyone had a life, you included so maybe you were just busy. Just for extra measure though, Leon made sure to leave a voice mail, telling you to call him back just so he could check in on you and say hi.

Maybe it was for the best anyways. He knew you had been busy lately studying for finals and he himself was busy with work, so no worries. That's what he tried telling himself.

Though Leon couldn't help it. After the events of Raccoon City, then Spain and so on, he didn't like to leave you alone for too long. He was always calling you, checking in on you, making sure everything was okay and that you didn't need anything. Even now, when he was always busy, he still tried his hardest to make time to just talk to you. To just hear your angelic voice that he adored so much.

But you were busy right now. No problem.

After that he busied himself with looking at files, documents, doing loads and loads of paperwork that practically bored him to death but at least he wasn't getting thrown around or hunted by B.O.W.S or zombies.

Little did Leon know, that right now you were also drowning in boredom.

Later in the day, he was about to go home and he still hadn't hear from you. As much as he tried to reassure himself that you were fine, he felt nervous. Usually you would have called him by now, or at least send him a text saying what you were doing or how you were, but he had gotten nothing from you and it was nearing dinner time.

Right when he got out of work, he immediately grabbed his phone and dialed your number as he made his way out to the parking lot to hop on his bike. He dialed your number and it just rang. You didn't pick up. To Leon, that was a big red flag and he decided that right when he got on his bike, he was gonna stop by your place to make sure you were okay.

He made sure to zoom over to your place as quickly as he could and with baited breath, he parked in your driveway and knocked on your door.

No answer.

He could feel his heart rate quicken as he knocks again and listens for any sounds on the other side. He doesn't hear any movement or talking coming from the other side and even worse, he doesn't hear the television going. It was silent and that did not sit well with him.

Leon didn't bother to knock again. Instead he bent down and lifted up your doorstep mat where he knew you kept the spare key to your house. Leon snatches it off the ground and is quick to unlock your front door and he rushes in, almost forgetting to close your door.

He calls out for you a few times, but there's still no response. That's when his eyes dart around your apartment, searching for signs of maybe a break in, or something gone wrong but everything is fine. Nothing is out of place, nothing seems to be out of the norm so that's when he rushes upstairs.

He opens your bedroom door and freezes. His heart rate is beating practically a mile a minute and he lets out a quiet breath of relief when he sees your smaller form, curled up in your bed fast asleep with numerous plushies and stuffed animals that he had gotten you.

Gosh he was just so worried. What if something happened to you? Or if you had gotten hurt? No…no…its okay, you are okay. You were just sleeping he tells himself. He takes a deep breath and quietly closes the door behind him as he glances at your table.

On your table lays all your project papers and even your laptop that is still halfway open and opened up to a tab that is full of the work that you had been doing all day. No wonder you were practically passed out. Seems like a lot of your energy was used on finishing those stupid exams and projects.

With a sigh he shuts your laptop and glances back at your sleeping form. It made his heart flutter a bit in his chest. You looked beautiful. Stunning even. It was just the raw look of peace on your face as you snoozed away, huddled up in a pile of blankets and stuffed animals. It was all quite adorable and Leon couldn't stop the smile that carved its way onto his face as he stepped a bit closer, slipping out of shoes and sitting them on the floor, next to your bed. He then shrugs off his leather jacket as well and rests against your bedpost.

As quietly as he could, he neared your bed and gently grazed your cheek with his thumb. It was just a little reminder to himself that you were okay and were in fact right there in front of him.

Now as sneakily as Leon can, he pulls away some of the blankets and slowly slips in behind you. You can feel a sudden warmth press up against your back and a big pair of sturdy, strong arms wrap around you from behind and pull you closer. Even in your sleep ridden mind, you know its Leon.

You shuffle a bit, not fully waking up but to where you are half asleep. You turn your body towards Leon and you grasp onto him, nuzzling your face into his neck with a sleepy sigh.

"You sure did tire yourself out, huh sweetheart?" Leon whispers gently. He laughs softly when you give him an airy whine as you nuzzle closer into him.

His hands trail up your back and he runs his fingers through your hair softly. It was moments like these where he just thought everything was perfect.

[erinwantstowrite]

erin how’s the last few scenes going! i know it was a bit hard on you the past few days, so i wanna know how you feeling

Reedsy wouldn't let me do anything today. like basically throw a fit with me?? I can't tell if it was my internet or if Reedsy just decided to be insane, so I didn't write today and instead drew my sons. but I *am* over that writing slump finally. the air conditioner has officially stopped making that noise so I finally got a good night's rest! I went back and read what all I have written, mostly to refresh myself after taking a break (and I just hadn't read the beginning in a minute, so I needed to make sure that it made sense cohesively). and as I was rereading it I was like "oh this is actually isn't that bad at all." like I don't like action scenes,,, so I was viewing it with a very very critical eye, but now that I have gotten past the hardest parts I'm rereading it and it's fine. like it's actually entertaining for the most part (at least for me).

so now im looking at my word count goal versus the scenes i have left... I cannot tell how long this chapter is going to end up being. at first I was like... I don't want to be too long because it's an action chapter so 20,000 is probably fine cuz it'll get everything out of the way! but now I'm at 21,000 and I'm looking at the rest of the scene that I have to write and I'm considering it's probably going to be 24,000???? maybe 25000?? because we have to get through a conversation between Peter and Loki (the dialogue alone was 1,000 words) and then our final fight scene, PLUS the lead up to the next chapter which is the end of road trip arc and the start of friendsgiving arc

[soap-is-an-artist]

Going back to Monstrous Regiment post-egg-cracking has been so amazing. The first time I read it, I didn't understand everything, but I had this nagging feeling that if I reread it later, it would make more sense. And now it does.

For one thing, the way that Nuggan's Abominations are treated really hit hard. In the beginning, things were well-intentioned, and maybe not so bad, but they became corrupted by a fear of change and a fear of what is Other. Nugganism became a stricter, more brutal, and senseless religion. It didn't provide hope, and it didn't provide a standard for living. The only thing it could do was cause suffering and give an excuse to inflict pain on others. The Girls' Working School perpetuated a cycle of horrific abuse against young girls who had committed no crime except disobeying the meaningless babblings of a dead god. It didn't solve any problems or act as a positive force in the community. All around, the institution of religion failed.

Speaking of the Girl's Working School, I can't recall if I picked up on Tonker and Lofty/Magda and Tilda being a couple the first time around, but I sure did this time. It was magnificent. However, I do remember that it absolutely shattered my heart when Tonker finally snapped and went on her tirade about the School and how it broke everyone that was forced into it. They were all beaten and abused in other ways; Lofty was raped and after she carried the baby to term, it was taken and never seen again; Tonker is missing her "middle gears"; Wazzer fell into religious mania [although in her case, the spirit actually was speaking to her] and turned to doors inside her head. The whole thing is fucking heartbreaking.

While the situation of the main characters can be interpreted as a trans allegory, I think it's a little more accurate to say that they were crossdressing and socially transitioned for safety. For one thing, when given the choice, they chose to live openly as women rather than continuing to present as men, although some of them kept some aspects of masculinity in their presentation. However, I think the case of the higher ranking officers is really interesting. Essentially, Sargeant Jackrum goes and deadnames all of them to get them to see sense and let the titular regiment choose whether to be open about their identities. [I know personally I would be raging mad if I were in that situation. I was successfully living as a man for years, and then the guy who covered for me just drops my old identity in front of a bunch of my peers who I never wanted to share this with? I would be mad.] In the end, it got the job done, but they make the comment that they could never return to wearing dresses. I think it's possible that they ended up actually identifying as men, rather than solely presenting as them. They definitely internalized a lot of military misogyny either way. Obviously that's not a positive or universal facet of transitioning, but it is a very real phenomenon that happens. And the misogyny can be internalized whether you're trans or cis. Regardless, the idea of living as essentially a new person and leaving your old self behind is very trans, in my opinion, or at least resonates with my experience.

The way all the members of the regiment were gradually discovered to be women was a very "Oh! You're...? Me too." moment for me. We really do just kind of find each other. When you know what to look for, it's easier to see who else is like you. They became their own tiny, close-knit community, and supported each other, although they all had their own goals and priorities. And I think that's lovely.

I have more thoughts on this [so many thoughts about the depiction of nationalism and war. Like that line about "the dead are not your masters"? Loved that], but that's all I'm gonna type out for now because my fingers are tired. But now it is here for future me to read back on, because I didn't keep any written records of my thoughts when I read Monstrous Regiment the first time, so it's basically just fuzzy memories and vague feelings that I'm trying to hold onto. It's a really good book, probably one of my favorites of the Discworld series, although it doesn't top Thud! for me.

[fizzigigsimmer]

Harringrove Halloween Ficlet

I didn't have time to participate in kinktober or to write a full spooky fic this year, but there is no stopping my love for this season or how it gets the plot bunnies hopping. Shout out to @robthegoodfellow for listening to my brain rot and helping this come together.

I was laughing at all those "Satan impregnates his bride" memes, and IDK bumbling Satantic Witch!Steve was born.

~*~

The Bride of Satan.

There’s a naked man on Steve’s bed. Maybe hey's still a boy. No telling. He’s built like - holy shit - but there’s a roundness to the slope of his shoulders and the edges of his face, that could be called baby soft. Could mean he’s closer to Steve’s own age of nineteen than the wear and tear on his body and the layers of compact muscle imply.

Steve absolutely does not look at the naked man’s dick, so it doesn’t factor into the boy vrs man argument blitzing through his head, like at all. Not that it should. That would be weird - and also Steve doesn’t have time to worry about how old the stranger in his bed is. He needs to figure out some way to send him back to wherever he came from. And, most importantly of all, he needs to repeat the summoning spell before the moonlight is gone or the ritual will be ruined. If he fucks up the ceremony there will be no way to hide it from the rest of the coven.

He looks back down at the heavy book he’s been studying for months in preparation for this night, rereading the steps to the spell. He did everything right. He’s sure of it. Said the words to invite the devil in and strengthen the coven.

He drank the wine and ate the herb at just the right spots, and stripped himself down to his cotton briefs without tipping over from the high. He’d felt the tingle in his fingers and toes spread out in a warm rush all over his body just like Paul (who had done the ceremony the year before) had described when he'd asked.

Roll the blades of willow grass in… wait. Shit. Realizing that he’d already read that part, Steve blinks slowly and refocuses his eyes on the page. This would be so much easier if the page would stop pulsing. He doesn't pretend to understand the magic, but right now there should be a naked girl in his bed. Maybe a witch from one of their sister covens, or just some ordinary girl from the suburbs who wouldn’t know anything about fertility rituals or witches; but a girl.

Because it’s a god damned fertility ritual! Frustrated Steve heaves the book aside and drops his head into his arms, defeated. The Child is definitely not coming this year. Fuck! He’d messed it up somehow. How had he messed up this bad?

Steve swallows and tries to ignore the little voice of shame in his head that says he knows exactly how the ritual failed, and Nancy's voice following it like an echo.

You have to believe. You have to want it Steve or it loses its power.

Yes well. Forgive him for having mixed feelings on ushering in the birth of the anti-christ. That's like - huge.

The sound of shifting on the bed alerts him to the fact that the stranger is waking up, but Steve can’t muster up enough care to look up from his knees. His life is pretty much over right now. If he’s not banished from the coven for good for being such a colossal waste of witch, he’ll eat his hat. Paul's seed hadn't taken but at least he actually completed the ritual!

“Uh…who the hell are you?” The man on the bed says in a softer tone than Steve would have expected for someone waking up in his position.

The words are right, but the blond sounds kind of slow and muzzy, like he’s about to fall back asleep. So not a witch then. Ordinary humans aren’t as tolerant of the magic as satan's daughters and their descendants are. Thank the morning star for small blessings. It means that when this stranger wakes up back in his own bed or wherever the devil found him, he won’t remember any of this.

"I'm fucked." Steve answers into his knees, and the stranger shifts again on the bed.

"Oh. Well hi Fuck-Head. I'm Billy."

Steve snorts a laugh, surprised that it's only a little bit bitter. Okay. That was funny. Intrigued despite himself Steve raises his head and peers over at the man. He's sitting up now, balanced on one elbow, gazing down at Steve with soft blue eyes fanned by honey colored lashes. Steve gulps.

"How come you're not scared?"

Billy shrugs.

"Either this is a dream or Eddie was right and I'm about to be sacrificed to the devil." he answers, head moving back and forth slowly as he eyes the ring of animal bones and rows of burning candles that surround the bed.

"Eddie talks too much." Steve grumbles, before it sinks in that if Billy knows Eddie than he must be a local. There are obviously non-believers in Hawkins but the Coven has been going strong here for hundreds of years so maybe Billy comes from a family of witches after all. He doesn't know why a little spark of hope starts burning inside him at the thought.

"So I am being sacrificed?"

"No. I mean you were supposed to be," Steve tries to explain while Billy gives him a skeptical look. He sighs. "Look yeah I summoned you but you're not right for the ritual, so I guess you're off the hook."

"What, you telling me I'm not a good enough human sacrifice Pretty Boy? Last time I checked I fit the bill."

"Last time you checked, huh?" Steve huffs, biting back a smile. "I don't think there are qualifications for human sacrifices."

Billy shakes his head with a click of his tongue.

