#there's gonna be a lot of that in this au

[zeroreasonstocare]

Cont: Choso x fem!reader, breeding kink, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it 😉), praise kink (duhh), no plot just smut, use of “pretty” and “baby” for reader, aftercare mentions, pussy-drunk Choso!! mentions of “making you a mommy” like a lot

Word count: 593

A/n: this is NOT part of my babysitter au, I just remembered that I could write smut lolll. I wrote this at 3 AM so don’t judge too hard </3

ꨄMINORS DO NOT INTERACTꨄ

“Fuck, pretty, you’re sucking me in,” Choso groans as he thrusts into you. You’re spread out and laid on your back in missionary, legs wrapped around his waist to pull him closer. “Think she wants me to stay forever.” He smiles and whispers through another groan, referring to your pussy as “she”.

“Choso, fuck- right there!” You whine and wrap your arms around his neck as he peppers kisses onto your neck.

“Yeah? Feels good?” He thrusts harder into you and holds himself up, seeking your praise as he continually hits your sweet spot.

“So fucking good, Cho, it’s so good!”

Your praise goes to his brain and dick as he keeps pounding into your sweet little hole, his hands no longer holding himself up as he gropes your plump breasts and imagines them even fuller as his breeding side takes over and he imagines you pregnant with his babies.

“Yeah, you love it, huh? Love it when I pump you so full?” He seeks more of your praise, knowing the filthy words are only working you up more.

“Yes! Cho, I- fuuuck, I fucking love it, Cho!”

“Gonna cum again f’me? Gonna make a mess?”

“Yes- fuck! I’m gonna cum again, just keep going!” You whine and pull him impossibly closer.

As your nth orgasm hits, your body goes rigid and a silent cry seems to make its way into your expression as he keeps up his relentless pussy-drunk pace.

“You’re so tight, so perfect, pretty,” he groans into your ear and nibbles at your earlobe.

His praise affects you the same yours does to him. You clench tighter around him and your eyes practically have hearts in them as you look at him and his pussy-drunk expression.

“So so pretty, baby,” he whispers and kisses you, sloppily twisting his tongue with yours only to pull away and pant as he thrusts impossibly harder.

“Gonna cum again, put some pretty babies into your womb. You want that? Wanna be a mommy?”

You can tell he’s just babbling to turn you both on even more, the thought of him breeding you only making you tighter around his cock.

“Fuck- yes! Yes, Cho, wanna be a mommy! Make me a mommy!” You cry into his shoulder and claw at his back.

“I’m gonna, just gimme a few more minutes, okay baby?”

“Cho, so deep, gonna cum again! Can’t cum any more!” You cry, the overstimulation causing your mind to slowly start to blank.

“I know, pretty, just let it out, I believe in you.”

His encouragement causes you to cum again and your juices only make him slide faster and deeper into you as you become somehow tighter around him. He groans and finally cums as well, fucking the seed deep into you.

“Fuuck, pretty, gonna make you a mommy, cumming so deep into you,” he groans and stills his hips reluctantly due to his own overstimulation, opting to just lay on top of you and relish in the moment with you.

You both slowly come down from your highs and he pushes your sweaty hair out of your face.

“Did so good, pretty, let’s get you cleaned up,” he whispers.

“Tired…” You whine.

“I know, baby, but we gotta get this sweat cleaned off and your juices off our thighs. I’ll run a bath so you don’t have to stand.”

“Fine…”

He chuckles as he carries you bridal style to the bathroom. He doesn’t know if he truly can make you a mommy, but he’ll be damned if he doesn’t try every time.

[reynaruina]

Well, that would probably look something like this:

This would be the one week where his brains wasn't absolutely hating him and he had enough free time (aka less work hours) to dedicate to this. It's all p much scavenged/thrifted attire, plus some old shit from his dad's garage he's stored from his youth and nobody's tossed out yet. After putting this together and showing up to battle he finally understands why Zim does it :D Also, here's Zim's reaction:

[coddda]

Hiiiiiii. Episode 25/26 lawlight analysis rant thingy here. I don't know how to write an intro for this so let's just get to it LOL

I think one of the reasons that the rain/foot scenes stick out so much (the. Sheer insanity of a Foot Massage Scene in an anime revolving around two guys trying to kill each other aside 💀) is the fact that the anime specifically suffers a bit in terms of adapting a few of the "emotional" moments in death note.

And I don't mean "emotionally impactful" exactly. For example I think the adaptations of scenes like Raye and Naomi's deaths were very impactful and the atmospheres of their final scenes were great, but I mean more from a characterization standpoint (if that makes sense). Being more focused on mind and logic games, Death Note as a whole isn't as invested in individual characters' deeper feelings as it is in its action (which isn't necessarily a criticism per say, it's simply part of the nature of a mystery thriller series). But just because they're fewer and farther between doesn't mean there are none at all. In the manga we do get to see, for example, how much Light actually cared for his family and especially Sayu, and how he actually felt more conflicted and suffered lack of sleep/appetite when he first used the Death Note.

The anime specifically as an adaptation is pretty good at adapting the main mind fuckery and action of Death Note, but its lacking in properly adapting scenes like the ones I mentioned above is a criticism I see somewhat often, and it's pretty fair imo. Compared to all the other adaptations, it certainly seems to fall short on an emotional level: the musical has entire songs going in depth about the characters feelings and relationships, the 2015 jdrama is. Insane and has its emotional moments in spades (because it's a TV drama, which are more focused on portraying emotional conflict and the like), even the 2006 movies has its emotional beats and L Change the WorLd is. Well. Oh Man.

Anime Light to a lot of people is like. Light but he's "already evil" (which I have my own thoughts on but I digress). Light but after using the Death Note for like 2 minutes he's already like "fuck yeah time to kill criminals". Basically the anime doesn't take as much time to delve into his less cynical sides or really delve into his already vague and harder to decipher feelings in general, he is noticeably colder from the get-go here, etc.

But that's part of why I think episode 25 manages to stand out so much tonally (apart from it being, y'know, the episode L literally Dies). I love the episode so much and could probably rant for hours about how much I love the artistic choices made in it but what I'm trying to get at here is that it's one of the very few moments where the show tries to go deeper into specific character's emotions, and one of the very few moments where the show Attempts (emphasis on "attempts" because, well, you'll see in a bit) to get more in-depth into Light's feelings apart from his cynicism/apathy/justice. ness.

