#maybe i'll repurpose them soon

[patch-ie]

i'm currently playing persona 3 reload - once again, i'm grimly reminded there's no femc who'll romance them :')

childhood friends captivated by the same girl

[artficlly]

smog & spirits: eye for an eye (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, smut, p n v, unprotected sex, table sex, light fingering, hair pulling, begging, past wounds, physical violence, angst, wound description, threats, some fluff, protective bucky, bucky barnes had issues, criminals & crime, 1920s street gangs, witchcraft, vaguely british setting??, no use of y/n, lmk if i've missed anything

Word Count: 5.8k

A/N: hi!! i spent all of jan doing my 50k word challenge on the daughter of rotsál first draft, but i thought i'd take these first few days of feb to update this fic! i also released a smutty/fluffy oneshot called sweatpea you should check out! my birthday and uni is coming up soon so i'm gonna try squeeze in some more work on the daughter of rotsál draft before that and maybe one more update / another one-shot but i'll see how i go! anyway, enjoy this is a spicy one! sorry for any typos - not proof read.

taglist: @nash-dara @sebastians-love permanent taglist: @globetrotter28

main masterlist | series masterlist

The shipment warehouse was a vast, hollowed-out space. Shadows stretched long beneath the dim, hanging bulbs. The scent of aged wood, alcohol, and rust lingered in the air, the faint remnants of the whiskey that passed through here on its way to buyers. Though mostly empty, clusters of wooden crates were stacked against the far walls, some sealed, others pried open to reveal their glass cargo, bottles of dark amber liquid reflecting the weak light. Scattered metal production tables dotted the floor, their surfaces scratched and stained from years of work. These were the stations where workers packed the shipments, but now, the tables sat abandoned, save for one.

At the centre of the warehouse, in front of one of the tables, three men sat bound to chairs. Rope bit into their flesh, tight enough that their fingers were already turning an ugly shade of blue. The table before them had been repurposed for something far crueller than packaging liquor. A collection of weapons lay across its surface—blades, hammers, pliers, each one arranged with careful deliberation. 

By the main entrance, Steve and Sam stood guard, their figures solid and unmoving, you eyed them cautiously as you passed through the threshold. They didn’t quite meet your eye, and you wondered if they could hear the deafening pulse that roared in your ears. The cold night air filtered in through the open doors behind them, a scattering of ash decorating the stone floor.

Bucky entered beside you, his steps slow and deliberate. But you could feel the unspoken tension rolling off him in waves. His fists clenched and unclenched at his sides, his shoulders squared rigidly, his jaw tight. The walk over from the Sootline had been silent, even if you could practically feel the heat of rage radiating off him. He didn’t seem eager to talk to you, even if his gaze would occasionally flicker to you to make sure you still followed along behind him. Maybe he feared he would find judgment in your eyes because he never held them for long.

“Bucky—” You called out softly, but the gangster shied away from your touch, the fabric of his sleeve slipping through your fingers. 

He strode forward, each step heavy, his boots striking against the stone with a slow, deliberate rhythm that sent a shiver down your spine. The sound echoed through the warehouse, filling it like a countdown ticking. You knew him. You had to remind yourself of that. You knew this man—the sharp edges of his cruelty, the weight of his fury, the way violence coiled beneath his skin like a second nature. You knew him intimately; you had felt the warmth of his breath, the roughness of his hands, and the steel of his will.

And yet, in this moment, he felt distant. Unreachable.

Even if he was angry, even if he had been cold and dismissive, his rage was not aimed at you. This was because of you. Because of what happened. The thought should have been comforting, a reassurance that you were not in his path and that his wrath had a different target. And yet, the knowledge did little to ease the weight pressing against your bruised ribs; it didn’t stop the breath from hitching in your throat as you took in the scene before you.

You were safe. You knew that.

But safety did nothing to silence the unease creeping through your veins.

The Iron Rats reacted the moment Bucky neared them. Two of them shrank back, their chairs creaking as they futilely tried to recoil from him. Their eyes darted between Bucky and the weapons on the table, their breath coming in quick, ragged gasps. One of them had already begun to tremble, his lips forming silent prayers, his body betraying him as he shook against the restraints.

But the third man—the one at the end—was different. He didn’t cower, didn’t flinch. He simply stared ahead, eyes hollow, his expression unreadable. It was as if he had already accepted whatever was coming and made peace with the inevitable. 

“Barnes.” You snapped louder this time, voice clipped. The gangster paused his movements, not even turning to look back as he raised his hand, silencing you with a raise of his index finger.

“I was considerin’ if the bird needed to see this.” He finally broke his silence, voice low with a dangerous edge. “But I think she needs’a understand, don’t ya think?” 

His hand struck forward, grasping one of the cowering men’s chins, forcing his head to look in your direction. You could tell his grip was bruising, even from a distance, the skin around his thumb growing white at the pressure. “She needs’a understand what happens to dirty fuckin’ rats that come crawling into my territory.”

Bucky released the man with a sharp shove, and the Iron Rat nearly sobbed in relief, his chair rocking back violently from the force. His breath hitched, his chest rising and falling in shallow gasps. Bucky barely spared him a glance. Instead, he dragged his fingers down the front of his suit jacket in one broad stroke as if ridding himself of the filth he had just touched. 

Then, without looking, he reached for the table, his fingers curling around the worn handle of a butcher’s knife. The blade was thick and heavy, meant to cleave through bone as quickly as meat. As he lifted it, it scraped against the metal tabletop, the sound sharp and grating—final.

Bucky turned to you, his fingers curling around the handle, weighing it in his grip like an executioner deliberating his next stroke. His gaze pinned you in place.

“Left or right, doll?”

The question landed like a punch to the gut.

“What?” You stammered back in response.

“Left or right?” His voice was eerily steady, too casual for the brutality hanging in the air. It was as if he were asking you to pick a wine for dinner, not deciding which limb would be lost. Your throat tightened. The Iron Rats were barely breathing, one whimpering, his chair creaking under his tremors.

You forced your voice to work. “Barnes, don’t you think we’ve caused enough damage?”

You knew you'd made a mistake the second the words left your lips.

Bucky’s head snapped towards you, his jaw ticking, something dark and dangerous flickering behind his eyes. The shift in him was immediate, electric. He abandoned the bound man without hesitation, closing the space between you in a few sharp strides. Your pulse stuttered.

He was on you in seconds, looming, his presence suffocating. You turned your head instinctively as his breath fanned hot across your cheek, but there was no escaping him.

“No.”

The single word was like a hammer shattering stone.

“We ‘aven’t caused nearly enough damage after what they did.” His voice, low and venomous, left no room for argument. His free hand clenched at his side, fingers twitching with barely contained rage. “You think I’m gonna let these filthy fuckin’ rats walk away after puttin’ their hands on you? Huh? After hurtin’ you right under my fuckin’ nose?”

Your breath caught, your ribs tightening under the weight of his fury. He leant in, close enough that his lips nearly brushed your ear. His words were a vow, a sentence carved in stone when he spoke next. “You’re under my protection. Mine. You’re mine. So fuckin’ choose, doll. Left or right?”

Your stomach twisted. The Iron Rats were silent, frozen, waiting for your answer as if it were their final prayer. You swallowed.

“…Right.”

The corner of Bucky’s mouth curled, but there was no warmth in it. It was a razor-sharp thing, all teeth and no kindness. His eyes gleamed with something feverish, something manic.

“Good girl,” he purred. The praise was smooth, almost sweet, but his grip on the knife tightened, knuckles whitening around the handle. And then he turned. The Iron Rat barely had time to process what was happening before Bucky moved.

The butcher’s knife came down in a single, brutal arc.

A sickening crack filled the warehouse as steel met flesh and bone, followed by a scream so raw, so agonised, it turned your stomach. The man convulsed against his restraints, his bound arms jerking wildly, but there was nowhere to go.

Blood splattered across the metal tabletop, dark and glistening. It pooled. Dripped and painted the concrete floor beneath him. His severed hand tumbled to the ground with a dull thud, fingers twitching uselessly in the growing puddle of red.

Bucky barely spared the carnage a glance. “You touched her,” he said coldly, voice devoid of sympathy. 

“So I took your fuckin’ hand.” He tilted his head, considering the sobbing, writhing man before him. “Consider it generous that I ain’t takin’ both.”

The Iron Rat howled, his body convulsing. Tears streamed down his face, his cries dissolving into choked, incoherent pleas for mercy. Bucky wasn’t listening. He wiped the blade clean against his sleeve, smearing crimson across the dark fabric like a war trophy. Then, slowly, he turned to the second man, pointing the stained blade at him.

“Your turn.”

The second Iron Rat thrashed in his chair, his breath coming in short, panicked gasps. His eyes, wild with terror, darted between Bucky and the ruined stump of the first man. Blood still poured from the wound, pooling beneath the chair, seeping into the cracks of the warehouse floor. The stench of it—sharp, metallic, raw—hung thick in the air.

“Please,” he sobbed. “Please, I—I didn’t even—”

Bucky slammed a heavy hand down on his shoulder, silencing him with a violent jolt. The Iron Rat flinched, chest heaving, tears streaming down his dirt-streaked face. Bucky turned to you again, the knife glinting under the dim warehouse lights.

“Left or right?”