"See that's where you're wrong. What if I was like a rapist, or had murdered a bunch of kids? The sacrifice has to be pure right? Where's the fun in devouring a soul that is already hellbound? "

He's definitely a witch! Steve thinks, elated, only to doubt himself a moment later. Or maybe he's just super into the occult, like Eddie.

"Babe. Blond. Virgin." Billy ticked off on his fingers, a shit eating grin creeping over his face. It's a little unsettling what with the glaze over his eyes. "That's how it goes, and I'm all three baby."

Steve huffs a laugh. Can't help it. Yeah thats how it goes in the movies, but in reality the devil isn't all that picky about who humans decided to serve up in his honor. That is a trivial human decision gladly left in the hands of his faithful followers. It is the end of the world and the coming of The Child that he took very very seriously.

"Well lucky for you this isn't that kind of sacrifice."

"What kind is it then?" Billy asks dropping his hand into his lap and shifting on the bed.

"It's - are you jerking off?!"

Billy's hand pauses momentarily where it's rubbing over the stiffening flesh between his legs. He sounds surprised when he answers.

"Oh. Yeah. Kinda super horny actually."

Oh. Right. Of course he is.

"That's part of the magic." Steve explains. "It's easier to complete the ritual if you're in like a faugh or whatever."

"Horny fog. Got it. And this ritual, what's that about?"

"Well it's layered. We offer the devil a host and he strengthens the coven."

"Uh huh."

Steve bites his lip. Swallows. It is very hard trying to recall his ceremonial history when Billy keeps stroking his cock like that. It fits nicely in his hand. Not comically big, but just big enough and flushed an almost pretty shade of red.

"In exchange he takes our seed, our mortal flesh, and sews into another." Steve finishes in a rush. "To make a baby. Sometimes."

"Fuck. That's weird." Billy says, stroking himself faster. Steve can't take his eyes off of him.

"Yeah... very weird."

"Didn't think old lucy was such a family guy."

"He's not really. There's only been daughters so far and he needs a son."

For some reason this made Billy toss back his head and laugh.

"Sounds like my dad."

Steve doesn't have to ask what he means. Most of the dads he knows are pricks and Billy can't mean he's devil born. If The Child had come before now Steve wouldn't be in this predicament - which would be sitting on the floor of his bedroom with a raging hard on, watching a stranger jerk off in his bed.

"So you see now? I fucked up. I can't do the ritual and that's gonna weaken the coven."

Billy hums, and the sound goes straight to Steve's dick. Fuck he's starting to leak and it's just embarrassing because there's no way to hide the wet spot seeping through his briefs. Why is this his life?!

"How do you know you fucked it up?" Billy suddenly asks, jerking Steve out of his spiral.

"Huh? What do you mean. Billy, I can't impregnate you!"

"You could try! Damn it, I'm dying over here." Billy cries in exasperation releasing his dick - now an angry looking red bordering on purple - and Steve scrambles to his feet in alarm as Billy throws himself backwards onto the bed.

"Billy-?" Steve reaches for him, worried as the blond squirms on the bed before flopping over onto his stomach and grinding his hips down into the mattress.

"Look. You said sometimes. Sometimes there's a baby. But your coven still gets its power boost or whatever the fuck." Billy grunts between humps. Steve has no idea where he's going with this.

"Yeah?"

"So, I'm here! I'm here and obviously devil spawn isn't required, so just fuck me!"

Billy is right Steve realizes. He's so right! He's beautiful and brilliant and so so right!

Grinning, Steve shucks his briefs. He's on top of Billy a moment later.

[skzhua]

Episode two.

MASTERLIST

pairing: XO, Kitty's Min Ho x Female Reader

genre: Fluff, angst, enemies-to-lovers, slow burn, coming-of-age.

word count: 2.4k

warnings: Painfully obvious hate-flirting, some swearing.

summary: Transferring to KISS was the last thing you had asked for and, yet, a certain tall boy made it seem both worse and better than you expected.

note: Bold - Korean, Italic - Over the phone

a/n: I changed the first part because it didn't match with the show so I recommend you go reread it if you read it in the first ten hours I posted it.

note: Bold - Korean, Italic - Over the phone

(let me know by filling the form in my bio if you want to be added to the taglist!)

"What plan?"

You deadpanned at her. "From what I've seen last, you had something with Juliana, no?"

Her body stiffened and her hold on Dae, that was already tight enough, only got firmer. You and Yuri had some sort of forced friendship but it didn't mean you hated each other's guts. It was quite the opposite. She respected you, you respected her – it was a two-way thing. Still, she wouldn't be the kind to involve you in her problems but you weren't stupid. You knew of her and Juliana and this was beyond odd that she was so suddenly in a relationship with Dae.

"It's complicated." she said with a gulp. Seeing that you weren't convinced, she sighed. "I'll explain later, I promise."

She and Dae left and you found yourself alone so you joined Q again and were displeased to see that his friend had not left his side.

"And you're back." he sighed only to earn a glare from Q.

"Min Ho, stop that." You thanked mentally Q for informing you of his name. "Don't mind him, he's in a mood today." he tried to defend him but it clearly didn't work considering you rolled your eyes in a dramatic way.

"Do you want me to help you find your owner, little puppy? I think you're lost." he joked.

"Shove it in your ass, will you?"

Q held his hands up to separate the two of you while you were in a glaring battle. Thankfully, Kitty came back which only seemed to affect Min Ho's mood even more.

"Excuse me." she interrupted you.

"This girl treats Korean guys like Pokémon. She's trying to catch them all." Min Ho complained and you rolled your eyes again. "Not interested." he said to Kitty in a stern voice.

"Get over yourself, I'm looking for Dae." she replied harshly.

Q looked more confused than ever. "Okay, who are you?"

"I'm Kitty Song Covey."

The two men opened their mouths agape as if they suddenly had a revelation.

"You're Kitty?"

Her eyes grew bigger too and she pointed at Q. "Wait, are you Q? Track star, fellow American, heart of gold?"

He nodded happily. "Guilty as charged. I feel like we should hug right now, should we hug?

You weren't understanding a thing about what was going on but you listened nonetheless, curious on how they knew each other.

"Maybe later, I need to find Dae."

You laughed. "Okay, so you two are Dae's friends which is why she knows you and you know her?"

"You are unfortunately right, I think." Min Ho affirmed boringly and then looked at Kitty. "So you're the pen pal?"

She huffed. "If he's Q, then you must be Min Ho... Of course you are."

He shrugged as a smirk appeared on his face. You scoffed too which caught his attention.

"I told you I'm getting stalked."

"Oh, please. You just wish you were."

He came closer to you to hover over your small figure. "You're one feisty puppy, aren't you?"

Your heart skipped a beat and you looked up at him in silence, unsure of what you were supposed to say.

"Whatever. Where's Dae?" Kitty said, impatient.

You looked around with her and spotted him with Yuri as they were discussing with Jina. She thanked you and rushed to go to them.

"It's almost sad to see her go after him like that."

You grunted in frustration. "Do you ever shut up?"

Min Ho's smug face appeared once again. "Make me."

"Okay!" Q coughed awkwardly. "That's enough. How about we go meet some people, yeah?"

You heard a yelp from behind and turned around right away as soon as you recognized Kitty's voice.

"Oh, shit." you whispered to yourself and ran to her.

Before you could get to her, she slipped again and fell in the cupcakes. Dae was quick to come to her help but she brushed him off. She did, however, gladly accepted that you helped her get up before leading her outside.

Ending the night comforting someone you barely knew as you waited for the airline to answer her call was not what you had expected. School hadn't even started and, yet, there was already more drama than you could handle.

"Are you sure you want to leave? You said you weren't here just for a boy."

She shook her head. "I can't stay here and see him walk around with her. It's too painful."

"Yuri's my friend, I can talk to her."

"Don't. You're nice but I don't want to cause trouble to the two of you."

The front door of the dorm suddenly opened and went shut seconds later. You were about to get up to see what it was until you heard a voice you'd rather not recognize.

"Spill it!" Min Ho exclaimed. "When did you get with Yuri? And when? And how far?"

"And most importantly, why?" Q added.

"Dae, you little scammer!" Min Ho teased.

You cursed at yourself mentally. You should have guessed you were in the boy dorms as soon as you saw the gym bag in the other room. And to top it all, it had to be where Q, Dae, and Minho were staying.

Kitty joined you at the door to listen but you were already in the process of packing your things up. There was no way you were going to be living with men for an entire semester, even less if it involved Min Ho who had managed to make it to your hate list on your first encounter.

"No one's going to blame you for upgrading from a pen pal to an actual girlfriend." he continued to argue with Dae.

Kitty let out a scoff and her hand went up to her mouth when she realized they must have heard.

"Marius?"

"Good going, Kitty." you whispered to her and you both went to hide under your covers.

You heard them walk in and struggle for a bit to take the blanket off Kitty. They hadn't approached your bed yet. They screamed as they finally managed to get the covers off, revealing Kitty who was screaming as loud as they were. As they all ran outside of the room, you uncovered yourself and then followed behind. They were already in shock from Kitty's presence, yours wouldn't be a surprise at that point.

"Dae's crazy ex-pen pal broke into our dorm to murder us." Min Ho breathed out.

You walked into the living room, arms crossed. "For once, you don't blame it on stalking." you said and they jumped as they saw you, Min Ho holding a laptop up in defense.

Kitty got her file and shoved it to their faces. "This is my room."

"What about you?" Q asked you as he took Kitty's document.

"Same." you shrugged and watched Min Ho put the laptop away.

"You're listed as Song Covey." he said after reading the form.

"So?" Kitty frowned.

"Song can be a guy's name. That's why they assigned you to the guy's dorm." Dae sighed.

"That explains for her but Y/N?" Min Ho asked, eyeing you up and down in disgust.

"It might be because the girl's dorms are full or something, I don't know." you responded, unsure yourself on why you were there.

He took the document himself and read it only to sighed in exasperation. "They did this on purpose! To be closer to Dae, and me."

"And just when I thought you aren't so full of yourself..." you said in a whisper.

"What was that?"

"Nothing."

He shook his head. "I told you lot, she was hitting me on the plane ride here." He turned to you. "And she hit on me earlier."

"Alright, I'm done here."

You went back to your room and shut the door close. This day was overwhelming enough, all you needed was to sleep. You were going to fix the dorm issue tomorrow.

You woke up to Kitty opening your room's door carefully while she hung up on someone. You got up and tapped on her shoulder, making her almost scream in fear.

"Don't do that again, please." she said after catching her breath.

"You're leaving this morning?"

"Yeah..."

You nodded your head slowly. "I'm glad we met. Have a safe flight."

To your surprise, she hugged you tightly before walking around Dae, who had visibly slept at the door for the night, and went out of the dorm.

You went back to bed and scrolled through your social medias to see what was new. You came upon a video of Yuri's father who was scolding his employees. The next one was the same video but ended with lettuce emojis. You let out a laugh and opened your Kakaotalk.

Y/N: Your dad is going viral.

Yuri: I saw ㅋㅋ

Y/N: Good luck to them for fixing it all.

Yuri: Yeah, it won't be easy.

Yuri: I want to talk, by the way. About last night.

Y/N: You don't have to explain yourself. I'm happy you found someone, whoever it is.

Yuri: Thank you, that means a lot.

You were typing a reply but stopped when you heard someone knocking at your door.

"Kitty." Dae said in a pleading voice. "Me and Yuri, it's not real. It's all fake."

You gasped quietly. Although shocking, it wasn't that surprising considering it involved Yuri.

"Will you just open the door? I can explain everything, Kitty."

You grunted and shoved your pillow over your head. This whole thing had nothing to do with you and, yet, here you were.

"Begging is not a good look."

And he was awake now? Starting your day with your roommate running away, her boyfriend begging to talk with her, Min Ho mocking him... just great.

"I wasn't begging, I was just trying to get my pants." Dae said in defense.

Right, you forgot. This was originally his room.

"Listen, you squatter." Min Ho said, taking over Dae's spot as his voice seemed to be louder than it was seconds ago. "We have to get ready for the first day of school."

You didn't answer, wanting to stay in bed for a bit longer. Plus, if this meant that you were pissing Min Ho off by not opening the door, this was another reason not to do so.

"Don't make us late!" he said impatiently before pounding loudly on the door.

You saw it open by itself and self-noted to remind them that they might want to fix that. Because your bed wasn't directly in their view, they didn't notice you yet.

"And she's gone." Q sighed.

"Sweet."

"Dae, don't worry about it, we'll-"

He stopped talking when he saw that Dae left too. You groaned as you got off the bed which made them turn to face you.

"You're still here?" Min Ho asked dramatically.

"No, I left last night and what you're seeing right now is your imagination."

Q held back a laugh but Min Ho was not having it. "Whatever. I'm making coffee if you want some." he informed and went to the kitchen.

You and Q followed and you leaned on the counter. "Yes, please. I didn't know you were enough of a gentleman to offer me coffee."

He huffed. "This is called basic manners and because I'm not a monster, I could make you a cup."

"So thoughtful, Min Ho."

Q sighed. "This is painful to watch. I'm going to the bathroom real quick."

With that, he went back to his room which meant there was only you and Min Ho in the kitchen. The silence was almost unbearable but the sound of the coffee machine filled it a bit. But not enough to ease the tension.

"I hope you know I still don't want you here."

"Trust me, I don't want to be here either." you agreed.

"Good."

"Good."

