#anyway back to the drawing board i go o-(-(

[nem0-nee]

𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐄 𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐬 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐧 𝐢𝐧 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐄𝐍𝐃.

bskfsfksfs Overblot Mayuu concept... Inspired by a certain titan with a monstrous appetite?! Yeah, don't eat blotted magestones kids-

A certain housewarden is FUCKED (iykyk)

I just needed to get this idea out of my system, might render when I'm feeling ambitious

[obsessivevoidkitten]

A Dragon’s Loot

Alpha Dragon Hybrid Male x Omega Male Reader (CW: Non-con, breeding, biting, claiming, dragon man, inhuman genitals, a/b/o, knotting, overstimulation, musk/pheromones, kidnapping, general yandere behavior, ass eaten like it’s groceries, male reader) Word Count: 2.5k (I am so so so so sooooooo incredibly sorry that this took so long, it may not be my best work but I really did try. This was not beta read so please excuse any errors. This is for a trade with @reiyn02.)

 The city you were living in had been almost entirely abandoned. It had walls, but was never made for a large siege, and those walls would be useless with enemies that were airborne anyway.. So the news that your town was next on the war path to be raided by the dragon hybrid forces sent everyone scrambling. But there was no help for those that had no family to help them and were otherwise too burdensome to relocate.  And included in that small category was yourself. You were a male omega going through an extremely rough heat, you were in a significant amount of pain without anyone to assist you and were simply too distracting to travel with others.  So instead of leaving among the guarded mass exodus you had boarded up your small abode the best that you could, using what little strength and willpower you had moving all your heaviest furniture to block the windows and door, before you tucked yourself away in a small hidden crawl space in the wall, behind the closet.  You had even lit candles, incense, and rubbed herbs all around the house earlier in the day to hide your scent as much as it could be hidden, and it was nearly undetectable to your sensitive omega nose. With a little luck you would go unnoticed by the monstrous drakes that wanted to loot and destroy everything in their path.    You had been waiting in your hiding space for several hours, you were burning up and your muscles ached from being so cramped for so long. You were beginning to let yourself believe that it had all been one giant false alarm, that the dragon men had decided to go back home or even raid another settlement instead.  But then you heard a series of thunderous crashes. Judging from the noise the dragons had decided to crash the walls despite them certainly not needing to. After the falling of the walls you could hear the cacophony of draconic roars and cheering, the splintering of wood and the crack of stone as they broke into homes, and the stomp of their mighty feet as they stampeded all through the city.  You had prayed that your meager building in a clearly poorer part of town would not draw attention, but you knew that was a long shot. And sure enough you soon heard stomps near your building before the sound of your door and makeshift barricade being brought down met your ears.  Then you could hear the sounds of someone going through all of your possessions, you doubted they would find anything of value, but they were meticulous. Slowly you heard them get closer until finally they were inspecting the room you were holed up in.  They searched every inch of the room and the closet but they did not find you. You burned with anxiety and your heat but it seemed like whoever the invader was was finally satisfied. You heard them head towards the door, finally you would be safe.  But the soldier caught a whiff of something just as he was heading out of the room. It was tantalizing and beckoned him to investigate further. He did not know what it was exactly, but it caused his cock to twitch a bit in his leather armor.  Dread filled your veins as you heard him sniffing the air and taking steps back towards the closet. You did your best to hold your breath and calm down, as panicked pheromones would serve only to make your scent more detectable.  But it was no use, once he caught the smell of a fearful omega in heat there was nothing to be done. He still was not consciously aware of what the smell was, but on some primal level he knew.  The draconic invader stuffed his head and upper body into the closet as his sniffing became louder and deeper. He tapped the wall with a claw and discovered it was hollow. It was over, he had found your crawl space. The false wall was easily moved aside as you frantically scooted as far back into the shadows as you could.  But the scent of your heat cycle was overwhelming to him now with the false wall removed, and even if your pheromones were not a dead give away dragon hybrids had excellent low light vision and with his head now peering into your hideout he could see you clearly.  A large claw tipped hand, covered in hard scales, reached in and easily plucked you right out. As you were unwillingly pulled into the light you got a look at the intruder for the first time.  He was huge, at least 9 feet tall, all hulking muscle under light leather armor which struggled to contain his vast, intimidating, form. And his large white scaled wings and tail only served to make him look even larger. Scales also covered both his hands and legs and both ended in claws as well. He had long white hair and sharp silver horns.  The dragon stared at you with cold icy blue eyes as you tried to struggle out of his grasp, clawing, biting, and thrashing wildly in every direction. You scratched his face and managed to draw some blood but he only responded by chuckling deeply as he grabbed your hand and used his long tongue to taste his bleeding claw mark.  “Hahaha, a feisty little omega aren’t ya!? This is the first house I get to pillage and I already found the best loot in the whole damn city!” He chuckled again before pressing his nose to your neck and inhaling deeply.  “Mmm~, all nice and in heat for me too. I bet you wanted to be found, everyone knows all dragon hybrids are alphas.”  What he said was true, the magic anomaly that first fused drake and man produced hybrids that were all 100 percent alphas, and when they managed to raid human settlements they always took an opportunity to snatch up omegas to breed. But you were left with no other option but to stay and hide.  The smell of your heat cycle was very compatible with him so it, combined with the excitement of the invasion and finding such a cute prize, was driving him into a frenzy. He simply could not wait to have you. He put you down in the nest you had made for yourself on the floor in the corner of the room and easily ripped apart your clothing as you thrashed and cried.  “Calm down baby boy, this will feel great I promise. My name is Draven by the way, just so you know who’s name you will need to moan when you are on my knot~ It’s okay if you can’t find the words to tell me what your name is right now, I can just learn it later.”  Tears were streaming down your face as you looked up and pleaded desperately, “No, please, no, no, no, please, take anything you want just pleas let me go!”  But as he expertly removed his armor and you saw as well as smelled his arousal you knew there was no chance to escape your imminent rape. Even so you continued your pleading sobs and covered your nakedness with a blanket, as if a mere piece of fabric could protect you from the muscular man towering before you.  Draven entered your nesting space, a severe violation to any omega, and easily took the blanket from you. You closed your legs tight and tried to smack him away but he just let out another chuckle.  “Sorry babe, but I need to appraise all of my new property don’t you think?”  And when you gave him the best kick you could right to his nose and caused the barest drop of blood to fall from his nostril it only encouraged him. He donned an excited grin and a deeply unsettling look in his eyes.  “Damn I struck the jackpot!!! Such a lively mate! I can tell we are going to make a ton of strong children together~”  You tried to kick him again, but he caught your ankle and held down your leg, then he held down the other before sliding both to your soft thighs. Draven then gently prodded your nuts with his nose and inhaled deeply. Your scent was divine to him. And he was now fully convinced you were his soulmate. You were in heat and left just for him to find, you were nice and lively and not overly submissive, and your scent was the best thing he had ever smelled.  But while he was losing himself in your pheromones you were nearly gagging on his. The overwhelming smell of an aroused draconic alpha so close to you would have made your eyes water had you not already been crying. It was far stronger than any human alpha you had met and you were not at all accustomed to such a stench, even if it did make you produce more slick. But you were in heat, so the smell of any aroused alpha would have done that.  “Please stop, I don’t want this. I don’t want this. Please…”  “Calm down, just enjoy it, you’re in heat and this will make you feel better if you just let it.”  Draven continued just enjoying your smell for what seemed like an eternity, with you powerless to push him away, but even after a perceived eternity it was nowhere near a long enough wait for what happened next. He spread your slick coated cheeks and licked your entrance free of delicious slick before eagerly slipping his large tongue in your ass.  You shuddered and moaned involuntarily, hands grasping at the bedding beneath you, as the thick muscle moved surprisingly deep inside you. Draven’s tongue was covered with a torrent of more and more of your juices as he continued.  When he finally withdrew himself from you you were a whimpering, drooling mess. You still wanted him to stop, but your body was definitely betraying you under all the stimulation, you were even starting to become less averse to his musk.  Draven kissed your hole tenderly a few times before repositioning the two of you so that he was on his knees and your ass was pointing up towards his long slimy draconic cock.  “Pl-please no…”, you barely managed to mumble coherently as you stared at the wall. Unable to look up and meet his intimidating gaze.  But once again what you wanted did not really matter. All that mattered was what both your bodies craved and the fact that he wanted to follow his urges and was strong enough to get what he wanted.  The dripping slick that was already once more seeping from your hole, combined with the deep massages provided by Draven’s talented tongue, allowed his prick to slide into you to the base effortlessly.  “Uh… uhhh~”, you couldn’t help but moan as he filled you up so completely, his cock felt even hotter than your insides and the texture of it was like it was custom designed for the sole purpose of pleasing little needy human omegas.  “Heh, not quite my name yet, but we’ll get you there soon enough~”  You really wanted to doubt what he was saying was true, but at the rate things were going you had to admit to yourself that he was probably right. You did not want to give him the satisfaction of hearing your pleasured cries of his name fall from your lips, but everything he was doing felt so amazing and you were losing yourself in your heat and the over stimulation of mating with such a strong and virile alpha.  Draven began greatly increasing the pace at which he was breeding his new cumpdump, his cock creating a faint outline in your belly each time he bottomed out within your slippery depths. Your pleasure induced writhing and squirming around his cock absolutely pushed him over the edge and his fat knot swelled inside of you as he pumped you full of cum.  He was not done yet though, he had not made you cum or heard the delicious sound of you moaning out for him.  While still stuck on his knot Draven picked you up and held you close, where you were much closer to his overpowering pheromones, and began fucking you all over again.  You felt his knot rub up against your insides as he sped up even more than before. He was desperate to hear you submit to him by moaning his name, then he would leave his permanent claim mark on you. The powerful alpha used one hand to hold you close as he began jerking off your dick.  The combination of being so enveloped in alpha scent, thoroughly fucked, and also receiving a handjob had you yearning for release. You began sobbing from the overwhelming mixture of sensations.  Instinctively seeking your climax you grinded into his hand as he bounced you on his knot.  “Dr-Draven!”, you finally called out as you came into his hand.  “See? That wasn’t so hard was it baby boy?” He lifted his hand up to his lips and licked your seed from his fingers before pressing his lips to yours, sliding his tongue in so that you tasted your own flavor on him.  You whimpered into the kiss before he broke it and licked and sucked your neck before biting down hard on the scent gland in your neck. In a mixture of pleasure and pain you let out a choked cry.  After he marked you he carefully pressed his lips to the wound and licked it clean before kissing your forehead softly.  “Such a perfect little mate for me~”  You wanted to claw at him again but you were so exhausted, and it would do you no good since you were still stuck on his knot. And by this point his smell was strangely comforting to you. Maybe it was a side effect of being marked or maybe it was a biological defense that omegas had when being mated so they did not succumb to depression, you didn’t know.  At any rate you figured you could scratch him up later, because as the pain in your freshly bitten neck subsided you became increasingly aware of just how tired you were. You allowed yourself to relax against his muscular chest and fall asleep in his arms as you let his pheromones and his gentle touches subdue you.  Draven held you close, he figured he would give you some sleep for a few hours before the raid was over and his kind returned to their homeland. He was sure you would love living with him, he would give you his knot every chance he got, keep you covered in lovely bite marks, and make sure you felt nice and safe in your new nest.  You were his prized possession, the crown jewel of his hoard, and just like any other item in the hoard of a territorial dragon, you would never leave.

[marina41trench]

Nikaidou Yamato - 16PRODUCERS RabbiChat

Tamaki: Iorin come to Yama-san’s rooooom

Tamaki: Hurryyyy

Tamaki: I

Tamaki: o

Tamaki: riiiiiiin

Iori: How vexing.

Iori: Or rather, there is still time.

Have you done your homework?

Tamaki: (king pudding emoji) (cat emoji) (rabbit emoji)

Iori: Please do not dodge my question with such emoji.

Tamaki: Geeeeez Yama-san you should get him here too!

Yamato: Ichi

Yamato: The room’s tidier than before and I’ve prepared zabuton[1]. Will you come here?

Iori: Somehow, the way you invite sounds repulsive?

Yamato: No way?!

Tamaki: The way you invite sounds like an old man

Yamato: I’m the lead today, right…?

Iori: Anyway, I’ll be on my way.

Tamaki:

Tsumugi: Thank you for your work!

I was wondering when I’ll get a notification, but everyone’s already assembled…!

Yamato: Great work, Manager

The three of us have gathered in my room just now

Yamato: Tama laid out lots of sweets and juice

Iori: It’s like a field trip

Tsumugi: I can imagine it! (laugh)

What kind of sweets did you prepare?

Tamaki: Shredded and dried squid[2], crackers, jerky, choco, potato chips, gummies, marshmallow, cookie

Yamato: I’m thankful for the first half of the list

Iori: It is getting late, so let us start

Tsumugi: I agree…!

So, let me explain the aim of this project once again.

Tsumugi: Our discussion will be done via RabbiChat as there were expectations from the other party to see everyone acting naturally, as if having a conversation over a dining table together as opposed to a meeting place.

Tsumugi: I hope I could hear the thoughts of the producing group and the one being produced!

Tamaki: First of all, Yama-san was really happy about it!

Yamato: Ough…

Iori: Or rather, he was very festive.

He had an eccentric mood when he sent a message earlier.

Yamato: I feel really embarrassed now.

Tsumugi: I’m happy to hear Yamato-san’s inside story! (laugh)

What did you feel when you learned that Iori-san and Tamaki-san will be your producers? Yamato: Well… as said earlier, I was happy!

Yamato: I’m sure everyone already knows this, but I’ve always wanted a comfortable place to live, and the people around me have provided that.

Yamato: But Ichi can see through what I’m thinking and knows I have a pathetic side.

I’ve looked forward to seeing how he’ll get through me.

Yamato: Tama is the same too. He suggests things no one has thought of. He can get to the bottom of things.

Yamato: So, they know how to bring out a side of me I’m not even aware of.

Tamaki: Fufun!!!!

Iori: Fufu.

Yamato: Can you two not eat chocolate while looking so proud (laugh)

It’s going to get stuck in your mouth (laugh)

Tsumugi: It’s kind of making me moved to tears…!

Tsumugi:  You’re still close to them despite having the largest age difference, how did you produce him and come up with the song?

Iori: To be honest, we had a dispute over it.

Tamaki: Yea.

Yamato: W-wait. I didn’t know that…

Iori: It wasn’t an argument, but more of a constructive discussion on how enchanting you should be with regards to this project.

So our direction in production is divided.

Tsumugi: I want to hear the details of your divided perspective!

Iori: Nikaidou-san is really good at making alluring expressions by impulse.

For the fans, it stirs up their imagination of his sharp gaze towards them.

Iori: At first I suggested a mature-ish ballad song because it fits best to express his characteristic carefree singing voice.

Tamaki: I suddenly thought that the song is going to be the one where his body movements shine with dancing!

Tamaki: I don’t know what allure is like but Yama-san is really good at making expressions, y’know

So if the focus is matching it with the song and then dance, I’m thinking if the fans would be happy

Yamato: No way, hearing those makes me feel more embarrassed though?!

Tamaki: That’s hilarious

Since we couldn’t decide, me and Iorin wrote in a notebook on what kind of a person Yama-san is during lunch break 👍

Iori: We went back to the drawing board, and listed the things of our image of Nikaidou-san

Iori: 1. He’s very approachable

2. He rarely reveals his true feelings

3. A shy person

Tamaki: Even though he’s trying to look good by treating us to ramen, he spoils us very much.