L in these two scenes in episode 25 is, well, pretty damn open about how he feels. It's usually interpreted as him knowing that he's going to die, and you can see it. He visibly looks/sounds lost, somber, etc. He never really had much to hide around Light to begin with (since he doesn't really care about hiding himself the same way Light does) but especially not now and it Shows, and I personally thought it was pretty cool to delve into his thoughts/show how he feels this way. The somberness can be felt throughout the entire scene, even people who don't already know the plot of Death Note from the manga could probably tell that he's about to die.

In the manga, once L starts suspecting Misa again and Rem realizes what Light is trying to do, it goes straight to Watari and L's deaths, but the anime instead gives a distinct and unexpected pause in the middle of this where L contemplates his own death. It's fucking great, and the shift from straight action to slower emotional weight makes these scenes stand out a lot, since, like I said, the show usually focuses more on the former. But it's kind of ironic, too.

Not only does the anime open up L's feelings more in these scenes, but it also tries to dig deeper into Light's feelings as well through L. And it's really funny honestly because while, yes, these are the more "emotionally open" scenes of the anime Light still manages to be Incredibly avoidant and contribute almost nothing to the entire ordeal.

L is visibly upset -> "Yeah Ryuzaki, you're not making any sense at all" (Not addressing the obvious conflict from L)

"Tell me, Light. From the moment you were born, has there ever been a point where you've actually told the truth?" -> "[The most stale, over-explained, avoidant answer to a "yes/no" question that you could ever hear + blatant attempts to reframe the question]"

(L's half-smile here kills me) "I had a feeling you'd say something like that" -> [Nothing]

"I'm sorry" -> [Nothing]

"It'll be lonely won't it? You and I will be parting ways soon" -> [Nothing]

^ From this point Light continues to say literally Nothing for the rest of the scene. I'm not even joking, from then on the rest of Light's voicelines are reduced to nothing but vague noises of confusion.

Everytime L calls Light out as a person ("Has there ever been a point where you've actually told the truth?" / "I had a feeling you'd say something like that." / "Won't it be lonely?") he doesn't actually acknowledge anything. Out of those three lines, he only answers verbally to if he's ever told the truth, and even then it's the most blatantly people-pleasing answer ever, as it usually is with Light. And I don't think it's because Light just. Doesn't care about any of what L's saying at all, or that he doesn't know what the hell he's talking about (questioning Light's authenticity as a person, saying it would be lonely when they part), instead he's choosing not to acknowledge any of what this means about himself or him and L at all. He's like a fucking wall.

And like, for the truth question in particular, the show makes sure that you know it's not something that Light just. Doesn't care enough about to answer. The hard cuts to silence are a very rare but extremely effective way that the show conveys an extremely important moment (see: Light regaining his memories, Matsuda noticing Light opening the warehouse door before he escapes (not as much of a "direct" cut to silence but still)), and cuts to multiple angles/framings/zooms of the exact same shot are also used for the same purpose (see: Light hugging Misa when she was crying, Matsuda aiming his gun to shoot Light, Light regaining his memories Again). Just like the scene where Light gets his memories back, the moment L's question finishes the show utilizes both. That question cut Deep. There's is a solid Almost 5 seconds of silence before the sound of the rain gradually starts fading back in, and honestly that should be telling enough as is (but of course Light doesn't actually admit that. Or anything at all really, so). Oh also another fun detail! We do not see Light's face At All (except for the shot where you can see his mouth moving but not his eyes), for the Entire time that he's going on his spiel to L. We Will Be Revisiting This Later, by the way. This is not, in fact, the first time you're going to see this detail from Light.

The only sort of reciprocation that we see from Light during Any of these two scenes is when Light dries L's hair while L dries his feet. Biblical meanings/references aside it's interesting because it's the only time he directly does anything "for" L in these scenes, but even then he doesn't try to pass it off as anything meaningful really the same way L does ("You're still soaked", a purely neutral and factual statement. It doesn't Add Anything compared to L's. Sin atonement loneliness grieving stuff. While Light is showing his own reciprocation to this more personal moment he also tries to keep it impersonal enough that it doesn't actually have to mean anything deep). And when L says "I'm sorry" after he once again gets no response from Light. It's also after this that L gets that pained look on his face, like he knows that at this point he's not actually going to get anything meaningful from Light (again, very significant and rare from L in the show. We've seen him in distress (see: when Ukita died, hell, when Watari dies), but even then he mostly manages to keep his usually neutral expression), we never see him "look sad" like he does here):

I just think it's interesting that this is one of the few scenes in this particular adaptation of Death Note where they try to open up the character's thoughts/feeling (especially considering the fact that they. lowkey blunder in adaptations of original scenes from the manga), and L himself is being rather open (not that he ever really tries to hide what he thinks nearly as much as Light), and yet all Light contributes to it in return is like. Actually nothing. Bro fumbled it. There is no resolution to any of this, to any of what L asks at all, to any of the many opportunities for a meaningful conversation, and the only thing even relatively close to an answer that you can get from Light is what you can infer from how he acts in the episode after L dies, where he's just going through the motions, but hardly acting as if he's actually living at all.

(Honestly I think the transition from this scene with the taskforce to the subsequent scene with Misa says enough on its own. Light's expressions and tone says everything:)

(Oh sidenote but. This shit again:

"Light, this is our first date in forever. can't you enjoy yourself a little more?" ('Why don't you seem happy? We can finally be together since L is dead') -> No response, Light instead changing the topic to him wanting to move in with Misa without changing his mannerisms at all

Also there's that one detail again. You pretty much don't see Light's expression when he speaks here at all, except for one shot of his eyes, which is quite literally the exact same shot they used when he "saw" L, just altered for the new setting. You have No idea what he looks like when he's responding to Misa, although it's probably fair to assume that it's the same empty stare he has for the whole Two Shots where you can clearly see his whole expression in the entire scene.

Something something Light Yagami bad at feelings I think you get the point though)

I guess Light's Kind of showing what he's feeling now? He'll admit to himself that it's boring without L, but no more than that. Light never actually admits to anything "significant", and L's dead already anyway, so what would that even do?