And there it was again, the silence. Q joined you two and the coffee was finally ready. After serving you a cup, Min Ho sat down next to his friend and served him his.

"Have you two seen the news?" you asked and Q shook his head. "You might want to see it."

Min Ho took his laptop that he had previously used to threaten you and opened it for the three of you to watch the infamous lettuce video. You heard the front door open but you were too immersed in watching that you didn't budge.

"Dae, have you seen this video? It's kind of blowing up." Q yelled at to who you supposed was Dae.

"I bet Yuri is loving this drama." Min Ho added.

You hummed in agreement. "She is, for sure."

"I don't particularly care." you heard a voice that was too feminine to be Dae.

Turning around, you smiled. "Kitty!"

Min Ho whined in annoyance. "I thought you left."

"I did!" she nodded. "But then I decided to stay. And not that it's any of your business but this isn't all about a boy."

"Oh, sweetie." Q said as a way to comfort her.

You couldn't blame him, it did look as if she was trying to convince herself it wasn't.

"My mom went here, and, I don't know, being here makes me feel closer to her than I ever have. And-"

Her mood changed in a second and she squinted to look closer at the screen that was still playing the news.

"Dae's on TV?" she exclaimed loudly, confused.

You scooted away to leave her some space, not realizing you were almost fully leaning on Min Ho. He was about to push you away but you faces came close which cut his breath short. You saw his Adam's apple bop as he gulped in nervousness.

"... And, 'lettuce' move on." you heard Dae say which broke you out of your trance.

"Well played." Q chuckled.

"Oh my god." Kitty said out loud and pushed you away to see the screen even closer.

You fell onto Min Ho again and he rolled his eyes while helping you get off him. "Stop trying with me, little puppy."

You wanted to argue back but Kitty spoke before you could say anything. "He's faking it. That's a fake relationship!"

She took a step back and her eyes brightened as if she had discovered the biggest secret on Earth. Meanwhile, you debated whether to confirm her assumption or not. Because Dae literally said it when you woke up, that him and Yuri was a fake show.

Now, it was on you to decide what to do with this information.

taglist: @nanaspalette | @schniti-is-in-the-house | @bakugou-katsukis-wife | @soobin-chois

Copyright © 2023 skzhua. All rights reserved.

[hwallazia]

MAKE-UP SEX – 정우영

synopsis . in which the lack of attention from wooyoung was suffocating you. he’d have to compensate you somehow. and fortunately, he knows exactly what you need.

pairing . jung wooyoung & fem! reader

genre . smut (mdni!), fluff, comfort, established relationship, non idol!au

word count . 2,7k

DISCLAIMER! switch!woo, switch!reader (both are switches bc i can’t imagine it any other way), foreplay, fingering, unprotected sex (don’t do this irl!), dry humping, dirty talk, praise oh so much praise, nicknames (love, baby, princess, & more), deepthroat, just the two of them being two fools in love <3

NIC’S NOTES i initially wrote this in spanish for arisu from alice in borderland, and i randomly reread it today and wooyoung was the only thing that came straight to my mind. him being all whiny and dominant at the same time??? where do i pay?

Wooyoung was right next to you. As always, he was enjoying his video games during the weekend, he had his headphones on and the microphone just a few inches away from his lips.

He insulted and shouted, causing you discomfort, which is why you looked for your headphones to listen to music, looking for a way to overshadow your boyfriend’s voice.

You couldn't blame him. You knew how much his video games meant to him, and how little time he had for them now that he started working.

You met him during high school, and fell deeply in love with him in your senior year. You had to confess your feelings to him immediately, before you parted ways and it was too late.

One lovely, chilly night you did it, you pulled up the courage and said those two words, which would change your lives forever.

“I like you. I like you a lot, Wooyoung.” you avoided eye contact at all costs. You couldn't allow yourself to see your loved one's gaze trying to reject you, in case the feelings weren't mutual. All those insecurities vanished with the wind that there was at that time of the night.

“I… I like you too, y/n.”

You finally looked at him. There was something special in his gaze, hundreds of galaxies collapsing into his orbs and illuminating them, more than the buildings and traffic lights that were scattered throughout Seoul that night.

“A-are you serious?” you questioned. Everything felt unreal, you needed him to say it one more time, maybe then your heart would hit the, now, sweet ground of reality.

“Yes, beautiful. I like you, a lot as well.”

You swore you could die right there. You would finally have him to yourself, something toxic of you, but it was what you wanted most: for Jung Wooyoung to have eyes for no one but you.

What could you say? You liked the attention, and even more so if it was his attention.

After months of dating, on one of the few dates you had in that period of time, he asked you to live together.

“Oh? Isn't that a bit hasty? How will we maintain the house? And the food?” so many things were running through your mind that they made you forget who you were talking to. Wooyoung.

“Hasty? Sweetheart, I’ve worked hard since we started dating to finally live with you, and only you. I even got a job!”

“A job? Are you serious?” you expressed, a smile starting to be drawn on your pink, plump lips.

“Damn right I am. You're looking at the new 8TEEZ’ choreographer, dear.” he announced with a certain tone of arrogance that could only scream “Jung Wooyoung”.

“Choreographer? Love, that's amazing.” you rushed at him, knocking him down the green grass of that park where you were holding your date.

“You’re definitely the love of my life.” he murmured, his fingers stroking your long dark hair.

And this memory is what brings us to the present. Your loved one was resting his body in the comfortable gaming chair you gave him for his 25th birthday, it embraced his anatomy as if it didn't want to let him go —he didn't really want to get up from his comfortable seat either. “Shit!” you heard him shout, despite having your headphones on with music at a moderate volume. You sighed and then saw it, the big screen painted with blood stains and ‘Game Over’ written in a somewhat crooked letter.

“Ugh, I almost had it.” he exhaled to turn to see you. “Love, did you see how—”

His words were cut off when he saw how your gaze did not show the same adorable, big eyes that characterized you, but had now transformed into an annoying, and somehow penetrating look.

“I screamed a lot, didn't I?” he shrugged his shoulders like a little kid, afraid that you would scold him.

“What do you think?” your tone was notoriously angry, yet you had to inhale and exhale a generous amount of air since you didn’t want to yell at him to fuck off. “Wooyoung, try to stay somewhat quiet, not even the headphones can overshadow your voice.”

“’M sorry, babe.”

He took off his headphone set and placed it on the small dark oak nightstand located a few meters away from him. He pushed himself up with his feet to approach the edge of your shared bed, and settle himself behind you. He adjusted himself so that you were between his legs, enveloping you with his strong arms.

“What are you doing?”

“Reading, maybe this way I can unwind” you took off your glasses to clean its glass in three quick seconds and put them back on the back of your nose. You looked at your partner's dark and beautiful orbs and noticed how they moved from side to side slowly, apparently reading the book’s pages. You immediately turned off the screen of your tablet and looked at him in the eyes. “Do you remember what I asked you a few hours ago?”

“Hum, would there be a problem if I said no?” he gave you an innocent smile with his barely curved eyebrows.

“Yes, there is. I asked you if you wanted to cook with me,” a sigh leaving your lips “During these last few weeks, I’ve been trying to do things with you, but your routine is always work, video games, eat and sleep. It's fucking annoying.” you finally confessed everything you had stuck down your throat for the last three weeks. Not being able to see his face made it, somehow, more comfortable for you to tell him your feelings. “I know I have to be comprehensive and all that shit but lately, this has been unbearable”.

“Oh, sweetness. I'm so sorry” he hid his face in the hole formed in your collarbone, resting his cheek on the side of your neck “I promise to compensate you for everything, beautiful.”

“You promise?” now you rested your right cheek against his messy raven hair.

“Mmhm,” he claimed, “And you know what, I'm starting right now.”

And with that, he began to leave a nice trail of wet kisses along your neck. A small gasp slid down your tongue, this just being the fuel for your lover’s plan. He stayed like that for a few seconds, his nose smelling your intoxicating scent until he went up to your ear and lick its lobe.

“Have I already told you how beautiful you are?” he kissed the back of your neck, licking where his lips had passed.

“Woo— Ah, w-what do you intend to do? Mhpm—”

“Make up for lost time, pretty.”

Even though you couldn't see his face, you could feel his arrogant smile. He loved knowing the power he had over you, how much he could turn you on with just a couple of his kisses.

And sure enough, you were melting under his touch, his heavenly touch.

“Babe— A-ah.” nonsenses were escaping your lips. Though talking was practically impossible you still tried to. But fuck didn’t he had you fucked out with just a few touches.

Before you could realize it, he slid his hand under the silk sheets which only covered your legs, dragging his middle finger and ring finger towards your clit, which was beginning to get wet under his touch.

“Wooyoung, oh fuck” you hissed “You know how sensitive I am there- Ahh!”

You finally discovered what he was trying to do, and maybe a fetish of his: interrupt you so you would moan more. In broad terms, fewer words and more pleasure. Maybe you could take advantage of that and get what you wanted.

Your lover moved his phalanges with agility and mastery over your soft, pinky button. At this point, it was funny to you that moment where you asked him "Are you a virgin?" and he quickly denied —he had only fucked once. He now looks like a fucking playboy, satisfying you so well.

“You're soaked, gorgeous.” he whispered “Is this the effect I have on you? Do you like me that much?”

He mumbled before directing his left hand to your nipple to pinch it and rub it against his fingers. Your back arching accordingly.

“God, yes Wooyoung yes. You make me feel s-so good, love.”

You knew how much it drove your boyfriend crazy when you complimented him or verbally told him how good he made you feel. He responded with a growl, attacking your neck.

A couple of minutes were enough for you to feel your orgasm coil in your stomach, making your thighs fall into desperation. Finally, you let your anatomy rest on his chest, completely surrendering to him.

“Are you close, pretty?” you moaned in response “It seems so, you’re trembling so much.”

“W…Wooyoung, shut your mouth— ngh!”

His left hand, which was previously occupied satisfying your nipple, abandoned it, to grab your jaw and finally bring you together in a wet kiss. He inserted his tongue in a few seconds later, drawing a gasp from you. Wooyoung was the one who dominated in that dance between tongues.

“Cum for me, beautiful.” he whispered millimeters from your swollen lips.

Once he gave the order, you came. Your body trembling against him, his cock rubbing against your lower back thanks to your little convulsions from overstimulation. Wooyoung made sure to help you ride your orgasm, his lips leaving a trail of soft kisses down your neck as he whispered the sweetest things to you.

“Look at all the mess you made on my fingers. Since you are a bit tired, I’ll do your job and clean them up for you.”

He guided the fingers he put into activity to make you cum towards his lips, so he could suck and lick them, his tongue savoring your exquisite essence. You could hear him slurping on his fingers which only made you even more aroused. Your back arching a little, separating it from the lump that was crashing against it.

“Wooyoung-ah, I want to suck you off.” your words impressing your boyfriend “I want to make you feel good too.”

“Oh yeah? Go ahead, darling. I’m all yours.”

He settled against the headboard of the bed while you turned and crawled in reverse to reach the height of prominent tent. Wooyoung felt his heart skip a beat when he saw you on doggy style with your glasses on.

Someone is developing a lot of fetishes in a very short time.

You pulled down his blue shorts along with his underwear, freeing his erection which had been uncomfortably covered for a while now.

You didn't hesitate to massage it a little and put it all at once into your oral cavity. You were going to give him the best deepthroat he ever had in his life. A growl crept into his throat.

“Holy fuck, you’re so good baby. You have no idea how perfect you look right now.”

You were so excited by that compliment that you began to suck it and lick it as if it were a lollipop. You massaged his balls to increase his pleasure, and also for him to praise you more.

“Does that feel good, handsome?” a smirk drawn on your lips.

“It feels so- ngh! So good... Your mouth was made for my cock, baby.”

His right hand was positioned in your hair to gently grab it. His chest rose and fell rapidly, clearly telling you that he was close to cum. You took it out of your mouth to run your tongue over the tip of his member, making him tremble. The man felt as if he had been electrified, this was accompanied by a loud moan.

“If… If you keep doing that— a-agh, I'm not gonna last long.” he said softly, his hand caressing your scalp.

You raised your gaze to meet his eyes full of lust and lasciviousness, the shine that characterized your boyfriend's orbs was replaced by a small flame, which could only represent how horny he was and how much he needed to make you his. His face had a strong blush, minimal drops of sweat sliding down his temple due to the cold of the season.

The state of him alone made you think how cute he was.

“Do what? This?” you directed your lips to welcome him into the heat of your cavity and then slid your tongue again and repeatedly, making his breathing heavier and drawing more moans out of him.

“I'm gonna cum, a-ah fuck. Take it all like a good girl.

You watched as he squeezed his other hand, which rested at your side, his knuckles were painted a pretty white, just like your face at that moment.

A strip of cum hit the roof of your mouth, scaring you due to your lack of concentration. You quickly pulled it out to swallow your boyfriend's white essence, you thought that was it since you had swallowed too much, like a shot of juice, but no. You were impressed when Wooyoung's long strips of cum also reached your cheek, lips, and the glasses’ glass making you gasp in astonishment. Your boyfriend was able to speak when he finally came down his high.

“Love... You look so beautiful with... With my cum on your glasses.”

Something ignited inside you. Your cunt was already dripping non-stop, and you needed even more contact with Wooyoung. So you straightened up, remaining on your knees in front of him, two steps were enough for you to bring your intimacy closer to his flaccid cock.