Your fingers curled into your palms, nails digging deep enough to leave crescent moons in your skin, but the sting barely registered. Your mind screamed at you, an urgent, panicked voice clawing at the edges of your thoughts. Stop this. Say something. Tell him it’s enough.

But you didn’t.

Because you knew the truth now, Bucky wouldn’t listen. Any sense of cold calculation had snapped within him, as if his father himself had possessed his body. His blood was up, his fury ran red-hot and unchecked. Reason was a foreign concept to him in this moments, swallowed whole by vengeance and violence.

Your breath felt thin as you watched him, as you remembered what was left of Varlan Crey. The Rat King, so smug, so untouchable, had been brought to his knees. Felled not by magic or blades, but by the sheer, unrelenting wrath of Bucky Barnes. He had survived, maybe by the hand of a small mercy. Or maybe just dumb luck. Because you had seen it—the flicker of real, unguarded fear in Crey’s eyes. The raw understanding that, for the first time, he had stood at the very edge of death and only barely stepped back in time.

You swallowed, throat dry as dust. “Left.”

A shuddering breath left the Iron Rat, some final, pitiful sound before—

Bucky moved.

The blade came down hard.

The crack of severed bone and the wet, visceral tear of flesh split through the warehouse. The man’s scream ripped through the air, raw and broken, his body jerking violently against the chair. Blood sprayed across the table, warm and thick, dripping onto the floor. His severed hand landed with a sickening slap, fingers twitching before they went still.

Bucky tightened his grip on the man’s shoulders, keeping him from toppling the chair over as he convulsed in agony. He wiped the blade again, slow and deliberate, his gaze flicking to the last Iron Rat—the one who hadn’t made a sound.

The man met Bucky’s eyes with an eerie, empty calm.

No trembling. No pleading. Just quiet resignation.

A slight, bitter smile played at the edges of his lips as he tilted his head, gesturing to his left hand, which was secured against the arm of the chair. A soldier offering himself to the executioner.

Bucky exhaled sharply, amused. “Good choice.”

And then he brought the knife down.

The man grunted as the blade severed flesh and bone in one clean stroke, but he didn’t scream. His body twitched, stiffening against the pain, but he bit it down. His severed hand dropped onto the table this time, fingers curling inward, as if gripping something unseen. Blood seeped from the wound, a slow, steady stream.

Bucky studied him for a moment, almost impressed.

Then, satisfied, he tossed the knife onto the table with a dull clang. The first two Iron Rats were still crying, writhing, staring at their stumps like they could somehow undo what had been done. The third just slumped in his chair, pale and shaking, but silent.

“I think I should take an eye next, for even lookin’ at you. What’d you think, doll?” Exhaustion lay heavy in your bones as your eyes fluttered shut briefly. Bucky was upon you again, his gaze softer now, the fury still burning beneath the surface but tempered. He reached for you, his bloodied fingers grazing your arm in a touch that was meant to be comforting. “Eye for an eye, after all.”

“I don’t…” You stammered but leant into his touch by default. Steve and Sam had adverted their eyes, their expressions unreadable as they pressed their lips into a line. 

“I’ll choose for ya, how’s that sound, doll?” He rubbed a bloodied thumb across your cheek. You looked up at him through your lashes, hoping something in your eyes could pull him away. But his eyes settled on the faded split in your lip, and his gaze hardened. “They have to pay.”

Bucky stalked off towards the array of weapons displayed along the table once more. The knife he chose gleamed under the dim light, and Bucky tested the edge against his thumb. A single bead of red welled up but he paid it no mind. His attention was elsewhere—on the trembling man before him, the one still staring at his bleeding stump, breath hitching in raw, animalistic terror.

“Please,” the Iron Rat sobbed, voice wet, desperate. “Please, Barnes, I can’t—I—”

Bucky exhaled through his nose, rolling his shoulders like the weight of their begging was nothing more than an inconvenience. His hand was steady, practiced, as he tapped the knife tip against the man’s chin, tilting his face up.

“Didn’t fuckin’ ask for pleas,” he murmured, voice eerily even. “Left or right?”

The man shuddered violently. He turned slightly, eyes flicking to you as though you could save him as if you had any say. You swallowed, your tongue thick and useless, pinned in place by the weight of Bucky’s presence and the inevitability of what came next.

When no answer came, Bucky clicked his tongue, shaking his head.

“Left it is.” The knife sank into the man’s left eye in a swift, brutal motion. A high and raw shriek tore through the room, sending a shudder through your bones.

You flinched, but only slightly. The movement barely registered.

You had seen Bucky covered in blood before, had seen him like this before—violent, efficient, merciless. Yet you had also seen him in moments far removed from this carnage.

You had watched him bleed and had pressed your hands to his wounds to keep him from slipping away. You had felt his warmth seeping between your fingers, his breath shallow but steady as he let you take care of him. He had trusted you then, let you see him vulnerable when he could have just as easily pushed you away.

He had defended you against the Rat King, standing between you and the man who had wanted to carve you apart. If it hadn’t been for him, would you have been at the mercy of the Iron Rats? Tied to a chair like the three men before you? There had been no hesitation in him then, just like there was none now. And it was all for you.

The thought made your stomach tighten, but not in fear. Not entirely.

Bucky wiped the knife clean on the Iron Rat’s pant leg, a simple, thoughtless movement, and turned to the last man. The final Iron Rat had been silent the entire time, watching the carnage with eerie detachment. Even now, as the scent of blood thickened the air and his fallen comrades moaned and sobbed, his expression barely shifted. He only blinked, slow and deliberate, as Bucky approached.

“Ya know what I’m gonna ask,” Bucky said, voice quieter this time.

A pause.

Then, a small sigh.

“Right,” the man murmured, resigned.

Something flickered in Bucky’s expression—curiosity, maybe. Approval. He didn’t make him wait. The blade sank deep, and though the Iron Rat tensed, his breath hitching sharply, he made no sound. Blood welled, thick and dark, spilling down his cheek, but he simply slumped against the restraints, his ruined eye weeping crimson.

Bucky lingered, staring at him, head tilted slightly. Considering. Perhaps even disappointed.

Bucky only clicked his tongue before turning back to you. The shift was subtle but immediate. The hardness in his expression softened, his eyes no longer carrying the cold fury he had wielded so effortlessly moments before. His hand, still warm despite the blood smeared across his fingers, reached for you, grazing your waist.

“See, doll?” he murmured. “Now they know.”

Your breath caught.

You should have felt horror. Revulsion. But instead, as you looked at him—his jaw speckled with blood, his chest rising and falling evenly, the fire still smouldering behind his eyes—you felt something else entirely. Something that made your fingers twitch, something that made your chest tighten.

Maybe, just maybe, this was more than just lust.

You weren’t sure whether that should’ve terrified you.

But at that moment, staring up at him, your heart still pounding, you weren’t sure you cared.

—

Bucky quickly issued his orders: everyone was to leave but you. Sam and Steve moved without hesitation, grabbing a bloodied, barely conscious Iron Rat by the scruff of their necks and dragging them towards the exit. The metallic scent of blood lingered in the cold warehouse air, thick and rich, settling into your lungs with each breath.

Bucky didn’t watch them leave.

He stood with his back turned, broad shoulders taut, tension coiling through his body like a predator still primed for the kill. His suit jacket lay discarded on the blood-splattered table. The sleeves of his crisp white shirt were rolled to his elbows, the fabric marred with streaks of red. His hands—still wet with it—hung at his sides, fingers twitching slightly as if the violence hadn’t yet left his system.

You hesitated before moving, carefully stepping past the grotesque remnants of severed hands littering the floor. You focused on him instead, on the way his body seemed stretched too tight like he was waiting for another enemy to appear from the shadows.

Slowly, cautiously, you reached out, smoothing a hand over his forearm. The muscles beneath your fingers were rigid but warm, his pulse steady despite the chaos he’d unleashed.

“You showed them your hand,” you murmured, your voice soft and testing. “What will you do now?”

Your fingers traced a slow path up his arm, featherlight over the muscle, following the curve of his shoulder. When he didn’t pull away, you grew bolder, stepping around him until you stood before him. His face was speckled with blood; the scarlet splattered across his jaw and streaked along the bridge of his nose. His blue eyes, cold and unreadable just moments ago, stirred—just barely—as they settled on you.

“They needed to be taught a lesson,” he said simply, his voice still edged with the lingering embers of rage. A repetition of the words he’d spoken before.

You sighed through your nose, your hands splaying across his chest. His shirt was warm beneath your touch, the steady rise and fall of his breath grounding you. You pressed yourself flush against him, seeking—what? Comfort? Reassurance? An answer you weren’t sure you wanted?

“Yes,” you conceded, your voice quieter now, steadier. “But you’ve shown ‘em your hand.” 

Your fingers curled slightly into the fabric, gripping him, holding him there with you. “You’ve told ‘em another woman is close to you—other than your sister. One that commands enough of your attention for you to do this.”

His eyes flickered with amusement. “Ya scared, doll?”

“No.” The answer was immediate, instinctive—but the certainty of it wavered, even in your own mind. Was that really the truth? “I just want to understand why you’d expose a weakness like that.”

He snorted softly, his bloodstained hands coiling around your waist, holding you there. His grip was firm and possessive but not forceful. There was no threat in his touch, only something else, something deeper, something that made your stomach twist.

For a brief moment, you allowed yourself to hope. Maybe he would finally say something—something real. Something sweet. He always left you with vague declarations of ownership and lust.