And then we get, uh. Basically nothing from Light. For the next 5 Years. Except that he joined the NPA, so, uh, yay? Good job, Light you totally nailed it! Thank you for allowing us as an audience to delve deeper into your inner thoughts and feelings as a character so we can find out more about you as a person! Very helpful! Thank you for not sabotaging one of your few dedicated opportunities to look into yourself as a person and reflect on your relationships with others and being 100% honest with yourself! We stay winning guys.

Anyway, this got way too long for a scene that's over a decade old, and I've probably just said everything that everyone else has already said in this fandom before. But unfortunately this has been living in my head for way too long and I must scream. I just think this episode's neat is all :)

tl;dr Part of the reason why the rain/foot scene (tbh episode 25 in General) stands out so much is because the Death Note anime specifically was a bit robbed in terms of its more emotional character moments compared to the other medias, which makes more somber/introspective scenes like the ones in episode 25 stand out a Lot in comparison. But it's also incredibly ironic because it's one of the few moments where the show (or specifically L) tries to look deeper into Light's character, but because he is so avoidant for the entire duration of these two scenes he adds basically nothing at all. It's almost funny. Mostly sad. It's also very gay. Aand post

Okay actually nevermind one more thing I talked about how the jdrama is supposed to be more emotionally in-depth because it is a TV Drama and just for the record, same thing happens there! I could probably do an entire analysis of the Blue Scene in this context like I did with episode 25 but I'd literally be here forever, so uh, just take this iconic line as my main example:

Same Thing. L's statement "I wish we could have met some other way" is personal. It's his own wish, his own regret that he is expressing to Light. While Light's reply obviously has that same regret implied it's also phrased in a specifically impersonal way. It's closed off. "This is the only way we could have met" it closes off the topic and simply renders L's wish as ultimately futile. Light does not say that he Also wishes he could have met L a different way even if it was likely impossible, instead it's a cold statement of cynical fact.

Idk just. Something something L being able and Willing to be more openly sentimental/emotionally open towards Light/about Light vs. Light's inability to be honest with anyone including himself and his own nature preventing any form of meaningful reciprocation. Something something self-sabotage, y'know the drill. God don't even get me Started on how sincere L's tone is when he says "It'll be lonely won't it?"(at least in the eng dub) in the anime I could talk about his tone in that scene for ages. Also yes all of this relates to L Change the WorLd too by the way. Don't ask how it just does okay.

I do think that scenes like these (rain/foot scene, The Blue Scene. Uh. L Change the WorLd The Novel Adaptation) show, at least in those adaptations, that L does genuinely care for Light, and show that he values him as a friend not just in the mindgame-equal sense but also just like, a more sincere sense you know. Idk if that made any sense and that's a whole other topic for another day but you guys just have to believe me on this one alright please please believe me buries head in hands. Okay post over finally thanks for coming to my tedtalk hope you enjoyed my very-unnecessarily long analysis of the week

[chosprincess]

café bisous

punk band!choso x barista!reader

summary: y/n and her friends all work at the cutest coffee shop together! however, being short-staffed is hitting the business hard. luckily there are three new employees ready to help! and even luckier, one is the brother to the guitarist of the popular punk band Curse. (> 。☆)

tags: choso x fem reader, coffee shop au, punk band au, barista au, college au, social media au

warnings: playful use of kys/kms jokes, i made toge kind of fruity LMAO

date: preparing as of 6/24

a/n: this is my first so im gonna do a lot of experimenting with it :0 i love band au shit so this might not be the only fic i do with that trope

taglist: comment on this post with the username you’d like to be tagged with! accepting the first 10 users :) (may add more spots depending on demand)

PROFILES🎀

♡ y/n’s cafe bitches

♡ choso and the other members of curse

♡ nobara and friends

INTRODUCTIONS 🪽

I. cafe introduction ♡ slayvitalizing

II. curse introduction ♡ title tbd

III. trio babies introduction ♡ title tbd

CHAPTERS MASTERLIST🧁

ch. 1 ♡ title tbd

ch. 2 ♡ title tbd

ch. 3 ♡ title tbd…

[raiiny-bay]

>:-)

[itsrainingbubbles]

I woke up and all I remembered was dreaming Luffy saying "chat the lights are just torao being my other half and setting it up so I can get a cool effect and feel like it's night even though it's the middle of the day"

So now I'm just thinking of a streamer au

The time skip was Luffy taking a break from streaming after ace died in an accident

Prior to the accident Luffy told chat he was gonna take a 3 day break from streaming, but then he and ace got in a bad car crash and after jimbei helped him calm down a bit after aces death he sat down and made an announcement stream titled 3D2Y

He explained what happened and that instead of a 3 day break like he promised before he would now be taking 2 years hiatus to think about where he wants to go from here

"I originally started streaming with ace for fun, we thought it'd be cool if we could get popular but back then it was just for us two. Obviously we've grown a lot since then in such a short period of time and I'm so grateful to every one of you who enjoys our content, but without ace here... It just sort of feels wrong. Everything has happened so fast and I have a lot of feelings about it especially since it's so fresh."

I can't think of any more dialogue rn cause it's 3 am and I woke up to write this but you get it

So the two years pass and Luffy comes back to streaming, this time with the strawhats

All of them have their own separate channels where they stream and/or make YouTube videos and they can often be seen in each others videos/streams

A few weeks after Luffy starts streaming again he'll start talking about law, or well torao but everyone else calls him trafalgar or Dr

He says he ran into the doctor that saved his life at the store and that's how it started

After that he'll continuously bring up law over the next year and at some point everyone else stops calling him by his last name and instead call him law, signifying they're becoming friends with him as Luffy keeps dragging law into their life

They'll eventually start dating and move in together, which is where a scene like in my dream will play out

[still-living-like-im-trying]

Beauty and the Beast/Big Hero 6/Nimona AU ft. my Tani that's been plaguing me for the longest time.

You know what? Fuck it, we ball.

Here's some things I drew for it during an artistic breakdown because I can:

Tadashi (26), Ambrosius (21), and Hiro (19)

Nimona (15), Ballister (22), and Tani(18).

-----

The fic's gonna be based on a mix of the book and the movie, so honestly what I loosely remember and whatever the hell I make up along the way because it has been a while since I've last seen either.