Wooyoung watched you expectantly, thinking you would rub against him, but was surprised when you grabbed his cock and lined it up against your dripping cunt.

“W-wait, I'm still a little sensitive- ng-ahh!”

You finally sat on him, joining you into one. Several moans and pleas slipped past Wooyoung’s lips, and you decided to seal his prayers with your sweet lips.

“D-darling, you're... so tight. It's too much, hah.” his breathing getting heavier and heavier.

“Do you want me to stop, sweetheart?”

“Don’t you even think about it.”

You laughed at his quick response as if you had pressed a button and an automatic voice responded. His fingers were nailed to your hip, trying to restrain himself and not lose his sanity.

You rode his cock as your life depended on it, you felt him scrape against your walls. Eventually his tip touching your cervix, drawing a loud moan from you as you increased the speed of your jumps.

“Is that the spot, baby?”

“Oh yeah, shit. You're so deep, Woo. Ngh.”

His mischievous hand left your left hip to grab the back of your neck and unite you tightly in a kiss, his tongue and yours dancing again.

Meanwhile, his right hand also released your hip to go to your clit and rub it, your cunt squeezing deliciously his member consequently. Both moaning in the middle of the kiss.

“Don't touch there, ngh Woo— ahhh!” you screamed, finally cumming. Seconds later, he did the same, this time gripping harshly onto your hip.

After a few minutes of rest, he held you as if you were a plastic bag and settled the both of you into the bed. Now you were lying face to face against him, his strong arms wrapping your anatomy once again.

He reached for the sheet that covered you before to throw it over the two of you, and you were warmly tucked in.

You sighed before settling down and laying your head on his chest, while he stroked your hair. You were about to close your eyes when your partner moved in place.

“Love. You're still inside.” you punctuated, Wooyoung didn't seem surprised, in fact, it seemed as if you had caught him.

“Aw, can't I stay inside? You feel so warm and so... good.” he murmured, his ears and cheeks blushing slightly. A sigh left your lips.

“Hah, okay. But tomorrow we’ll take a bath. Now we shouldn't feel it because of the cold, but we're probably disgusting.

“As my princess desires.”

A giggle slipped through your red, swollen lips, finally resting your head against his chest, close your eyes, and fall into an abysmal sleep.

“One day I’ll put a ring on that precious finger of yours.” you managed to hear before falling asleep.

Due to tiredness, you only managed to mumbled a dull “hmm”, kiss his chest and let out a small, cute giggle.

“Looking forward to it, love.” you continued, “I love you.”

| masterlist

[loving-and-dreaming]

messy r.l x reader

remus lupin x reader

you are messy. remus is messy. yet somehow it works. 

Word Count: 1.1k

a/n: please be kind. I haven't written in a year and I didn't reread it so there are TONS of mistakes. It just came to me so I wanted to write it down

This party is the last place you wanted to be right now, but Lily can be very persuasive. Looking at your beautiful redheaded friend and all the other people at the party you do not feel like you fit in. You are not by any means ugly, but you are not a hot girl. You are not a soft girl. You are just you. And most days that is enough, but sometimes, just sometimes, it doesn't feel like it is. And that is precisely why you begged Lily to let you stay home, but she was having none of that. Therefore you have staked claim on the very ugly, but yours for the night, couch. Your couch, yes yours, which you have glued yourself to, seems way too inviting to leave, yet the need to get a new drink has a much louder call. Heaving yourself off the couch, you head to the kitchen. On the way to the kitchen to bump into a boy you have seen around who reminds you of sunshine and books(maybe because his face is always in a book). However your need for a drink outweighs the desire to say hi. Moving around the kitchen like it's yours simply to make yourself a drink and get back to your couch as soon as possible. Your trek back to your very lovely couch is interrupted when you spot a very cute guy with tattoos and black hair. He stole your spot! How dare he… I mean let's be real, that was your spot! Sticking your tongue out at him, you turn on your heels and head to the only other place you can think of. The bathroom. At least it is quiet in the bathroom. The craving to be away from the noise and a place to be where you know no one is going to be, you head to the upstairs bathroom. Opening the door, the state of the bathroom, shocks you. It is not the typical bathroom you would see in a party, no one throwing up, no one making out, no trash all over the place. Instead it is an immaculately clean bathroom, sending up a silent thank you, you hop on the bathroom counter. Since you can no longer hear the music you take matters into your own hands and play some music from your phone. Not in the mood for loud obnoxious music, you settle on your soft playlist. The kind of music that makes you feel like you are floating on clouds. Eyes closed, drink in hand, body swaying you start to enjoy yourself. Yet all that is stolen from you as the door creaks open. How could you be so dumb that you forgot to lock the door, rolling your eyes and cursing to yourself you open your eyes to see who has interrupted your paradise. You get ready to give some attitude, you are at a party you didn't even want to go to, your couch was stolen by some hot guy, and now someone finds you in your bathroom paradise. The audacity. All of that is on your tongue when you see sunshine and books boy. “Sorry to interrupt you, love. But I need an escape for a moment. Could I crash your solo party?” How his words are literal sunshine as well is beyond you, yet here you are. Eyes open, mouth ajar just staring at him.

The sound of a lighter opening is what snaps you out of your thoughts. “Um yeah sure, as long as you don't mind the music I needed a moment too.”

“Are you here on your own violation, or friends?” “Ah I would be here because my lovely friend, and roommate, does not think laying in bed is an adequate plan for a friday night. You? Friends or your choice?”

“Seeing as it is my house, I feel I could answer that one of two ways. However I will say that it was not my first choice of plans tonight. Curse of having roommates I suppose.”

With wide eyes you slide off the counter and prepare to leave, “Oh no. Is this your bathroom? I just picked the one farthest away from the noise, I am so sorry. Let me get out of your hair.” However your plan to run away was crushed when you felt a hand on your wrist, and my goodness how does his skin feel like sunshine??

His soft voice floats through your head, “Wait before you go at least dance with me, I loved the song that was just playing.” He uses his grip on you to turn your body around and join his.

With a blushing face and quiet voice you ask, “Can I at least know your name? I keep calling you sunshine, and as cute as it is, I'm sure it’s not your name.”

“I kind of like sunshine, but it is Remus. Now I need to know yours, although I'm okay calling you what I've been calling you in my head.”

You go to tell him your name but stop. With pink dusting your cheeks you ask, “What have you been calling me?”

“Well angel seemed fitting” he says with a shrug. With a roll of your eyes you whisper your name. Swaying back and forth in sunshine-i mean remus’- arms feels like a dream, but like always dreams are not meant to go on forever. Remus leans down and whispers in your ear “Would you like to get out of here?” No dream has been shattered as fast as this. Not only did you finally have sunshine boy(as he will forever be nicknamed by you and lily) in your arms he goes and says some dumb shit like that. Clearly your face showed how upset you felt about that statement because the next thing you know he is panicking “No! Wait. no! Not like that. Oh my gosh, this is what I get for trying to be smooth. I meant to literally get out of the bathroom and go on a walk outside. It is a nice night and clearly neither of us want to be here. Oh look at that I am rambling.” He clearly is now nervous, scratching the back of his neck and looking anywhere but you.

It takes everything in you not to laugh at him, you can only imagine how he feels. So instead with a small smile and hand on his arm you say “it's okay, sunshine. I'm just as messy as you. Why don’t we get out of here?”

Since then neither of you have looked back. He is your sunshine and you are his angel. You are messy. He is messy. But together you work wonderfully.

[purgaytorysupremacy]

update: he emailed being self-flagellating and then went on a rant about being conflict-adverse during class when we were talking about virtue theory as an example of a virtue he wishes he could cultivate and I had to just be like never-fucking-mind, man.

I know people say “just let people misunderstand you” and “be yourself! don’t care about what people think about you!” but have they actually sat in a room with people who can’t stand you and aren’t shy about it and how that makes you feel like an infinitesimally small dust mote on the wind???

[zoeys-ksbd-fan-blog]

Book 1 First Impressions

Part 1

Hiya, so as a kinda fresh ksbd fan I feel like other fans would enjoy hearing what it's like for a newcomer to read it for the first time. Maybe give them a little taste of what it was like to read it the first time themselves.

So, my first impression...

...was oh my god holy shit the art is so good wow wow wow cool oh my god wow

Also, as of writing I'm a decent chunk into book 3. When I first saw this panel I was actually overwhelmed. Which I feel like is the intended affect since the leading up pages are pretty typical. I didn't even notice the center figure got fucking beheaded until my 2nd reread.

But also it's fun seeing this panel now and being, like, hey I know what all these characters are

On that note, I am excited to eventually learn exactly what's happening here. Is that bird significant? I know what this area is called but is there anything more significant going on here? Is it all metaphorical.

Which i dont think it is, because in the description of many pages there is supplemental stories. They mimic ancient poems, and other historical texts.

And birds are mentioned pretty frequently, as small creatures made by old gods that are small enough to travel through holes in reality to other realms.

White Chain is a trans king. A male person stuck in the shell of someone who looks feminine. Based.

Although the more I read an angels gender seems to be pretty fluid, which would make sense.

I'm not trying to summarize the comics, but I guess for context. Angels can only affect the physical world through one of these sets of armors. Their real forms are less human, usually.

And I guess this is a good place to compliment the visual design. Holy shit the aesthetic of these cities being built on these corpses is extraordinarily fucking cool.

And in the description the author left an I-Spy sort of puzzle in the description which is an excellent way to get a reader to look at a panel longer.

And shoutouts to the commentor who told me to read the description and comics, there is so much extra content there I've re-read book 1 four times and have had new experiences each time.

The world building is so intricate it completely trumps most other media I've seen. I dunno what to tell you, its just great. You can just taste how long the author has been cooking this world for. And it all paid off.

Cool background character is cool.

In gonna talk about the extra description content again, they're cool and are mandatory to read. Although maybe leave it to your second or third reread because the world building already present is still very dense.

Some of them involve a figure who is talking to their birds and asking questions to the reader. Which people answer in the comments.

Those same answers are then mentioned later as conversations had by people in Yisun's hall.

Don't know who Yisun is? Read the comic.

But things get confusing, the figure asks the readers where they believe Allison is traveling right when she is pulled from her own world. Someone says that she is going to the future, and Yisun likes it and makes it true.

But she isn't going to the future? Like she just isn't? We know later that this is all taking place linearly.

It's all very meta.

On page 16 we get some wild lore. It seems to be a background on Pree Ashma. Who's name I definitely recognize but deadass cannot remember who they are.

I'm probably not gonna mention the description again, but I wanted to yap so there you go.

No clue who this person is but I thought she was cool enough to make my pfp. We know her last name from the description though.

Later clues tell us she's a knight. That and people call her The Beggar Knight.

Boy would I love to pick the authors brain about where his mind goes when he creates these characters. Because they are so consistently unique and impressive. Praman Nand is a more important character so I would expect his design to be more striking. But the effort in his design is present in even the most insignificant background characters.

I imagine the dialect Cio is speaking here vs how she speaks to Allison and White Chain is the devil equivalent of code-switching.

I really love the action scenes. The author packs in so much detail that one panel feels fast paced. While giving the important events time to breath.

And this is where I learned tumblr has a 10 image per post limit i didn't know about. Continued in part 2!

[artficlly]

smog & spirits: pony club (mini-series)

Marvel 1920s Gangster/Peaky Blinders Inspired Fantasy AU

gangsterboss!bucky x witch!reader

Bucky Barnes, the leader of Sootstone's Smog Boys, needs a favour. A nasty curse has been cast on him, and he needs a witch to help him break it.

Warnings: 18+ content minors dni, fem reader, angst no comfort, previous abuse, domestic violence, curses and hexes, criminals & crime, 1920s street gangs, witchcraft, possession, mediums, ghosts, hauntings, horror, smoking, brothels, pubs, gambling, alcohol, cults, death/violence/torture, bucky barnes has issues, bucky barnes is a dick, police brutality, vaguely british setting??, sexism, classism, no use of y/n, lmk if i've missed anything

Word Count: 10.1k!!! oh my god someone help

A/N: god this has been on the go for awhile. it got so long but i have a worm in my brain that told me this had to happen before i can get onto the juicy stuff. next part will be a lot more bucky heavy im so sorry this didn't have much of him, needed to build up that loreeee. anyway i actually hate my writing in this, if i have to reread this one more time im gonna go crazy so i'm just gonna post it and go to bed lol!! sorry for any typos - not proof read and edited while half asleep lol.

taglist: @nash-dara

main masterlist | series masterlist

To be lulled into the false security that you would never see Bucky Barnes again was a foolish thought. 

Two months passed rather uneventfully. The handsome payment Bucky left you after your favour to him was far beyond your normal rates. A mixture of the gangster having deep pockets and, you suspected, an indication that all that had unfolded was to be kept quiet. 

So you had done just that. Your mouth had been sown shut, an invisible thread keeping your lips bound. There were so few people left in your life anyway that you didn’t feel like spilling details of a sex-based ritual with the limited relatives you had left. You weren’t particularly fond of them regardless; most you had not seen in years. 

You embraced the winter months as they settled across the city of Blackstone. The fog would roll in thick and dense, the clouds lingering over the port as Sootstone was cast into days of hoarfrosts. Icicles as long as your forearm hung from buildings and lamp-posts and was salt scattered across the wooden docks, where slippage was the worst. The homeless gathered in crowds around the Smokestack district, leeching off the warmth the factories produced. The ice and frosts were never white, unlike the country estates or wealthy garden districts. Smoke and ash continued to pour into the skies, tainting everything with a layer of black grit. 