Because he cared, he had to—right? No man would do what he had done tonight if he didn’t care. No man would make a spectacle of his violence, an open display of his wrath for the sake of a woman if she meant nothing? He had carved his rage into flesh and blood for you and left a message in the ruined bodies of those men. You mattered to him.

Didn’t you?

But when he finally spoke, his words weren’t what you wanted.

“You have your worth, spirit-raiser.”

A flicker of disappointment bloomed in your gut. You could have pulled away. Should have, maybe. But you didn’t because you needed something from him: reassurance, protection. Proof that he would stand between you and whatever enemies would inevitably come for you now that he had placed you in the centre of this war.

Perhaps tonight had been proof enough.

Conflict and confusion pressed heavily in your chest, warring with the heat between you.

Fuck Becca’s warnings.

There was something here, wasn’t there?

Your hand slid up, fingers ghosting over the rough stubble of his jaw. You cradled his face, pulling him closer. His breath was warm, tinged with the faint scent of whiskey and blood, and for a moment, you hesitated—just a moment—before pressing your lips to his.

Bucky responded instantly, like a man starved, his eager hands gripping your waist with a bruising intensity as if grounding himself in your presence. A sharp wince pricked at your ribs, but the hunger in his kiss quickly drowned it out. His lips moved against yours with fervour, rough and consuming, parting only to let his tongue sweep into your mouth, claiming and demanding. You melted into him, your body yielding beneath his, heat pooling low in your stomach as his touch ignited something primal in you.

He moved with purpose, guiding you backwards. His hands were restless, roaming up your spine, fingers slipping beneath the fabric of your blouse, searching, craving skin. The cool air kissed your exposed flesh as he fumbled with your buttons, the urgency in his touch making his movements clumsy. You gasped into his mouth, the sound swallowed by his kiss as your own hands wandered lower, gliding down the firm planes of his chest. The taut muscle beneath his white collared shirt flexed beneath your palms, solid and unyielding.

His breath hitched slightly as you dragged your nails over the crisp fabric, feeling the faint thrum of his heartbeat beneath. You felt the shudder in his body as your fingers found the buttons of his vest, slipping them free with deliberate ease. Bucky’s hands found your breasts, moulding the soft flesh through your brassiere with a rough, needy grip, his thumbs sweeping over the peaks in slow, teasing circles. Your head tipped back, a breathy sigh escaping your lips as heat coursed through you.

The vest was discarded in a swift motion, tossed aside without care, and before you could fully react, Bucky’s strong hands lifted you effortlessly, hoisting you onto the cold metal of the production table. The chill of it sent a shiver through your body. Still, the heat between you and him was overwhelming, obliterating any thought. His body pressed between your legs, the hard line of him nestling against you through the fabric of your skirts.

His mouth devoured yours again, possessive and unrelenting, his teeth catching your bottom lip in a sharp, fleeting bite before his tongue soothed the sting. You whimpered quietly into his mouth. Clinging to him, fingers tangling in his hair, tugging just enough to earn a low groan from deep within his chest. His thumb grazed over your nipple, teasing through the lace, and your breath hitched.

The world beyond this moment ceased to exist. There was only Bucky—his touch, his breath, his desire pressed into your skin like a brand. And you welcomed it. Welcomed him.

You could already feel the hard length of him, pressing insistently against your inner thigh through the layers of fabric. His heat was unmistakable, searing even through the barrier of clothing, and a shiver rolled through you. The anticipation was unbearable. You reached for his belt, fingers nimble and eager—

But Bucky chuckled, low and deep, knocking your hands away with an easy flick of his wrist. His pupils were blown wide, dark pools of hunger that drank you in as you leant back on your elbows, your body sprawled out before him. His lips were swollen, slick with the mingled taste of you both, his breath warm against your skin. Your chest heaved, one breast exposed where he had tugged it free from your brassiere, the cool air sending a shiver through you.

“Greedy, ain’t ya?” he murmured, voice thick with amusement, but his touch was anything but teasing. His hand slid beneath the heavy fabric of your skirt, fingers dragging up the sensitive skin of your inner thigh. You barely had time to process the sensation before he grabbed the delicate waistband of your tap pants and tore them down your legs, the lace rasping against your skin as he wrenched them past your ankles and boots.

The discarded scrap of fabric landed somewhere on the warehouse floor, forgotten. His hands were already on you again, possessive, insatiable. You let out a low groan, head falling back as he trailed a digit through your wet slit, humming in delight as he found you already dripping with desire. “Don’t need an arousal potion for this, do we?”

You ignored his quip, instead wrapping your legs around his waist. He chuckled at you, rewarding your eagerness by pressing one of his digits into your cunt. You clenched around him with a whimper, hips rocking as you internally begged for more friction. 

“Let me hear your noises, doll.” Bucky commanded, his spare hand trailing up your thigh. You whined softly, bucking your hips once more in a silent plea. The gangster smirked down at you, pressing a second digit into you as you squirmed beneath him. 

“Please, Bucky.” You mewled, pulling him closer with the legs hooked around his back. He obliged, slowly pumping his fingers in and out. You could hear the squelching of your wetness, your body shuddering with impatience at the leisurely pace. 

“You want more?” He purred, teasing you with a quick flick of your clit with his thumb. You clenched around him involuntarily, a breathy gasp leaving your mouth as pleasure rocked up your spine, a new wave of electricity flooding your gut. 

You pushed yourself up, hands grasping his broad shoulders, fingers digging into the firm muscle beneath his shirt as you pulled your bodies flush. The heat of him seeped into you, intoxicating, overwhelming. Your mouth found the column of his throat, breath hitching as you pressed open-mouthed kisses to his exposed skin. His pulse thrummed beneath your lips, quick and heavy, and you traced it with your tongue, savouring the salt of his skin.

Bucky let out a sharp exhale as you dragged your mouth along his adam’s apple, teeth grazing over the sensitive flesh before sucking a bruise into his neck. His grip on your thigh tightened, fingers digging in hard enough to leave marks, but you didn’t care. You wanted them. You wanted him to brand himself into your skin the way he had branded himself into your mind.

“Please,” you breathed against his ear, voice hushed, desperate. Your tongue flicked along the shell, teasing, before you nipped at his earlobe, letting your teeth catch just enough to make him groan. “I need you inside me.”

The words sent a shudder through him, a growl vibrating deep in his chest. “Turn around, bend over the table. Now.”

Your head tilted, temple resting against the firm plane of his shoulder as you gazed up at him, your breath uneven. His fingers twitched inside you, a steady rhythm still building, each pump igniting a slow, unbearable heat in your core. A sharp gasp left your lips as pleasure twisted through you, your body tensing in response.

“My ribs—” you managed to gasp, wincing as the dull ache reminded you of your bruises.

Bucky stilled for a moment, a flicker of something soft crossing his face, a rare moment of tenderness blooming between the two of you. His breath was warm against your cheek as he considered your words, his free hand smoothing over your hip as though grounding you.

“You’ll be fine,” he murmured, low and reassuring, though the husk of his voice betrayed his restraint. “I’ll try to be gentle.”

Gentle. A rare promise from a man like him.

Then, just as quickly as he had stilled, he withdrew. A wet heat lingered in the absence of his fingers, and you shuddered, your walls clenching around nothing. A soft whimper escaped before you could stop it, your body betraying the ache of emptiness. You unhooked your legs from around his waist, knees wobbling as you moved, turning yourself around atop the table.

The cold metal kissed your stomach as you laid your front flat against it, one breast still bare from where he had pulled the fabric away. A shuddering breath left you, anticipation thick in your veins as you braced yourself against the surface, your hips lining up with the edge.

Behind you, you heard the sharp metallic clink of his belt buckle, followed by the slow rasp of leather sliding free. The head of his cock pressed against your slick opening, teasing but not quite entering. You whined into the table as his large hands stroked up the back of your thighs, gripping the flesh. 

“So wet,” he muttered. His voice was thick with hunger as he pushed your skirts up, bunching the fabric around your waist, leaving you utterly exposed to him. His hands trailed down, calloused palms smoothing over the curve of your ass before he spread you open, admiring the slick evidence of your need. “So good for me, huh, doll?”

A desperate whimper left you, your body shivering under his touch. You pressed your folded forearms beneath your chest, arching your back in an attempt to save your bruised ribs from the unforgiving metal table.

Then, at last, he pressed into you.

A gasp tore from your throat, your body instinctively tensing as he stretched you open. The intrusion was thick and slow, overwhelming at first, your cunt clenching down against the pressure of him. Your teeth sank into the flesh of your thumb, muffling the choked moan that threatened to spill free. Bucky cursed under his breath, withdrawing just enough before easing back in, working you open with slow, deliberate strokes.

“Ya like this, don’t ya?” His voice was low and strained, his grip tightening on your hips as he pinned you in place. The firm drag of him inside you sent sparks of heat flooding through your veins. “Like me claimin’ you? Like knowin’ I’d fuckin’ tear through them bastards just to keep ya safe?”

A broken moan left you, your body trembling against the metal. Your fingers curled into fists, nails biting into your palms as he set a steady rhythm, each thrust pressing you further against the table. The slick, filthy sounds of your bodies moving together filled the empty warehouse, the echo of skin meeting skin mixing with your ragged breaths.