[factual-fantasy]

28 asks! Thanks yall! :)) 🦶

My last doctors appointment came up with nothing. Onto the next one in a few weeks...

Oh good idea-- :00

Dink already has a friend! His name is Doink! :)

@stupid-thatsme

I usually watch YouTube or listen to music while I draw. I feel like it helps me draw faster and keeps me focused somehow.. XDD And no one wants to be alone with their thoughts lets be real-

@coolguyinternet

<XD I'll have to think about that one-

1: I knew what was coming for me in Tales from Ba Sing Se. But it still hurt. :(((

1: At first I don't think I liked Mei very much <XDD But after seeing her turn around at the end of the show?? I really like her :))

There's a lot of moments that were sweet and sad. But Zuko's apology to Iroh, and Toph and Sokka's talk about Katara's motherly nature were amongst the sweetest. And Aang going avatar mode when loosing Appa and being comforted by Katara has to be the saddest I can remember.. 🥺🥺🥺

The ending overall just felt like it came too soon, I wish the show was longer..

@mrplants-world

You're gonna have to be a liiiitle more specific- 😅

(Aang holding Appa art in question)

Do people really ask that?? Man.. smh.. smh.. 😔😔

That sounds like something they'd do! :DD

:DDD Thank you! I'm glad you like my artwork!! :))))

@the-woomyverse

XDDD Oh man that's some fantastic angst potential

(Evil Grim and V post in question)

An asker in this post described what I imagine they'd be like really well! :00

And yes! The evil versions are all shiny but evil Anastasia (Kricketot) is normal colors XD

I didn't intend to have Miraidon around, no.. 😅

And I don't have the DLC, so I am unfamiliar with Ogerpon.. <:0

@necromicon42

The boo mushroom isn't intended to be in my AU.. but the boomerang and cloud flower could be included :00 I imagine they'd be/look a lot different though..

The boomerang flower might not be a full on powerup.. I might make it this big flower that once it grows its oddly shaped petals fall off and harden like wood. Leaving behind these perfect flat boomerangs. I can imagine Mario and Luigi just learning how to throw the boomerangs instead of absorbing a powerup. This would also explain how boomerang bros got their boomerangs. They throw the same dried up petals that the bros throw-

The cloud flower might just be changed into some king of... wispy thing and the bros can collect. Instead of a flower. Maybe a literal cloud? I'm not sure.. but I can see it existing :00

@spinelfan11

I believe so! XD Thank you! :)

(Refencing this post and this post)

<XD No one is safe from the bootleg curse!

<XD No no, my AU was made before the movie came out. Nothing from the movie applies to my AU- including the Vanessa daughter thing <XDD

Well lets see,

1: I think Gravity Falls and Pixars cars was very inspirational to me! :0

2: My favorite song changes from day to day,, but currently I really like Lights by Ellie Goulding! :))

3: When I understood it, I think I liked math! :))

4: And sorry! But drawing suggestions are now closed 😅

@anikakitty11

Shroomie!! :DDD

@untitled-7613

I wouldn't trust them personally- 😅😅

@khoiazo

XDD The only appropriate response to evil Grim and V honestly-

@xxanxious-anxietyxx

:000 WAIT REALLY??? THANKO YOU!! :DDD

@hope0koi

They doin good! I've been meaning to draw them more often <XDD

@minophlia

Ah man.. this is very bitter sweet. I'm glad you found me here and that you like what I make. But its also horrible to hear that you found me through stolen artwork that I worked so hard on..

@katpotato55 (In response to this post)

:DD THANK YOU SO MUCH!! :)))

@im-nice-but-i-dont-like-you

XDD Well hey it made me laugh too! Also thank you! :))

@ink-machine-kidd

I'm afraid I wouldn't know what to do for that..😅I'm not familiar with Digimon.. 🥺 Thank you for the suggestion though! :00

@agent-cakeshroom

XDD Thank you!! And yes! I DO love sky! :DD Been playing ever since season of dreams back in 2021 💪💪💪

[iovesia]

hi

I really love your writing and the way you project Keanu's characters.

Do you think we can have these opposite men in an HDCS about an unrequited love on their part towards the reader, something like a totally naive reader, who doesn't know that they are so secretly in love. 🙏🙏🙏🙏

Sorry if my English isn't good, it's just not my native language.

don't worry, anon, your english is great :3 and i switched up the prompt just a wee bit so i hope that's okay!

unrequited love & yearing,⠀౨ৎ⠀j.c & ted logan. cw⠀/⠀f!naive!reader. angsty. kinda sad.

𝐓𝐄𝐃 𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐀𝐍. 𓇼 ࣪ 𓈒ㅤׂ best friend au.

ted's anyways a pretty affectionate guy with all his friends: often hugging, fist bumping and high fiving them. so it's not a surprise when he's pretty affectionate with you. what you don't realise, is that his hugs are always a second longer than usual, and he'll find any excuse for your hand and his to meet.

you're just as airheaded as ted, which is how you're painfully oblivious to his attempts to flirt. compliments like "bodacious babe" or "most excellent girl i know" fly over your head. ted's pretty shy and antsy around you. he'll stutter more, or try to do some cheesy-macho thing to impress you.

the walls of san dimas high school are plastered with posters of the upcoming senior prom. the day ted's been dreading and dreaming about. while he couldn't care less about discos and hanging out with his classmates— he cared about taking the most beautiful girl in san dimas as his date: you.

today was the day. he was finally gonna ask you to the dance. not as a best friend, not as a 'bro'— but as a real boyfriend.

"h-hey," his voice is already cracking as ted taps your shoulder. you turn around, closing your locker door as a small smile is already on your face.

"aw, hey, ted. what's up?" you ask, unaware of the impending heartbreak you'll instill on him. ted lights up at how you pretty you are when you grin at him: he'd count every lash, every tooth, every pore on your face if he could.

"i was thinking.. uh—" he stammers. ted silently curses himself before clearing his throat. "you. me. y-you and me should, like, go to prom.. together. as.. you and me.. y'know?"

the way your face fell said it all.