You would see the Smog Boys in the streets often. Teams of the lower-ranking, younger lads would roam in packs, dipping in and out of the alleys. Even dressed in black, you could not make them out through the fog when they intended to disappear. Maybe it had been your brush with Bucky, but you began to notice them everywhere. Lurking in the markets, smoking by the docks, or sauntering by the smokestack factories. A small, stiff, knowing nod would be bestowed upon you if your gaze locked with theirs or if you lingered too long. As if they knew who you were. As if they had been instructed to keep an eye out for you. 

You could never leave the Smog Boys once you were inside. Whether you liked it or not, your fates were inextricably linked. You never knew when you might be needed. It shouldn’t have been a surprise to find one in your home. It is what you ought to have expected by now. It was only a matter of time before they came calling. 

You could only find one word to describe the woman in your kitchen. Beautiful. Beautiful in a hauntingly, terrifying way. She was stylish, with a blouse tucked into tailored, high-waisted suit pants. A lavish fur coat was draped over her shoulders, and her red hair was in a fashionable, blunt bob. Her lips, painted a deep red, were curved into a disgusted sneer as she assessed your residence. 

She had to be with Bucky because only a Smog Boy could illicit such an aura. 

“You should invest in better locks.” The redhead comments with a sniff. You haven’t even had a chance to process her presence; instead, you are standing with your lips parted in shock. “It wouldn’t be hard to rob you… or worse.”

You’re unsure if that was a thinly veiled threat or genuine advice. 

“Most don’t make habit of breakin’ into witches' homes.” You mutter, regaining your composure. You whip your headscarf off, abandoning it on your dining table. “They’re scared of being cursed.”

Your fingers unknot the woollen scarf around your neck now, tugging it free with a flutter of ash. The woman arches a well-manicured brow at you, looking you up and down. She doesn’t try to hide her judgement. She didn’t seem the type of woman to shy away from stating her opinion. Your clothing was noticeably different from hers, which was made of luxurious fabrics. The Smog Boys were well known for their finer suits—just because they lived and worked in the slums didn’t mean they dressed for it. Bucky seemed to like to keep certain appearances and had the funds to do so. You, however, were dressed for practicality. Heavy, cheap textiles that kept in the warmth. 

“Cursed.” The woman states, tone sharp. “You don’t seem the type to throw curses. You’re too… sweet.”

You don’t miss the condescending nature of how her sharp lips curve into a smile. You shoulder the insult. “I didn’t catch your name.”

“Natasha. Romanoff.” The name was vaguely familiar to you. She was definitely one of Bucky’s inner circle. Possibly she worked closer to the shadows—a brain rather than brawn like Steve and Sam. “Barne is in need of your particular set of skills again.”

You pause, your fingers frozen over the pin in your mantle. Again? You knew to expect this, but still, you felt your heart uptick a beat. So soon? The question of which skills hung heavy in the air. Your abnormal skill to summon and banish spirits? To break curses and sense the otherworldly? Or to get your brains fucked out by Sootstone’s most notorious gangster? 

From the way Natasha was eyeing you, it seemed she knew all about your little sex ritual. 

“What if I’m unavailable?” You test hesitantly. 

The redhead isn’t amused. “It wasn’t a request.”

You nod slowly, hands falling to your sides. One should know when not to test Bucky Barnes or his men; it always ended rather unfavourably. Plus, you didn’t want to wake up tomorrow to find your kitchen filled with any more gangsters. 

Maybe Natasha was right about the locks.

—

Bucky and a pack of his dogs congregated in the streets outside the pub known as The Anchor. The establishment sat across from the docks, with tinted, lattice windows facing the port. On a clear day, one who sat in the window booths might be able to see the ocean. Though, throughout your life, you could recall about as many clear days as the fingers on your right hand. The Anchor had been in the Barnes family for years, originally bought by Bucky’s father when the Smog Boys first rose to infamy. 

The building was well cared for, a luxury not many of the surrounding establishments were familiar with. The building was decorated in a nautical style, with netting and flags adorning the walls and rafters. Fish and ships were painted onto the siding, with gold and blue accenting the furniture inside. Even the sign out front was a small, steel anchor engraved with the pub's name. 

The Anchor was mainly stocked with whiskey, which the Smog Boys ran an underground distillery for. They offered other spirits, wines, and ales, but the main vice of The Warrens was whiskey. Bucky had several underground or even legal businesses dotted throughout Sootstone, including gambling dens and brothels. You knew he made his office in a gambling den not too far from The Anchor—the dock-side streets were prime spots for high traffic from the sailors and dockworkers coming and going like the tide. 

As you and Natasha approached, the pack of adolescent gangsters surrounding Bucky scattered, disappearing into the thick fog and alleyways like wraiths. 

“Your witch, as requested,” Natasha announces with a sigh, her brows arched. Bucky glances at you, acknowledging you with little more than a grunt. He takes the last drag from his cigarette before crunching it beneath his shoe. 

“Thank you, Nat.” Bucky replies, smoke escaping his lips as he speaks. “Sam’s lookin’ for you inside.” 

Natasha doesn’t offer you a farewell as she pulls her coat tighter around her lean body and ducks inside the pub with a tsk. You and Bucky are left in an odd silence, with only the faint call of seagulls and the lapping of waves joining you. You had never seen the dockside street so quiet, but you could confidently assume his presence was responsible. 

“I trust Nat didn’t scare you too bad.” The gangster breaks the silence. His dark eyes wander across your frame, seemingly disappointed that you were thoroughly covered to prevent the cold from seeping in. “Would’ve come to get you myself, but I had some business to attend to.”

In retrospect, the thought of encountering Natasha in your kitchen again seemed more daunting than Bucky. You weren’t too sure how to interpret her malice and cool charm. She did give off the impression that she would kill you if you even breathed in her direction. As for Bucky, maybe he would kill you, but given his reputation, he was far more likely to fuck you up against the nearest available surface. 

“She said you've a job for me?” You ask, watching as the gangster tucks his large, bruised hands into his pockets. 

He cocks his head to the side. “Walk with me.”

You obey wordlessly.

Bucky navigates the streets with ease, ducking through alleys and blindly striding into the fog with unquestionable confidence. The few people you encounter in the winding streets dart out of the way, mumbling apologies and casting their gazes down as they stumble over their own feet. Your breath comes in clouds as you exhale, salt and ice crunching beneath your feet as you keep pace with him. 

“There’s an establishment I own, it’s been losin’ business these past months. The girls reckon it’s cursed. Or haunted.” He elaborates, and you frown. 

“You think a spirit’s attached?” You ask, and the gangster huffs out a short, bitter laugh. 

“I don’t fuckin’ know. I don’t have a sense for that stuff.” His lips are set in a line as he casts his sight down at you. “That’s your job, spirit-raiser.”

You can’t help but gulp and hope that his issue was indeed a spirit. One did not want to disappoint the gangster out of fear of the consequences. Your mind drifted back to months ago, to when he sat in your kitchen with that cursed necklace. He hadn’t noticed that curse—not until his sister apparently spelt it out for him. You couldn’t imagine carrying that thing around when it had reeked so badly that you tasted rot. 

“What about your sister?” You suddenly interrupt.

Bucky gives you an incredulous look. “Becca? What about her?” 

“You said she has a sense—”

“You think I’m lettin’ my sister near a brothel?” He snaps over you. His body turns to face you as you are both left motionless in the empty, ashy street. 

“Oh— I didn’t realise it was… You just said— I just assumed—” Your cheeks grow pink—this time not from the cold—as you stumble over your words. Flakes of ash slowly amble down from the sky, twirling in your mingled breath as the gangster looms over you. Several emotions flicker over his face—insult, disbelief—before finally settling on an eerie amusement. 

“Shy ‘bout a brothel? You’re not far off bein’ a whore yourself, doll. You certainly let me fuck you like one.” He leans closer to you, the scent of tobacco fanning across your skin. You clamp your jaw shut, your cheeks growing hotter by the second. The gangster smirks at you with a wickedness that rivals the devil. 

—

The Pony Club was not creatively named, like most things in Sootstone. You were sure there was an innuendo about riding or mounting buried in its origin. The brothel was buried deep in the busy streets of the Smokestack District. The crowd of workers parted with hushed whispers as you, Bucky, and Steve approached the establishment. You had bumped into the other gangster during your walk, and he had thankfully filled the tense silence hanging between you and Bucky. 

The Pony Club was neatly tucked between two stores. Ice covered the tiled roof, and grey-stained icicles dripped melted water from the front balcony. The ash falling from the sky was thick in these parts. Street sweepers patrolled the roads like small armies, brooms in tow, ensuring the roads were clear for carriages, waggons, and those on foot. 

The three of you paused before the building. Your eyes swept over the painted sign, an illustration of a pony alongside the cursive lettering. The building looks well up-kept like many of the Smog Boy establishments; it put its neighbours to shame. You couldn’t help but notice how, despite its busy location, the building was eerily empty. It was as if its walls stood outside of time, cursed to live an existence outside of perceivable reality. 

There was a twinge in your gut, a knowing. 

Steve grimaces beside you, the gangster scowling as he tucks his hands deep into his pockets. At first, you think he is simply cold from the frigid fog sitting over the city, but only as he speaks do you realise he senses something more. “I hate this place.” He utters.

Bucky hasn’t reacted. He truly didn’t seem to have a sense for anything otherworldly. 

“How does it make you feel?” You pry. Steve blinks at you in surprise, as if he hadn’t realised he spoke aloud. It would be useful for you to know how a non-magical person might feel; it could also give you insight as to what haunted the halls of the brothel. 

“Doesn’t encourage me to put my cock in some bird, that’s for sure. Bad for business, ‘cause that’s the whole point.” Steve grumbles, and you swear Bucky rolls his eyes. “How does it make you feel?”

The two men look at you with curiosity as you consider your words. Terrible? Awful? Yes, you felt unnerved, but you were accustomed to spirits and hauntings. Most places in this city had ghosts, whether they were malevolent or just lost. You had become unnervingly comfortable with the creeping sensation that you were not alone. It was an entirely different feeling to curses—no, curses, they twisted your gut in wicked ways—hauntings you were at ease with. There was an odd familiarity to them, it sparked a warmth in your soul. 

“Best I not say.” You land on. It would be better not to mess with the egos of gangsters, especially if they were afraid of a little ghost. 

The two men follow you as you step into the building. The inside is lavish, with a large, grand set of stairs that lead up to the mezzanine. Draperies hung from the balcony railings, and plush furniture, and decorations were artfully placed around the foyer. Despite its luxuriant appearance, there was an isolation that clung to the bones of the building. It was as if dust hung in the air, floating undisturbed. Not a breeze could get through the thick walls, nor could a breath of life. A place that was supposed to be rowdy, a den of sin and pleasure… silenced. As if it were a mausoleum. 

The building and those inside were lost in time, caught between a past that did not exist and a future that had not yet come. 

The peace is interrupted by a thundering noise, then shrieking. “Mr. Barnes! Oh, Mr. Barnes! So nice of you to come visit us!”

A few curious observers watch from over the bannisters. Beautiful women with tired eyes, hair swept up and curled into coiffures, and revealing dresses that clung to their curves. You suddenly felt rather overdressed in your winter clothes. 

An older woman descended the stairs in a frenzy, grinning from ear to ear. Her eyes were lined heavily with kohl, a bright pink blush across her cheeks, and lipstick to match. Her blonde curls bounced around her smooth face, a few longer strands following the dip of her dress. The madame of the brothel. 

Your lips purse together, and Bucky lets out a quiet sigh. “Madame Voss.”

“I trust you are here about the ghost?” The madame asks. She is rather excitable, like a puppy or a young child. Even Steve has grown uncharacteristically quiet, his expression caught somewhere between amusement and dread. “I told my girls you would be back to help! I said you were a busy man, but not to worry. We’ve lost a few since you were last here, Rose, Amorie, and Vivinne… but that is nothin’ to worry about. They were traitorous at heart—”

“Yes, I quite understand.” Bucky snaps over Madame Voss. Steve tries to hide a snort, and the madame is left momentarily speechless. “I’ve brought a witch.”

You feel the madame’s gaze rip from Bucky to you. She looks you up and down in one exaggerated sweep, then offers you a somewhat forced smile. She looks as if she is gritting her teeth as she drinks you in. You were left wondering if the madame had some type of unrequited infatuation with Bucky. Many of the women of Sootstone seemed to share such an attitude, especially if they did not have the wit to sense the danger attached to the handsome gangster. 

“She’s a bit too pretty for this business, don’t you think? I suppose all those witch women are a bit pretty. It’s usually glamours though, isn’t it?” There is an underlying spite to her tone as she assesses you, arms coming to fold over her chest. Her bosom is exaggerated, and her waistline is pulled pencil-thin by her corset. You are surprised the woman can breathe. “Well, are you wearin’ a glamour, girl?”

You hadn’t realised the madame was questioning you; actually, you found yourself rather overwhelmed by the whole display. Your lips part as you struggle to find your tongue and eventually stagger out a confused reply. “What?”

Madame Voss murmurs in annoyance, her arms uncrossed and hands coming to move in spirited gestures as she speaks. Bucky is staring at the ceiling as if bored out of his mind. “A glamour? You can’t tell me you normally look like that, all wide-fuckme-eyed?”

