#there is more to this but idk if it's finished

[ricky-mortis]

I have a lot of thoughts about Tinky fucking Ted up- have some doodles about it

[ghosts-and-glory]

Shamura, could you stop being ominous and vaguely threatening please, you’re killing the vibe.

I’ve foreshadowed this idea a bit, of new gods taking up the crowns. Y’all are begging me to stop introducing more plot threads to my au and finish up old ones but I’m full of ideas. The award for most confusing timeline goes to me, oops.

I got experimental with the colouring on this, idk why I had this mental image of big blocky blue shadows and I re did the colours like five times trying to get them to work.

[withwritersblock]

If You Love Her

~If You Love Her by Forest Blakk~

Author's Note: requested! First Ethan piece :) italics are flashbacks Summary: Ethan and Y/N Hughes are secretly dating and Luke gets protective over his older sister Warnings: err idk tbh Word Count: 2,216 Ethan Edwards x Hughes!fmreader

It wasn’t entirely serious between them, it was more casual than anything. She wanted more and Ethan wanted more but it was a sticky situation. Her brother, Luke, used to be Ethan’s teammates and roommate. 

At first it was nice having his older sister Y/N hang around, she was only a year older than Luke. She was nice, matched his energy really well. It was nice having another Hughes around. 

The boys renewed the lease and she ended up moving into Luke’s old room. Luke was hesitant on allowing her to do that, barging in on his territory but Y/N can be really persuasive.

She slowly started getting closer with the boys, especially Ethan.

She paced the hallway, unsure of how she would go about this. She needed a date. It wasn’t optional as her sorority was having a themed party. You were required to bring a partner. She was going to bring her girl best friend but she was in a different sorority. It would be against the rules. 

So, here she was pacing the hallway trying to decide if it would be weird to ask him if he could be her date. Or plus one. She spun around quickly at the sound of the door creaking open. Ethan stepped out of his room, shirtless wearing dark blue sweatpants. His hair was messily laid across his forehead as he shifted his gaze towards Y/N.

“Whatcha doing?” he asked, a smile on his lips. She froze as she trailed her gaze up his frame. She clenched her jaw. 

“I need a plus one to my sorority party, event thing, and I was going to see if you wanted to come. I know it’s crazy last minute and it doesn’t give you a lot of time to get ready-”

He took a step towards her, tilted his head to the side, “Are you asking me to be your date?” Ethan asked a teasing smirk on his lips. She held up her finger as she pressed her lips together. 

“I think I said, plus one, anyways. Can you wear a suit?” she asked. His eyes widened as he chuckled nervously. 

“This requires a suit?” he asked. She nodded desperately. “What do I get in return for being your plus one?” he asked sarcastically. 

She met his gaze as she fought the smile forming to her lips, “We’ll see,” she said as she walked backwards back towards her room.

After two hours they were finishing getting ready in the bathroom together. She adjusted the short blue dress on her frame. “I don’t understand how it’s required for you to have a date to this,” he asked as he sprayed his cologne on his neck, then his body. 

“We’re supposed to bring someone so we can fill space, look like we are actually fundraising with a huge crowd,” she explained as she ran her fingers through his hair. He nodded a smirk toying to his lips.

“So I’m your trophy husband,” he let out teasingly. She rolled her eyes as she met his gaze, she laughed.

“Sure,” she smiled. He dropped his head slightly as he took a deep breath.

“You know Duker and Mark were also home, you could’ve asked them.”

She scanned his features, admiring his eyes. She always loved his eyes. “You’re my favorite in the house,” she expressed. 

“No other reason?” he questioned scanning her features. She bit her bottom lip as she shook her head slowly. “Okay, let’s get going,” he mumbled as he walked backwards towards the door, holding out his hand for her.

All of the boys kept it a secret from Luke, despite talking with him a couple times a week; they kept it to themselves. They weren’t entirely sure what they were trying to keep secret, as Ethan and Y/N were always hot and cold. 

One day they would be all over each other, the next they were simply just friends. Today was Luke’s first game against the Red Wings. The boys and Y/N were planning on driving up to Detroit to watch the game. It was also Y/N’s birthday on the same day.

Ethan was laying beside her, carefully watching her sleep. Texting with the other boys to set up a morning birthday surprise. Today was one of the many days where he stayed the night in her room. It was hard keeping it from Luke, but he was starting to fall for her and it was becoming more and more obvious.

They were always together for the last two months, it was safe to say Luke was getting suspicious. She stirred beside him, her eyes slowly opening. “Happy birthday,” Ethan whispered as he rolled to face her. She met his gaze, a small smile formed to her lips as she stretched her body. 

“Thank you,” she whispered. Ethan quickly jolted away from the bed, throwing a hoodie over his frame. He hit send on his text and a mere second passed before the other boys in the house busted into the room singing happy birthday. 

She quickly jolted up, laughing as she brushed her fingers through her hair. She began laughing as she saw Dylan holding a large plate of birthday cake pancakes. Mark held his phone up as he was recording her reaction. She covered her face with her hands as she was laughing. Her gaze switched towards Ethan who was standing beside the bed.