"oh honey, i'm sorry," you say gently. "someone already asked me."

ted's heart shatters like the speakers in his garage. his face flames up in embarrassment, letting out a surprised cough. of course someone already asked you. he was too late. "oh— that's totally chill, dudette. no— no hard feelings.. at all."

when the bell rings, and the hallway clears out: he tosses the card he got you into the bin.

𝐉𝐎𝐇𝐍 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐄. 𓇼 ࣪ 𓈒ㅤׂ neighbour au.

constantine has grown to like you ever since you've moved across the hall from him. there's not a lot of tenants in the building, especially not ones as cute as you. initially he was suspicious: how on earth did you end up here? do you have a felony he doesn't know about?

when you're leaving in the early morning for work, he's just getting back home: disheveled and roughed up. it's how you've become friends. and gradually you two upgrade to hanging out by the mailbox, or even coming over to each other's apartments.

constantine shows he likes you through little acts of service. in the morning, he'll come by with your mail that was mixed up in his. he'll offer you some of his cigarettes. if he's feeling particularly altruistic, he'll help you with setting up furniture. he's not an ikea king unfortunately.

he's frustrated that you don't seem to be getting the hint. i mean, how are you not seduced by a grown man who can very poorly screw your new chair together.

but constantine forgets his permanent resting bitch face, and nonchalant attitude that stirs people away; even you. you never figured a guy like him would be into a girl like you.

"who's that?" constantine's face scrunches up as he taps his index finger on the polaroid attached to your fridge. the picture showed your arms wrapped around some random.. guys neck and you were basically in his lap.

please be your brother you're just weirdly close to. please be your brother you're just weirdly close to, he chants in his head.

"oh that's my boyfriend," you smile innocently. constantine's heart falls at the gleam in your eye when you talk about this random dork. the stupid, frat boy looking dork who had your heart in his pocket.

"cool," constantine manages out, significantly quieter.

[deadghosy]

How Slytherin boys react to sister! Reader during her cycle

Warning: fluff, swearing, slight modern au/era

Ft. Tom Riddle, Mattheo Riddle, Draco Malfoy, Theodore Nott, Lorenzo Berkshire.

Riddle brothers

Poor torture for them.

You’re a few treats younger so when it was your 2nd year and it was that time for puberty to struck, hell went loose as you had thrown a pillow at mattheo for trying to wake you up. You had blood on your pants and you were already breaking down

“JESUS CHRIST—” mattheo yells as Tom walks pass the door frame only to walk backwards with narrowed eyes. “What in Merlin’s beard…” immediately Tom knew what was going on and had asked pansy to come here

After pansy gave you a girl talk and gave you what supplies to wear during your period. You felt normal and well. Mattheo was still scared of you, but loves you dearly

Tom, he will just buy you whatever you want. Just don’t complain to him another anything.

Draco malfoy

Honestly I feel like he knows what to do, so he asked pansy what supplies do girls need mostly and he went to get them.

He would definitely get pansy again to talk to you, or your cousin Luna to talk to you about womenhood and all that stuff. He’s awkward definitely about those kinda stuff.

He gets his house elf over to you for the week of your period and takes it back as if you stole it…

When really he cares about you a lot.

If cramps get bad, he just makes you stay in the dorm and sleep. He may not know what cramps in the abdomen feels like, but he knows you’re hurting.

Theodore Nott

He’s smart, he already knows what to buy and what to get you.

By the time you are freaking out, he is already running a shower for his poor lil sis

“It’s normal, very normal for you to have this cycle.” He’s speaking in English as he walks to the bathroom to make sure you have fresh clothes

“AAH sembra così strano!? Una volta al mese?! Sarà devastante anche solo vivere!!” You say complaining in your native language which makes Theodore sigh and help clean your sheets. (it feels so strange!? Once a month?! It’s gonna be devastating to even live!!)

If you suffering, he’s suffering from your complaints.

Lorenzo Berkshire

Also a smart boy!!

He’s getting thing for you the moment you mention blood.

He’s getting pills, blankets, snacks, pads, you name it

“Wanna Watch a movie with your heating pad?”

“HELL YEAHH🗣️‼️”

It was a chill night

[hollyhomburg]

Before I Leave You (Pt.72)

(Sneek Peek) (Omegaverse au, Mafia au, Bts x Reader)

Summary: you get punished alongside hobi for your indiscretions in public.

Tags: mention of getting arrested, tense situations, implied non-consentual nudity (very breif, the extent of refrence to it is in this sneak peak), light angst, d/s, Dom! jin, Dom! Namjoon, Dom! Jimin, Sub! m/c, Sub! Hobi, group sex, humiliation kink, praise kink, puppy space! hobi, hobi gets off on getting called a good pup, omegaspace! m/c, crawling, Collars, fingering, edging, orgasam denial, painplay, shoe riding, exhibitionism, Squirting, wrestle-fucking (only kinda), cum marking, cum swapping, mc gets treated like a little cumdump but she's very happy about it, pussy spanking, cumming pre-maturely, oral! f receiving, hole checks, biting,

W/c: 10k+

A/n: well....this is gonna be some smut for the memory books! sorry that i've been a little inactive recently- so say that my life has been stressful would be a hilarious understatement. Any encouragement or praise would be so appreciated!

Previous part- Masterlist - First part

It rushes over you- everything that’s happened. Watching Hobi get yanked from the car by his shoulder, pushed up against the side of the car. Having to pull on your pants in the dark parking lot with a flashlight on you and some man behind it. Watched. Hunted. A knot builds in your chest, and you don’t cry- you won’t cry but-

Jin’s hands brush your hair away from your face, tucking it behind your shoulders. “You’re gonna be alright pup- it’s alright-“

Your lower lips quivers. “Ask me my color.”

Namjoon is still on his knees below you. jolting at hearing your words. jaw rolling as he looks up at you and chews through your words. Both Jimin and Hobi's faces jerk in your direction, eyes wide.

“Ask me Jin- please-” Your voice cracks, wobbles.

Jin’s tentative, and behind him you see Jimin realize what you’re asking for, his gaze anxiously darting between the pack alpha and omega.

But you're trembling there, so unmoored, and all you want is someone to tell you how to feel, what to do, what to say and how to sit. Everything.

Jin eyes you, flickering down to your heaving chest as he pets gently over your collar bones with the back of his hand. Shushing you while he thinks. Is this what you’re asking for- what you need? Do you really need a scene from them right now? Do you really want to submit after something like that?