Yamato: Aaaaaaahhhh this dried squid is really goooood where did it come from?

Did Tama buy this for meeeeeeeee?

Iori: Well, in short, Nikaidou-san might call himself “onii-san”, but in reality he’s like this, right?

Yamato: Don’t say it like that!

Tamaki: Yeah

Even though I really like Yama-san to be like this, you keep that side of you hidden from the public, right?

So me and Iorin decided that the lyrics should be about being okay with being your natural attitude? more.

Iori: And we decided that the melody and the lyrics are like untying a thread one by one.

Iori: So this is like our message to Nikaidou-san.

Yamato: Ahh, I see. So it’s like that.

Yamato: To be honest, since I’m the oldest in IDOLiSH7, I thought that I’d do the first one Ichi said.

Yamato: Somehow, I was surprised at first that the lyrics felt like it’s a message

Yamato: I seeee

It’s a message for me

Tsumugi: It’s a new form of producing…

I’ve read the lyrics again, and it almost made me shed a tear…

Yamato: I know right

Tamaki: Yama-san’s looking away

Iori: You’re hiding something.

Yamato: Hey Tsumugi-san, please move on to the next topic…

Tsumugi: Yes…! ><

Tsumugi: For the artist picture, Yamato-san’s smile under the blue sky and the clear weather is striking!

How did the photography go?

Tamaki: The theme is “A Special in Ordinary Day” as Yama-san thinks of us in a meaningful way!

Me and Iorin were looking for a good location to do it when we go home from school and during day-off

Iori: Yes. We narrowed down our search on our usual path and found a studio that lets us film on the rooftop.

Yamato: Yeah, and it’s near our office

Yamato: I was surprised that there’s such an open space within the city

Even though it’s surrounded by buildings, we could see the vast sky above us. It really felt so special.

Yamato: Tama is the one who definitely suggested using a water gun, right? (lol)

Tamaki: You’re correct!

You guessed it right, Yama-san

Iori: If you relay the meaning of the title, “Transparent”, the water is portrayed in it as well.

And then using a water gun, is something only Yotsuba-san can suggest.

Tamaki: You can praise me more

Yamato: Good job Tama, you can give an idea no one else can!

Tamaki:

Iori: It was pretty difficult to angle the camera that it shows the water

Tamaki: Yeah I think I’m good with water gun for a while

Iori: Moreover, I believe that there’s a small chance to use it.

Yamato: Anyway, the artist picture is a result of the two doing their very best!

Tsumugi: Thank you for the lovely episode!

The outfit having a wavy silhouette is wonderful!

Yamato: Its simpleness is something I really like~.

Either way it could pass as a casual outfit

Iori: Nikaidou-san’s charm is going to stand out even if an almost plain outfit blends in daily life.

Tamaki: And his dance is smooth and the way he moves his flexible fingers is pretty so we requested the outfit to show it by having the sleeve flutter when he dances ✌

Yamato: You’ve been really thinking about me…

Tamaki: Your face is as red as a jerky. Hilarious

Yamato: Don’t compare me to a jerky (lol)

Iori: Yotsuba-san’s food scraps is being cleaned by Musashi right now

This looks convenient.

Tamaki: Recently when I borrowed it to clean my room one time, it stopped moving because it sucked some books

I apologized to it

Yamato: Musashi, you did something ridiculous…

Tsumugi: Thank you for the warm talk! (laugh)

Lastly, please give a word to your fans!

Iori: Well, I’ll start first.

Iori: Nikaidou-san does a great work in dramas and movies while supporting his fellow members, but he’s also truly timid, easy to feel lonely, and has an uncool side.

Iori: Considering that, we wanted to tell that he’s our cool leader, so this is how we produced him.

This is a song where it's not Nikaidou-san-like, but actually it’s very like him. Please listen to it a lot.

Tamaki: Yama-san has a lot of faces, in a good way!

But we really love all of it!

Tamaki: I hope everyone will love Yama-san singing this kind of song even more!

Yamato: Umm… I might not be able to finish this smoothly

Yamato: I’ve received words from Ichi and Tama where they still love me even at my lowest.

I feels really like a miracle that I get to meet such people who’d say that

Yamato: A long time ago, I was scared of being hurt so I made a wall and had a habit of giving up instantly.

I’m sure everyone experienced that before

Yamato: But, it’s fine. I’m sure there’s someone who’ll show up like the messages in this song.

For now it’s okay to think that guy is me

Yamato: Thank you for always supporting me.

Hopefully we meet again, you with those relaxed shoulders and natural smile.

Tamaki: You showed off on the last one

Iori: You really did.

Yamato: That’s fine!!

Let me be a sly charming onii-san!!

Tsumugi: Thank you for your time, everyone…!

I’m sure this conversation will receive a lot of response, I look forward to the day it’ll be open to the public!

Tamaki: Yama-san really loves us

Should we take a picture?

There’s nothing in this room

Iori: Good idea. Let’s put a lot of good memories in this room.

Yamato: Ohh, put anything you want here

Iori: Well then, let us put a picture of Nikaidou-san wearing an Usamimi Parka first.

Manager, please prepare the picture.

Tsumugi: Leave it to me!!! 💪

Yamato: Why!!!!

-

[1] zabuton is a rectangular shaped cushion used for sitting or kneeling

[2] shredded and dried squid, or sakiika, is a snack

[petra-creat0r]

Deltarune: Fool's Fate Ch. 7 Secret Boss

We finally get to the Studio Dark World! The only chapter other than Chapter 1 of Fool's Fate to be set not in Hometown!

I think I first started coming up with this guy around the fourth of July, it's just taken me a bit to draw them and flesh out their lore. Anyways, without further ado, ladies and gentlemen I present to your, your host, the one, the only, the darling deer with the charming voice, Ray D. O'Skelly!!

Ray's name should be obvious. It's a pun on radio. They're a radio host. Not a lot to explain there. Though when first coming up with their name and concept, I did look into 30s and 40s era radio hosts to try and pull inspiration from their names. Red Skelton was one I landed on since Skelton is similar to "skeleton" and I already knew I wanted this boss to have a skeletal face to resemble 30s era radios. Eventually I shorted it to Skelly to flow better with the O to go with the radio pun.

I don't really have a text quirk for Ray yet? Best I can think off is their voice sounds staticy or they get interrupted by ads/song lyrics similar to Spamton and Bitsy. I do know that they can't actually speak because of the well... whole thing that happened to their face. Their voice comes through their microphone. If anyone has any ideas let me know. Maybe a sound board situation?

Since I imagine the studio world being similar to what I think Chapter 3 will be like, being based off movies and film rather than TV, and Bitsy is already animation theory and I've got Casper to cover Woody theory, Ray is radio theory. Video killed the radio star. The theory I forgot to include in my original poll when I was first coming up with Bitsy despite being one of my favorite ideas. Aside from being based on an old-timey radio host, I also vaguely pulled some subtle inspiration from Alastor from Hazbin Hotel. Mostly just in the fact that Ray is a deer along with their color palette, radio theming, and some of their demeanor.

Backstory under the cut

Ray O'Skelly used to be the talk of the town, the bees knees, the cats pajamas! The voice heard across the globe and broadcast to nearly every station. MTTWood's very own home town darling and host of the most tuned into radio channel in all of the studio world. Ray's radio show had it all! Music, news, even radio plays performed by the deer themself! It was the age of radio and Ray was monarch, surely there was no way their popularity would falter any time soon.

At least... that's what Ray thought before the leader of the studio world signed a deal with some folk from this up and coming "Television" Dark World.

At first, the TV World didn't pose much of a threat to Ray, or at the very least it couldn't yet compete with the popularity of their radio show. But over time, the alternative form of entertainment started to gain more attention and views than Ray's show gained listeners. Especially after the appearance of a supposed Knight in the other Dark World and the merge of most of the channels into TennaVision. According to the public, Ray's show was getting old and bland. The music they played went out of style who knows how long ago, and people would prefer to watch the news and Ray's "radio plays" rather than simply listening. Ray either had to adapt, or fade away in obscurity.

That was when Ray met a man. A man offering aid, offering salvation to the deer down on their luck. The man offered to help Ray "get with the times" as they say, and rise back to fame. Help get their radio show back in the public zeitgeist and to surpass the competition. Almost without thinking, Ray took the man's offer, desperate to stay relevant through whatever means necessary.

The man made good on his deal, helping Ray by suggesting a few changes to their format here and there. New music, updated segments, notes on Ray's tone and how to better appeal to masses and be "hip with the kids", the works. Ray wasn't particularly for all the new changes, but they were desperate. Desperate for attention, desperate for fame and adoration. And fame and attention they got. It was almost as if, whoever tuned into the station would HAVE to listen. Ray's listenership was through the roof, all thanks to the man...

Perhaps it could be said that fame and power corrupts, because at some point, listeners noticed a shift in Ray's demeanor. Once the soft-spoken and well mannered host with the most, they got more prideful, vein, sadistic. Either from all the attention going to their head, or perhaps from a great Truth revealed to them about the nature of their existence breaking their mind. Whatever it was, it twisted the once charming radio host. Twisted them into an arrogant yet still devilishly charismatic individual with an ever captive audience.

Eventually, Ray's pride got the better of them. Even after the man left, Ray still maintained their popularity and fame, yet their ego wouldn't settle for just that. Ray had a captive audience at their disposal who would have to listen to anything they said. Any idea they suggested could be implanted in as little as a whisper and the right frequency. Ray could control this town. Could bend it to their every whim and will. Which is just what they tried to do. Before their operation got shut down of course.

Turns out, an old acquaintance had played stool pigeon and cried wolf to the authorities. Even if Ray tried to charm the guards, it was no use. Their studio was taken from them and shut down and they were cast out onto the rainy street. Yet even stripped of everything, Ray wouldn't let anything stop them from reaching the top. In a makeshift studio down in the darkest corners of MTTWood, Ray continued to broadcast their signal to who ever would listen.

That is until the children of a star and their friends found themselves in the studio world...

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

hehehe. It might've taken me a bit to come up with but this was fun. When I designed Ray, I knew they were a little charmer, but I also wanted to have them be twisted. I imagine after the studio Dark World is sealed and Ray ends up staying at the Blook house with Spamton and Poly, they act like the sweetest little darling. Only to still be manipulating people through subliminal messaging in their radio broadcasts. I'll have to play that out some time.

Anyways, only 3 left to go! And one of those I already have so it's really just designing the secret boss for the Town Hall world and then the Festival world. The later of which I already have a vague idea for.

[sugar-omi]

Hope you don't mind another prompt from me, since my first one when you mentioned the hangman moment 'Growing', I thought it would be a very fun thought experiment to reverse the scene and it's gn!mc who writes the phrase down, and Cove is the one to guess it. I take hangman very seriously (bc it's my favorite pass-time activity) so I'm very quick with it but I could imagine Cove taking some more rounds to guess until he finally gets the full result. :D

tags : fluff, step 2, re-imagined "growing" moment

synopsis : you flirt with cove in a game of hangman

maybe its the heat that makes you so bold, or maybe its mistake number 5,796 that only 13 year olds can make at this time; but with cove's suggestion to play hangman, you decide to share one of your many thoughts on cove, your neighbor and crush...

you sit back down with a paper and pen in hand. "mind if i go first? since you picked the game..."

cove nods.

you hum and think for a minute, tossing back and forth ideas before you finally settle on it.

it's a bit embarrassing, and you feel a wave of heat wash over you, but you just blame it on the weather.

sketching out the lines for the hangman and your quote, you turn it around for cove to start guessing.

your heart pounds as cove starts guessing, although his first guess makes you laugh.

"z?"

you laugh for a bit, leaning on your bed as you take in cove's answer. wiping away tears you look at him with a grin. "z? wha- *laughs* what makes you guess z?"

cove smiles lazily, happy to make you laugh. he shrugs. "gotta take out the hard options."

you shake your head, drawing a shaky circle for the hangman's head. "you're silly. consider starting with vowels instead."

you pause for a moment, wondering if you're giving yourself away.

you didn't exactly think about how cove would react to the compliment once he guessed it.. would it be okay if he didn't guess it?

he'd probably ask what it was if he failed... would you tell him?

you chew your lip, startling when cove catches your attention.

"y/n?" cove tilts his body to the side, looking at you.

you smile weakly. "nevermind, just dying in this heat."

cove blinks but plays along with you, grinning as he makes a comment. "me too. i think i'm stuck to the floor now."

you throw your stuffed cat plushie at him. it didn't hurt him, the cat is the size of his hand at best. he just laughs and fluffs it into shape.

"imma have to charge you rent then." you grin wolfishly when cove asks how much. "twenty."

cove rolls his eyes, his cheeks a bit flushed as he thinks about it. "still can't believe my dad did that..."

cove looks down at the paper, telling you his answer again before you get too distracted.

you lick your lips, adding "O" to the line.

you smile at him, continuing where you left off. "yeah, it was kinda weird.." you twiddle your fingers, looking at your lap as cove takes a bite of his sandwich, thinking about his next guess as he waits for you to continue or not.

mumbling a bit, realizing the heat must have some kind of bug in it since you're so... sentimental today.

"i'm glad he did it anyway. you're not bad for twenty dollars." you smirk, trying to ignore your racing heart and covering up your fluster with jokes.

cove rolls his eyes and laughs. there's still a blush on his cheeks, your words still warmed his heart.

"good. there's no refunds." he plays along, looking at you through his lashes.

"damn. i missed the return window, huh." you curse to which cove laughs, telling you his next guess.

"p!"

you bite your lip, drawing the letter.

as you go on playing, joking and laughing as well as focusing occasionally when cove contemplates his next move.

he's... close. although not without sacrifice.

he lost the first and second round, with only 3 letters correctly guessed on the board in the first round and somehow finished the second round with 2. now it's you're third round, and his hangman is close to his end, unfortunate for him.

the hangman only has 2 legs and an arm left, and cove has finally decided to take your game seriously instead of laughing and joking with you.

you're really nervous now, since he's getting really close..

YOU A_E CU_E

cove looks confused at what it could be, but taking his former experience into account he guesses the next few letters.

"r?" cove phrases it like a question, tilting his head like a puppy.

you draw it, twisting the pencil as he takes the final guess.

"t..."

you swallow, drawing a shaky letter 'T'.

'YOU ARE CUTE'

the silence stretches between you two, and you look up from the paper to greet cove's flushed face.

he's covering his face with his hands and you look down at his lap to see his glasses are hanging off the plush cat's head.

you try to think of the plushie with glasses that actually fit, its a way to distract you as you wait for cove to respond but it just makes you blush when you realize it'd just look like cove that way...

jesus fucking christ... you drag your hand over your face. cove takes up so much of your thoughts...

you look up at him, still covering your mouth with your hand, and you mumble loudly enough for him to hear. "...a penny for your thoughts?"

cove squeaks, clearly lost in his thoughts.

it makes you happy though, since he hasn't run away it must be a good sign right?

he peaks at you from the gaps of his fingers. the shadow casted over his face makes his eyes pop, cove's brilliant blue irises making your stomach flutter with the way he looks so flustered by your written compliment.

you startle, almost missing his question.

"you mean it?..."

you blink, swallowing. suddenly your mouth feels dry... in the end you nod, and muster up a couple words.

"yeah. i do." cove squeaks at your answer.

you can't really see it, but cove's hands part in a way that allow you to see the smile forming on his face.

it makes you smile too. this is good right? you're suppose to start feelings... things. at this age, so this is okay. especially if its cove.

cove finally comes out of hiding, trading covering his face for twisting the arms of the cat plush in his lap. he must have braced himself enough to give his own compliment without hiding, at least if tilting his head down and glancing away didn't count.