Bucky groaned, his hands wrapping around your hips as he rocked into you harder, deeper, pulling you back onto him with every thrust. Your mind swam, the bruising grip of his fingers the only thing tethering you to reality.

“Tell me, doll.” His voice was rough, a demand wrapped in silk and sin. His hips snapped forward, driving into you so deep it left you gasping. “Tell me how much you want this.”

“Please—” The word came out in a small, needy sob, your voice trembling as pleasure coiled tight in your belly.

Bucky growled, a deep, guttural sound. One of his hands abandoned your waist, sliding up the length of your back before tangling in your hair. His fingers twisted into the strands, yanking your head back with a sharp tug. A strangled moan burst from your lips, your back arching instinctively. Your nails scraped against the metal table, searching for purchase as he fucked into you harder, faster.

The steady, brutal rhythm of his hips grew relentless. Each thrust sent shockwaves of pleasure up your spine. A filthy symphony of desperate moans, ragged breathing, and the wet, obscene sounds of him driving into you echoed. Bucky groaned, the sound low and primal as he chased his release. His grip on your hip was vice-like, anchoring you in place as he pounded into you without mercy. You could only hope Sam and Steve weren’t lingering nearby to hear the sinful chorus of your pleasure.

A sharp cry tore from your throat as your body tensed, pleasure spiking hot and fast through your veins. Your legs trembled beneath you, knees nearly buckling as your orgasm coiled, threatening to snap.

Then he tugged your hair again, the sting mingling with the pleasure in a dizzying rush, and you came undone.

Your cunt clenched around his cock, a strangled moan ripping from your lips as your body spasmed beneath him. Stars burst behind your eyelids, pleasure flooding through you in rolling waves. Wetness dripped down your inner thighs, evidence of your release slicking his length as he fucked you through the aftershocks.

Bucky let out a deep, shuddering moan, his hips stuttering as he followed you into bliss. His grip on you tightened, his cock pulsing as he spilt inside you, filling you with hot, thick ropes of cum. He kept thrusting, his movements growing erratic, chasing the last remnants of pleasure as he wrung out every drop of ecstasy.

His fingers slowly uncurled from your hair, his grip loosening as the tension drained from his body. You collapsed against the table, breathless and spent. You lay motionless beneath him, allowing him to use you as he rode out the final waves of his release, his heavy breaths mingling with yours.

Gods, you were going to need to take an anti-pregnancy potion after this.

PART EIGHT

[lj-lephemstar]

Progress Checkup! (Aug. 2024) | Scratchin' Melodii Devlog

Hello again, strangers! I thought it was about time to add another devlog again! This time I'm trying out a more in-depth approach to this, to somewhat make up for the lack of gameplay previews. Let me know what you think!

For starters, I've revamped the rhythm system 🤯 (like... again! 🤯) Don't freak out, though. Surface level gameplay-wise, it works mostly the same as it did in the last demo, so you won't have to re-learn much. I just needed to redo some things so it'd be easier for me to work with in the long-run while developing the rest of the game. Way less headaches await me now when working on new levels. In the process, I was also able to incorporate some neat new aspects to it and make the core aspects of it better. If you're familiar with older rhythm games, it's now a tad closer to what the dog was doing.

The opponent's icon has been covered up to avoid spoilers. I might be updating all of the character icons soon, actually.

I still plan to revamp the game's tutorial at some point. Something I've noticed is that often, new players don't seem to understand the purpose of the beat dots. Initially, I thought the idea that "on the beat dot = on beat" would come as second nature to new players without need for explanation. However, I hadn't considered that many players are likely to be more familiar with rhythm games that don't even have beat dots in this manner, so they're probably inclined to focus more on getting as close as possible to matching the order of the suggested inputs, and in this game, even at the cost of being off-beat if they aren't keeping up. So, I think the most important thing I need to emphasize when I give a new in-game explanation of the mechanics is the beat dots and really getting new players into the mindset of prioritizing the tempo. I think I should also have the tutorial's gameplay portion try to discretely get the player used to the control scheme to help people who haven't particularly memorized where all of their controller's buttons are without looking. This'll probably result in the tutorial song shown in the demo being replaced in the full game. I do still like its instrumental though, so maybe that will be repurposed for another game feature, at least.

There's probably some guy out there who just REALLY loves Astral Advisory as the tutorial song that will be very upset to hear this. In solidarity with them, I've depicted their enthusiasm with this rather silly image I've created.

As for other levels, now that I've got the updated rhythm system up and running, the 3rd rival battle of act 2 is almost complete. If you didn't like the Pow-Notes in Supastar Tennis, you might not like me very much after this! So far, I think this level has some of the best and most ambitious animation work I've done yet, so I hope you'll look forward to it. Not sure when I'll show a gameplay preview of this level, but I probably will at some point.

Also, I've made a new logo for the game! I'll gradually be phasing this one in to replace the old one, but until the full game releases you'll probably still see the old one hanging around too in some places.

That's all I can talk about for now, but thanks for reading! - LJ

[hdra77]

hmmm, about the disarray post from one or few days ago, can i maybe hear something about SRS n' Spear?:]

(my favs, so uhh :'D)

SORRY THIS TOOK A LONG TIMEE TO FINISH AHJASJ

WARNING : this post contains death, experimentation and mentions on some dark themes. view at your own risk!!

--------------------

SEVEN RED SUNS, a second gen iterator. very ambitious and persistent in finding ways to achieve what they desired the most.

back when the ancients were still around, during the time where they were all finding different alternatives to solve the great problem. all kinds of various projects were built: huge machines, high tech devices, etc. and suns' project was one of the few who had gain..some bit of 'success' during its opening.

they created the spiritual ascension project where ancients are placed inside a capsule and be put into an unconscious state as their spirits separates itself from their physical body before travelling across the astral plane.

but mysteriously, the project was shortly discontinued and nobody knows why except for the founder of this project.

suns refused to explain what truly happened to their project and why it had lead to be shut down almost immediately after its debut. some speculated that an incident occurred or a freak accident. or if it did worked out in the end but its success eventually lead to its downfall at some point.

but they carried this secret to the grave for many, many, many cycles. most of their life was a lie. reassuring their citizens,their friends and fellow local group, lying to others that their project was a success but it was later discontinued due to strict rules from their council administrators. seven red suns is most likely known for their project even as of the present cycle. surprisingly they managed to hold onto that lie for so long.

they had a knack for experimentation. they love to study organisms and modify them into their liking or, just to simply learn on how far they could go with all this power in their hands. they would simply place these failed experiments into that same capsule that doomed their citizens' fates and 'ascend' them. and even until now they would still try to find ways to turn their project into a success. despite the amount of lives ruined because of them. not like they do mean it though. they just wanted to fix everything and because of how much they have fed themselves with lies they would turn on a blind eye and reassures themselves that the spiritual ascension project worked. and that they had helped those poor lives pass onto the spiritual realm.

they created many failed abominations after the mass ascension. desperately trying to find the solution until a massive triple affirmative outbreak occurred. although they were too cooped up in their can to even care that much until they noticed an opportunity.

and thus the spearmaster was created, originally going to be one of the test subjects for the ascension project but had come soon to realize that this slugcat could help them.

spearmaster's purpose is to deliver messages to iterators, aiding others and helping those in need with the help of SRS and NSH. they seem to have redeemed themselves at least?? spearmaster is still the same, nothing much changed except that they have a device that allows them to speak to other iterators. spears and suns seemed to have a close bond but this slugcat is ignorant about the failed repurposed organisms created before them. and they appear to prioritize their purpose as messenger than to communicate with other fellow slugcats.

now as for suns' relationship with other iterators i'll be including these two for now!

suns and pebbles relationship : these two shared alot in common and appeared to be a lot more closer due to this.

Pebbles knows alot about suns' history and mostly about their project. he looks up to them and idolizes them. these two have more of a close mentor relationship and pebbles seemed to trust them enough to spew out all of his secrets, rambling and frustration after the mass ascension event. and suns is almost just as glad to listen to him.

suns admires him, it was almost as though they could see themselves through him…sometimes. but they show signs of uncertainty and anxiety whenever pebbles mentions about their project, or mentioning how much he wanted to be just like them. ambitious and successful. one who refuses to give up anytime soon. and especially when he pleaded to them to use that old device of theirs on him in the middle of his mental breakdown.

after five pebbles' sudden disappearance suns would only blame themselves for everything as they were the one to give him an advice to cut ties from his big sister despite the huge risk of him getting infected from the virus.

suns and sig's relationship : they are best friends!or atleast used to be.

suns isnt the type to disconnect themselves from their superstructure and roam around free. they were more so the type to isolate and busied themselves with experiments. NSH however is the opposite. he's alot more adventurous and outgoing, despite being out in such a dangerous time he's tanky and a decent fighter. their first encounter was when he so happened to stumble upon an active superstructure and as he explored around the place. he eventually encountered suns in their can with their messenger.

the project is already common knowledge to other iterators and sig is one of the few who has not heard of them before until he read a pearl that contains blueprints of the capsules and information of the project. but whenever he asked them of it suns mostly avoided talking about such topic which made sig become a bit suspicious of them. he tries to piece puzzles together out of pure curiosity, theorizing and trying to pry answers out of them.

their relationship only became more strained after pebbles' disappearance, since he was also sig's friend it was also very obvious how close pebbles is with suns and how it could also be possible that suns has something to do with it. add that with the gaps of their history it was clear to sig that they were hiding something from him. from everyone else.