Yes, in any way you’ll let me. I just need to stop thinking about what just happened. I don’t want to. Please don’t make me tell you. Don’t make me relive it. I just want to forget. Can you make me stop thinking? Can you fuck it out of me?

Jins thumb hovers on your lower lip, like he needs to feel as well as hear you say it. “What’s your color pup?”

“Green” your voice breaks, and Jin pauses. eyes darting from eye to eye. he looks down at Namjoon and nods once.

Namjoon’s hands run down the front of your thighs once more to your knees and then back up again before he pops back up onto his feet. Towering over you and turning your hands over and over again in his. The marks that crisscross your palms look pink and threatening. But Namjoon knows that they haven’t bothered you in weeks.

Namjoon moves from you to Hobi, going not for his hands but to the hem of his shirt. stripping it off of him, Hobi puts his arms up for him, obedient. His hair fluffed when he comes out the other side.

Namjoon presses the shirt to his nose and although it’s dry from your slick and squirt now- you blush, aware of what he must be able to scent on it. Of what Namjoon must be able to scent on both of you. The evidence of your indiscretion and the misery that followed

The pack alpha’s coffee scent spikes wildly, thick and musky- dizzying, making you teeter to the point where Jimin rests a hand on your elbow to steady you.

Hobi's arms rise with goosebumps as Namjoon palms him blatantly between his legs. Feeling for his cock, feeling for a still inflated knot. finding it sweet and heavy and lonely between his thighs. Hobi’s lower lash line is wet but his whole body jerks into Namjoon's hand as he gasps. But he stays mostly still at Namjoons inspection.

“Green” he says, before Namjoon even has to open his mouth.

The pack alpha almost purrs. "such a good pup, saying it before he's even asked. how eager, how needy." Jin praises, still petting over your collar bones, eyeing your throat with a keen light in his eyes that you haven't seen in months. Namjoon seems to have the same idea.

"Jimin, go get their collars." Hobi lets out a belated whine that cuts off at Namjoon's look, "settle." Namjoons shoulders straighten, he's still holding hobi's cock, staring into his eye's until Hobi bears his throat with another noise, a pupish whine.

You don't know if you've ever heard Hobi sound like that. You wonder if you sound like that- when you're under Namjoon's thumb. There is nothing in his face left of the boy who teased you until you were shaking less than an hour ago. But somehow you still can't tear your eyes away from them.

Namjoon is so big compared to hobi, at least a head taller and so much wider. He's such a big alpha. Hobi knows it too- He grits his teeth. Bares them at the pack alpha in challenge. And invitation if you’ve ever seen one, Namjoon just scoffs at the show of aggression.

"If you do not settle puppy, Alpha will make you settle and you will not like it."

Hoseok just growls again, louder.

Coming Saturday June 29th at 5pm EST (Time Zone Adjustments Below)

[fandomworld9728]

I might have an au idea...

Lucifer is ruling hell solo because Lilith isn't around to rule with him(Either she's dead or she just straight up disappeared) and thanks to that situation Charlie isn't born(YET). One day he met up with a certain TV head upcoming overlord who just experienced a heartbreak from a certain demon ended up becoming quick friends with him but then A certain Radio Demon started to take notice on Lucifer and started have flash if visions from when he was alive when he's near the king and A certain Exorcist Leader started spying on the king for some unknown reasons and now the three have to settle this complicated situation themselves or else it would harm the king

(Oh wow... that is AMAZING! Excuse me while I write a quick sample piece based off of this-)

Vox:

Shit. Shit shit shit! Vox wasn't sure if he was lucky or being taunted at this point. What were the chances that his heart had been soothed just as quick as it had been broken? And by the King of Hell of all people?

How did the Overlord get himself into this mess you ask? Well, it was very simple. Vox had decided the best way to nurse heartache was to drown his sorrows in lots and lots of whiskey. So, he had allowed Val and Velvette to drag him to some upscale bar that the rich and famous of Hell came to get fucked up.

Honestly, he wasn't sure how they had managed to get in here. The Vees were powerful but fuck. They weren't even on the same level as most of the demons in that place. But he wasn't about to question it. He came there to get wasted not to think. That's how he found himself four drinks in and a beautiful blonde man next to him on the bar stools.

Vox knew he was out of this guy's league; however, he was just drunk and desperate enough to try his luck.

"What's a beautiful thing like you doing all alone?"

He realized his mistake all too soon. As soon as those words left his mouth and the demon turned to face him, it was like someone dumped a bucket of ice water on him.

"Y-Your Majesty! Apologies. I-I'm just-"

"Drunk and depressed? Me too."

While the TV Demon had been scared stiff and tried to stutter out an apology, Lucifer, the King of Hell, had just shrugged it off like it was nothing. And seemed able to read Vox like an open book.

Was it that obvious? Or was it because they were in a similar mood? If he was honest with himself, it was probably a bit of both. Well, he wasn't about to look a gift horse in the mouth. Not getting in trouble for shamelessly flirting with the King of Hell and getting to look at the gorgeous creature next to him. Vox was gonna enjoy every moment of it.

His drunk addled thought it would be fun to push his luck. That's how he found himself discussing how they both ended up depression drinking. It seemed like they were in the same boat in a way.

While Vox had been trying to dull the pain of rejection, Lucifer (he can't believe he gets to call Hell's King by his actual name!) was there to try and forget for a night about the Queen's passing. That had happened long before Vox had even appeared in Hell, so it was quite a surprise to say the least.

From there, the two ended up talking about their special interests instead. The Overlord ended up spilling on how much he loved technology, especially TVs, and sharks. While Lucifer wasn't a fan of TV in general, he wasn't opposed to watching it every now and then. However, his face lit up with excitement at the mention of sharks.

Come to find out, the fallen angel was a lover of all animals. Though, his favorite were birds. Specifically, ducks. Vox wasn't sure why ducks and he meant to ask. But he didn't wanna stop him when he was just so adorable gushing about the waterfowl. If he ever got the chance to talk to the smaller man again, he'd make sure to ask.