"i uh... i think you're cute too..."

you're blushing, and you bite your lip to stop the elated grin from taking over your face.

yeah, this is definitely okay.

[a-libra-writes]

Do you have any more headcanons for our darling Rocky? Romantic, general or whatever. I think that whenever he sees his s/o he has stars in his eyes and that he loves boasting about them to all of Lackadaisy (much to their annoyance; Victor is that close from throwing him out the window).

Who is your favourite character btw?

This is kind of a part 3 to my previous Rocky Romantic HCs, with these focusing more on domestic living together and family stuff! Femme and masc options included.

When Rocky starts living with you, it's an adjustment. He hasn't had a permanent home-home in nearly 10 years. There's so many things he forgot about, and things he missed dearly but tried very hard not to dwell on. And he gets to see so many new things about you - you'll catch him staring more than once as you go about your routines, from shuffling through the morning to winding down in the evening. All the things you keep on your shelves, everything smelling like you, noting all your interesting habits! It's your private world he's been invited into and he's a little obsessed. The place wouldn't need to be anything fancy, either - even in an apartment, he takes in everything like it's s gift.

(You'll find all sorts of cute notes scattered about where you'll surely find them, even if it's weeks later. Drawings, poems, love notes, song lyrics - all sorts of sweet, sappy things like that. Then there's the BIG obvious ones he leaves right on your nightstand or mirror.)

Rocky wants to be useful, of course, he always does, but his domestic skills are ...well. There's room for improvement. Cleaning and keeping up with himself is one of those things he needs to pay more attention to, and while he wants to help with the cooking, uh. Maybe hold off on that until you're sure he won't get distracted in the middle of boiling water. Also, when he does cook breakfast, there's usually a huge mess left behind ... But it's the thought that counts! He'll figure out pretty much any chore you assign him, anyway. And at this point you know how much Rocky wants to please you.

When he first moved in, there was an initial period where you two slept separately. It was only proper, especially if you're femme, buuut that went out the window within a week or two. Rocky wouldn't be the one to bring it up, but he wouldn't complain a bit if you just let him stay in your bed instead of going back to the couch or guest room. (And I mean, he looks so comfy and he loves snuggling ... are you really gonna kick him out?)

Even if you both fall asleep on opposite sides of the bed, eventually the grey tabby will migrate over to you. The clinginess doesn't stop just because he's asleep! And he either sleeps like the dead, or bolts up at the slightest noise. Most mornings Rocky is up at the near crack of dawn, antsy and ready to get on with whatever idea is rattling around in his head. Snuggling might incline him to sleep in just a little longer - or maybe he'll just soak up the comfy bed, sunny morning and loved one next to him. It's a very quiet and still peace that takes some getting used to.

If you're femme - happy as he is to go on about how wonderful you are to others, he doesn't breathe a word of it to his aunt. He might actually be skinned alive if Nina catches a whiff of him "living in sin".

If you're masc, y'alls domestic life is probably closer to a "bachelor pad" than some suburban bliss, but it's still homey in it's own way. It's far more likely you're both sharing an apartment or row house close to the Little Daisy. Your laundry tends to get mixed up (which Rocky doesn't mind at all, even if you're much bigger than him), there's lots of late-night attempte to cook on the terrifyingly worn out gas stove and opening the window at night to let in a cool breeze and the sounds of the city. Other tenants don't may you two any mind, assuming you're family or two workers trying to save money by boarding together.

(Bonus points if y'all live in the same apartment block as Zib and his band, as if he doesn't have to deal with the nauseating lovebirds enough)

Being in a safe, stable place with a loved one can stir up some buried memories. You've probably seen Rocky despair dramatically already, but the actual crying is new. He's a noisy cryer, it's difficult for him to hide it. He'd even apologize if it woke you up, but Rocky is surprisingly comfortable with crying on you and being held, though there been a few times where he's initially resisted, feeling like he ought to hide these emotions instead. It's been so long since he had this kind of comfort, but there's still shame when he feels the tears came from out of "nowhere". Oh, there's a lot repressed there ...

And there's the whole ... getting a concussion and nearly dying bit. Initially Rocky is unaware of long-term effects of the concussion, and later willfully ignores them as long as he can. Sudden bright lights and loud noise cause twinges of pain that can snowball into a full blown migraine, something he's never had to deal with. And the first time he banged his head on a doorframe? Bam, flat on his ass. Rocky woke up resting on your lap, your frantic face hovering above him. He was only out for a few seconds but uh, still scary. Something he should be aware of and more careful about because he's sooo good at being careful...

(Small silver lining is you fuss and take care of him during the migraines but Rocky haaaates having to be still in bed. Good luck keeping him there!)

Regardless of gender, there's some potential friction with your family. You adore Rocky and are perfectly happy with him, but well, to your family ... If they're middle or upper class, associating with a destitute musician with bizarre behaviors was not in the plan for you (god forbid anyone finds out about the bootlegging and arson). No matter how well he cleans up, or is on his "best behavior", you could risk getting cut out from the family entirely. Note if you're masc, your relationship could simply be brushed aside as that "friend" of your's they don't approve of. A woman will be judged far more harshly, especially if you and Rocky are living together without being married. You can kiss any inheirtance or family support goodbye.

(Of course, being from a poorer family or not having one at all mitigates much of this drama.)

The fact you're willing to defy your family for him and defend him gets Rocky emotional all over again. It's probably not possible for him to be any more devoted to you, but now feelings of guilt will bubble up. On darker days he'll worry he's ruining someone's family relationships (again) and it'd be best if he just left.

Actually getting married to Rocky would amp that family drama even further, no matter how happy you are about it. It'd probably end up being one of those thrown-together elopements where you're both giddy and a little anxious and driving out to who-knows-where to find a priest who won't ask questions. There's no ring, but - hey, maybe a family heirloom was found. Maybe a friend lends a dress that's almost white, and you repurposed a fancy tablecloth for a veil, and Rocky is wearing a borrowed suit of Freckle's, and the bouquet is flowers you two found alongside the road.

It's slapped together and messy but also exciting and y'all are so happy in spite of everything. Rocky's grinning so much you think his face might get stuck; this isn't something he ever imagined for himself, but now that you're here, he just wants to love and be with you forever. Expect a few years. Maybe a lot. There could even be a little 'reception' at the Lackadaisy, with lots of dancing and music and everyone having to witness how blindlingly sappy you two are (as if they weren't painfully aware).

(Baby & family stuff here!)

So. If you're AFAB, the reality is you and Rocky will have one ... or several ... scares, unless you're very diligent. Look, his pull-out game is shit because he just gets so caught up in the affection and being with you. Hell, that may be what led to the elopement in the first place, spurred on by a healthy dose of Catholic guilt and maaaaybe a family member's shotgun.

Just like the whole 'Finding the Most Wonderful Love of His Life' thing, Rocky didn't think children were anywhere in his future. If any thoughts were given to it, he might assume he'd been a poor parent, because isn't he a screw-up with anything else? What example did Rocky have, anyway - a dad who basically abandoned his family when they needed him most? He does his worrying and anxiety spiralling in private, but it'd be easy for anyone to pick up on it. Of course he thinks you'll do wonderfully, but the chaotic tabby has little hope for himself.

(If you also have no idea what you're doing, congrats! It's utter chaos. And you think anyone at Lackadaisy knows what to do? Also nope! Godspeed!!)

But the thing is, Rocky is quite good with the kitten once they start crawling and exploring. He has the energy level to keep up with them, and he naturally encourages the kiddo to explore and play more. The tot being noisy or fussy or agitated doesn't faze him much; Rocky quickly picks up when they just want attention and playtime or if something is actually upsetting them. I think he'd also sing and play music to soothe them, like his mom used to do when he was restless.

(Also the three of you going out for a picnic or playing in the park and he's just! So happy!! He really had his own tiny family that loves him. He doesn't care if the kitten claws up his back when they're startled or eat grass and immediately vomit or drop their toy into the park fountain. That's his baby!)

Also, at least one (but realistically most) of his kiddos would also have ADHD. Obviously in this time period there's no recognition or diagnosis, but it's easy to notice if his kid has similar 'odd' behaviors and mannerisms. Anywhere from the hyperactivity, to fidgeting and chattering, to sudden focus on things that interest them. I think anytime his child seems to act like him, even if it's considered "misbehavior", he just melts and can't find it in himself to scold them. Rocky would generally be the forgiving, fun and permissive parent, much as his own mother was. He'd also worry about being too absent; normally no one cared when he was gone for days (or weeks ...), but now there's a little one who can't even handle him being gone for an evening. No Rocky you can't strap the kitten to your back and take them everywhere....

Notably if the kitten was neuroatypical in a different way, or disabled - either deaf, or they struggle to walk, etc, Rocky picks up on this quickly. He'd be good about thinking up accommodations or ways for them to get about the world easier, and patient, so very patient. Making up hand signs? Jury rigging a mobility aid? Recognizing when a place might be too overwhelming for the kid? Figuring out exactly which textures are upsetting for them? It may shock people how observant he is about these things - and, given the time period, he could be seen as too "indulgent". Okay he's definitely an overly indulgent parent in other ways, but in this case, Rocky is quite fixated. He's very familiar what it's like being on the outside and disregarded.

He absolutely wants to teach his kiddo music, and likes singing to them and rattling off poetry when it comes to him. The household is full of music and art in general, especially if you're artistically inclined yourself. He'll gather all sorts of unusual books to read to them (even if they're too young for it, his voice is nice to listen to). He's the parent who keeps literally anything his kid makes him and gets happy and emotional all over again when he sees it. He's also the parent who can't deny his kiddo when they've had a bad dream or are afraid of the dark ... so either he falls asleep on the couch with them, or he carries them back to y'all's bedroom.

It goes without saying that Rocky's going to continue his criminal activities. If anything, he's been spurred on even more in order to support you and the kitten, especially if this is after 1929; the kids would be growing up during the worst of the Great Depression. This could either be a point of contention between you and Rocky, if you aren't doubling down on the crime yourself.

(Personally I HC that, if he had a family to provide for, he'd 100% stay involved with crime even after Prohibition and/or the Lackadaisy is gone. What other choices are there?)

Note if you're masc and had a kiddo from a previous relationship, a lot of these HCs still apply! Rocky would still find himself bonding with them and being delighted by how much they seem to care for him. He likes noticing the mannerisms that are just like your's, and how their faces mimic your own expressions. They'd refer to him as "uncle Rocky" but sometimes they'll slip and say "papa". Which totally doesn't make him want to cry or anything.

[marquisegallery]

The last thing from the backlog I had at the beginning of this year. And a thing I've been meaning to talk about before then anyways. :u

First and foremost, this is a reference to this old drawing!

Second, basically I was original planning to do a big story thing as a sequel to my Maddy and Match fic. But after a lot of planning and attempts at rewrites, I think I'm going to have to scale things back on that potential sequel.

I've come to realize I bit off more than I could chew and was planning to make it like... basically like a whole season of the anime in terms of scale. A main plot! Subplots! Tons of characters! Plot twists! Surprise villains! etc.

Some people are able to handle that all on their own, but... yeah, I'm definitely not one of those people. Also after breaking things up during the outlining, it could potentially end up a good 50+ chapters, and committing to something that big for one fic is just... really intimidating tbh. ^^;

So yeah, Lan being pulled away from the "conspiracy board" is basically symbolic of me taking a step back and trim things down a bit.

That is not to say there won't ever be a sequel to my Maddy and Match fic! There's at least one loose thread of sorts involving Match's family. That was going to be resolved in the original sequel, and I've decided to basically rip that out of the original plan and make it the focus of a smaller fic. Hopefully it will be satisfying and tie everything up! Hopefully.

In the meantime I still have my BRC fixation, so who knows when I'd ever get to that anyways. It'd be nice to make this a collaborative thing with another BN/EXE writer, but I'm not gonna try and force that to be a guarantee.

For now, we'll see what the future holds! \o/

[berrypass-de-murdler]

96. Breaking and Investigating

Random irratino painting I'm not proud of

He looks miserable in a lot of my drawings recently-

Book 2 is E N C R O A C H I N G

DON'T READ THE EPISODES UNTIL YOU'VE FINISHED THE FIRST BOOK!!

IRRATINO: Let’s go save Hollywood! LOGICO: Irratino wait. They’ll never let me back on the lot now, not after they saw me begging to bail. We might as well give up. IRRATINO: …  IRRATINO: Are you serious. LOGICO: Yes…  IRRATINO: [slaps him]  LOGICO: HAHAHHA. No. We’ll use one of our old tricks. IRRATINO: YAAES, I love old tricks! Which one? LOGICO: [makes sure no one’s listening] Lying.

The duo has fake mustaches and janitor outfits - they’re ‘mechanics’! They look absolutely adorable in their faux getup. Logico looks like a cyclops Mario! Anyway, they creep around and over fences, avoiding prying eyes. And with a shabang, they’re in!

IRRATINO: That was SO easy! LOGICO: Irratino shhh! 

Surprisingly, there’s no response-

MIDNIGHT: You idiots. OXYMORONS: GAHAHH! [fall over like boards] MIDNIGHT: You only got in because the security guard is dead.

Luckily, a brown and green boulder rolls in at just the right time.

CELADON: I’ll be the new security guard. You two stay put. IRRATINO: We’re… already in- LOGICO: SHHH! PRESIDENT: What’s going on? STEEL: UGH… THOSE PEOPLE BROKE IN AGAIN! Wait, who’s the tall one?

What’s actually important is… who did the murder, and did they do it with marot cards, specifically picked for a fatal future?

IRRATINO: Pfffffffffhhhhaahahahahaha what??

As the suspects split up and the duo scans around, Logico still has trouble walking in his clunky little pants.

LOGICO: I’m just not built for pants. IRRATINO: Easy there, Logico. LOGICO: WHY IS YOUR MIND SO TWISTED.

Logico finds a trace of metal on the clothing of Midnight III.

IRRATINO: Clothing? He’s a blob, he doesn’t wear anything! LOGICO: Except…  IRRATINO: OHHHHHH.

Midnight is not one for cheap sunglasses - his shades are real metal. Meanwhile, his father ducks behind a C-stand.

PRESIDENT: The C stands for Cresident. LOGICO: I think he might have done it. STEEL: WAIT! Wait. [sigh] Look… I wanted to take over Hollywood.

A full confession? From STEEL?

STEEL: I just… ugh… NUHH ugh.  LOGICO: All right, come with me then. 

But Irratino won’t come. He’s busy with a dowsing rod.

LOGICO: Irratino, come on. We have her. IRRATINO: Hmm… we should really investigate that stage, Logico.

They kick down a locked door.

MIDNIGHT: Hi. LOGICO: So you did it, or…? IRRATINO: Logico, don’t you see what this means? LOGICO: That Midnight III did it?

No, not at all. The real fact was that everyone else was drawing attention away from… her!!

CELADON: Me.

Everyone pretends to gasp.

LOGICO: Right… obviously. [blushes in severe embarrassment] CELADON: I saw the latest anti-war film, and I decided I had to do something about it. So I came down here to peacefully and diplomatically discuss the situation, but when a ‘security guard’ threw me out, I thought this is my red line, and I got revenge. And more importantly, with this one dead, I can become the real security guard Hollywood deserves.

Logico is sad.