“-to you!” the boys finished singing as Dylan dramatically holds the large plate in front of her to blow out the candle. She blew out the candle as she shyly covered her face in her hands again.

“I just woke up, should’ve let me shower before you filmed me,” she mumbled as she looked towards Ethan.

“That’s no fun,” he mumbled as he walked towards her, leaning down and puckering his lips. She rolled her eyes playfully before she pecked his lips.

“Thank you guys, this means a lot,” she let out as she looked towards each of the boys, “Please tell me you guys are eating this with me, I can’t finished this,” she said as Dylan handed her the plate. 

“We all have forks,” Dylan said as they all pulled forked from their pockets at the same time. Mackie handed Ethan and Y/N forks as well. Ethan placed her lap desk onto the bed and she placed the plate down. 

~

The drive to Detroit took a lot longer than they had thought, which meant Y/N had to sit on Ethan’s lap a lot longer than expected because there was only seven seats and there was eight of them in total. Ethan didn’t mind, but Y/N was worried that Luke would see her once they all got to the restaurant. 

She kept her hand loosely around his neck as he supported her by wrapped his arms around her waist, her feet dangled onto Dylan’s lap. He kept untieing her shoes to mess with her. 

“How’s your birthday so far?” Ethan asked as he ran his hands up and down her exposed thigh, slowly, seductively. She turned her head towards him, as she played with the ends of his hair. Her fingertips grazed the skin along his neck. 

“It’s been really great,” she mumbled as she leaned towards him, kissing him. After a few seconds Dylan tugged on her foot.

“Will you guys wait till we get home,” Dylan groaned out. Y/N pulled away, a shy smile on her lips as she dropped her head against Ethan’s shoulder. He simply smirked towards Dylan. “What are you guys even doing anyway?” Dylan pressed as he tapped his fingers against the tip of her shoe. Y/N clenched her jaw as she lifted her head from Ethan’s shoulder. 

“Just having fun, you should try it sometimes Duker,” she teased. The entire car started laughing at her reply. Dylan rolled his eyes. Mackie parked the car in the parking lot of the giant restaurant. The boys slowly started climbing out of the car one by one. 

After Dylan and Rutger climbed out of the car, Y/N slowly climbed off of Ethan’s lap as she manuvered out of the car. Luke and Jack were waiting for them by the front of the restaurant. The whole group of boys were already saying hello to Luke and Jack when Ethan and Y/N finally approached the group.

“Happy birthday, little sis,” Jack expressed as he quickly engulfed her in a hug.

“Thank you,” she said as she slowly pulled away as she turned towards her younger brother. Luke hugged her tightly.

“Happy birthday,” he mumbled as he stared towards Ethan. Ethan was oblivious as he was talking with Jack. 

They all walked into the restaurant and were seated immediately as they had called ahead. They got the table at the center of the restaurant. Jack and Luke sat on the opposite ends of the table as Jack wanted to talk to the boys, many of them have looked up to him. Luke sat at the end of the table, across from Ethan and Y/N. It was as if it wasn’t a discussion for Ethan and Y/N to sit beside one another. It completely through Luke off. 

Ethan leaned over and whispered into her ear, “Duker has a point,” he pulled away. She turned her head to the side to scan his features. She took a small breath in before she shifted her gaze down towards the menu in front of her.

“What’s everyone thinking?” she asked, picking it up. Ethan looked over her side profile for a few seconds before he reluctantly looked away. His gaze ended up meeting Luke’s furious gaze. Ethan quickly dropped his eye towards the menu. 

“Steak from here is really good,” Rutger expressed from the other end of the table. Ethan nodded as he took a small sip of the lemon water in front of him. 

“They have spinach dip, you love that,” Y/N observed as she leaned towards Ethan. Luke continued to stare towards them, furiously. Ethan nodded as he absentmindedly reached beneath the table and rested his hand onto her thigh. Luke looked down, watching Ethan. He instantly kicked him. Ethan jolted. 

“Dude?!” Ethan let out as he met Luke’s gaze.

“Sorry, my foot fell asleep,” he let out while smiling. Ethan took in a sharp breath as he shifted his gaze back towards the menu. Y/N stared towards Luke with a disgusted look on her face. 

“Do you have a problem?” she asked him. Luke pouted his lips as he shook his head. The boys further down the table, looked towards her. “Then stop being an ass,” she whispered before she glanced towards Ethan. Luke rolled his eyes while clenching his jaw. 

“What’s the deal with you two?” Luke asked, his eyes widened. He was shocked he even spit out the words. “I mean why were you already in her room in her birthday video this morning?” Luke questioned. Y/N shifted her gaze towards Mark who was several seats away. He shrugged as he looked back down towards the water.

Ethan nervously rested his hand onto her thigh, it was a reflex at this point. “Dude, seriously?” Luke let out as he pointed beneath the table. Ethan huffed, a smile forming to his lips.

“We’re together, okay? Is that the answer all of you want? I know you guys seem to be up our asses about what we’re doing. So fine, you want us to put a label on it?” she glared towards Dylan who was sitting directly across from her, “Ethan and I are dating, happy?” she shifted her gaze towards Luke. 