What happened next, Vox wasn't sure how it happened. One moment the two of them were sitting, drinking, and enjoying just talking. The next moment, they were back at The Vee Tower. On Vox's floor. Sitting on the ledge to the opening to his shark tank.

The way his sharks had warmed up so quickly to Lucifer, and how excited and affection he was made something warm bloom in Vox's chest. His night wasn't going as planned but this was better than whatever his plan had originally been.

He had lost track of time and before he knew it, he was waking up in his bed. With Lucifer getting ready for the day and turning to greet him with a smile and a soft good morning.

Had he... slept here? The spot next to the sinner was still warm so yes. The King of Hell had slept over. In his bed. Right next to him. Why? Why did he stay? When Vox finally got over his shocked and asked him, he was surprised and touched by the answer.

"You seemed... like you didn't want to be alone. Like, you needed someone to just exist next to you. I know that feeling all too well."

Lucifer had left hours ago, after being so kind as to summon up some coffee and painkillers for his hang over. Seriously, this guy was too kind for being the man who cursed all humanity. Vox had yet to get up.

He just laid there, replaying that night and morning in his head. He was completely and utterly fucked.

Alastor:

Things were touch and go since his almost defeat by Vox. Alastor had been hiding away in the shadows until he had enough strength to properly defend himself again. It seemed his patience was rewarded.

When he finally came from the shadows, still heavily injured and dying, an angel appeared in front of him. Literally. The first ever fallen angel stood before him.

"You look like shit."

"Oh, really? I hadn't noticed, sire."

Alastor knew it was a gamble speaking to the King of Hell like that, but he was never good at holding his tongue in situations like this. His temper was short, and he was already dying. The worst that could happen was the king speeding up the progress.

However, it seemed he was more amused then angered by the Overlord's sarcastic comment. Kneeling down in front of the sinner, the fallen angel discarded his jacket and pushed up the sleeves of his shirt.

Was he going to help him? What would someone as powerful as Lucifer Morningstar gain from saving a sinner like him? And how could Alastor even repay him for this? It would be a life debt and he hated being indebted to anyone.

The smaller man hadn't even touched him yet (not like Alastor was going to let him) and he already seemed concerned about his state. Biting into his own wrist, the king held out his arm to him, golden blood shimmering and running down his hand. Dripping onto the ground from his claws.

"Here."

This seemed.... familiar. Had this happened to him before? No. There's no way. Right...? However, Alastor could have sworn his reality had glitched for a moment or two.

For a brief moment, Alastor could swear that he was back in New Orleans. Sitting in a dirty alleyway he knew very well. A fuzzy image of someone crouched down in front of him with their arm outstretch to him.

"Hey. You need to drink this or else you'll die. Now isn't the time to zone out."

And drink from the king he did. Alastor would be a fool to let an opportunity like this slip by. After that, the sinner had been left all alone.

That blood had healed him right up and he was back to his old self in no time. Though he thought it wise to keep a low profile for the time being. Especially with being indebted to Lucifer Morningstar of all demons.

Alastor waited and waited for days, months, years for that debt to be collected. However, the devil never graced the deer demon with his presence. It left him feeling antsy.

How was he supposed to deal with this? It's not like he could just show up on the king's doorstep and demand for the fallen angel to let him prepay him for saving his life. Or could he?

That's how Alastor found himself watching the smaller demon. The more he watched him, the more fascinated (obsessed) he became.

Adam:

Adam didn't know when or he started doing this, but fuck, he couldn't stop. Sitting in his office alone, the first man was using his magic to spy on the man who made his living life a nightmare.

That little wife stealing motherfucker. If anyone asked, he just claimed it was for research purposes only. To help with the Exterminations. There were a couple of angels who didn't buy it, but it wasn't really an issue.

Lute, his partner in crime kept her comments to herself for the most part. Only speaking up if he spent too long watching the fallen angel or he let what he was viewing effect his mood and/or work.

Emily, the adorable Seraphim who reminded him way too much of pre-fall Lucifer, kept insisting that he care about the demon. Pfft! Please! As if! Then she had the crazy idea that Adam had a crush on Lucifer! Yeah right! There was no way!

And Sera. All she did was give him these looks and shake her head like she was disappointed in him. Judgmental bitch. Who cared what she thought anyways?

So what if Adam spent most of his free time watching over the loser? So what if seeing him all alone and sad stopped being funny and made the first man feel bad for the fallen angel?

Fuck. This could not be happening to him.

(Okay so I may have gone a little overboard with it XD )

[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.

[valenrien]

...well i did say id draw someone else eventually not immediately :3

anyways enjoy my own little self indulgent pokemon x hsr au !!!!!

gonna add a little explanation for the pokemon n why i chose them under read more for anyone interested !

SO LIKE

you might notice that rhere's 7 pokemon, meaning 1 more than the full team limit, this is bcuz espurr isnt a pokemon he uses for battling n stuff, but rather as a home pokemon !! espurr reminded me a lot of the cat cakes he has so thats why i added it 😭

the green carbink also isnt really a battling pokemon in this au, but it can be! i dont know if carbinks can be any other color but i will disregard this bcuz ITS MY AU!!! so this is an aventurine carbink that was given to him by diamond, it was originally gonna be a substitue for the cornerstone but then i remembered aventurine smashing up his cornerstone and well! wouldnt be very ethical, so the stonehearts get both the cornerstones and their respective carbinks :3

the shiny salandit (which would probably be a salazzle by now) was inspired by this fic and i just had to

shiny meowscarada just felt like it fit him color scheme-wise and theme-wise? mayhaps? tho now that i think about it maybe it would fit a masked fool more hmm

aggron is a pokemon with pretty high defense i think? so i thought it would fit with his in-game kit

mimikyu just felt right. that's it /lh

and last but no least, i gave him an espeon bcuz i wanna give ratio an umbreon so they match :3 i dont exactly ship them, i just in general dont really care about ships that much, but i do enjoy their interactions

competitive-wise ITS PROBABLY NOT... the best team so plz dont come after my throat but whatever!!!! tho if anyone else has any ideas id love to hear them :3

[artifeast]

Cursed Dungeon Meshi AU, with a vague attempt at the manga's style. They are 17 inches shorter than their canon heights. Maintained the height differences though!