IRRATINO: Don’t worry, we got her in the end! LOGICO: [sputter] That didn’t have ANYTHING to do with what we’re looking for! There’s NOTHING here! IRRATINO: [kneels down] Don’t worry. All things are connected. Even things that aren’t connected at all. 

He places a hand on Logico’s chest. This makes him extremely warm, and they’re ready to go forward.

The end!

98-100 actually I haven't written so I'mma be writing them on the day I post - this'll be fun

The power of Goat Lord compels you!

See you next time murdlers!

[luvhhannie]

“yn!” your underclassman, easel neighbor, hyunjin, whisper yelled at you. you averted your gaze from your phone to his figure as you turn off your phone.

“what is it, hyunjin?” you ask him. he shook his head in disappointment and pointed towards the brainstorm board that the art teacher has made for the class. it was mostly scribbled phrases about concepts and art intentions, as well as color theory and color intention. you raised an eyebrow.

“are you telling me that i’m stupid oorr?” you trailed off. hyunjin sighed.

“no, dumbass, but ms. dawn just told us that one of our pieces should be inspired or a recreation of an existing piece. i know damn well you weren’t listening.” he lectured as you made an O expression. you hummed and grabbed your sketchbook, making thumbnail sketches. he looked over and stared at your moving hands.

“for someone who doesn’t listen in class, i can’t deny the fact that you’re an amazing artist.” hyunjin complimented. the door suddenly opened and you heard murmurs around the room, but you disregarded it, as hyunjin’s compliment was taking over your brain.

“hell yeah i am,” you giggled “but thank you.”

“anyways, what piece are you recreating? what even is your theme?” he asks you. the easel beside you creaked as you thought of an answer.

“hmm…beauty of death and life…i need to do a research on it though.” you said, still making sketches on your sketchbook. hyunjin then began brainstorming on his sketchbook as well, when suddenly you heard voices on your other side.

“myungho-ah! how was paris~? i bet it was beautiful there.” a high pitched voice asked. hyunjin scoffed as your eyes softened. there was a program at your university where a selected few were given the opportunity to visit the louvre in paris. these people are considered artistic and inspirational, and you knew hyunjin deserved one of the spots, yet he never gotten the call.

“it was alright.” the voice simply said. you were too focused sketching on your sketchbook and going back to your phone researching romeo and juliet pieces to feel the other boy’s gaze at you. however, hyunjin noticed it. he suddenly nudged you, making you draw a line across one of your thumbnail sketches. your pursed your lips.

“what was that for?” you whisper yelled at hyunjin. he blinked at you and moved closer.

“myungho is looking at your sketchbook.” he whispered as you move your head towards the other male next to you. you and myungho held eye contact for a second when he went back to his own sketchbook. you shrugged your shoulders and went back to sketching.

“he probably wanted to see what i was doing? i don’t know man.” you said to hyunjin. hyunjin sighed snd continued doing his own thing. after an hour of brainstorming and researching, you finally settled on recreating millais’ ophelia. the beautiful death of ophelia and the liveliness of the flowers made you think that the piece would be perfect for your exhibition. you then got up from your station and walked over to the supply table, where your other station buddy was also at. he watched you as you wondered if you should use a flat canvas or a stretched canvas. you awkwardly stand beside him when suddenly he broke the silence.

“what medium are you going to use?” he asked you. you finally looked at myungho and smiled awkwardly.

“oh, uhm, i was thinking of using oils for my piece…” you said in a meek tone as he hummed. he then pointed to the stretched canvas you were holding.

“then i think you should use the stretched canvas. it’s perfect for oil painting.” he stated. you knew he was right, but you also knew that using a stretched canvas means that you have to readjust the canvas again. in three words, too much work, well, for you. you sighed.

“yeah, i think so too, but it’s just too much work, you know?” you complained to myungho as he chuckled. he grabbed the canvas off your hands and also grabbed another canvas, most likely for his piece.

“i’ll restretch it for you.” he said. you look up at him with wide eyes.

“really? i owe you my life man! thank you!” you said to him as you follow him to the mat table. he readjusted his canvas first as you watch him. you knew how to adjust and stretch canvases, it was just the amount of effort in it that makes you lose interest. he then proceded on to your canvas. he removed the staples from the wooden frame and removed the canvas fabric. he adjusted the fabric on the frame and hold on to it tightly. you were watching intently, not noticing that he raised his head to look at you.

“yn.” he called out your name. you looked back at myungho and just stared at him in confusion. he bit his lower lip and motioned his gaze to the canvas.

“can you let me know if this is good? i don’t know how stretched you want the canvas to be.” he said. you nodded your head, blushing from embarrassment, as you helped him. adjusting the frame and canvas fabric, he finally finished. he held your canvas to you as he smiled softly.

“here you go.” he said. you smiled at myungho.

“thank you, myungho! i really appreciate it a lot.” you said as myungho just walked back to his station and started sketching his piece on to his canvas. you also went back to your station and started sketching. during the whole class, you were able to finish half way blocking in the color on to your piece. during dismissal, hyunjin went up to you.

“you staying here at the studio, or back to the dorms?” he asked you. you mixed the colors on your glass palette as you replied to him.

“i’m staying here, i need to finish blocking in these shapes so it would be easier for me to add the deets during next class.” you said to him. hyunjin hummed and grabbed his canvas.

“okay, just let me know if you need anything. see you around.” he bid farewell as he walks out of the room. at this hour, there would still be a couple of students doing their pieces. right now, only you, myungho and a couple of students are in the room. you noticed myungho beside you organizing his station. he grabbed his canvas and bag and walked out of the room.

“huh, must be nice to be a good artist, not even worrying about the time.” you sighed to yourself as you continue with your art. as you were focused on your piece, you didn’t notice the talk frame behind you.

“woah! that looks so cool!” the person behind you said as you flinched in surprise. you looked behind you and sighed in relief.

“oh, it’s just you, mingyu.” you smiled at the tall male, who was holding two cups of coffee.

“i did tell you earlier i’m gonna visit you. anyways, how are you doing?” he asked as he placed one of the coffee cups on the table next to your easel. you thanked him for it and faced him.

“grab the stool over there and sit next to me, and i’m doing alright…uni is stressing me out.” you chuckled as he sits beside you. he looked at you with concern.

“oh, i get you. just don’t push yourself too hard, okay? i’ll always be here if you need help.” he said with a smile. you smiled at him as you take a sip of the coffee he gave you. sweet, you’ve always liked your coffee a little bit bitter though.

“thank you, gyu. you’re such a sweetheart.” you smiled as you two stare into each other’s eyes. he smiled back.

“oh, you flatter me, but i’ll always have your back.”

yes or no I x. minghao x reader - ophelia

𓇢𓆸 synopsis: where jaehyun is forced to be yn's wingman for mingyu, but unbeknownst to him, mingyu is also getting some help from his friend.

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𓇢𓆸 taglist (open!): @writingbarnes @90s-belladonna @leewonkyeom @to-mi-yo

[sarahowritesostucky]

📖"The Carter Academy for Omega Excellence"

Rated: Explicit

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Bucky Barnes

Tags: age gap, boarding school au, a/b/o, dub-con/non-con, spanking, feminization, dumbification, sexism, misogyny, subjugation, prostate milking, discipline, D/s elements, societal issues, hurt/comfort, mentions of past self-harm, onlyfans, predatory behavior, gender politics

Summary: Bucky is not pleased when he finds out that his parents tricked him and he's being forced to stay at the school.

Author's Note: *reformatted with a few age and plot changes to adhere to Tumblr's ToS*

(Wait! I haven't read Part 1 Part 2 yet!)

Part 3 - A Pedagogy Steeped in Tradition, cont'd

Previously: “How long until you whip him into shape?” Ransom asks as they return back to Steve’s office. They’ve just walked in the room, and James is turning around to look at them as they come through the door.

“Oh, I don’t know,” Steve hems, catching the boy’s gaze and giving him a warm look. “I bet you he’ll be a new James by spring break.”

James’ eyes narrow. “Bucky,” he says.

“Excuse me?”

“My name is Bucky,” he repeats peevishly. “Nobody calls me James except my grandparents.”

Steve nods, ignoring the boy’s tone. “Nice to meet you then, Bucky. I take it Sharon had to leave?” Bucky shrugs in lieu of an answer, and Steve allows the attitude to go unchecked only because the boy’s parents are still present. “Sharon is a wonderful Handler,” he tells him instead. “I’m sure the two of you will get along famously.”

Bucky glowers at him. 

Steve catches the eye of the security officer. “Mr. Rollins, you can take up your post in the hall. Thank you for waiting with him.”

“Sir.” Jack nods and heads out.

“Oh, Bucky, just wait until you see this place, it’s so neat! It’s got such history.” Winnifred gushes about it to her son, trying to get him excited, telling him about all the different things they saw on their tour of Cragside. She calls it a “castle,” which draws a bit of a laugh from Steve. 

“Hardly, Mrs. Barnes,” he chuckles.

“Oh, it’s Drysdale,” she corrects. “My name.”

Steve looks over to Bucky. “Oh. But I thought—”

“I’m remarried,” she explains. “Bucky is from my first marriage. He chooses to use his father’s surname.”

“Ah. I see. My apologies, Mrs. Drysdale.” Steve doesn’t miss the sour expression that flits over Bucky’s face. Steve clears his throat and gestures towards the couches. “I’m just having the paperwork drawn up. It should arrive soon. Would you care to take a seat while we wait? Afternoon tea’s an entire thing over here, and it is about that time.”

“Paperwork?” Bucky says, attention sharpening on them. “What paperwork?”

“Nothing to concern yourself with, little one,” Steve says, very aware of the displeasure that flits across Bucky’s face at being addressed that way.

“Whatever,” he mutters. “I’ve already decided I don’t want to go here anyway. It’s an all omegas school. Did you guys know that?” He’s asking his mother and stepfather, and Winnifred sighs while Ransom scoffs.

“It’s exactly the sort of environment you need, you little punk. Can’t be a skank here. All you can do is study. That’s what school’s for.”

“Ransom,” Winnie scolds.

“That’s the sort of thing pompous losers who can’t get laid say,” Bucky tosses back, and Steve makes a quick assumption that there is no love lost between these two.

“I’ll call for the tea,” he says, trying to stop their bickering. It works, somewhat, and the Drysdales sit across from Steve on the room’s conversation couches when the service has been delivered and set out on the coffee table between them. Steve catches Rollins’ questioning look through the doorway as the servants are leaving, but shakes his head smally, confident that he can handle an unruly pup like Bucky all by himself, if things get testy.

Predictably, Bucky stays standing while the real adults have tea. He ignores his mother when she suggests that he have a seat, and he keeps making aggressive eye contact with Steve each time he comes over to grab another petit four off the tiered stand to eat.

“Oh Bucky, honestly,” Winnifred scolds after the fifth one. “They’re not all just for you.”

Bucky doesn’t respond to her, just shoves most of the scone in his mouth while he confronts Steve with a blunt, “I’m not even gonna apply to this place.” Steve stares him down, but Bucky doesn’t break eye contact, the little shit. 

“Well,” Steve says calmly, “We’re not a university. We’re a boarding school. Our students are enrolled by their guardians. It’s more a transfer of custody than it is your traditional college application.” He watches as Bucky’s face screws up in confusion.

“What?” he says. “What are you talking about?” He turns to the couch where Winnifred and Ransom are sitting. “What’s he talking about?”

WInnifred leans forward anxiously. “Well, honey, we didn’t think you’d agree to come if we told you.”

“Told me what?” Bucky expression is rapidly darkening. He turns on Ransom with a scowl. “What is this place?”

“It’s a reform school. And you’re attending,” Ransom says.

“No. … You’re joking me right now … right? Are you shitting me?”

He shrugs. “I’ve already paid your tuition. You should be thanking me.”

“Thanking you?! I only agreed to this stupid trip because you promised we could go see Stonehenge and some castles and shit! Not so you could imprison me at some fucking oldworld boarding school in the middle of fucking nowhere! Fuck you!” 

Winnifred nearly chokes on her tea. “Bucky!”

“This is a very prestigious, traditional, very expensive school, you little shit,” Ransom grits, pointing at Bucky. “Maybe they’ll actually be able to drum some manners into you, teach you how to be a proper omega. You need some good old fashioned discipline. ”

“I really don’t care what you think I need, Rancid,” Bucky snaps. “God. I should’ve known the second I saw that one guy on a leash.” He looks over at Steve with a nasty expression. “You’re one of those red pill Alphas, aren’t you? One of those incels who can’t get laid and blames all your problems on the omegas of the world and modern society and feminism and shit, right?”

“What’s with the obsession with getting laid, Mr. Barnes?” Steve drawls, completely unaffected by Bucky’s tantrum. “This is The Carter Academy for Omega Excellence. We’re a finishing school and reform facility aimed at older teens and young adults; exclusive, secure, and very well-equipped to handle whatever hissy fit you might decide to throw at us. This is a school for the rich and overindulged, but not in the ways you’re probably used to. We tame some of the most spoilt brats in Europe here. So I’d advise you to behave. Things will go much harder for you if you don’t.” Steve knows immediately from watching Bucky’s face fall that this is the first time the kid is hearing the full name of the school said out loud. He resists the urge to laugh about how clueless that makes him. The school’s emblem is printed clear as day all over the place, but Bucky has clearly missed every single sign that litters the campus. “Kids these days,” Steve simpers, staring down the boy’s rapidly darkening expression. “Noses always buried in your phones, huh?”

Bucky’s fingers grip tighter around the cellphone in his hand, glaring, and then he whips around to scowl at Ransom instead. “You,” he growls. “You tricked me!”

Ransom looks like his mind is already elsewhere—perhaps on the rest of the vacation he’s already unashamedly told Steve he plans to take without his pesky stepson in tow. “What can I say? You’re pretty easy to trick.”

“You can’t just leave me here!” Bucky squawks from around another mouthful of food, crumbs scattering to the carpet as he flings the hand that’s holding his scone. “I didn’t even know places like this were a real thing anymore! Like a fucking convent? Like some sort of fucked up juvie-meets-Hogwarts?!”

“Bucky, really,” his mother scolds, lips pursed. “You’re making a mess on Principal Rogers’ floor.”

Steve waves her off. “That’s alright, Mrs. Drysdale.” He looks at Bucky. “You’ll be surprised just how well it works, Cupcake. You’ll have no distractions from your education here.” The ‘Cupcake’ obviously goes over like a lead balloon with Bucky, if his continuing glower is anything to go by. Steve ignores the kid’s petulance and turns back to converse with the parents. “The girls’ school still operates down in Newcastle-upon-Tyne, at our original campus. A generous benefactor donated this estate, so now all of our male students attend here at Cragside.”

“Finishing school,” Bucky grumbles over to the side, still displeased. “This is bullshit.”

 “Language, Mr. Barnes,” Steve corrects blithely, and keeps on with Winnifred, “My business partner, Ms. Carter, she’s to act as Headmistress there moving forward. ‘Carter Girls’ Academy’ is now its own entity and will operate independent of this institution.” He looks back to Bucky and locks eyes with him. “Sorry to disappoint you, but out here it’s just us boys, I’m afraid.”

It’s laughably obvious how Steve does not fit into any category with Bucky, let alone that of “boy,” and Steve is pleased to note a light dusting of color on the kid’s cheeks after that. Bucky goes tight-lipped once again, and Steve leaves him to his teenaged sulking as he finishes entertaining the parents and assuring them that their son will be well looked after during his time at school. The paperwork for Bucky’s admission arrives and is reviewed, and soon Mr. and Mrs. Drysdale have signed their son over to Steve’s care and are saying their goodbyes.