Steve makes a choking noise somewhere beside you while you gape at the madame. “No?”

“Huh.” 

“I work with spirits, not—” You cut yourself off, clearing your throat, and decide it was not worth the argument. “I’ll need some time to walk around ‘n get a feel for things. Maybe talk to some of the girls, if that is alright?”

“Fine by me.” Madame Voss waves you off, attention hastily pulled away as she turns to Bucky. “In the meantime, Mr Barnes, can I get you anythin’? Tea, biscuits… something else? You know my girls will always give you a discount—”

“Somethin’ to drink, perhaps. Somethin’ strong.” Bucky cuts off the Madame and claps Steve on the back. “What do you say, Steve?”

You got the impression that neither Bucky nor Steve liked this Voss woman. 

—

It did not take you long to explore the brothel in its entirety.

The establishment was compact and efficient. Downstairs was made up of the main foyer room, which was extended into a room similar to a drawing room. Tables made up the majority of the space, with playing cards and strong Smog Boys branded liquor decorated around the room. Comfortable furniture and suggestive art lined the walls. Out of view was a kitchen, a washroom, and madame’s office space, which Bucky would occasionally take residence in if dealing with business for the Pony Club. 

Upstairs was dedicated to private spaces, where the girls lived and worked. They were hesitant to speak with you, guarded and quiet. You did not get the sense that they were being abused or held against their will, but rather haunted by whatever spirit clung to the brothel. 

As the Pony Club slowly spiralled due to the haunting, many girls left. Business had grown to a standstill. The girls were plagued with nightmares and anxieties. The few that spoke to you recalled dreams of a dark figure who prowled through the halls, standing at the edges of their vision. At night, they would see the figure in the corners of their room, sitting on the edge of their bed. One girl even claimed the spirit sat upon her chest, that the mass had no face but two sets of shining white teeth that grinned down at her as she struggled to breathe. 

When the girls were not targeted by this mysterious figure, they were afflicted with memories of their past. Dark images would replay before them every time they closed their eyes until they awoke sweating and screaming. 

You bid farewell to an exhausted working girl by the name of Hanna. She sat on the bed, a woven blanket pulled over her shoulders. There was a distant look in her eyes as you quietly pulled the door shut, forcing yourself to inhale a deep breath as you stood on the empty mezzanine. There was an oppressive energy to the building, one that weighed down your chest as if someone were purposely crushing your ribcage. You knew your feelings were exaggerated due to your knowing, but there was certainly something potent enough here that even those with little to no sense could feel it. 

You slowly rotated around the mezzanine in thought, unsure where to begin. Most spirits had an anchor—an item, person, or space—that they bound themselves to. They used it to draw energy, recuperate, and recharge. In rare cases, a spirit might bind to an entire house, causing lesions and pus to drip from the walls. But in your experience, those houses had sat abandoned for years, decades, or even more. The house itself would become sentient, dripping with malice and blinded by rage for those who created it, only to leave it abandoned. That was a festering type of haunting, one of anguish and loneliness, but this… this brothel was active. There had once been clients, and multiple women still lived within its walls. So, where was the anchor? Nothing had screamed out to you; nothing had made bile churn in your stomach or your hair stand up on end—

You froze.

You were a few paces away from the staircase, your mind swimming in thought, and—

A dark mass stood on the top step. 

It watched you.

You couldn't make out the eyes or the shape of any humanoid body part. It just stood there, a black cloud over the staircase. But still, you could feel it watching.

And then it smiled. 

It smiled wide, yet it did not seem to have a jaw. There was no skull, nothing solid within its mass. Several pearly white teeth smiled at you, spiralling into a gaping hole. The pungent smell of decaying meat filled the air as the mist contorted and pulsated in a sickening rhythm while observing you.

Before you could even consider speaking or moving, the mass had swept down the staircase, disappearing from your view. You raced to the bannisters, leaning over as far as you could without launching yourself over the edge. Loose strands of hair danced around your face as you darted your head. You could still not make out the spirit. 

By the time you gathered your skirts and descended the staircase, you found the foyer empty. You could hear the distant trill of Madame Voss's voice deeper within the building, near the kitchen.

There was still that lingering oppression, an uneasiness that squeezed your chest. Regardless of how many times you whirled around, blindly scanning the foyer, you were unable to find a trail where the sensation intensified. 

Clenching your teeth together, you let out a sharp sigh and balled your hands into fists. You paused in one of the corners of the foyer, allowing the blood pumping in your ears to calm and your muscles to relax. You blocked out the distant voices, instead focusing on the hum of the environment. You were frustrated, yes, and maybe a little scared. Not of the spirit, but rather how Bucky might react if you told him that you couldn’t banish this ghost. Not because you were too weak or unaware of how to handle it—you were very much prepared in both areas—but because you couldn’t find it?

You were skilled at finding hidden anchors, but it was difficult to focus when you felt immense pressure on your shoulders alone. You closed your eyes and listened intently. You could feel each speck of dust swirling through the air and hear every small sound the walls and floors made as the wood settled. You could hear each fibre of the rug rustle as you gently tip-toed across the room, following an invisible line.

The string was knotted in a complex pattern, similar to a spiderweb. You could feel it brushing over your skin as you moved, growing taut as it tangled around your body. You pushed through the sensation as if wading into a pool of water, stepping deeper and deeper into its strands as they layered over your skin and clothes.

Then, a tug.

A slight tremor, a warbling as a single line was set alight in your mind. The spider—your ghost—was circling you like prey.

You grasped the string, following its current blindly through the foyer. You stumbled around furniture, tripping over the edge of a rug and—

The floorboard creaked beneath you.

It wasn’t a typical creak—not one of an old building or a settling house. No. The creak resonated through your mind, deafening you. Your hands rose to your ears, the shrieking growing louder and louder as you fell to your knees, wincing. The fibres of the rug bit into your skin, sending a rush of electricity coursing through your veins. Under the rug, the floorboard made a hollow thud, loud enough that your ears were ringing from the volume. 

You gasped in a breath, violently ripping yourself from your secondary state until you crashed back to reality. Panting, you found yourself crouched over the rug, fingernails dug into the fabric as you wheezed and panted. A cold sweat covered your body, your head aching as you tried to roll the discomfort from your shoulders. 

“I think there’s somethin’ wrong with your witch, Mr Barnes.” Madame Voss spoke in a sing-song fashion as she entered the foyer, a condescending look in her eyes as she stared down at you. You wiped the sweat from your brow, forcing your wobbling legs to rise. 

“It’s underneath,” was all you were able to reply, your voice raspy as you stalked to the corner of the rug.

"Ominous," the madame retorted, her brows arched. Her gaze cast back to the two gangsters who watched from the entrance to the room. There was a curiosity in their stare, hands tucked in their pockets as you worked. You gripped the corner of the rug, peeling it away from the floor. Underneath, everything looked perfectly in order, with well-polished hardwood panels lined up in unison. Carefully, you walked the length, tapping your shoe on each floorboard.

“Well, you do know what they say… with magic comes madness!” Voss announced with a sly grin, her hands moving to flourish her words. Bucky cocked his head to the side, emitting a sharp exhale through his flared nostrils. 

"Let her work," he spoke up, and the tension in the room mounted. The madame's disapproving scowl only added to the oppressive atmosphere. The room fell into an almost palpable silence, broken only by the sound of your tapping as you methodically sought out the hollow board once more. You could sense the growing impatience of the group as you painstakingly worked, with each floorboard sounding as solid as the next. 

Just as Bucky appeared poised to call off your efforts, the floorboard beneath you emitted a hollow thud that reverberated through the space below. You tapped again, feeling the same hollow thudding from the adjacent boards. Looking up at Bucky, you gestured toward the floor, affirming, “It’s underneath.” 

Madame Voss gaped in astonishment at you and then turned her incredulous gaze towards the two gangsters. “Underneath? Underneath! This must be some kind of magical trick—in all my years working in this establishment, I have never heard of a basement or cellar!”

As Bucky waved at the woman, he made a disdainful noise in dismissal. The madame fluffed up, muttering under her breath in flustered embarrassment, and then stalked away a few paces. Bucky and Steve soon joined you, watching intently as you blindly felt around the edges of the wooden panels. As you investigated, your fingertips discovered finely carved grooves hidden within the wood—imperceptible to the casual observer but discernible to those who sought them out. The edges of the indents provided a perfect grip for you to dig your nails into the wood, allowing you to pry the board from the floor with little effort.

The three of you peered into the space below through the thin gap. It was pitch black, but you could make out some rickety stairs descending into the inky dark. A thick layer of dust sat upon the steps, a musty smell hitting your nose. 

You sat back on your haunches, peering closely at the board you had just managed to pry up. The wood was marred with deep gouges as if some kind of wild animal had relentlessly scratched and clawed at the panel. As you tentatively ran your finger across the rough and battered surface, a sense of unease settled in the pit of your stomach, sending a sickly shudder up your spine.

“Did you know this was here?” Steve mutters to Bucky from somewhere above you. 

You continued peeling up each of the loose boards, using the indents to grip the wood with your nails. The disgusting, nauseating feeling intensified as it became apparent that every panel had identical deep gouges carved into the wood.

“No,” Bucky replies, his voice hushed. 

When the hole is completely visible, you sink onto your knees. Now that light was flowing in, you could see more clearly. The dusty, ancient stairs descend to a stone floor. The stone appeared dry but extremely dusty. What appeared to be large, old wooden barrels and the beginnings of shelving against the walls were visible in the beam of light. You peer up at Bucky and Steve, who tower over you, and resist the urge to squirm as Bucky meets your gaze. 

“This is the anchor.” You explain, and Steve’s face twists, perplexed. 

“The pub—?”

“No. Spirits they… they bind themselves to something. An object, a person, a room. This is where the haunting originates.” You clarify and gradually rise to your feet, taking care not to collide with either of the men. 

You take a hesitant step down, the stair beneath groaning under your weight. You swallow hard, then spin in place to look back up at the gangsters who watch you expectantly. “I might need a candle.”

Without glancing back, Bucky clicks his finger at Madame Voss, who is attempting to peer into the mysterious room from her perch. “Voss. Candle.”

The madam, clearly exasperated, lets out a loud huff before turning on her heel and disappearing into one of the adjacent rooms. There is still a distinct taste of tension in the air.

“Looks like your old man's been a naughty boy.” Steve teases, a boyish smile emerging. Bucky remains silent, choosing not to dignify the gangster's comment with a reply. Their dynamic left you contemplating the depth of their relationship, especially since you had heard that Barnes was not particularly kind to those who mentioned his father. While Bucky's gaze remained blank and unmoving, you couldn't help but notice a subtle twitch in his jaw, betraying a suppressed reaction.

The Smog Boys were infamous for their cruelty towards their enemies, anyone who crossed them, and those who betrayed their trust. Bucky, in particular, was known for his ruthless approach to dealing with anyone who stood in his way. He carried out his actions silently and brutally, and by the next morning, everyone in The Warrens knew that Barnes had spilt blood. Despite the fear he instilled in others, Bucky remained calm and collected. He was a strategic thinker and planner, and he took pleasure in the sadistic ways his plans unfolded. Despite his fearsome reputation, he was still not as notorious as his father. 

His father exhibited a striking lack of cunning, care, or thoughtfulness in his approach. The Warrens endured a dreadful existence as George Barnes succumbed to alcohol-induced rampages. He embodied sheer strength, a fierce warrior whose white-hot rage could melt the most hardened of hoarfrosts. He instilled fear without cause, displaying psychopathic tendencies and craving notoriety through any means necessary. He bolstered the Smog Boys fostering terror through street attacks, gang wars, or burning entire buildings down as a message. Upon Bucky's ascension, the business adopted a quieter and more devious approach. Bucky was all about making money in a quick, quiet, and dirty way. His enemies didn't fear him because they knew what he was capable of, but rather because they never knew, and Bucky knew how to up the ante each time.

Around seven years ago, George had been arrested. He had been too loud and confident in his approach, and the coppers had snagged him. Bucky ran the business for his father, and the Smog Boys boomed with success. His father was set to go on trial, and it wasn’t an unknown fact that the judge had paid off. George Barnes was set to walk free and take over the business again. 

Two days before the trial, he was discovered dead in his cell, his body bearing the marks of a brutal, mysterious beating. There was no trace of evidence to scrutinise, and the guards remained silent, neither admitting guilt nor pointing fingers. The law turned a blind eye to the demise of a notorious criminal under their watch, and the incident was quickly swept under the rug, forgotten within hours. Bucky vehemently denied any involvement. He put on a public display of mourning, cursing the authorities and vowing vengeance, though his threats never materialized. It's also worth noting that Bucky shared a particularly close bond with his mother, Winnifred, who herself was not spared from the brutality of her husband. It was common knowledge that, behind closed doors, Winnifred, Bucky, and his younger sister Becca endured all manner of cruelty at the fists of George Barnes.

Years had passed since those fateful events, and Bucky's ascension to power remained unquestioned. No one dared challenge his authority, fearing both the brutal consequences and because The Warrens had silently celebrated in the wake of Senior Barnes' untimely demise.

The sound of Madame Voss' heels clicking against the hardwood floor signalled her return. You took the candle gratefully, eager to escape the awkward tension, and descended into the gloom.