---------------

and thats all of them!! phew this was really long LMAO i was so happy when i got an ask about this au like you've NO idea how obsessed i am with them!!i love rambling about this au and any questions are very much welcomed!! <33 also bonus: this is literally their theme song

[h0neybane]

FIRST DORM FOR THE GHIBLI-TWISTED FANSCHOOL!!

Serencor: Based on the Wizard of Ingary

(Twisted from Howl's Moving Castle)

as always, explanations for both name and design will be under the cut! (SPOILER WARNING FOR HOWL'S MOVING CASTLE)

so, let's start with the etymology for the names:

seren: 'star' in welsh; the star part is a reference to howl's backstory and how he caught calcifer (a falling star) and binded them together. i specifically chose welsh because in the original novel (according to the wiki), howl jenkins pendragon was originally howell jenkins of wales.

cor: 'heart' in latin; again, a reference to howl's backstory when he gives his heart to calcifer!

wizard of ingary: this is just howl's actual title LOL

moving onto the design...

starting off with the star in the middle, like earlier, is a reference to howl's backstory.

the diamond-print shield shape in the background is based off howl's iconic coat. the gold part also has a stripe of the color of sophie's dress! additionally, the ribbon for the name of the dorm is the color of the ribbon on sophie's hat!

lastly, the flames are a reference to calcifer while the brown parts are from the actual castle.

now, here are some ideas i have for the dorm itself and things about it:

so, before anything, i do want to clarify that the dorms have pocket dimensions like nrc's. now that we have that out of the way...

I THINK ITD BE SOOOO COOL IF THE ACTUAL DORM WAS JUST THE MOVING CASTLE REPURPOSED!! an endless expanse of hills for the castle to roam!! i think itd be cool if the housewarden (who would supposedly be twisted from howl) was the one who controlled where it went

also i think when night time in the dorm comes, the night sky would be superrr pretty. little to no clouds, no light pollution, all the stars twinkling in the deep blue... i feel like it would be a very famous view on magicam hehe

i think it'd be super cute if there was a dorm tradition of hat-making that's meant to honor sophie,,

im going to draw the dorm uniforms soon, but i definitely want to include howl's coat, the star motif, and maybe i'll add some elements of sophie's outfit! very fantasy steampunk vibes

[gardening-guy]

garden update || 10/25/24 🌿🏡🥰🌱

see that very nice-looking raised bed on the bottom right? THAT'S NEWWWW!!! i just set these two new raised beds up yesterday with a dear friend who's been staying the night over the past few days!! yippee!! 🎉 i've been showing this friend of mine how to garden and letting them learn in my backyard. we've only done flowering plants so far as well as planting dill & cilantro seeds -- so yesterday, i decided it was time to learn about crops!

we sowed seeds for walking egyptian onions, broccoli de cicco, dill, and cilantro; but i plan on also teaching them how to transplant so we'll also transplant in more kale, cabbage, and hopefully chinese pink celery! this'll be a very full & very productive raised bed, i hope!

i also have a few pictures of the progress in the greenhouse box!

the seedlings are all steadily coming along! i do need to sow a LOT more chinese pink celery seeds, so i'll do that once i finally get another bag of soil (i already need 2 more for potting houseplant props, 4 more for my last raised garden bed, and probably 2 more for future seedlings -- augh my budget is so fucked).

currently in the greenhouse box, i have 8 chinese pink celery, 15 cilantro, 3 copenhagen market cabbage, 3 blue-curled scotch kale, and 3 dill. (holy shit so much cilantro, they're going to be gifts for friends!!) i plan on transplanting the kale, cabbage, & pink celery all into the raised beds, i'm just waiting for them to grow up a bit more unfortunately.

i also have photos of some of the flowering plants in the raised beds from today! i use an app on my phone called planta to keep track of all my plants, and once a month, i like to upload photos & notes as a monthly plant progress report. it does get pretty daunting, seeing allllll the tasks that i have to do daily in the app, but i slowly make my way through it! i'm one of those people who just really likes recording & organizing stuff, especially hobbies like reading, gardening, writing, working out, et cetera. i've got apps/websites for most of them!

the butterfly milkweed, bee balm, and coneflowers are steadily going dormant for the cold seasons -- i really really hope they survive and thrive in the spring!!! i'm proud to say i've been a lot better about remembering to prune my chrysanthemums and they definitely look a lot happier (especially compared to last fall's mums)! that coleus is inevitably going to die off, i've accepted it since they're not really meant for outdoors especially in the ground. my lithodora is looking alright (hopefully will bloom again in the spring), my gerbera daisies are looking gorgeous, and the petunias are doing alright (yet are looking a bit... scattered, i suppose).

that's mostly it now for this garden update! i will say my zinnias are still going mighty strong, and i've been seeing soooo many bugs & critters in my tiny lil city suburb garden, and that makes me happy! the stray cats are mostly comfortable with me, the birds love their bird feeders, the squirrels keep taking shits in my raised beds (as well as this one stray cat i call cinnabun), and there's a regular praying mantis in my garden that i am lowkey terrified of (she's just so fucking huge i think she's cool and i respect her but damn she watches me steadily and it's freaky)!

i am potentially going to try to make an arch trellis in the garden with these camping tent poles that i want to repurpose, so maybe that'll be my next big thing? or i do still want to do another greenhouse box once my budget is not as tight (although that's looking like not anytime soon unfortunately) -- we'll see in the future!!

thank you for sticking around this long, and i hope everyone has a wonderful day + weekend!!! :)

[citrus-cactus]

fanfic ask game! 1, 3, 22, 55, 77!

Ask game is here!

1). Do you daydream a lot before you write, or go for it as soon as the ideas strike?

I tend to daydream a lot! I think that's a large part of my "outline" process these days: sooooo much thinking before committing anything to paper (which is not the best process, I'll admit! Because sometimes I end up forgetting things ;_;)

It used to be that a lot of my fanfic ideas were born out of pencil and paper sketches while letting my mind wander, which feels similar to the "daydream" process (and then I would brainstorm while drawing!)... but these days I don't do a lot of freeform drawing (;_;) and the brainstorming takes place almost exclusively in my head. Sometimes I'll have snippets and dialogue occur to me that need documentation NOW, so that feels more like a "when the idea strikes" sort of thing... and then when I've collected enough snippets/dialogue and have enough of a general idea where the fic is going to go, that's when I start writing in earnest!

3). Do you share your fic ideas, or do you keep them to yourself?

I tend to keep them to myself. I've been... trying to get better about this... maybe?? That was what last year's fic/WIP summary and the creative check-ins and some of my random, sporadic posts over the past few months have (partially) been about. But now that I look at them... I'm not sure it's clear to anyone but myself what the heck I'm working on?? I would like to get better at this, perhaps?? Summaries are good (lol), but I usually save those for last!

I think, because I publish fics so infrequently (and have WAY more abandoned ideas and WIPs than actual published works!), I default to being pretty secretive about my ideas. Mostly because I don't want to jinx myself with the inability to finish something; if no one knows about it but me, no one can be disappointed!! But also, since I almost exclusively write short one-shots, the element of surprise feels, somehow, important to preserve up until the moment of publishing. I'm not sure how to balance the two wolves inside me ("excited to share" and "SECRETS!!")

22). Do you title your fics before, during, or after the writing process? How do you come up with titles?

Usually during. A lot of my titles seem to crystalize during the daydream/brainstorming process... though again, sometimes I don't want to reveal the title until the fic is further along, in case I end up changing my mind! Sometimes it does take me a little longer to figure it out, but not often. I guess how I come up with them is... I figure out the theme of the story, and think of a way to make it work as a title? ("Rose-Tinted" is my favorite recent example. Because yes, it's about a pair of pink-colored sunglasses, but ultimately it's about looking at a situation through a more optimistic lens!)

Sometimes I'll try to be clever and make the title a literary reference. I've repurposed lines from Sherlock Holmes, Brigadoon (the musical), and, most recently, Sophocles' Antigone. Because whoa boy, do I love themes. And allusions!!!! And parallels!!!!!!

55). Have you noticed any patterns in your fics?  Words/expressions that appear a lot, themes, common settings, etc?

What an interesting question! I think, as generic of an answer as this is, my stories all end up being about love. This takes many forms: romantic (this used to be a huge theme, at least earlier on in my fanfic career!), but also platonic, the "soulmate" bond between human and digimon partners, and also (sometimes) unhealthy expressions of love. Also they can be born from things I personally love, like hats and in-jokes for very small audiences :3

My published fics tend to be either fairly fluffy(/goofy/jokey), or a bit dark. There's very little "neutral" up in here, though I do enjoy writing Emotions(tm).

I do enjoy ending a fic on a good stinger. I love me a juicy... just a teeny-tiny surprise, subversion, twist, or echo, wrapping it all up with an impactful little... pop. Absolutely delightful when it feels like I can pull that off. I live for that.

77). Why do you enjoy writing fanfiction?

I enjoy writing fiction because sometimes I have ideas that feel too large or complex to convey in a single illustration or a short comic. I enjoy writing fanfiction because other people's characters, stories, and ideas have become lodged in my brain and I am (occasionally) compelled to work through my feelings about them in prose XD I love writing (and reading!) things that are having a dialogue with canon, filling in nebulous details, expanding on characterization, having a fun day out with my faves, or otherwise taking some dumb/brilliant/random idea (either mine or someone else's) and running with it to a logical conclusion (by some definition of the word "logical"). My favorite thing to do as both a creator and a fan, whether in art or writing, has always been to tell stories… and I genuinely don't know where I’d be if I wasn't able to do that!