Winnifred pulls him into a long hug, which Bucky tolerates with limp arms. “Be good,” Steve hears her say. “And remember how generous your stepfather’s being.”

“Forty grand a semester,” Ransom mutters on the way out, reminding Steve that money can’t buy class.

One of the school prefects is waiting out in the hall to act as escort, Rollins standing directly against the opposite side of the hallway in his security guard gear. Steve catches Bucky looking at the man like he’s gauging his chances of making a run for it, but luckily the boy relents and turns away from the door with a huff. Steve sees the parents out and then finally pushes the heavy office door closed.

The room is suddenly twenty times more silent than it was before, though not much has changed other than who’s occupying it. 

Without turning to look at Bucky, Steve walks leisurely over to the office’s wall of windows. He waits there for a moment, until the Drysdales appear in the courtyard below. He watches placidly as they walk to their car and get in, heading off down the drive within the next few moments. Cragside is abutted by forest on every side but one, and soon the trees block the car from view, and there’s nothing more to see. Still, Steve remains standing there, looking out the windows at the grounds and letting the silence stretch out, the tension build, as the boy behind him stares his fill. (Steve is not unaware of what he looks like from the back in a tailored suit.)

Finally, he turns around. Bucky is still standing there in the middle of the room, looking rooted to the spot. He seems apprehensive now that it’s just the two of them, some of his earlier bravado leached away. But after a moment he seems to collect himself, and he winds up jutting his jaw out again. 

Steve’s mouth quirks at that lingering bit of defiance. He always has enjoyed the process of breaking in a new student. “Alright, Honey,” he says softly. “That was fun back there. But now it’s time for the two of us to get properly acquainted, don’t you think?” He beckons him closer with a finger. “Come over here and let me have a look at you.”

Bucky doesn’t move, so Steve sighs and goes to him, fitting one hand to the front of his neck when he gets there. He holds him right underneath his jaw, pushing up to make Bucky look at him. Steve’s hand looks massive against the boy’s delicate throat, and he digs in with his thumb against the glands. Bucky lets out a sweet little gasp of sensitivity that Steve absolutely relishes. “You’re nervous,” he observes. He watches the fluttering of Bucky’s eyelids at his firm touch, his deep tone. Something between fondness and yearning flares in Steve’s belly, pleasurable and aching, like pressing on an old bruise. He ignores it, instead murmuring, “You’ve never had an Alpha, have you?”

Bucky’s eyes flick up to him. “I’m not a virgin,” he sneers. “I’ve fucked alphas before.”

Steve scoffs. “That’s not what I said.” He sees Bucky’s brow furrowing, so he cuts him off with a little scruff. “I said: you’ve never had an Alpha before.” He pulls against his jaw a little harder, watching the reaction it elicits in those angry blue eyes. “Don’t play coy with me, boy. Answer the question. You haven’t, have you?”

“No,” Bucky answers tightly. “I haven’t.” 

Steve nods. He relaxes his hand some. “Then that means most of this is all going to be new to you. You’ve had a liberal education, a lax upbringing. A lot’s going to be asked of you while you’re here. There’ll be a lot you don’t know. You’ll make mistakes, you’ll struggle sometimes. And that’s okay. Rome wasn’t built in a day, now was it?” He strokes softly over the boy’s fluttering pulsepoint and Voices, “I do, however, expect you to be respectful and obedient. Do you understand?” 

Bucky whimpers, though Steve isn’t being unkind. In fact he’s Voiced very softly to him just now, letting the dominant tone of it creep into the words he’s saying, letting it enrich them without hardening them, so that Bucky can really start to get a taste for it. The boy’s eyelids visibly flutter and his lips part as he starts to breathe open-mouthed. Then his tongue darts out to lick his lips as he tries to get a handle on himself. It’s cute. 

Steve circles the pad of his thumb over his bonding gland. “Has anyone ever Voiced to you before, baby?” 

Bucky nods. “Uh huh.”

“Yes, Alpha,” Steve gently corrects. “Who?”

“Who ... huh?”

Steve chuckles. “Aw, don’t go stupid on me yet, honey. I asked you: who’s Voiced to you before?”

“Oh. Just, um, just some … some guys … n’ a girl, from school. Hey,” he frowns, “M’not stupid.” 

“Hush. You get worked up too easy. Just try and stay calm for me, yeah?” A thrill travels through Steve’s body as he watches Bucky’s lips part and his face slacken. He’s so easy for it. In his slacks, Steve’s cock pulses with interest. “Oh Sweetie,” he coos. “You don’t know what Voicing is, if you think one of your little classmates did it to you.” 

Under his hand, Bucky shivers. “What?” he croaks.

It’s no wonder. If all he’s ever experienced are the best attempts of a few pubertal teenagers, then a grown ass man like Steve is bound to feel like a lot. It’s like giving a shot of hard liquor to a kid who’s never drank before. The poor thing has no tolerance. Steve guides him over to the couch, where he sits and encourages Bucky to kneel with a guiding hand pressing down on his shoulder. “There you go,” he praises as Bucky’s knees hit the floor, not missing how the boy’s brow furrows adorably at the change in positioning. 

“I … I don’t …” He looks insulted and confused about how he arrived there, staring down at his knees on the carpet as if they’ve just betrayed him by folding so easily.

“It’s okay,” Steve soothes. “That’s normal. I know it can be a little unsettling at first, that won’t last. You’ll learn to enjoy it, embrace it, even. And it’s certainly nothing to be ashamed of.” 

“Ashamed of … what?” Bucky asks, swallowing thickly when Steve touches his neck again. He jerks back, the Alpha’s hand left hovering in the air between them. 

Steve sighs sadly and lets his hand drop. “Submission, Sweetheart. That urge to bare your neck? Going to your knees for me just now? It’s what made that feel right.” He watches the realization bloom on Bucky’s face and the fear leak into his eyes, the way he glances back down to his own body like he’s never seen it before. Steve makes sure to be gentle with him as he says, “It’s not a bad thing to give in when you get the urge. Your body craves it. Your brain thrives on it.” 

“On what?” Bucky growls nastily. “Getting into blowjob position for my principal?”

Steve forces himself not to laugh and instead raises an eyebrow that he hopes looks threatening. “Thrives on submission,” he corrects. “It’s already in you, an innate reflex, but for whatever reason you’ve trained yourself out of it. You’ll have to relearn those behaviors.”

“What behaviors,” Bucky asks, “grovelling?”

Steve rolls his eyes. “Hardly. Things like humility, and subservience, thinking before you speak. Don’t worry, most of our matriculating students are out of practice at best, we know you need a lot of help. That’s why you get the staff, your teachers, me. And of course your Handler, who’s in charge of you completely.” He sees Bucky’s expression sour and sternly adds, “Completely, Bucky. When your Handler asks you to do something, it isn’t a request. If they tell you to kneel, or to sit on their lap, or even strip naked in front of them in a public space, then that’s what you do. That’s how it works here. And if you resist, you can count on punishment.” He watches as Bucky’s visage darkens, a storm of contempt gathering behind his eyes.

“Naked?” he says, scowling. “What the hell are you talking about?”

 “Shh,” Steve chides, trying to calm him with a pet to the head. Bucky hisses in rejection though, trying to jerk away, so Steve acts decisively. He grabs the back of his neck, scruffing him and forcing him in close. “Don’t fight, Bucky. Just calm down, rest your head down here.” Bucky grunts and pulls, but that only lasts a second before the Hold and Steve’s Voice make him go limp with a confused whimper. Steve hushes him and strokes his hair. “You’re okay … Take a deep breath ... There you go, good girl.” He waits. “… Now, I'm going to explain a few things for you. I want you to listen.”

Bucky grumbles unhappily from his spot between Steve’s legs, his cheek smooshed against the Alpha’s thigh muscle. “What punishments?” he growls.

“Hush.” Steve presses Bucky’s face against his leg and waits until he feels the next shudder of submission travel through his body. “Okay. Okay, good.” He inhales. “So, punishment. That can be lots of things. It can be spanking, or lines, or restraints at bedtime. It just depends on the situation and what your Handler feels is going to help you best in that specific situation. Often it’ll involve losing privileges of some sort; to your favorite activities or your clothing, or even bathroom privileges if you—”

“What?!”

Steve squeezes his neck again. “We can start right now if you need it,” he purrs, the threat coming through loud and clear despite his calm tone. He waits, and is pleased when Bucky offers no further bratting over the issue. “Okay, good.” He returns to petting him, fingers carding through his short, soft hair. There’s product in it, and Steve would bet money it’s blow-dried. He finds himself wanting to feel it in its natural state. “If you leave your hair alone after a shower,” he murmurs. “Does it dry curly?”

Bucky whines and squirms and completely ignores the question. “You just wanna humiliate me.”

“No, baby,” Steve tuts sadly. “That’s not it at all. I know it’ll seem that way sometimes, especially in the beginning. But this is all for you, I promise. To benefit you in the long run. To make you happy. Everything we do at this school is based on what the science has proven, okay? Evidence-based practice, that’s all. We wouldn’t use these methods if they didn’t work.”

“... what methods?” Bucky asks, voice tiny.

Steve hums and rubs behind his ear. “I’m sure a lot of it will seem old fashioned to you. It is old fashioned, or ‘traditional’ if you like. You met Sharon earlier, yes?” He waits for Bucky’s grunt of acknowledgement before he continues, “She’ll be your Handler. She’s personally assigned to you and nobody else, so she’ll be with you every day all day, almost everywhere you go.”

“Great,” Bucky complains

“It’s a good thing. She’s here to help you with your needs. Just think of her like … like a service animal, yeah? Just a tool to help you succeed.”

“Does she heel and sit?” Bucky mutters, and Steve laughs in surprise.

“No. The other way around, if anything. You have a schedule. You’ll attend the classes and activities that’re set out for you, and you’ll comport yourself with dignity and respect.”

“You assume I know how to do that,” Bucky grumbles, and Steve scoffs and scruffs him playfully,

“Don’t worry about if you don’t know certain things, Sharon will guide you. You’ll never be punished for not knowing something, Buck. Only for disrespect or disobedience.” He pauses for a moment, letting the information sink in. He pets Bucky’s hair and watches where the kid’s got his eyes closed tight. “Do you understand?” he asks, but Bucky doesn’t answer, not even after a few seconds, so Steve gives the back of his neck another firm squeeze. “You don’t have control anymore, Sweetheart. Not over anything. And far from upsetting you, that should make you feel relieved. By the time you leave here it will.” 

Not shockingly, Bucky growls. It’s just a piddly little thing from high up in his throat—an omega’s weak attempt at a sound their bodies aren’t equipped to make—but the intent behind it is clear. He struggles to pull away, Steve Holding him and pushing his face against his thigh until it passes. “Shhh. Calm down. Stop pulling away from me.”

Bucky continues to fight it for a second or two, but eventually he breaks off in an angry little sob. “Lemme go,” he grunts, embarrassed. “What is that? What’re you doing?”

“Holding you,” Steve tells him calmly. “Another thing I suspect you’re completely virgin to.”

Bucky huffs and shivers against him. “Shuddup,” he sniffles. “That’s not true.”

“Mhm. Some more of your school buddies?” Steve guesses, unsurprised when the kid’s flaming face tells him that he’s got it pegged just about right. “I see,” he says sadly. “So it wasn’t what people made it sound like, right? It didn’t make you feel any better. Then you got disappointed and you thought: ‘that’s it?’”

“No …”

“Mmhm. And since it wasn’t good enough, you decided you wouldn’t bother behaving the way anybody said you should. You figured there’s something wrong with you, so what’s the point in trying? Might as well act out, get attention that way. Because at least then you’d be getting a response from people. Am I getting warm?”

“Lemme go,” Bucky mumbles miserably.

“I’d like to, Sweetheart. But I don’t want to let go if you’re not ready.” Steve maneuvers his hand so that his thumb can dig more directly into Bucky’s glands. The omega moans, though he obviously hears himself and tries to stifle the sound. It’s both sweet and pathetic, and it makes Steve wince in sympathy. “It’s okay to react,” he tells him quietly. “Do you know why it feels like that?” 

He isn’t expecting an answer from the kid, and he doesn’t get one. Bucky just cringes and tries to hide as much of his face against Steve’s thigh as possible, holding back the sounds that obviously want to come and making a face like he’s trying with all his might not to pass gas.

Steve tuts in gentle reprimand. “They call them the ‘happy hormones’. Dopamine, Serotonin, Oxytocin, Omgestrin.” He lets up on the pressure of his Hold when the smell of omega arousal hits the air. Bucky exhales hugely and slumps against him, all the tension from holding back his vocalizations leaving him in a rush. Steve hums knowingly. “You’ll learn about the science behind it in your classes.”

“I have to go to class?” Bucky asks, sounding wiped out. “Today?”

“No baby. Today is just for getting you settled in.” Steve tilts his head as he considers him. “Do you think you’re ready to work with me, or do you still feel like you’re gonna act up if I let go?” He waits him out patiently, knowing that when it’s new and unfamiliar, the first response most omegas give to having all of their control stripped away is fear and discomfort. “It’s okay if you need time,” he offers. “We can stay here for a little while longer.”

Eventually, Bucky gives a strained little shake of the head, his flushed cheek moving against Steve’s pants leg. But it’s more the fact that he’s visibly thought about his answer before giving it that convinces Steve they might be okay to move forward.

“Okay, good,” he praises, letting up most of the pressure from the back of Bucky’s neck. He smiles in relief when the boy doesn’t pull away. “Very good, Honey. I can tell you’re trying, and I appreciate that. You’re doing okay.” Bucky makes an unhappy little sound in his throat, but it’s more privately grumpy than it is bratty, so Steve lets it pass. “You’re a smart boy,” he tells him, carding a hand through his hair. “I’ve seen your transcripts, so I know you’re very bright. Smart omega like you, I’m sure you’ve got an idea about what’s landed you here. Some clue about why you’re in my office right now instead of back home in Boston. Am I right?”

“... yes,” Bucky whispers, like he’s still recovering the ability to articulate.

“Mmhm. Thought so.” Steve pets his hair. “Think you can tell me a little bit about that?” 

“... I get in trouble for things.”

“Yes. Your parents told me that.” Steve feels him start to tense at the mention of his parents. “I know you disagree with them on this. Hell, you probably disagree on most topics, right? You don’t want to be here, don’t think you need to be, and they think you do.” Bucky nods teresely and Steve hums. “Well don’t worry, I’m not going to make you lie and say you’re happy about being here. I know you’re not. But can we at least agree on one thing? That for whatever reason, and no matter where you think it stems from, you’ve been uncomfortable for a while?”

Against Steve’s leg, Bucky is tense. He gives a tiny nod. “Yeah,” he breathes.

“Okay. And could we maybe agree that the way you’ve acted hasn’t exactly gotten you where you wanted to be?”

Bucky scoffs. “Yeah. You could say that.”

Steve smiles sadly. “Okay. Okay, good. So that’s two things we can agree on. I bet I have your parents beat on that front, then, huh?” He scritches playfully behind the kid’s ear, but stills when it doesn’t elicit anything positive. “So, why do you think that is, Bucky? Why do you think you’ve had these issues?”

“Dunno,” he pouts. “I don’t think about it that much.”

“Well why do you think a judge agreed that your parents should have custody of you for an extra two years?” Steve asks. “Would you say you do things impulsively?”

Bucky shrugs. “I guess.”