Telesphore is an elf of course, Colette is a half-foot/tallman, and Eisen is a gnome. WAY too many miscellaneous thoughts about this AU under the cut. There miight be worldbuilding spoilers if you haven't read the DunMesh manga and bonus material

Telesphore is an elf because, obviously

Eisen's a gnome because that gave me a decent height difference with Telesphore while still giving him strong magic capabilities. He might have a bit of dwarf in him, though

Colette's mother was a half-foot, and her father is a tall-man with a half-foot grandparent. Colette is still taller than the average considering her heritage (I did MATH about this. and jsyk the numbers worked beautifully). I wanted her to not be particularly innately magical, and also this would give her an appropriate height in comparison to Telesphore and Eisen. Like, the AU is already gonna be cursed with how Telsie has to get shrunken, but it'd be even worse if Colette was a tallman and 8 inches taller than him LMAO

Colette still has the Kingmaker in this AU, though I forgot to draw it. In this, it's an ancient elven magical artifact.

Colette's still 25, while Telesphore and Eisen are the same age (190). I made an age comparison chart for the Dungeon Meshi races a while back, taking into account both age of maturity and life expectancy, and according to it, 190 makes Telesphore the equivalent of about 29 and Eisen the equivalent of about 47.5, which is close enough. This AU loses the dynamic of Telesphore being alive for hundreds of years longer than Eisen, and in fact makes Eisen the older one of the two (aging-wise) from the very start, but eh, I think it still works. There's still lifespan angst since Eisen only has 50 years before he hits the average life expectancy for gnomes, while Telesphore has another 210 years. Also I think them remaining the same age, as opposed to canon, but still aging differently is kinda fun.

The Kingdom of Valor is somewhere in the middle of the Eastern Continent, landlocked like in canon. The population is primarily half-foots, but there are also a good deal of gnomes and dwarves, as expected from the region. More interestingly, there is a community of elves.

Within Valor is the Seltsamwald, a bizarre and massive surface-level dungeon in the form of a dangerous forest that stretches for miles, held in check by incredibly powerful ancient magic forming a barrier around it. The elves are investigating it and maintaining it. There is no immortality spell in the Seltsamwald. The lord of the dungeon has not been found, but doesn't appear to be particularly active; in fact, despite being clearly contained and rather active in terms of monsters, it retains many properties of a natural dungeon. Some have theorized that it actually is a natural dungeon that's spread too far, perhaps cultivated by a mage in ages past, that was then sealed closed when it grew too powerful. However, it's not sealed entirely shut, and is kept alive mostly by the elves investigating it. There is very limited non-elf foot traffic, with it mostly being criminals that sneak into its maze-like forest. The Seltsamwald has been kept stable like this for hundreds of years. More recently, a group of elves have formed a small town within the dungeon as a sort of research post, named Sorbus.

Also within Valor are at least two magic schools, located there due to the plentiful mana from the Seltsamwald. One is for gnomish magic, and one is for elven magic.

The Desrosiers were half-foots. Ariadne is a tallman that's managed to prolong her life using ancient magic. (Though even still, in this AU she probably murdered Eisen's parents when he was the equivalent of like... 37, rather than 18)

I've spent a LOT of time thinking about it and I've decided not to try to translate the revolution and the closed Kehrseite portal situation into this AU. It's much easier to say Telesphore not being able to go home is just… a personal issue, because he's a wanted criminal on the Northern Central Continent, LOL. And the revolution's just a huge mess... I guess it wouldn't be so bad if I excluded the Good Neighbors/elves from the proceedings, though. These fantasy medieval ages are allowed a little populist revolution

[magicalcelestialgem]

KickinChicken Headcanons & TPoJ AU info

WOW! I HAVEN'T BEEN ACTIVE HERE FOR HOW LONG?

Anyway, here's KickinChicken!

A little info before looking at the headcanon and AU info below:

The Smiling Critters are young adults in this AU. This is DogDay as a young adult (20 years old). Art of him in his younger years will appear later in the future.

The Protectors of Joy AU will be focused primarily in the cartoon universe, with a few elements from the game.

Because the AU is still in the works, some of these planned infos/headcanons will change.

There will be ships involved, especially CatNap x DogDay.

I know I said Bubba will be next on DogDay's headcanon/TPoJ list, but he's next anyway.

WARNING: KickinChicken x Bubba Bubbaphant mentioned.

KickinChicken's species is the chicken, but his breed is the Buff Laced Polish. And while he is the coolest one out of the Smiling Critters, his temperament is very similar to the Buff Laced Polish.

Due to being a Buff Laced Polish chicken, he and his family have different hairstyles. One of his brothers has the typical Buff Laced Polish feather crest.

As said in the Orientation Notebook, KickinChicken is "scared easily." He tries to hide that fact by being cool.

His sexual orientation is bisexual. He is attracted to both male and female critters.

In high school, Kickin was part of a group of bird critters that make up of male phasianids that have flashy colors or are just prettier than the female phasianids (a peacock critter is a member of this group). And because of their beauty and carefree attitude, they were popular.

Kickin has an ex-girlfriend that treated him like a prize instead of a person. Ever since she dumped him for someone better, Kickin felt hurt and feels scared of falling in love.

Did not help when he started to feel things for a certain nerdy elephant critter. He tries to deny it every time by saying he doesn't have a thing for nerds, but the more he interacts with Bubba, the more he wants to stay by his side.

⭐️ 🐓 : Me? Dating nerds? Pffft. Please. I'm not gonna date nerds.

💡🐘 : Hey, Kickin! 😊

⭐️ 🐓 : 😳 M-Maybe some nerds....

❤️ 🐻 : Mmhm... 😏

Kickin used to have the usual Buff Laced Polish hair when he was younger, but after his family went to a salon and fixed up his hair to his favorite style at the age of 7, he had it even when he grew into adulthood.

Kickin can fly, but only in short distances. And yes, chickens can fly.

Kickin can also crow like a rooster, but he can cluck. He only crows as a victory cry.

Ever since he reached the age of 20, Kickin can manipulate light like DogDay. Only, DogDay's light is much more powerful and stronger. His, not so much.

Kickin never admits it, but he looks up to DogDay a lot. He envies DogDay's bravery and how he does not need to hide anything.

He also envies how smart Bubba is. He thinks it's cool how intelligent he is, even in battle.