The old wood stairs protest with every step, emitting squeaks and groans under your weight. Your sweeping skirts brush a fine layer of dust into the air, shimmering in the weak candlelight that struggles to pierce the shadows of the small, dimly lit room. You could only describe the space as a cellar, with its stone walls and floors exuding an eerie, uncomfortable atmosphere. Thick metal bolts secure wooden shelves laden with countless large glass bottles, while large barrels, shrouded in heavy blankets of dust, crowd the square room. In the dim corners, dense cobwebs collect. A place long forgotten.

Bucky and Steve carefully made their way down the creaky stairs as you delicately balanced the flickering candle on the edge of one of the dusty barrels. As you wipe away the accumulated grime, you uncover a label imprinted on the lid:  Property of SMOG BOYS—George Barnes. You squinted at the words in the low light, moving to the next as you tried to understand what was in these barrels. 

Behind you, Steve had grabbed hold of one of the large glass bottles and uncorked it with a sharp pop! He raised it to his nose, took a sniff, and then emitted a loud holler. "Shit, Buck. This is moonshine."

Bucky let out a grumbling noise of recognition, inspecting one of the barrels. “It must’ve been a storage space from the distillery. These barrels look like whiskey.” 

The two gangsters gathered near the barrels, muttering between themselves. 

“You sure he never mentioned this to you?”

“I’m sure. Don’t know why he was so determined to hide a bit of liquor. We have plenty of warehouses for this—”

You rounded the barrels, venturing deeper into the room. A row of shelves faced the centre of the room, with a narrow space between them that you could slip through. The candlelight barely reached the other side, obscured by the layers of barrels and bottles. You blindly stumbled into the empty space, feeling a familiar, thrumming sensation.

Invisible strings tangled at your ankles as you pushed deeper into the darkness, the warm flicker of candlelight barely illuminating what lay within. There, in the centre of the room, stood a solitary chair—a simple wooden chair. The thrumming grew louder, your heart pulsating as you gaped down at it. Thick sailor ropes coiled tightly around each arm and leg, faded remnants of blood splattered across the cold stone floor beneath. The oppressive atmosphere seemed to close in around you, the air heavy with a sense of foreboding—

You jumped out of your skin as a hand rested on your shoulder. Bucky had followed you through the shelves. His eyes mirrored the unease that churned in your stomach, his face etched with a deep, troubled frown. You felt urged to speak up and console the man but you knew better than to fall into that trap. His presence was disturbingly comforting as if the dangerous gangster were not the apex predator in the room. All you could do was gape, tearing your vision away from the chair as you stumbled back a few paces. 

As quickly as you had found solace in the man, it was torn away. He stalked toward you, finger pointed as he jabbed it into your sternum. His eyes had glazed over, a thunderous rage taking shape. You sensed it was a defence mechanism, a way to intimidate you because you had seen something you weren’t supposed to—something that shocked even him.

“Not a word. You understand?” he hissed, his large, sculpted frame towering over you. You shrank back, your spine meeting the shelving, causing the moonshine bottles to clink together.

You knew what this place was. A hidden place. A forgotten place. A place where torture and death had been carried out. An echo from the past. A whisper on the wind that spoke the name George Barnes.

This was the kind of business Bucky kept meticulously hidden—a necessary evil shrouded in secrecy. Bodies were found only if he wanted to send a message. You were certain there were countless other hidden, unmarked graves. Bucky was too clever to be undone by a rogue body or misplaced trust. Every action he took was calculated to ensure it could never be traced back to the Smog Boys. Of course, everyone knew it was them, but legally proving their involvement was another matter. Despite the gang's reputation for being untouchable, the coppers constantly searched for any loophole to bring them down. Bucky's entire operation could unravel if the wrong person discovered incriminating evidence.

For all your understanding, The Pony Club was one of the few legitimate businesses under the Barnes name. If an enemy of the Smog Boys discovered a way to link this grim scene to the underground crime network Bucky managed? It could spell disaster. 

“Do you understand?” Bucky repeated, his voice dripping with venom. This was a side of him you had heard rumours of but had never witnessed yourself. This was the leader of the Smog Boys. This was the Bucky that made Sootstone cower.

You swallowed hard, nodding as you huddled against the shelves.

The gangster ran a hand through his hair in frustration. You could sense the conflict in his eyes as they darted between you and the chair. After rubbing his chin and jaw, he finally settled on resting a hand on your shoulder again, an oddly tender touch. His head dipped, and he muttered in your ear, “I need this ghost gone. Now, doll. I think it's best no one else sees my father’s handiwork.”

“I can—I can do that,” you stammered. The gangster gave you a slow nod, exhaled sharply, and then turned on his heels.

In the sudden emptiness, the thrumming in your ears became deafening, a relentless pulse that drowned out all other sounds. Your ears rang with a piercing intensity, and your breath quickened, coming in short, ragged gasps. The room seemed to close in around you, now suffocatingly tight. The walls pressed inward, and the air grew thick and heavy as if it were pushing against your chest. You felt an overwhelming sense of dread creeping into your bones, a cold, insidious fear that wrapped itself around your heart. Somewhere in the background of it all, Steve yelped. 

At first, you could not hear his distress, not over the noise in your head. It was only as Bucky paused by the narrow opening between the shelves, his eyes snapping to yours, that you heard Steve again—frantic shouts piercing through the deafening roar of a fire, overwhelming even the clamour in your head.

You move quicker than Bucky, darting through the shelves back into the candlelight.

Except it wasn’t the candlelight that lit the room in a blinding glow, but instead a figure engulfed in flame. You could make out bludged eyes and an agape mouth through the tendrils, which licked up the figure in a violent blaze. Steve was pinned with his back against one of the barrels as the figure, screaming and writhing, hurtled towards him.  

You hurry forward, positioning yourself between Steve and the burning figure. Steve grabbed your arm, pulling you closer as he shouted, "What the fuck?!"

The fiery figure hesitates, its swollen, bloodshot eyes flitting between Steve and you in confusion. Bucky had pulled what appeared to be a knife from his pocket and was circling the scene. Your brows furrow as you give him a puzzled look and free yourself from Steve's grip. 

“Put it away!” You bark over the roar. Bucky cocks his head to one side, both of you mutually surprised that you had found your voice. As you approach the figure, it retreats, the flames quickly extinguishing. Your ears ring as silence falls. The spirit has transformed into a black mass again, its shape twisting and jittering as it swings its gaze between the three of you. 

“It can read your memories. It feeds off fear and pain.” You explain to the two gangsters, hesitantly stepping forward once more. The spirit centres its eyes solely on you. “It shows you your darkest memories, the ones you've buried. It’s tryna scare you.” 

You do not dwell on whatever memory Steve was plagued by.

The spirit shifted once more, the dark mass disappearing into the shadows. You shallow your breath, quickly scanning the room before turning to Barnes. “The chair is the anchor. The spirit needs to be unbound.”

“And how do you do that?” He asks in reply, nostrils flaring. You step into the centre of the room, peering through the shelves into the dark space. Dread curled in your stomach as your eyes roamed the chair.

“I could destroy it or cleanse it—”

“Where's your mother, girl?” A familiar, slurred voice reverberated through the dimly lit room, sending shivers down your spine. Your entire body tensed, and your heart seemed to clench in your chest as a surge of fear momentarily halted you in your tracks. The acrid scent of alcohol mixed with the pungent odour of sweat hung heavy in the air. The heavy, unsteady footsteps of a large man reverberated over the stone floors.

“She’s sick.” A child's voice replied. Your voice. 

In front of you appeared a vivid scene. Your father, in a state of intoxication, stood before you. His body was angled in such a way that only the profile of his face was visible. His clothing was tattered, and the floors bore marks of mud and filth from his worn boots. His hair was dishevelled and sprinkled with ash, and his flushed face glistened with sweat. Facing him was a much younger version of yourself. You estimated her to be around eight years old, judging by the length of her hair and the ragged dress clinging to her emaciated frame. The child cowered against a door, her limbs trembling in fear.

“Sick? That damn woman is always sick. Get out of the way, girl, I need to speak with my wife.” Your father slurs, lurching forward. The child held steady, her back pressed defiantly against the door. 

“You can’t, she’s sleeping—”

A resounding crack echoed through the room as your father’s palm connected forcefully with her cheek. The impact sent her sprawling to the floor, a soft whimper escaping her lips as she fell. Tears shimmered in her wide, frightened eyes, reflecting the harsh light as they welled up and spilt over her cheeks. The room seems to hold its breath in the aftermath, the sharp sound of the slap lingering. 

“What’s this? Who’s that?” Steve spoke up from beside you. You had almost entirely forgotten that the two men were still in the cellar with you. Bucky watches on with morbid curiosity, but you do notice how the muscles in his jaw tighten. 

“A memory.” You mutter back. You urge your feet to move, but you feel as though you are wading through waist-deep water. 

“Some gall you have to be telling me what I can and can’t do in my own home, girl!” Your father charges through the door, his eyes wild and unseeing as he drunkenly stumbles over your younger self's frail body. Ignoring your cries, he leaves her sprawled on the floor, the door slamming shut with a jarring finality before she can react. Muffled shouting and screaming rise from beyond, chaos that drowns out her sobs. The child curls into a ball on the cold floor, trembling and sobbing as the shrieking grows louder. The walls thud and shake with the force of his rage, each violent sound echoing through the small room, amplifying the terror that grips her small frame.

“You’re not welcome here, spirit,” your voice cuts through the unfolding nightmare with unwavering authority. You can feel Bucky’s gaze burning into you, but you tilt your head defiantly. Momentarily sucked into the horror of it all, but now you stand unshaken. The scene pauses, and the child freezes in place as the shouting and banging abruptly stop. The spirit seems to contemplate your words, its image flickering before dissolving into a dark fog that settles in a dense layer across the stone floors. 

“I think destroying it would be easiest.” You mumble to the gangsters. Bucky’s lips were set in a fine line, his jaw still clenched, while Steve eyed you warily. “Burning it would be the best way.”

As if in response to your comment, the room burst to life once more. The two men stand on either side of you as if their curiosity is too much to dismiss as they realise it is another of your memories. 

This time, the version of you was older. A teenager. She perched on the edge of the docks, her legs dangling into the waters below. Next to her sits a boy roughly the same age. The two of them laugh and indulge in a shared bag of colourful, sugary treats.

“My dad keeps askin’ after you.” The boy says. Michael. Your gut twists. You knew what was to come. 

“I’m not joinin’ your dad’s weird cult.” She giggles, popping a boiled sweet into her mouth with a lopsided grin. Her hair was loose, uncaring as the breeze tangled it and ash fell from the skies. 

“He keeps goin’ on about how you’re some saviour—”

“Ew.” She replies, nose scrunching. The teen leans back on her palms with a sigh, looking across the docks. “You know me and my mum aren’t interested in that stuff. I’m not desperate like those other witches he tricks into joining. Frankly, I’m surprised you’ve held on this long, you’re what? Seventeen? Why don’t you just get a job in one of the factories and get the hell out of there?”

Michael appears displeased by her response. You had never previously noticed, despite replaying the memory in your mind numerous times. In the past, you believed you were being helpful, perhaps even clever. You could see the wrinkle of discomfort in the boy’s face now. You knew all too well that breaking free from his father's control was never as easy as moving out. You had been naive to believe that. Michael had not called you a fool, which was probably a small act of kindness on his part.  

“How’s your mum?” He asks, gaze cast to the side to look at the teen’s profile. She shrugs, sucking on the sweet in thought. 

“Still sick. We saw that healer in the Smokestacks, said he might be able to do somethin’ about it.”

“You know my family could help—”

The teen gives him an irritated look. “You know my mum doesn’t want your help. She doesn’t even want me hangin’ out with you.”

The tranquillity of the scene had captivated you to the point where you lost awareness of your surroundings. It was only the looming sense of dread for what was about to unfold, the feeling of Bucky's sleeve brushing against your arm, and the audible, sharp intake of breath from Steve that jolted you back to reality.

“Oi! Lookie here! It’s—” The shout of a copper was warbled as you strode forward, the memory rippling like a pool of water. 

You had to prevent what was about to happen. You couldn't let Bucky see how everything truly unfolded. You knew you should have stopped it before it went this far. You shouldn't have allowed yourself to get pulled into this memory. Yet, there was a bittersweet comfort in seeing him again, remembering him as he was before everything went so wrong.

“Probably shouldn’t burn it down here. Those barrels catch and this place will explode.” You mutter under your breath, trying to ignore the sickness churning in your stomach as you approach the chair. As you draw closer, your eyes catch the gruesome details etched into the wood. Dark, crusted blood is splattered across the seat, each fleck and smear a silent testament. Streaks of crimson have seeped into the grain, staining the wood in a macabre pattern. The iron tang of old blood hangs in the air, mixing with the musty dampness of the room. Your hair stands on end and your nerves tingle as a shiver runs down your spine. The closer you stand, the more uneasy energy pulses through you. Summoning your courage, you grip one of the chair's arms and yank with all your strength—only to find it bolted firmly to the floor. 

Your stomach drops. 

You needed to get the two men out of this cellar and defeat this spirit yourself. You couldn’t stand their gazes upon you, waiting expectantly. You roll your shoulders, twisting your neck as a tight, itching sensation settles over your skin. You weren’t afraid of the memories, but rather the reaction to them. You didn’t want sympathy. Most of all, you didn’t want to be feared—to be viewed as a weapon. 