“Hm. That doesn’t surprise me. I’ve met a lot of boys like you. Even helped a few of them, if you can believe it.”

Bucky grumbles at that, shifting restlessly on his knees. “You don’t know me,” he mutters. He tucks his face farther down, and then Steve catches the angry little “... this is bullshit” that he whispers under his breath. 

Steve pulls his hand away abruptly and widens his legs so that no part of him is touching Bucky. The omega sways in place and makes a fragile noise of surprise. He looks up at Steve and blinks, looking bereft. Poor thing hadn’t even realized he was taking such comfort from the contact until it was gone. 

“Stand up,” Steve says sharply, using his Voice and the abrupt switch in tone to catch the boy off guard. Bucky obeys without even thinking about it, rising to his feet in front of Steve with a light frown, once again looking like he can’t quite understand why he’s obeying Steve’s commands. Steve nods at him. “Good. Now take off all your clothes.”

“What?”

He prevents a tantrum by reaching forward himself and undoing Bucky’s belt. “Your clothes,” he repeats. “Take them off and show me your body, right now.” He plays on the boy’s pride by tacking on a scornful, “What? I thought you said you weren’t some shy virgin. Gotta get over that embarrassment real fast, Little one.” 

It works like a charm, Bucky’s countenance screwing up in anger before it smooths out again with false bravado. He squares his shoulders and makes direct eye contact with Steve as he toes off his shoes and finishes undoing his pants. He pushes them down and kicks them off to the side, then pulls his sweater hurriedly overhead. He stares at Steve once it’s off, and he probably thinks he’s acting so big and brave, but Steve sees him for exactly what he is: a scared little boy who doesn’t think he can depend on anybody else. 

“Panties too, Sweetheart,” Steve prods, and when Bucky can’t seem to bring himself to do it, he leans forward to help. He gently pulls the omega’s underwear down, easing the waistband past his genitals and down his thighs. He encourages him with gentle touches to step out, and then Bucky winds up holding onto his shoulders for balance as he helps him step out of the socks, one foot at a time. By the time Steve’s sitting back on the couch to have a good look at him, Bucky’s standing before him completely naked. 

Steve’s eyes track down to where he holds his arms ramrod straight at his sides, hands curled into tight little fists in an obvious effort not to cover himself. “Good girl,” Steve praises. “That was very good. Thank you.” He lets his eyes rake obviously up and down Bucky’s body, enjoying the sight of him, but more importantly letting Bucky see that he’s enjoying the sight of him. “You’re just lovely,” he tells him. On the Persian carpet, Bucky’s feet shuffle, shifting his weight in disquiet. “Shhh,” Steve chides softly. “Be still now, Honey. Let me look.”

The looking is, of course, not so much for Steve’s benefit as it is for Bucky’s. Steve’s already seen pictures and medical charts detailing every square inch of the omega’s body. This is about giving Bucky a taste of what it truly means to be vulnerable. He needs to feel seen, exposed, before he can ever truly learn to give in to his submissive urges. And he needs to learn to trust. Trust that the person caring for him won’t hurt him or let him down after he’s made himself vulnerable. It’s something that can only be gained through moments like this; experiences where he shows his metaphorical belly and bears his metaphorical neck. The more he learns to do that, the easier it’ll be to give in to what his body needs.

“Turn around and face the other way,” Steve says quietly, though still using his Voice to help him along in these first few moments of nakedness. Bucky obeys, turning, and Steve makes sure to rumble low in his chest for the boy to hear his approval. “Good girl,” he praises.

“M’not a girl,” Bucky grumbles, annoyed.

Steve tuts. “Come on, Buck. I’ve got two masters degrees and a Ph.D. And I just saw your little cocklet, didn’t I?”

“... yeah,” Bucky admits, though he also sullenly repeats: “M’not a girl,” under his breath.

“It’s a term of affection,” Steve scolds, eyes raking over the omega’s pert little backside. “Now be a good girl and stand still while Alpha looks at you.” 

Bucky’s buttocks tense, the sides flexing gorgeously in response to the domination of being called a “good girl” all over again. That flex of muscles is involuntary, and a dead giveaway that if Steve were to grab his cheeks and spread them right now, he’d probably find his little hole clenching and releasing, too. In his slacks, Steve’s cock thickens with renewed interest. Bucky starts to whine almost subvocally. He shuffles his weight on his feet again, and the motion causes the room’s light to catch on a faint sheen. It’s a small amount, but it’s there. Right by his taint and the swell of his little sac, he’s got some slick smeared on his inner thighs.

Steve has to take a deep breath and give his dick a cruel pinch while he’s still got Bucky facing the other way. “Good,” he murmurs, letting a few more seconds tick by. “Very good.” 

Bucky’s ass keeps flexing, muscles tensed and his hands still clenched up into tight little balls at his sides. “Can I move?” he grits.

“Not yet. Be still.”

Steve knows what’s going on in the kid’s mind and body right now. Most people watching Bucky would only recognize the anger, or the fear. It is those things, to an extent, but that’s not all it is. Even without that tantalizing little smear of slick, Steve would know, because can detect the deeper scent of satisfied omega. Bucky’s responding well to the orders and directions, miniscule as they are.

“Nobody wants to bully you here, honey,” Steve tells him gently. “It might feel like that at first. I bet that’s how you feel right now. I know you’re not used to such a … traditional pedagogy. But I want you to know I’m not doing this to be mean. Nothing that happens to you during your time here is done just to humiliate or demean you. It might make you feel that way at first, but in the end you’ll see that this is about helping you.”

Bucky’s facing the other side of the room, but Steve still hears the disbelieving scoff he gives. “I don’t feel like this is helping,” he says, tacking on a sarcastic “Sir” at the end.

Steve calmly leans forward and flicks the boy’s sac. Bucky yelps and all but jumps out of his skin, looking back over his shoulder with wide eyes and an outraged scoff. “Hey!”

“Hush. Turn back around and stand still.” Steve raises an eyebrow. “Unless you’d like another?” It’s almost amusing, how fast Bucky’s lips seal themselves into a thin line and he shakes his head with wide eyes. He turns around as ordered, and Steve softens. “Look,” he says gently. “I’ve been doing this for a long time now, and I’ve helped a lot of boys like you, okay? 

“You think you have,” Bucky counters mutinously, shoulders tensing a second later as he anticipates having his balls flicked again for brattiness.

The only reason Steve doesn’t do so, is because this is a point worth addressing. “No, Baby,” he counters sadly. “It works. It really does. This isn't just an Alpha’s ego talking, or whatever you may think it is. I haven’t been Headmaster at this school for almost two decades for nothing. Trust me, we produce the desired results.”

“... whose, though?”

“Excuse me?”

Bucky shifts nervously. “Whose? Desired results?”

Steve has got to smirk at Bucky’s backside, at that one. Even cowed, it’s clear this boy is going to be a challenge. “Let’s just put it this way,” he drawls. “If my methods here didn’t produce well-behaved omegas, parents wouldn’t still be sending me their children to educate at sixty-grand a semester. And if that doesn’t carry weight in your book, then think of this: If my methods didn’t produce happy, grateful omegas, then all of my omega alumnus wouldn’t still be donating millions of their own dollars back to their alma mater each year, now would they?”

He can see from the way that Bucky’s posture slackens, then stiffens, then slackens all over again, that the boy can’t come up with a counter argument to that one. “Good,” Steve says with finality. “Remember that. I really do mean it, Bucky. I want you to take it to heart when I tell you that everything that happens while you're here is for you. To make you happy and healthy.” He can practically hear Bucky’s brain working up there, and sure enough it only takes a moment or two more of bare-assed vulnerability before the omega is snottily asking,

“Any other advice, Headmaster?”

“Oh sure,” Steve says cheerfully. “For example, I’d definitely advise you to try and reign in your attitude while you’re here. You and your ass will have a much easier time of it, if you do.” He’s laying it on heavy right now, but he’s had plenty of students like Bucky, and he’s always found that it’s best to come in hard and fast with the dominance, take them by surprise and play to their bodies’ own instincts before they can gather too much of a defense. Still, he switches to speaking in his most gentle and reassuring Voice as he tells him, “You’re handling this well, Bucky. I’m pleased with you so far.” He gives it another long moment, and then he murmurs, “Okay, Honey. You can turn back around now. Face me.”

Bucky turns slowly, one foot at a time, shifting on the carpet until he’s made a full turn. Steve isn’t surprised to see his little cocklet at half mast. He smiles gently to let him know it’s okay. “I expected that,” he tells him. “Did you know that it’s normal for your body to react that way?” He waits, but Bucky gives no answer. He’s glaring at the floor and quite obviously clenching his teeth. Steve hums. “You’re probably pissed at me right now, yeah?”

“Yes.”

Steve chuckles. “I appreciate your honesty, Bucky,” he teases. “And I know you’re pissed. It’s obvious. I’d be surprised if you weren’t.” He pauses, waiting until Bucky’s eyes flick up to him before he pointedly looks at the boy’s penis. “But you’re also aroused. Why do you think that is?” Bucky’s lips tighten into a thin, unanswering line, and Steve sits forward on the couch cushion. “C’mere.” He spreads his legs wider and pats his knee. “Step closer to me,” he Voices, and that time Bucky does listen and come closer, despite the attitudinal little huff he gives. Steve stills him with hands on his hips. “Don’t be embarrassed,” he says, before reaching to take him in hand.

Bucky gasps, his stomach sucking in and his body tensing up like he’ll pull away. Steve’s palm makes a loud ‘clap!’ as he delivers a quick smack to the side of his ass. “Be still.”

“... what’re you gonna do?” Bucky squeaks.

“I’m going to touch your genitals,” Steve tells him calmly. “And you’re going to hold still, unless you want to earn your first spanking.” He looks up at him, meeting those wide eyes with a calm nod. “I’ll put you over my knee right now if you need it,” he promises. Then he raises an eyebrow. “Do you need it, boy?”

Bucky’s face screws up, and Steve is honestly surprised when he controls himself enough that the only thing out of his mouth is a terse, “No.” 

Steve smacks him again. “‘No Alpha’. Let me hear you say it.”

Jaw working in frustration, Bucky acquiesces with a gritted, “No, Alpha.”

Steve gives him a few seconds more of the warning look, just to make sure that he knows he’ll make good on the threat if he needs to. “Good,” he says, looking back between Bucky’s legs. “You know,” he muses, as he takes his time admiring the omega’s little prick. “This school isn’t just a place for academic learning. We teach all the classics, of course, but that’s probably the least important part of our curriculum. There are a lot of other things to learn: Manners, etiquette, self-care … and how to listen to your own body, how to understand what it’s trying to tell you, how to interpret the things you feel.” He cups his hand over Bucky’s cocklet and balls, holding them delicately in his palm. “I’ve barely touched you, yet you’re harder now than you were even thirty seconds ago. Do you know why?”

Above, Bucky gulps. “... fear boner,” he whispers, and when Steve snorts at that, he pouts and asserts, “It’s a thing.”

Steve smiles. “That’s cute, but no.” Gently, he takes Bucky’s stiff little prick in hand and plays with the wrinkle of foreskin that’s bunched at the tip. “Omegas are less than four percent of the population,” he murmurs. “And alphas not even double that. Which means, that despite your natural inclinations, you wind up spending most of your time around a bunch of betas. Of course it wouldn’t have been that way historically. Those things used to be arranged, but in modern society it has unfortunately become all too common.” He peeks upwards, pleased to see that Bucky’s staring down at him with parted lips and flushed cheeks.

“S-so?” he breathes.

“So, right now you’re in a room with an adult alpha male who’s touching you, and talking to you, and dominating you. And you’re biologically geared to respond to those things, especially when you haven’t had much regular exposure to alphas. That just increases your sensitivity. So that when I use my Voice, when you smell my scent, or when you see my big hand covering your tiny sex …” he cups him fully between his legs again and gives a little jostle “It’s all hardwired into your brain as positive, pleasurable. Your body likes it, seeks out more of it. That’s why you’re even getting a little wet right now.”

Bucky bristles in defense, “I’m not—”

“Shh. You don’t have to do that, honey. I already know.” Steve holds his prick and eases the foreskin down, revealing the delicate pink tip of him with an approving hum. “Mmhm. There it is. Look at that sweet little nubbin.” 

Bucky all but stumbles into him, whispering a breathless, “Alpha …”

“That’s right. Good girl.” Steve steadies him with a chuckle. “You’re okay. Don’t lock your knees, honey. See what happens?” He trails a fingertip over the adorable little line of Bucky’s erection, eliciting another whimper from the boy. “It’s okay for you to call me that. I am your Alpha while you’re under custody here, and you may not think you care about that, but your body does. So even though you’re feeling all these other kinds of other emotions right now—anger, fear, embarrassment; your mind and body are still going to fight you on it. They’re gonna prioritize and respond to what you need, and if you don’t change your behavior to reflect those same priorities, then the only outcome you’re gonna get is dysfunction and illness.”

“I’m not,” Bucky says weakly, brow furrowed. “M’not dysfunctive.” 

Steve smiles sadly. “Well first off, that’s not a word, baby.” He pulls on Bucky’s hips and leans back further into the couch, urging the boy to come down to sit on his lap. When he does, Syteve cups his chin and pecks him gently on the lips. It’s the most chaste kiss to ever exist, but the boy is still blushing when Steve pulls back enough to see his cheeks. Steve wraps an arm around his waist to draw him in against his larger body. “Now Bucky, I’m going to ask you something, and you don’t have to answer right away. I want you to take time to really think about it. And when you’re ready, you tell me.” 

The boy’s looking up at him with wide, confused eyes that pluck at Steve’s heart, and Steve swipes his thumb just under his plush lower lip. “When’s the last time you were happy?” he asks quietly. Bucky’s expression instantly screws up, but Steve hushes him. “I don’t mean just happy from having fun in the moment, or from a specific thing that happened. I mean ‘happy’ as in content, consistently and thoroughly. When’s the last time you can remember when you felt truly settled in your skin?” 

Bucky frowns. “I …”

“Shh. Remember what I said. Not right now. You just think on it.” Steve offers him a tender look and squeezes his chin. “You think you can do that for me?”

“... okay,” Bucky whispers. 

Steve smiles. “Good girl.” He claps his hand on Bucky’s leg. “In the meantime, we’ve got quite a few things we have to do to get you set up: administrative and practical. Are you ready to see your room, get your uniform, a tour of the grounds, all that good stuff?”

Bucky nods, looking almost faint in relief—likely at hearing that he’s going to be given clothing. “Yes,” he breathes eagerly. “Please.”

Steve chuckles and pats his waist. “Thought you might say that. Alright boy, get up. We’ve got a lot to do.”

This story is an ongoing commission for an amazing supporter who wishes to remain anonymous. If you have a story that you'd like to see custom written, send me a message on Tumblr or reach out on my Kofi.

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[porcelainpocketfighter]

the Flight Rising NPCs as Jerma quotes

Tomo: So, you figure anything out in there? 'Nah he's clean, it's back to the drawing board.' Well, that's- uh- that's great. I don't know how to draw, so you're gonna have to do it for me.

Scribbles: [writing on parchment] Absolutly destoryed on red wine, sory guys

Crim: I need that claw. I need that tail. I NEED THAT TOOTH.

Pinkerton: Yeah, I got glasses but I don't really need 'em. I'm just gonna put 'em up there just in case I need to read something… like your number.