These were fun to think about, thanks for the asks!!!

[hexonthepeach]

hi! i just read thru your answers to asks relating to the d&s universe(?) and i hope youre ok w/ my questions:

1. Since sungtaro & the 3rookies are now out of nct ((tbh i still cant forgive sm for this but at least sungtaro are about to have proper idol activities now & hopefully shohei can debut soon too!)), will they still be included under ncta?

2. I saw that youre planning on/in the middle of writing separate fics for the other ncta members, will the y/n be different from the one in d&s & vitamin? im sorry if this sounds dumb, i just got into reading yn!pov fics & sometimes i get kinda confused when reading it as a series :’))

Hope youre doing well, & i absolutely enjoy reading your current omegaverse series!

hey thank you so much for your ask i am so happy you're interested in more d&s! i have it on the back burner at the moment but i do have a few wips already written: dotae/y/n, and a jungwoo/gn oneshot i actually have shelved for the moment if only because i may end up repurposing a bit of it for the f4 au 😅 long story, but when i get deep into the weeds i try to make sure my au streams don't cross and they're distinct

in answer to your questions

1. the NCTA au will always have room for Shotaro and Sungchan even if they are now part of RIIZE. They will always be NCT members in my heart if for the fact that they made the last NCT U releases so special for me (Sungchan on Round & Round!? Shotaro on Make A Wish and Universe?! they're my boys). Also I know I only hinted at it but the AU is very SM in general with there being other agencies involved who built it, support it, and trouble it still (Diamante, Exile, and Artemis, respectively)

To your point about their loss being felt though I watched NCT Universe when it came out and really felt my heart break over and over at how delayed their debut was due to SM incompetence, COVID, et al. I really liked Eunseok (my RIIZE bias no lie) and Seunghan and wanted Shohei to be a part of NCT so badly after him taking on a second career as an SM trainee. he could have been an essential part of NCT Tokyo but they pivoted towards the competition model and didn't include him and it feels like a slap in the face to everyone who wanted this unit and how much work went in to preparing them for it. But I have hope for RIIZE in that their journey is starting and they deserve it after all they went through. On a side note I've been watching LASTART because I have a Viki sub for dramas but have little interest in the outcome because it's clear they've already handpicked who they want to debut but wanted the false reality show lead-up. Sion and Yushi will make good additions to NCT, at least. Yushi is an exceptional dancer although very shy, and Sion has a quiet confidence and natural skill as a leader that I look forward to seeing. My apologies to them both if they end up in a surveillance van (lol)

2. Great question and yes, any y/n outside of D&S will be a different character and that was always the plan (although I did have a lot of headcanons about an agency key party that I hopefully neatly folded into the reverse harem dynamics of agtbtb). The Doyoung/Taeyong series has them fighting over their secretary who's maybe a little into BDSM and my unwritten and unspoken outside of DMs Mark/Haechan oneshot introduces a con artist out of Hawaii who ends up with at least one of them. I have no idea when I'll have time to write both but they're on my mind, along with the third part of D&S

thanks again so much for the inquiry and welcome to y/n self-insert fics! I never wrote for this medium before this outside of old-school OC self-insert writing (which shows in my eternal need for characterization but isn't foreign to the genre). i'm so glad you are enjoying the omegaverse and hope you don't mind living here for a while as we get towards the inevitable build, climax, and finish 😉

[bearsbadblog]

Whumper starts to protest. "But I'm in the middle of---"

"No buts!" Their boss takes them by the shoulders and steers them away from their desk. "You're obviously too stressed to work with the team right now. Take 5, and come back when you've taken out all that unhealthy agression, m'kay?"

Whumper's eye twitches. Their boss's condescension isn't helping their "unhealthy aggression." They relent, however, and travel down the hall to an out-of-the-way portion of the building.

They stand in front of the repurposed supply closet. For a moment, they consider not going in, and simply letting the silence in the quieter part of the building calm them down instead. Soon, though, the distant sound of their coworkers' incessant chattering echoes down the hall, and their anger is stirred up again. They grip the doorknob tightly and whip the closet door open.

The stress toy is curled up in the corner of the dark room. It sits up straight as the light streams in, blinking sleep from its eyes.

"Napping at two in the afternoon?" Whumper strolls into the room, one hand in their pocket, the other slowly closing the door behind them. "I wish that could be me."

The stress toy squirms away from them, pressing its back into the cold concrete wall, already stained with its own dried blood from previous sessions.

"Let's get some light in here." Whumper pulls the cord attached to the lightbulb, illuminating the closet in sickly yellow hues. They lean down to inspect the stress toy. It's looking a little worse for wear, with some bruises and cuts still fresh on its skin. Its mouth is duct taped shut, and its hands and feet are tied.

Whumper wrinkles their nose. "My boss did most of this, didn't he? He's such a sadist. At least you're still wearing clothes."

The stress toy's eyes dart between Whumper and the shelf of tools beside them.

"He's actually the one who sent me here. He can't wrap his dense head around the fact that not everybody relieves stress like he does." Whumper taps their fingers on the shelf, perusing its contents, letting their gaze linger on each item, as if they can't decide what to pick. There's a crowbar, a knife, a pack of needles...

The stress toy lets out a small whimper.

"Oh, sorry, did you have something to say?" Whumper leans down and rips the duct tape off of its mouth in one swift and calculated motion. It yelps, sucking in a breath through its clenched teeth. "There you go. What's up?"

The stress toy pants for a second, before simply saying: "You don't have to."

Its voice is ragged and weary. No doubt it's been strained many times from screaming.

Whumper's gaze softens. They finally settle on their tool of choice: a sharpie. They take it off the shelf and sit down on the floor. "I know. Come here."

The stress toy awkwardly shuffles forward, keeping their head down. Whumper takes their wrist, uncaps the sharpie, and starts to draw on their forearm.

"I can be quite forgetful when I'm angry. Sometimes I forget really important things. Like locking the door behind me."

It glances up at Whumper, a tiny glimmer of hope crossing its face.

"And I also forget how to get around this place. That's why I always doodle maps on everything. It's almost subconscious, now."

Whumper capped the sharpie, stood up, and checked their watch. "It's almost been five minutes. I'll have to go back, soon."

"Thank you," the stress toy whispered, looking at the map drawn on their arm in awe.

Whumper looked at them with pity. "Don't be thanking me." They grabbed the crowbar from the shelf. "I still have to dispel suspicion."

It's eyes widened.

"Sorry," Whumper said, raising the crowbar above their head. "Boss's orders."

.

Whumper scrubbed the blood off their hands in the bathroom. It had been a little longer than five minutes. Hopefully their boss wouldn't be too mad.

They turned off the water and looked at themselves in the mirror.

Maybe their boss was right.

That had felt good.

“You have been rude and disrespectful to the other employees. We have been over this. If you are upset, take it out on the company stress toy. That’s why we have it in the first place.”

[roman-cates]

"Yes, Master," her pet says immediately. "I won't disappoint you again, Master."

She glances at her rear view mirror. "See that you don't."

The pet agrees just as quickly, this time with a simple "Yes, Master."

The drive isn't that long. It's only about thirty minutes before Mal pulls parks outside an old grain silo that was repurposed years ago. Not her family's, this time.

She opens the door for her pet and ruffles his hair before she turns and walks in, trusting that he'll follow. Inside, the space is clean and modern. Christopher Grant is at the table with Brandon, who's in just in town for a few days. He has family high up in other places. Family that might be interested in purchasing some of Saša's merchandise.

Supposedly, she's here to check in with him, make sure everything is going smoothly. Really, she needs to show off her pet and watch his reactions, maybe drop a hint that more will be available soon.

"I'll just clear out, shall I," Christopher says, grabbing his can of beer.

Mal nods. "We won't be too long." She slides into the seat Christopher leaves, and snaps her fingers, pointing at her side. "Now, Brandon, I believe you wanted to discuss a few things?"

The ride in the car isn't too long. When they stop, the pet follows Mal out and up to the house, so, so careful. He won't mess up. He won't.

Inside, there are two men. One of them, the pet remembers as the man who tattooed him. "I'll just clear out, shall I," the man says, grabbing his can of beer.

The pet's master nods. "We won't be too long." She slides into the now empty seat, and snaps her fingers, pointing at her side. The pet immediately kneels where she points. "Now, Brandon, I believe you wanted to discuss a few things?"

As he kneels at his master's side, she pulls his head against her leg once more and pets him. Despite what happened earlier, that helps him to relax a little. He's still carefully focused, but some of his stress fades...