You knew that was what the Smog Boys truly desired—a tool to complete their dirty work. 

The memory came to life around you once more, stronger and more vivid. Michael was sprawled on the floor, beaten and bloodied, his face a mess of bruises and cuts. The coppers, young and full of arrogance, stood above him, their laughter echoing in the confined space. They were eager to prove themselves, and they relished every moment of his suffering, laying blow after blow into his broken body. Their cackles filled the room, mingling with the sickening thuds of their fists and boots against his flesh. 

“Let me go!” Your head swivels as you look to the other side of the room. There, the teenage version of you is held back by two men with bruising grips, their hands digging painfully into her arms. Tears streamed down her face, carving glistening tracks through the grime and dust. Her eyes are wide with terror and helpless rage as she struggles and screams, her voice raw and desperate. The men restraining her exchange smirks, their expressions cold and indifferent to her anguish. The room seems to close in around you now, the walls reverberating with the echoes of her cries and the relentless thudding of blows landing on Michael. You were powerless, trapped in a living nightmare.

You needed to stop this—

There was a loud crunch, the agonising sound of bone snapping and shattering under a steel-toe boot. Michael has grown still, his body is no longer convulsing with pain. His face was unrecognisable—a grotesque mask of bruises and blood, the features obliterated by the relentless assault. His skull is misshapen, cracked open against the stone curb, a dark pool of blood is spreading beneath him.

Somewhere in the distance, the past version of you wails, a heart-wrenching sound that seems to come from the depths of her soul.

She was scrambling on her knees over the filthy streets, her body shaking with sobs as she gripped Michael’s lifeless form. Her fingers, trembling and desperate, searched for any sign of life, but you knew now that it was pointless. Michael was dead. He had died the moment they cracked his skull open. Blood smears her hands and clothes as she clings to him, her tears mixing with the grime on the ground.

She shakes his body, begging him to wake up. The coppers continue to snicker amongst themselves. They are unphased by the blood and flesh painted across their boots, their faces twisted in smug satisfaction. 

“That’s enough now.” You spoke up in the present, tone low and warning. The spirit hesitates, and the teen pauses, her body relaxing as the sobbing stops. Her head twists around, her eyes a milky white as she looks directly through you. 

“I know what you are.” The spirit spoke through the memory of you. Her gaze shifted to look at the coppers. Their figures are silent, but their shoulders shake with laughter, an amused indifference as they watch the suffering before them. “Spirit-raiser…diviner…light-bringer.”

Her eyes start to glow, a bright white that blinds the room. You know what is to come. You know what happens next. The shelves and barrels begin to rattle around you, and dust is stirred up into clouds. You could hear Steve swearing somewhere behind. Her sights move to the coppers, a knowing smirk fading into a cruel frown. Her hand raises into the air, fingers moving to snap—

Your hand has subconsciously raised. The ground trembles beneath you. It isn’t from the past; it is present. It was you at this exact moment, touching your fingers together. The ceiling above you groans, bottles of moonshine shattering across the floors as they fall. Behind you, Bucky and Steve yell over the commotion, calling to you. You can feel the crackle of electricity in the air and map every particle that flutters in the air. The chaos rises in your chest as you summon it forward. The crackle of energy grows higher and higher until the tingling sensation meets your fingertips. 

You snap your fingers, and a deafening crack echoes through the cellar. For a moment, everything grows still. Your body begins to glow, emitting a bright white light that fills the room, even stronger than the spirit's light. The intensity of it is blinding, obliterating every detail with a searing brilliance.

The room explodes around you. 

Bits of wood splinter, torn from their fixtures and launched through the air. Barrels explode with a thunderous roar, whiskey gushing out in torrents that splash and pool around your ankles, the potent scent of alcohol overwhelming your senses. The entire room shudders and rocks from the impact, the walls groaning under the strain. You were momentarily assaulted by the barrage of debris—sharp shards of shelving and glass raining down around you. Until Bucky grips you. Amid the chaos, he seizes your waist, pulling you into the shelter of his chest to shield you from the storm. 

Steve has vanished up the stairs, the floorboards above rattling with each of his hurried steps as the earth finally settles. The room falls into an eerie silence, the only sound being the gentle sloshing of liquor around your feet.

There is a large crack in the stone floor where the chair used to be. 

You pull yourself from Bucky’s grip rather unceremoniously, frowning as you pull shredded wood from your hair. The gangster eyes you cautiously, clearing his throat as he retreats backwards. “Are you gonna explain what that was?”

You were unsure what he was specifically referring to—whether it was the haunting memories or the raw power you had just unleashed. Regardless, you didn’t feel up to explaining either. A deep weariness had settled into your bones, your muscles aching from the exertion of channelling such immense energy. A thin trail of blood had begun to leak from your nose, the metallic taste of copper lingering as you absentmindedly licked your bottom lip in thought. 

You should not have done that. But they would have found out either way. 

Your fingers instinctively came up to rub your temple as you let out a sharp sigh of annoyance. With magic weariness came a tinge of irritation and snarkiness—it was a familiar companion after such displays of power. At that moment, you couldn't summon the will to care about how dangerous Bucky was or how he could ruin your life. All you craved was the simple comfort of lying down and perhaps indulging in a strong drink or two to ease the embarrassment of the situation.

Above, Madame Voss's shrill shrieks pierce through the ceiling, amplifying the headache pounding behind your skull. You knew the entire row of buildings would have felt the surge of energy you had just unleashed. One could only hope that the coppers wouldn’t investigate too closely into the disturbance.

Ignoring his previous question, you speak up. “You should invest in gettin’ your buildings properly cleansed.” 

Maybe that would make him and his men shut up about your faulty locks.

You go to walk away, but Bucky's firm grip on your forearm halts your movement, holding you back. His head cocks as he looks you up and down, his eyes sharp and calculating. “I don’t know much about magic, but I know witches don’t just summon shit like that out of thin air.”

If you were one of his dogs, your hackles would have raised, teeth bared. You look him down defiantly with a scowl. “Respectfully, Barnes, you don’t know shit about magic. I keep your secrets; you keep mine. That’s the deal, isn’t it?”

His lips curl into an astonished smirk, pleased as equally as he was stunned by your tone. His head dips down, his breath warm against your ear as he whispers, his voice a low murmur. “You know, doll, if you weren’t growing on me, I would have you killed for speaking to me like that.”

You could feel the warmth of his breath tickling against your skin, his proximity stirring a mix of emotions within you—wariness, curiosity, and a hint of something deeper that you couldn't quite define. You knew better than to let the boundaries between you blur. You give him a mocking pout, wrenching your arm from his grip. “I know you won’t kill me, if you wanted to kill me, I would be dead already. You’ve decided I’m valuable, haven’t you? Who would break your curses and scare away the skeletons in your closet? You must know that I’m not doing this out of the goodness of my heart. I don’t want to help you, we’re not friends.” 

His jaw tenses slightly as he processes your words, and his voice is flat as he speaks. “The most valuable thing a woman like you can offer is what’s between your legs. And you gave that up pretty easily.” 

His lips curl into a sneer. “I suppose the magic is a bonus. But I know you’re little more than a whore beneath it all.”

Several emotions flicker through your chest. Pain, frustration, disillusionment. You should have known better. You knew better. You don’t dignify the gangster with a response, instead turning on your heel to march out of the cellar. 

“I’ll have someone come fetch you when you’re next needed, spirit-raiser,” he calls after you, his tone mocking. 

You ascend the stairs without looking back.

PART THREE

[oro-kapi]

after god observations

so I've read After God 6 months ago but recently in October it just absolutely out of nowhere FULLY seized my hyperfixation to a level so intense I'm genuinely so startled. I haven't felt this normal about a piece of media in YEARS holy moly.

the English fandom is so miniscule so hella I was SO happy to find there's an After God tumblr corner. anyway first post, hello anyone who stumbles across these ramblings... warning this gets kinda rambly but it's just me being gushy about the series.

abt me I don't actually frequent tumblr that much, I'm kinda new in terms of experience, although I just have some social anxiety over talking about things I like publicly so I hope this sideblog gives me a little bit of strength talking to the void. I need a place where I can go INSANE over this series anyway WAHOO!! maybe will also post fanart in the future also, maybe!

there seems to be a much larger fanbase in Japan (mangaplus/urasunday where the original Japanese is posted gets hundreds of comments as opposed to English's official publisher on comikey. albeit I don't think comikey's the best at making it accessible either). Mangaplus/urasunday do post the latest 1-2 After God chapters for free on the website btw for folks who like to read ahead. Unfortunately anything before the latest 2 chapters is region-locked to the app and I don't really want to bother trying to figure out how to get it but that's what I'm mostly aware of.

I've seen some mixed reviews in the English side, though there's only a handful really out there, but most times I feel people are missing the point!!!! AHHHHHH!!!

when I first read the series 6 months ago, I didn't think of it that much except it shared some similar ideas to my own existing original work I thought would be cool to draw some inspiration off of. I'm honestly not really sure what happened in october, but I think it started because I gave it a second reread. And SO MUCH suddenly clicked. I didn't skim the dialogue as much and began to reexamine scenes and panels with the foresight of the later chapter events. And I fell absolutely in love. preordered and got the first volume in english on release date yippee!!

the first volume or chapters 1-8 is admittedly pretty much an exposition dump, but I think that rough start is kinda to be expected for most series trying to get a reader hooked into a new world. chapters 9-20 are really where things start kicking. It leads you to think Kamikura Waka is shounen-type protagonist like one chosen hero vs the big threat, but then breaks down into a more raw, mature look at the complicated lives of normal people who're just trying to survive, find their own happiness, and fight threats they only somewhat comprehend.

are IPOs really that different from humans? But not in the sense "humans are worse and gods are better" or "humans are better and gods are worse", but in the sense that "we're all equally messy in the same way, just trying to exist because that's all we know what we want to do."

I feel it's a story that needs to be read with the attempt to understand the characters as people with layers of contradiction and their relationships with one another. That's where so much of the meat and the weight of After God comes from for me, and many of these "this was disappointing" reviews don't really seem to even notice that part at all or tend to be confused why the characters act the way they do.

/// spoilers ahead!! talking about some of my observations and thoughts

I can't really remember where it was if there was a more explicitly stated spot that Ahu'az takes the form of what people see as most beautiful (at this point I'm wondering if I'm hallucinating this up oh god). Closest thing with the implication this is the case is in Chapter 34 when Yako/Furuya asks "what form did the God Ahu'az take for you?"

if this is the case though and it changes from person to person's perspective... then oh all the more tragic when Shion went to see Ahu'az and saw Waka/Alu'la as her most beautiful person.... DOOMED YURI, FUCK

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obikawa saying "wow it's cooler here than I expected" back in chapter 9 really gets a new perspective when you apply the later reveal how IPOs are basically born

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silly thing to wonder about, did the florescent banana tee Obikawa gave Tokinaga somehow become the saving grace that stopped him from getting eaten lol?

he is such a loser (affectionate) though like TOKINAGA YOU'RE LITERALLY 10 STEPS AWAY FROM YOUR HOUSE YOU CAN GET CHANGED!!

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Tokinaga talks about being afraid of bathtubs chapter 17, and then on a reread I noticed he is standing in front of a bathtub in chapter 3. what kind of hell happened to you my guy omfg

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I know that damn Default CSP Rubble Asset when I see it!!!!

pattern recognition throws me out of the loop a lot I work on comics in CSP as well and now I don't read webcomics the same way anymore oops. right off here I think it's pretty safe to determine After God was drawn in CSP; assets can't really be converted to other programs.

more CSP assets I recognized:

this hatching brush for the outline of Tokinaga here is ベタ線新 from this set

Nayuu's tree branches are from this set

and I'm pretty sure the water here is from this blood set, which might appear elsewhere a few times (i see these shapes in my dreams. this blood set haunts me so bad)

to be clear this isn't a critique or "using assets is bad" at all. normal readers are not going to notice these things. (in which i'm not normal i study Eno's art so intensely because i admire it so much). when making comics or other repetitively drawn works, artists will take shortcuts and should absolutely take shortcuts. it's just neat to share what tools were used for those curious!

off topic on the topic of csp if anyone would like the link, she's shared the brush she made for drawing Vollof here too!

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I can't freaking imagine how it feels to have your beloved friend melt away on your lap between your fingers like that unholy

if you squint much, you can make out both Yoriko and Tokinaga overlaid in the speech bubble, though I'm not sure what the next one really says

but ahfjhfgifgh!!! the book being animal anatomy is such a stab in the leg cherry on top

(and it's probably an art error but tokinaga's pinky is back/weirdly has a solid shape there instead of it being flabby glove. wani asks how did tokinaga get there before he and yoriko so silly weird theory its tokinaga from a different time iterative loop? wonky. probably still an art error though)

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so how did Alu'la get "reincarnated" within a human? How does an IPO get reincarnated at all? We've seen orokapi needed to eat a human to become a specific human. Alu'la definitely didn't eat a human.

We hear from Orokapi he drank seawater mixed with sewage and gained the intelligence that way. Closest I could think of are the microbiota that make up an IPO and their abilities. Maybe Waka's parents or Waka drank shit water of the sort and got the microbiota inside her that way or idfk

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Thanks Tokinaga for the "uses chopsticks to eat everything" rep 🔥🔥

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i'll leave you on that this is getting too long AHHAAHAJF thanks for reading, hope you got something cool out of this post! :]