Swipp: We're gonna go over these (Funko Pops) one by one and we're gonna talk about if dragons would want them or not, okay? Let's be honest. Chun-Li? [nods] Ding, okay. Ding ding ding. Sure, fine. Ren & Stimpy? [incorrect buzzer noise] No. Half of the people at the Trading Post don't even know what that show is.

Pipp: I will try my hardest to eat one small- a 4x4 piece of plywood.

Tripp: My father is selling this item for one treasure. I mean, let's be real here: at what point do you just burn it?

Roundsey: People just come up to me and give me money, apparently because I remember what they look like.

Baldwin: Like, when you buy yogurt, you know, you can put it in the fridge for a long time. It's preserved! There's organisms that keep that shit alive. It's- I mean the- you could- there's bio… chemical… in there. [pats cauldron] There's biochemical in there.

Galore: You know what fuckin' dragons are supposed to be doing? We're supposed to be fucking picking up a wheelbarrow full of like, treasures and just, like, slowly walking with it and then delivering those treasures to the community… we're not supposed to be like, GIGGITYGIGGITYGIGGITYGIGGITY.

Fiona: [to her roc, Prudence] Okay, wait. Lie down, roll over, claw. Oh, she's so fucking smart! Only my girl!

Arlo: What happened to the dinosaurs, anyway? Did they get extinct? I mean, did they— did they get extinct?

Avery: I can smell you making fun of me. Stop or I'll cry. Stop or I'll cry! STOP OR I'LL CRY!

Glass & Gloss: [singing] One, two, threeeeeee-aaaaaah-ooooooooh. One, two, threeeeeee-aaaaaah-ooooooooh. Hey, do that one again. Eeeeeeeeeeee-

Sage: When in doubt, radish it out.

Arvelle: What's my favorite flavor of gunpowder? Uh, blue raspberry.

Higgins: I feel like I'm the demon in this house. Like, there's a family of seven that lives here, and I don't even see them. I died here like 25 years ago, and I'm just in the house. Opening up the fridge, they hear weird noises from the basement at fuckin' 7 or 8 o' clock.

Marva: This is performance art! You guys don't understand, this is- this is a living painting that you're seeing. Michelangelo, Leonardo da Vinci, they're all dead. I REMAIN, you understand? I REMAIN as a performance artist!

Joxar: I'm not Team Wind, and I'm not Team- uh- Lucas, or whatever it is. I'm Team Merchandise. I'm the guy who- I see what's going on here, and I start designing t-shirts for the eleven flights and make a trillion gems.

Patches: Hey guys. You want me to get drunk on Pirate Week and play with the ship's cannons?

Susie: Bitch I'm going uwu mode?

[hebuiltfive]

Ring A Ring O’ Roses - Chapter Two: The Trail

As requested by @mariashades this is the second part of the Captain Ochre private detective AU! I have more ideas for the story as a whole so this probably won’t be the last either!

First part can be found here!

Following their failed lead in New York, Richard returns to the drawing board. Meanwhile, Paul seeks refuge up north in the only place he can currently trust.

———————————————

Being back at Square One was never an avenue any detective wanted to return to. After days of constant research, of calls made and opportunities struck, for it to have been pointless felt like nothing more than a waste of precious time.

The tiny, rented office space that sat on the East River, overlooking Roosevelt Island, indicated to Fraser, more so than anyone else, how much he needed to solve this case. It was more than just a case of justice and truth, it was the continuation of his business that he’d built up from the ground. For so long, Richard had convinced himself that this was all he had; no qualifications save the ones he achieved in the Academy, no experience beyond police grunt work that he could now never return to regardless of what he wanted. It was this gig, or… what?

More over, he had promised Patrick his help. If they couldn’t solve this case, all of that would have been for naught and Patrick would be sentenced to a lifetime in prison for something he was already beginning to atone for. Richard could see it in his protege’s work ethic, in the way he regarded himself since working alongside Fraser and for the good of the community at large. If Richard failed this, he would be doing a disservice to more than Metcalfe’s family, than himself. He’d be condemning a man who was trying to right his wrongs, and that seemed cruel.

He lent back on his swivel chair. The old seat creaked and bent as he stretched. Up above, dark clouds were rolling in, promising a shower of rainfall within the hour. Richard flicked his wrist to check the time. It was almost coming up to half-past four. Maybe it was time to call it a day.

“Patrick!” He called through to the backrooms where he had set up a small work area for his new employee. “You still awake back there?”

Beckoned through, Patrick appeared in the doorway. In his hands, he held two sheets of paper and, as he slowly strolled over to Richard’s desk, his eyes did not lift from whatever secrets they held.

He really is trying, thought Fraser. It was a shame this case was soon to be a bust.

“Not much more we can do today. Get on home before the rain sets in and be back here tomorrow at nine. We’ll try and pick up a lead if we can.”

Patrick did not say a word or move an inch, however.

Richard tilted his head. “Donaghue? You in there?”

“Hm?”

His eyes lifted to meet his boss’s. Fraser could see the dark circles forming under the man’s eyes. It didn’t help to quell the rising guilt he felt of failing him.

“I said you can go home and we and try and pick up more leads tomorrow morning. What’s got you so interested, anyway?”

In answer, Patrick merely handed Richard the two sheets of paper. He scanned them quickly. They were both grainy CCTV photographs; one was a from a station terminus, Richard guessed Penn Station judging by the architecture; the other was from a street camera in a neighbourhood he was less familiar with.

“What are these?”

“Our next lead.” Patrick’s tiredness dulled his excitement, but Richard could still sense it.

He laid the images across the sheets that covered his desk and pointed to the figure that featured in both captures. “Metcalfe?”

Patrick nodded. “It’s grainy, but I think that’s our guy. He changes his hooded jacket between shots but the height, the cautiously looking over his shoulder, the shoes… I think it’s him.”

“Where was this second one taken?”

“Beacon Street, Boston, Massachusetts.”

Richard jerked his head up from the photos to offer him a quizzical look.

Donaghue merely nodded in agreement. “Our friend’s taken quite the journey up north.”

“The question, I guess, is why.”

“Does the expenses extend to taking the train, or are we road-tripping, because if its the latter, I’m calling shotgun and control of the playlist.”

Richard suppressed a grin. “We can take the train. Perhaps if we follow in Metcalfe’s footsteps we can get a more detailed plan of what he might be up to.”

“Should we inform his parents?”

“Not yet, not until we’re sure.”

“And the other ‘worried’ party? What about them?”

Although Richard had wished he’d been able to conveniently forget about the added governmental pressure to find their former employee, he had unfortunately been unable to.

He shook his head. “Same rule applies. Besides, the family were the one who officially hired us. The other party don’t get to know anything until they do.”

Patrick pursed his lips, once again nodding his agreement.

“I’ll book us some tickets for tomorrow morning.” Richard continued. “Think you can get to Penn Station for around seven? I’ll text you the details.”

“Sure thing, boss.”

“Get home and get some rest.”

He didn’t need to tell Patrick a fourth time. His protege briefly disappeared back into his make-shift office to retrieve his items before returning into the main room. He approached the door to leave.

“Oh, and Donaghue? If this had been a road-trip, you do know you can’t call shotgun and request DJ permissions, right?”

Partick smirked. “It was worth a shot. Don’t stay here too late. I doubt Metcalfe will be moving on quite so quickly.”

“I won’t. I promise. See you tomorrow.”

Once the door clicked closed and Patrick was well on his way out of the building, Richard unlocked the lower drawer to his desk. From within, he retrieved a burner phone. It only had one number on it. He dialled.

“I’ve found him. Boston. Back Bay East.”

———————————————

Paul went to the one person — the only person left — that he knew he could trust.

The journey had been rough. Two trains up north and a multitude of guards and police presence to dodge. Being a wanted man, by the government no less, had that unfortunate effect, but he managed to make his way up to Boston as night began to fall.

Faking his own death back in the New York motel had been no easy feat. Paul knew the scene was nowhere near as believable as it could have been, and should the cops look too hard they’d realise that in a heartbeat. He had little time, however, and now could only hope that they wouldn’t work out the obvious until he was long gone.

He lacked sleep. Paul could feel his bones growing weary, his muscles growing tired, but he had to keep moving. If he stopped, even for a few hours, he could risk being identified and caught. That was not an option. He was safe nowhere, not until he reached Adam.

In any other circumstance, Paul would have called ahead, but he knew the Spectrum department would be able to monitor such calls, should they wish. In the recent past, it had been him on the other end of those tracking devices, seeking a man who, like himself, should have been long since dead. On the journey up to Boston, Paul wondered whether there was any way of finding Turner. Given his own predicament, and the lengths he’d been through to stay off the grid, he doubted it.

The taxi he had taken from the station pulled up outside the address Paul had given to the driver. He was relieved he hadn’t been caught out by the man and taken to the nearest police station instead. Paying with cash to avoid leaving a digital trail, he thanked the driver before hopping out of the back door and dashing across the street to Adam’s apartment building.

His knuckles rapped harshly on the door.

“Adam? Adam, it’s me. It’s Paul. Are you there? Adam, open up!”

He had never been so relieved to hear the sound of a door unlocking before. Paul burst through the moment it had opened, knocking the blonde out of the way before Adam could finish his greeting.

“Hey, Paul, what’s— Hey! Careful!”

Paul didn’t listen. “Are you alone?” He asked, directly making a beeline to the windows. Any blinds that were still up were quickly lowered.

His friend locked the front door before following him through to the living room. “Paul, what’s going on?”

Paul allowed himself to take a breather, his paranoia subsiding for the time being. “I need a place to lay low.”

“Why? What’s going on?”

It was now that he noticed his friend was dressed in blue loungewear, suggesting to Paul that he was getting ready to turn in for the evening. How his heart ached with guilt that he was going to ruin that plan.

“I made a really bad mistake, Adam. A really bad mistake. I don’t know if I can fix it.”

[iicloudyiiddyy]

I saw that you wanted requests, and then I saw that you write for sally face and I rushed right over! Currently thrown back into my sally face obsession lol. Anyways, could I request some platonic headcanons for a fem reader being part of the main gang? Basically just what it's like to be friends with them and being part of their group, what kind of shenanigans reader gets into with them, just friendship stuff if that's okay ^^ and feel free to throw some romantic stuff in there like who is most likely to develop a crush on reader. Hopefully this isnt too much I'm sorry if it is

ᴀ/ɴ : AHHHH! I WAS SO EXCITED WHEN I READ THIS. LIKE IM BEAMING WITH JOY AS I WRITE THIS. DON’T YOU DARE APOLOGIZE!! I LOVE SALLY FACE AND HAVEN’T GOT A SF REQ IN A LOOONGGG TIME AND IM JUST SO HAPPY TO HEAR SOMEONE FROM THE OTHER SIDE AGAIN LOL! This isn’t too much at all and I’m so hyped to write this! Please enjoy! ♡︎

INTRODUCTION 

I feel like it is Ashely who originally introduced you to the group

You two were originally pretty close friends and she decided to bring you more!

Now for the first impressions…

Larry would immediately warm up to you

you two would hit it off as if you didn’t know what the word stranger was!

Todd would sorta be indifferent to you originally

smiles and nods at you but goes on with tinkering with his projects 

But I feel like sally would be awkward at first with you..

Like how he reacted when he first saw Ashley…imagine how he reacted with you! 

He was originally worried on how you would react to his prosthetic 

But you never showed any negative expressions!

You had nothing but love and support to give!

And you were funny and pretty!

How was he supposed to react to that?

But as you guys hung out more and as Todd and sal saw how you interacted with the other half of the group they would warm up considerably more!

   NOW WITH THE GROUP!

I feel like it would be so hectic…

But so fun at the same time..

You and Todd would so have study sessions together! 

Sometimes Larry would join but we all know you never get any work done with him around

Todd and you could talk for hours about the most interesting topics! 

Larry would most definitely put his two cents here and there and it would always crack you up!

Todd would always be exasperated but Larry means well!

Larry and you would be the best of twins.

When I say you two get into the deepest shit together I mean it.

He’s your partner in crime what can you say?

With Ashley I can see her having painting sessions with you and sal would just be in the back struggling..

You guys definitely have treehouse hangs!

If you got into some demonic shenanigans that treehouse would be your go to.

You and sal would be smoke buddies, if he can’t hang with Larry than it has to be you

He finds you so endearing 

NEVER LEAVE THAT MAN ALONE WHEN HES HIGH

he can get so scared if his own thoughts…(ᗒᗣᗕ)՞

But one day you two are just chilling high asf and his munchkin of a cat comes crawling over 

Immediately you cherish gizmo and he cherishes you. 

Probs likes you more than sal

Sal already liked you but seeing this?

A fellow cat person?? Say less 

As soon as sally saw that he was never letting you go.

Now for the shenanigans you guys get into….

I can just see larry convincing you guys to try out this goofy Oujii board with cheeto dust he saw off E-Bay

And Todd’s like “ it would be good data..”

So here you guys are speed running through the halls because the demons wasn’t in the mood to deal with 5 emotionally traumatized teenagers..

May or may not have accidentally let more demons in Addison apartments

You and Ashley have friend ship bracelets. It’s just a fact!

Feel like you, Larry and sal would go to a gas station in the ungodly hours of the day and create the worst abominations with candy, Gatorade, packets of sauce, and yogurt and have you guys try them.

Probably pranked Todd with some of the worst ones..

For romance I would feel like Ashley would love to draw in you if you were her S/O 

(TW) : if you had sh scars are any scars of any kind she would draw hearts and stars on them

Same thing with sal, he loves kissing them,

making sure you feel the love he never got

For the one who would be most likely to develop a crush… 👀 

I think sal would..

If you showed never wavering love and devotion to that man he would just melt 

actually tears up if he showed you his face and you didn’t recoil back 

Like what did he do to deserve you?

Nothing bbg it’s all you

*sobs* give him love!

If you were with Larry I imagine you guys having late night drives…

Listening to ear fracturing death metal as you talk about your guys hopes and dreams..

Tʜᴀᴛs ɪᴛ ғᴏʀ ɴᴏᴡ! I ʜᴏᴘᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴇɴᴊᴏʏ ᴍʏ ʜᴇᴀᴅ ᴄᴀɴɴᴏɴs!! I ᴡᴏʀᴋ ʜᴀʀᴅ ᴛᴏ ᴋᴇᴇᴘ ᴍʏ ᴀɴᴏɴs ғᴇᴅ! ɪғ ʏᴏᴜ ᴡᴀɴᴛ ᴍᴏʀᴇ ʟᴇᴛ ᴍᴇ ᴋɴᴏᴡ! ɪ ᴡᴏᴜʟᴅ ʙᴇ ᴅᴇʟɪɢʜᴛᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ᴍᴀᴋᴇ ᴀ ᴘᴀʀᴛ 2!

ᴏɴᴄᴇ ᴀɢᴀɪɴ ᴛʜᴀɴᴋ ʏᴏᴜ ᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇ ᴀɴᴏɴ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ʀᴇǫᴜᴇsᴛᴇᴅ ᴛʜɪs! ɪ sᴍɪʟᴇᴅ ᴛʜᴇ ᴡʜᴏʟᴇ ᴛɪᴍᴇ I ᴡʀᴏᴛᴇ ᴛʜɪs! ᴀs ᴀʟᴡᴀʏs ᴅᴏɴ’ᴛ ʙᴇ ᴀғʀᴀɪᴅ ɪɴ sᴇɴᴅɪɴɢ ᴍᴏʀᴇ ʀᴇǫs! I ʟᴏᴠᴇ sᴘᴇᴡɪɴɢ ᴍʏ ᴛʜᴏᴜɢʜᴛs ᴏᴜᴛ ɪɴᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇ ᴡᴏʀʟᴅ! ɪғ ʏᴏᴜ ᴡᴀɴᴛ ᴘʟᴇᴀsᴇ ʟɪᴋᴇ, ʀᴇʙʟᴏɢ , ᴄᴏᴍᴍᴇɴᴛ, ᴏʀ ғᴏʟʟᴏᴡ ᴛᴏ sᴜᴘᴘᴏʀᴛ! THANK YOU ♡︎

[bohemiandeer]

Lifeweaver Headcanons Part 1: This man's fricking Home and living conditions.