[hospitalterrorizer]

diary47

10/24-25/2023

tuesday-wednesday

didn't do a lot today.

because i vc'd with friends, which was nice, i got to talk to the new guy my friend added, he's awesome, i'm really glad to be around him and everyone else now. i'm talking so weird. basically i have a new friend who i'm going to be talking to, he said we should make music, i said, of course, of course.

that reminds me, i need to write a response to my friend's poetry thing since he passed it onto me.

okay done, that was fun. i'm awfully obsessed with the word "gigolette" because it means prostitute and also piece of meat. it's a very scary word, it's scary what the slang says, i guess, about how men see anyone like that but also it's something that makes me feel like i could curl up beneath it. it's funny how awful things work that way and i just want to repurpose them as self defense. like all i have is my latent, i dunno, whorishness, and feeling like a piece of meat all the time anyways, maybe that's like, an internal sexism thing. i dunno. if i were at this point of my life and not tethered to someone, i think i would have started doing very self destructive things with my sex life, instead i'm monogamous and safe/happy.

anyways i packed a little for tomorrow, or not a little, i think decently, some stuff might get thrown in tomorrow morning, i have to get my skincare stuff ready tomorrow too, otherwise, we should be chill. we meaning me. my gf is chill too i guess. i'm worried about being in a red state but most people don't really give a shit, right, about whatever i am (androgyne and hopefully pretty / hopelessly hopeful that i am pretty / wannabe / sometimes actually what i want to be), the fact i'm nothing definite might keep people away. mostly i'm scared of public restrooms but i'm likely going to have to. so whatever. i should just make peace with something bad maybe happening.

i am gonna bring my camera, to arizona, it might be fun for photos, and hopefully i'll remember to get them off my gf's comp if i bounce them onto therrrre.

anyways i offloaded the pics, some are of bruises, but some are of that imac, here's one that i think is fun/ny:

freakish riffs on this song, i really love the guitar on the right channel, but i guess i love it for how it plays off the left channel, which is also pretty strange. idk, i just love that, i'd like to get to this level some time. i think i made a sound kinda almost there, it's a bit more fucked up though, it's got these really short delays on it w/ constantly modulating times, all super short and it results in a sound that's too close to itself so it makes something kinda uggy (in the good way) and i want to keep messing with it. the constant feedback is cool too.

anyways i did all my working out today, too, sad i won't be able to do anything but the 60 squats while in arizona, but hopefully there'll be enough walking for that to not matter too much.

thinking about taking my psp for the car ride. it would be the first time i play a video game in a while. i had fun just loading it w/ a bunch of noisy faggy stuff i've been listening to (like the above song) lol.

i'm also now thinking if i should make my own psp theme. it seems like a fun way to spend a day. who knows, maybe i will. my psp is the cute sakura pink one.

the only game i have in here is persona 2, which i like decently. i should get farther into it. if i play it on the ride i will. also, i really wanna get a camera peripheral for my psp to do stuff w/ that, that seems like it could be really crazy for the stuff i'm looking to do.

anywayssssss, i need to sleep soon soooo:

byebye!!!!!!!!

[dmcoffee]

Packing progress update break because my cat is on my lap, so break is mandatory.

At the point I get to every time I pack where I look around in abject irritation and wonder "Why?" or "What if I just didn't move this stuff?"

I'm trying to condense down to one trunk, two plastic crates, one set of plastic drawers, five cardboar boxes, and a large laundry basket worth of stuff. The DvD's live in leather 100 pack case, but I'll probably have to invest in another one soon...(In fairness, I've been filling it up since late highschool. Plus the physical copies don't vanish when I'm too broke to afford streaming.) The TV is basically perfect for this rig. (So glad I didn't cave and invest in a larger one just because this place is so damned big.) May look into getting it mounted eventually, but that's a low level priority. The manga is gonna be a time packing up. (like I collect it or something...) Still under serious thought process on how to store those in the RV. Sadly not a lot of RV's show off book collections, so I've only seen limited shelving options. There's a few I think might work, such as the single shelves that have a bar or string that can be secured horizontally across the middle to keep them from falling out during a drive. I've picked some brains on ideas, and was suggest a pull out shelf (A drawer/cabinet with a clear plastic or glass door.) Which would still give me the "oooh, fancy manga..." feeling. Also with the space being how it is, my manga is basically pulling double duty as itself and I guess an aesthetic part of my space? Idk, maybe if I decide to share pictures I can get the idea across. (I'm estimating it's about...

All furniture that aren't my mattress, the cat tree, or the shelves I think I can repurpose and nail into my rig are going to be curb alert/buy nothings. I don't have the time to try and sell, and it can be one pay it forward to the local college students/someone who can use them. Economy's getting weird our here, I think I can donate some stuff to help out a little.

The stuff I am still trying to decide on...All the knit material I magpied out of luck. There is so much of it. I know I can use them--hell, probably a good place to start with Curtains until I get more geothermal solutions. May only take a very small portion. I took at least 2 trashcan's worth of them. (Think Oscar the Grouch trashcan.)

I want to take my sewing machine. And I think putting it in the passenger side will be fine for starters. I just dunno if I can actually justify it taking up space long term. (My desire to, and fear of cosplaying are warring on this one.)

Anything else that don't fit goes to curb. I didn't even over acquire stuff this time, it's just so much stuff in a life. So I'm Marie Kondo'ing this all and getting ready for the crazy leap. (With enthusiasm and paranoia from my people lol.)

[ostensiblyfunctional]

Lore lore lore loreeee

I also have a sword! It's a cheap wooden one I got at a Pride festival! I planned on painting it when I first got it, and years later it is still languishing in my closet, with not a speck of paint on it ^^;

I'm thinking about getting into drawing! I used to doodle a lot while I was in high school, but I haven't touched a sketchbook in literal years and it makes me sad :(. But I read a fic that put the drawing itch into me, so hopefully I'll actually start learning soon.

I'm currently working on a crochet hook holder! Working on it feels vaguely like hell on earth, because I'm using it as a scrap buster, and there are. So many ends to weave in. OUGH.

I use nearly all my stickers on shoeboxes! I have this paranoia about putting stickers on things I don't plan on getting rid of, which is why my computer and water bottles have such little personality lol. Because eventually those thing are going to get replaced, right? Or too damaged to use, because I have an unfortunate tendency to smack my water bottles into things and dent them. So I repurpose shoeboxes into storage containers and with all the stickers on those things, no way am I ever going to throw them away.

I had a wolf phase when I was young! I'm pretty sure it's the fault of this one picture book I had that was about wolves (I think it was about Yellowstone wolves? Maybe?). I was also really into Guardians of Ga'Hoole, so you can imagine my excitement when I realized the same author had a series about wolves.

Tags without obligation: @reesiereads, @vivid-mercury, @creaticare, @psyched-swan, @wisepuma23

IF YOUR SEEING THIS, SAY 5 THINGS ABOUT YOURSELF AND TAG 5 PEOPLE

I was an sonic fan.

I try my best to stick to the canon.

I love pop & rock.

I know a lot about anime(like jujutsu kaisen) so some people misunderstand me that I like anime.

I suck at gaming

@aurora-starlight-silly @miracle-negative @r31ncl0udcry @zoepreppyutfan @fruitcake5

[sanctus-ingenium]

another one of these posts lol... sketches vs final. not much changed for these ones, i kind of went into them with a very solid mental image already in my head. all of these were done start to finish in procreate

thoughts below the cut

horse fight .... this is based off a really really beautiful sky i saw while driving home one evening. i'm really proud of getting the colours i saw exactly right, this kind of greenish yellow fading to dark blue and with grey clouds low over it that looked very dark against the yellow by the horizon, but very pale against the dark blue.

i thought it would be a cool backdrop to draw a scene i've been thinking about for a while. The little cartoony horses are there to provide some tonal whiplash but also because these are two immortal shapeshifters who can fight violently without it being a huge deal. the little horses represent the actual gravity of the fight (that is, kind of a slap fight between two drama queens) which contrasts with the visuals of two animals brutally tearing at eachother. also i got the two horses at the bottom mixed up, Pascal is the one with the skinny plumed tail and Macha has a more traditional horse tail and i put them on the wrong sides.

i had a LOT of trouble shading this. i didn't want the horses to be too shiny but that meant a much lower contrast in shading and even with my screen brightness turned up i could barely see what i was doing. but i wanted it to read as realistic. mixed results i think. if i did it again i might try a different shading style because this one didn't really do it for me

--

spooky van!!! the post i deleted by accident (rip. i will repost it soon). this is a picture of the barrow (the field) taking a different shape - in this case a cool van. the van contains every single thing the field does (including the human victims that get lost in there...) but compressed down into a manageable shape. the void is Pascal because the field is inside him. he did this for his human bf to provide novel way to travel through the Otherworld. don't ask how this works like, spatially, because the answer is: i don't do hard magic systems in this setting

i loooove shading things with pencil hatching and i really like contrasting it with smooth colours/shading so that's mainly what i did here. it was simple enough. the van is of course heavily referenced and i wish i had been able to stylise it a little more.. maybe next time. i want to draw a kind of cutaway illustration of the van showing exterior and interior (like an old blueprint schematic), which i might use as a cover for the book/comic/whatever but that will require a very intimidating level of precision so i think i'll work up to that.

--

RUA magazine. this is my third time doing a rua magazine cover (first time posting tho). this is an in-universe magazine distributed throughout the Otherworld to an audience of fairies. in the sketch, the illustation was originally the King of Pentacles tarot card (the pentacle being the disco ball). but i decided to make a different King of Pentacles card for him instead, since I try hard to move away from symmetrical composition for the tarot cards (it's boring). so i repurposed this one into another magazine cover. like i said Pascal is a self-absorbed attention whore and has a habit of giving bullshit interviews just so that he can be on the cover as much as possible. he dresses like this all the time (the year is 2017)

the disco ball took 15 years off my life and it's not even the first disco ball i've drawn! i finished my actual king of pentacles card before i finished the rua cover sketch, so i can show u this

which is much better even if i did reference so heavily that it isn't exactly stylised. but this card needs some serious revision before i even think about posting it. i'm just not happy with his face.

original intent was for it be mysterious with emphasis on the neon lights but it ended up far more suggestive than i expected. that's life!