Just, a couple o' headcanons I have on how this man lives. Don't mind me. I'm bored and going through brainrot rn, ANYWAY: ❧ At the Atlantic Arcology he actually lives in a modified greenhouse he more or less converted into an apartment where he usually does a majority of his research and biolight experimentation or just, hides out in periods when he needs to. But is usually very nomadic by nature, being prone to travelling out, usually on humanitarian aid runs on/off in between research periods when he starts feeling stifled from being confined to his residence for a long term period of time. Almost no one knows where on earth he even lives. He either never discloses his resident's location whatsoever or always gives false locations that change every single time he answers, if not a combination of both. For him to actually disclose the actual location to you is a MAJOR sign of trust in you on his part.

❧ Likes to collect and cultivate a variety of different plants and especially flowers that he regularly and religiously cares for, studies and documents down. To where a good chunk of his greenhouse's space is just, purely dedicated to his plants. Not to mention, he grows a majority of his own food. Also has one of the very few people he trusts enough at the Arcology come in to care for them in his absence.

❧Has a very strong penchant for collecting souveniers, souveniers from his travels pretty much everywhere, basically strewn around like shiny things in a Magpie nest. If they're not organized out on the bookshelf. He thinks it adds even more character to his living space. ❧ Detests Minimalist/Sleek Modern Day aesthetics with a passion, is very much a Maximalist in how he decorates his place. Not to mention since he doesn't really have much to spend on furniture to begin with, almost all his stuff is second hand or handmade.

❧ The actual living space of his residence looks like organized chaos in the most colourful way possible. He isn't so much of a slop as to end up on a TLC show but his living space is VERY, very disorganized. I'm talking Howl's Room from Howl's Moving Castle, but spread out all over the house as opposed to being contained to just one room. I'm talking about a place with the most random objects misplaced in the most out of pocket of places, especially his work tools. To where when someone visited him the one time they found his cordless soldering iron, in the fricking bathroom, and a misplaced spatula just, vibing in the fridge among his leftovers. More books OUT of his bookshelf and piled up on whatever nearest coffee table or surface area he just randomly put it down after he finished reading it, than IN the actual dang bookshelf. If anything the bookshelf's slowly getting repurposed as a souvenier display. Random piles of blankets and clothing piled up on the one side of the couch and the armchair he never really even uses. Unwashed dishes just, randomly left where he placed them and forgot about. ❧Also has a habit of leaving half finished projects everywhere including incomplete blueprints, WIP sculpting projects and half painted pottery he made for the plants just, all over the dang place. Not to mention, in regards to his actual research, a good chunk of his equipment everywhere.

❧Has a wooden board in his bedroom pinned up with photographs of friends, found family and places he visited, drawings and various little trinkets like pamphlets, travelling maps, postcards, letters, tickets, restaurant receipts, etc. That he has since dubbed his "wall of sentimentality". Namely because every single thing on that board is a piece of memorabilia of a memory and/or experience to him for him to look back to when he wants to remember moments that made him feel happy and are worth remembering. Has little to none in the way of photographs or any memorabilia whatsoever of his actual family, especially his parents. Pretty much no one both inside and outside of his house even knows what his family even looks like, that's how little in the way of a footprint he has on them. ❧The kitchen is the worst place in the house, largely because, growing up in a household where the kitchen was always tended to by house staff, he has no idea how on earth to properly tend to a kitchen, even as an adult. He tries to keep the actual part he cooks in as clean as possible because he's enough of a stickler for hygiene to know a unclean cooking space is where he doesn't want to make his food. But the rest is best described as a place of nightmares to most people who know how to tend to a kitchen just fine. A lot of people think he doesn't know dishwashers exists because the sink's the worst part of his house. It can't even be said that he presumably thinks the sink's just there for decoration because the sink itself is already partially a health hazard. Assuming a good chunk of his dish pantry isn't strewn all over the dang place in the rest of the house to begin with. ❧ Alot of people think he doesn't know how to use a laundry basket either and that the laundry basket is a decoration because he has more clothing dumped in the corner of his room, his bedroom chair and the aforementioned side of the couch and armchair, than he has in the laundry basket. ❧ Rarely makes his bed. Unless people come/stay over then he'd just, pull the blankets and covers over the thing. Doesn't see the point in it because he thinks it's gonna be reduced to a pile of blankets/covers either way.

❧Doesn't typically clean his place in the same way other people do for a variety of reasons. One being that he doesn't typically have the time, nor does he have the habit out of once again, having grown up in a house hold that routinely already did that FOR him. To where he just simply, forgets to clean up after himself, even in adulthood. But the main reason is simply that he just works best in a "disorganized" space, it gives him a sense of comfort to a degree and makes it feel like the space he inhabits is actually lived in.

❧ On a related note, is the kind of person who, where others see chaos, he sees an exact mental layout on where he put what and what he usually puts where. Even if they're not in the place they're actually supposed to be. To the point that if one were to move like, one object from where he placed it to where they think it's supposed to go, he'd immediately notice. God forbid someone cleans up his space and puts everything away because he will turn it into a cesspit of chaos again just trying to look for the thing he is looking for. Had this thing at the Academy too. He used to drive Satya NUTS in this regard.

❧ He keeps his biolight gear, including the petals, in a repurposed lab cabinet with a wooden stand in it that's security protected alongside the rest of his most vulnerable/important work. Anyway stay tuned for Part 2 of me rambling about my favourite gorgeous ass Pansexual Plant Pot of a Husbando.

[theonetruegnome]

Slice o' life #1

It's a beautiful day in Fracture hills, not a cloud in the sky nor a breeze in the trees. The shifted critters are all once again outside, this time enjoying the board game 'The swift frontier'. Well, most of them are...

'Dandy, it's your turn.'

'Hey! I'm not done trading! So, about those bricks Conk...'

Conk sits up straight and does a big ol' stretch.

'Hngh! Ah, that's better. Anyway Eli, we both know I'm not giving up my bricks until I can build a masonry, right?' '...Right' 'So we both know this trade isn't going to happen. Let's let Dandy have her turn.' 'Eli, if I give you my bricks, would you-' 'Too late, the dice have been passed. Dandy?'

Dandy stops picking at the grass and sighs.

'Do I have to?'

'Dandy, for the past three weeks Leah has put up with us playing football, hockey, skating, pretty much any sport under the sun. So, for the sake of fairness, we're doing something she likes today!'

'It's only fair dandy.' Says Mana without even looking up from her cards 'Knight blockade Eli, discard three luxury goods' 'Bribed officials, goes to Callum. Sorry bud.' 'Don't worry, Divine omen, I'm unaffected. I play red Bladedancers as a retaliatory, Everyone else loses one random citizen.' 'Well played!' 'Dammit, my surgeon!' 'Zzzzz... Hah! I'm awake! What'd I miss?'

'But it's so booooring!'

'How? Swift frontier has player alliances, tons of buildings, trading between players-'

'Alright, I get it! Ugh, fine, I'll play... Serf's representatives, I get to take another three resource cards this turn.'

'No, you don't have enough political power to play that one. See? it says four'

'I have four! Right there, in my capital!'

'It has to be a medium or smaller town, that's what the crossed pitchforks above the cost mean.' 'Well, she could send along a political caravan to bring some political power to the village-' 'Nope, Knight Blockade stops any caravans though my land as well.' 'Not necessarily, *YAWN*. Oh, sorry about that. Anyway, if you discarded one of your soldier cards from Callum's Bladedancer attack, you wouldn't have enough for a full blockade and they'd be- *smol yawn* be able to get through.' 'In that case, I play Villager's militia, Mana gets to draw another two soldiers.' 'Why Munch?! We were trying to starve the Dandy and Mana out and force them to trade away their kingdoms!' 'Because now we'll be dependant on him for land. See how much he's expanded?' 'Yeah, he's right on my doorstep! How did I not notice that...' 'Muahahahahaha! You fools! I am now MunchyPup: God of the world!' 'It's fine guys, I'll just activate my saboteur.' 'WHAT?!' 'Yeah, I planted a traitor in your city. So, your entire hand of cards is discarded, and you only draw three back.' 'Then I play Poisoned chalices.' 'And I'll do shoddy masons.' 'And my angry peasants to finish.' 'So you lose all your cards, your entire court is discarded, your farms and foragers are disabled for 2 turns, and your Capital is downgraded to level 2.' 'NOOOOOO! My Empiiiire!'

'See, This right here is what I mean Leah, it's too complicated and it takes forever.' 'That's just sort of how the game is Dandy' she ignores Mana and continues; 'And I don't get it, why are we trying to settle this hellhole?' 'Well, you see, overpopulation has overcrowded a lot of the cities in this world, so...' 'Why can't they just expand the pre-existing cities or build storied houses like apartments?' 'Well, I guess that's an option...' 'Do you see? I could be doing something productive and useful during that wasted time. Instead, I'm here doing all of this overcomplicated resource managing, which as it turns out I shouldn't need to be doing! And you know that I don't like long games Leah, so why are you making me play one? You sort of Brought this onto yourself.'

To the surprise of everybody, Leah doesn't shrink back as usual. Instead, she slowly begins breathing faster, flushes red in the face and goes around the board to put her face near Dandy's. Leah, now inches away from her nose, begins to speak in a raised voice that's just shy of full on yelling.

'And why do you and Eli make me run around after a ball and get all sweaty huh? Why does Mana make me sit down and talk about some stupid Wizard I've never heard of before?! Why do I try to force myself to eat every bite Munch's experimental new recipes that I don't like, or walk in the hot sun all day with Sunny?! Do you know why I put up with every single activity that I don't like? Because it makes you guys happy! I do it for you! I know that you like it, so I compromise! But you never hear me complaining! And you know what? I was going to have us at my studio today, modelling, because we haven't done that is literal months, but I thought I would do something everybody would enjoy, so I picked this! But no, you had to ruin the mood because everything is all about DandyDoe! Dandy is the main character, she decides everything! How about, for once, you stop BITCHING about boardgames, quieten down, and TRY to enjoy yourself?!!'

Suddenly, Leah feels like she's herself again and stops seeing red. Her friends are all looking at her. Conk and SweetiePup are both open-mouthed, Mana is cowering with her arms covering her face, Callum looks to be on the verge of tears, Eli is mouthing 'What the fu-', and Sunny is looking at her with a mix of concern and fear.

Dandy meanwhile, looks like she's been shot. Her eyes are wide, her lip is quivering and she's breathing like... Well, like someone who just got yelled at for 20 straight seconds.

You can practically hear the colour draining from Leah's face as she realises what she's said.

'Ohmygod, I'm so sorry Dandy! I- I didn't- I- I didn't mean it! Please, I'm sorry. Oh god, you're going to leave me aren't you?

She starts to pace back and forth, looking down, holding her head in her hands 'You see me as an awful person and I'm gonna be alone again. Oh Jesus, now I'm just worrying about myself! I'm such a stupid, selfish-'

'Leah' Dandy's voice is so uncharacteristically calm that she looks up from her Near mental breakdown. 'Leah, please, I'm the one who should be apologising. You're right, I shouldn't have acted like that. Today was supposed to be your day, and I treated it like it was another of mine. I'm sorry for making you do all of those sporty things with us, I just wanted to make you feel included. I shouldn't have decided I hated the game before we started when you were always willing to play our games with us.' She looks up and stares Leah straight In the eyes. 'I'm so sorry! I am so, so sorry!'

'...Dandy, that was so sweet! Apology accepted. I guess I was holding that in for a while now and I had to get it off my chest. But I really did mean my apologies. All of you, I'm sorry for scaring you.'

*Awkward silence*

'How about from now on, we try to tell each other how we feel instead of bottling everything up? Otherwise we'll have another exploding Leah event. And that goes for everyone here! If you don't feel like doing something, tell us and we'll fix it and try to make it fun for everyone.'

Dandy sheepishly looks from Sunny to Leah. 'Deal?' 'Deal. So, if you want, do you wanna play something like soccer?' 'No way Lensbear! We started this game, we're gonna end it. Besides, you still need to teach me the basics again, then team up and destroy everyone else with me in a Hollywood underdog-style movie!' 'He he he he! Okay, fiiiiine, if you insist!'

Slowly, everyone regathers their cards and sits back down at the board. However, before they start, Leah insists on one last thing. She very quickly whips out her camera and snaps a few photos of everyone together, smiling and happy.

The rest of the game is a complete wipeout. Leah and Dandy team up, easily annihilate Conk, Callum and Mana, and leave Eli and Sunny to fight for what's left of the ruined kingdoms. By the time they realise they should be teaming up the armies are already breaking down the gates. Sunny only has one thing to say to Leah after she and Dandy stop celebrating.

'So, what do you have planned for next week?'

'N- Next week?'

'What, you didn't think this was a one-and-done thing, right? I have a lot of catching up to do on my compromises. So, we all talked and agreed on it when you left for water. You're deciding what we do next Wednesday, ok?'

'Uh, yeah, sure!'

As the crew part ways in the light of the setting sun, Leah walks away, clutching her camera full of precious film. She'll develop it, make a backup copy, and have the resulting pictures framed. That way she'll never forget. Her anger and frustration and spite are temporary, but her friends are forever and will always be there, ready to forgive her. And no amount of yelling or insults can change that. At the end of the day, they will all have each other.

[solisaureus]

Hi, beginner artist here. I’ve been drawing for about a half year now, Jan 23-June 23 and then a 6 month break, it’s been about a week now I’ve gotten back into drawing and I thought I would just immediately go back to drawing in the style I used to. That’s not what happened lol. Surprise, surprise I start getting inspo from other artists (like you) and kinda changed my style a bit, but I don’t really like it and I want to go back to my old style, but I don’t like my old style a whole ton either. I have literally no clue what to. Do i stick to this one and hope it develops into it’s own thing or do I go back to my old style and restart?? Could I have some advice, please?

Hi! congrats on starting your artistic journey!! I had a stylistic crisis a little while ago and one of the things i did was create a private pinterest board with a bunch of art by artists whose styles inspire and influence me. Then I went through the collection and noted common things that stood out to me (things like graphic illustrations, line weight, and how things like eyes and hair are drawn). I also had some artist friends go through and note things they noticed just to get another opinion.

but to be honest, and you're not gonna like this answer, the best thing to do is just keep drawing, keep practicing, maybe do some skill studies by drawing from life or references. if you're not having fun, try something new -- a new subject (if you normally draw human faces, try drawing flowers or clothing), a new medium (if you normally draw with pencil, try using ink or charcoal), or a new style entirely (try emulating the style of a cartoon you like just to see what it feels like). These are some things you can do to loosen up, but ultimately, you can't force it, and trying to will just make you frustrated. Your style will emerge organically as long as you keep making art -- you won't necessarily like everything you create, but every stroke of the pen is a step toward progress. And remember, every artist makes ugly art, and most artists only publicly share their best art. If you don't like what you're drawing but you keep drawing anyway, congratulations you are an artist \o/