[dreamsinombre]

Have taken a long break from my current scrap mandala blanket to work on other projects, but I'll return to it soon. Trying my best to finish old WIP projects (or decide to tear them back and repurpose them), and the WIP pile is slowly lessening.

I've found that my favorite way to use a lot of my acquired yarn that has been around for a while and not had any project homes to be selected for is in patchwork/scrap blankets—in particular, mandala blankets. There's not usually a specific color rhyme or reason I strictly adhere to, other than "try and not repeat similar colors too closely," and I am indiscriminate in adding in new (ideally similar) colors within the same row if I run out; it's a stash-busting scrap blanket, after all.

I also quite happily double up on lighter weight yarns to not only use them up faster (maybe I'll tell the unfortunate tale of the Black Merino Kilt Sock Debacle one day), but also to quasi-simulate another color (like using red and blue fingering weights to get closer to purple).

It's worked in coming together in a very nice cohesive way before—from a distance it often just looks like the "right" color rather than an amalgamation.

Circles are still hard to get to lie flat, but in a scrappy patchwork blanket I'm not sure it bothers me so much.

[crunchykiwibby]

Core Four

Hi! After days of my antics i had decided to show my drawings for my redrawn Descendants next to outfit clarification/ idea for my fanfiction (+ analysis because I love fashion analysis! I watched one episode of the topic and I'm hooked now-) also sorry about the poor camera quality I'll digitalize it soon 😭

So here's them all together:

So what they have in common is the use of patterns and somewhat baggy(ish?) clothing whether it's from the top, ( Carlos, Evie) or by the pants ( Jay, Mal). The next use is pictures or patterns which is pretty predominant in Mal's side of town ( The inner city/ a good most of the Isle except anywhere near the coast. Which is known to be Uma's side of town.) 9 times out of 10 you would see a lot of painted clothes with patterns or designs, pieces of leather or cloth in clothing that can form a pattern or pictures. It is very popular on the Isle to wear gloves, bandages, and something you can at least move in because sometimes certain areas get congested and you might have to jump from a building time to time, run away from a troll, or fight. Also it's good to wear clothes that hide stuff you stole or hide weapons compared to Uma's side of town where you kinda just casually have a dagger or sword out. The inner city fashion is a mix of military, grunge, and goth depending on where you are. And it also reflects in the fanfiction in their Auradon fashion which I'll describe later. Their outfits together all clash but it's unified in one shape or pattern which also presents their friendship.

MAL

So Mal doesn't have fear as she usually doesn't worry about being randomly shanked out of nowhere. Seen here I kept her purple/ green aesthetic but I used a very minium of pink which was her top which was magenta. Her outfit is quite girly tomboyish. Her top is a repurposed binder that she cloth dyed and painted green flames on. I did this changes because she's more of the rambunctious one in the group next to Jay so her clothes are fitted in the purposes of movement next to the fact of her always stealing and running away which I felt that the leather jacket limited her upper body in her og design, I do love the leather don't get me wrong! But it's more practical in fall/winter (assuming that it's pretty tight) than spring and summer which is when my fanfiction takes place. However the use of leather is shown in her pants as the her pockets is dyed leather. Her hair is more blunt like cut and a deeper purple more toward her hair in D3 (Which was the color I like the most) but it's not a long asymmetrical bob it's just a blunt cut bob and she keeps it that way for a while. She aims for that casual militant fashion a lot, as some of her outfits won't look like what is the one above since she's not jumping place to place in Auradon would lean towards edgy and militant for a while until Coronation and later in the series where it leans more like EGIRL/Prep as her hair gets longer and is just plain black and cut again so she would wear a baggy clothes with combat boots in darker shades of purple and green while some of her shoes consist of designs of her own graffiti in the earlier parts and eases slowly into more to skinny jeans and a shirt that's stuck in with some canvas shoes. You notice how her outfits would present a very dominant leader energy because her outfits would stand out a lot when she stands with the group. Reflecting her always in control and assertive role as leader in the group. Whether in maybe the graphics on her shirt or the pattern until later where her and the core four all equally stand out in their own ways but not clash with one another and she's not trying to outshine any of them. So her style choices in the beginning reflects how she sees herself more of a pawn to her mother and more of someone was placed in charge due to her mother's orders which makes her prone to have a harder time shifting from that mindset in the beginning.

EVIE

Her outfit is very male gaze oriented, intentionally as presented on how she was raised so how she dresses is out of place for normal people on the Isle that live more in the inner city as she dresses more for fashionable and what the Isle consider Auradon like. However don't get it twisted because her outfit is quite practical than one thinks. Her outfit is a dress with attached shorts that is hard to see due to her dress because she dresses in a way for the male gaze. Her sleeves are utilized in a way that she can keep weapons. Any weapon. Same applies to her dress skirt the cut is makes her capable of sneaking in a knife or something same rules don't apply to her purse as it just keeps makeup and a mirror in hand for quick access. Her dress is pretty tight at the waist as her mother always say "tinier the waist the better" and the closest thing of love she got from her mom is that she complimented her waist so her outfits then on compliment her waistline. Her colors are still blue and red as her mother thinks that what works because Snow White but later on she will have mementos of her mother's colors of red, black, purple, greens, and gold albeit jewelry or clothing pieces. Her shoes aren't made for any parkour. Most of her shoes are heels. Mother says a girl in heels fluctuate the legs. Her hair is in the braid as it makes her face pop out more, it represents also the strict beauty guidelines she follows due to her mother's influence so her hair will always be up and tight until later on she starts wearing it loser to present how confident she is in her skin. Her hair leans towards a black blue color it's has a blue shine if you see it in the sun which has a slight color reference to her D1 hair mixed with D3. As a result her Auradon fashion can be formed with ease as it's a easier transition since she dresses like that before going to Auradon so her outfits would be very reflective of what's popular in Auradon without the prep, so she would wear dresses but they would be in darker colors and have a few spikes. Of if she was wearing a skirt it would be a synthetic leather. Her fashion is edgy prep until later in the series where it's still edgy but has a color tune up a bit. Her outfits will very much reflecting of fitting in Auradon as much as possible and try to appeal to the male gaze in Auradon as she would try to look more modest and muted compared to everyone in the group until later on she's comfortable of being herself as she dresses more for herself and wears what's fashionable and what makes her comfortable than what her mother thinks. Her outfit choices reflects more of her needing to be approved by others which makes her have a wavering confidence in what she wears forming into her wearing clothes she would never be caught dead wearing but has to so she gets her mother's and other's approval until she realizes that she lives for her not anyone else.

JAY

This dude knows he's a little shit. So he dresses like one. His is simple and it reflects that he needs to have places to store a box cutter and a cheap necklace. He's all about practicality. He hates and I mean HATES anything that prevents him from moving in absolute precision. There is no leather on him besides his pants which are similar to Mal's with the leather accents. Now his hair is long and just up until later he wears is down often and is just styled. So his Auradon outfits will reflect Mal in some form, it's different because it leans towards athlesiure, jock, and skater in many different ways until later he leans towards athlesiure and jock with a sprinkle of skeeter fashion with brighter colors and more simplicity so not a lot of patterns or graphics. His earlier outfits will always be outshined by Mal. No matter how similar it can be it will always be outshined by Mal. His outfit choices shows how he just goes along with Mal because that's who he knew the longest next to the fact that he doesn't crave the same need for power and leadership as Mal does he just in it for the loot and his mindset isn't about teamwork it's just what works for enough for him to get his share until he notices that he gets and works enough to get his share but...he isn't noticed that also made sure everyone get theirs, just somewhat ran over just because everyone assumes he doesn't care when he does or take it for themselves so they get brighter and become separate and drastically different from Mal making him shine.

CARLOS

His outfits are practical yet fashionable like Evie's but simple. He wears anything that makes him blend in blend in. He blends in so hard that Evie stands out more than him. His clothes are very two sided like his mom's hair but he only literally have one outfit since being on the Isle and what was in his bag of stuff when he went to Auradon was like a few inventions and games and some pictures and his oversized jacket and finally getting new clothes given by Evie and some new friends he makes as seen worn here because he doesn't really go out. His hair remains the same and just gradually gets longer and he can place it in a ponytail. Which if posted on his friend's stories just looks like a maltese ponytail. His Auradon outfits are simple and blends in more better in Auradon than Evie's. He mostly wear button up shirts with some pants or sweater. He just is scared and a lot of his clothes represent security in the beginning so some of clothes would be bagger than others until later he becomes more secure and wears clothes that reflects his newfound happiness and security which is more fashionable and what's popular with Auradonian boys while being himself. As with such with the two-sided clothing from before it also presents what his personality is like really in real life, and his oversized jacket is washed its a pure white jacket. He's witty and comical and iconic while also being anxious and terrified. So his outfit choices reflects him coming out of his shell show what more of him meets the eye making him be the iconic king he is.

I hope that this analysis makes sense 😭 please let me know if it doesn't! Also i would like to hear some suggestions because ironically fashion is also not my strong suit and I'm worried that I made them too ooc but know disney i probably wasn't far off smh-