Ethan looked towards her, a small smile on his lips. “We are?” his voice was barely audible. She turned her head to meet his gaze, she smiled excitedly. The entire table erupted into cheers except Luke. Ethan leaned towards her kissing her briefly.

Luke still stared towards Ethan furiously for a few seconds before he took a deep breath. He watched the genuine smile on his sister’s lips. Ethan reluctantly shifted his gaze towards Luke. “I will actually kill you if you hurt her,” Luke let out simply before he shifted his gaze back down towards the menu.

Ethan’s eyes widened, “Got it,” he mumbled before he looked back towards Y/N. “Is that his approval?” he whispered into her ear. She rolled her eyes playfully. 

“The best we’re gonna get,” she whispered.

Luke glanced down, noticing Ethan’s hand gliding up and down her thigh. He kicked him again. Ethan huffed slightly as he forced his gaze towards Luke. Slowly lifting his hand away from her frame, showing Luke both his hands as he gripped the menu. 

Y/N tilted her head to the side as she stared towards her younger brother. He looked away as if he wasn’t doing anything. She clenched her jaw as she forced a tight lip smile on her lips. 

“You never answered my question,” Luke said, meeting Ethan’s gaze. Ethan smiled while laughing.

“What now, Hughesy?” Ethan asked as he shook his head. 

“What were y’all doing in her room before the video?” he asked. 

“Sleeping! My God Lukey, will you stop?” she said while laughing.

[haliaiii]

sunday doodle before I go to bed

[jareaul0ver]

I Wanna Be Yours

pt 1

wc: 1.6k warnings: douchey bf, mentions of sex, clubbing, alcohol, cheating (only a little) pairings: nika muhl x fem!reader

ok guys i’m doing a series!! this is partially why i closed my requests, so if this does bad i might cry. idk how many parts it’s gonna be but here’s part 1, enjoy :)

You laid back with a sigh and watched your boyfriend get up. He immediately pulled out his phone and called his friend.

“Yeah. Yeah man, I’ll be there soon.” He hung up and turned to you. You were sweaty, tired, and uncomfortable; he couldn’t get you to cum to save his life. “Ima hang out with the boys babe.”

You frowned. “You’re leaving already? You just.. you just got here.”

He shrugged and threw a shirt on. “Yeah, but we already fucked.”

There it was again. Your boyfriend, the guy who supposedly was in love with you, taking part in his usual after sex ritual. You’d go to either of your places, fuck, and he’d either leave completely or pay no mind to you after.

It felt like a casual hookup, and it made you feel awful.

“Plus, I’m taking you out tomorrow night. Isn’t that enough?” He hoisted his shorts back onto his waist and fixed his hair in the mirror.

“I guess.” You sighed.

He walked towards the bedroom door. “Love you babe.”

You watched him leave without saying anything in return. Your eyes shut and you took a deep breath. It wasn’t unusual for him to act this way, hell it was the only way you knew he acted, but it still hurt every time.

Your friend slung her arm around your shoulder as you left class. “Yeah, then he just left.” You finished explaining yesterdays events to her.

“Girl, you’ve gotta dump his ass.” She shook her head in disbelief. “Come out with me and the girls tonight, we can go to a club and find you someone new.”

“I can’t, Ryan planned a date night today. Some sort of dinner thing.” You shrugged. “Maybe another time.”

She gave you a knowing look. “Fine, just call if you need anything, or if you change your mind.” She smirked before walking away.

You touched up your makeup and hair in the mirror. The black bodycon dress you wore made you look incredible. He had told you earlier to dress nice, so you found the nicest thing in your closet and threw it on.

Ryan was coming from one of his friends apartments, so you had to meet him at the restaurant.

You pulled up outside of the place and found a parking spot. It looked nice on the outside, pretty yellow lights hanging around the outdoor seating, surprisingly beautiful architecture considering it’s a restaurant.

It was nice, and you knew this was Ryan trying to make up for everything. You headed inside and a hosted led you to the table that he reserved for the two of you.

Once you sat down and ordered a water, you checked the time. He was running a few minutes late, which was normal.

A little more time had passed. A waitress had come to ask if you wanted to order, and you shook your head and said to wait a few more minutes.

Well, those few minutes passed and there was still no sign of your boyfriend showing up. You pulled out your phone and called him.

No answer.

You called him again, no answer.

You sent a few texts asking where he was, if he was okay, and if he’d be there soon.

A few minutes later you checked your phone and there was still no answer. The waitress had come back to the table and she noticed the tears welling in your eyes. “Listen, I know you’re waiting for someone miss, but I’d hate to see you wait here all night for them.”

You took a deep breath and nodded. “I’ll- Ill be leaving now, thank you.” You gave her a polite smile and gathered your purse and jacket before leaving the restaurant.

The second you got into the car the tears started flowing. In the end, you weren’t surprised this happened. He was a shit boyfriend and always ended up making you feel this way.

You pulled out your phone and dialed a number. “Hello?” The voice rang out over the loud sound of music behind it.

“What club are you at?” You spoke through tears.

“Oh, sweetie.” You friend frowned and you could hear it through her voice. “The usual. He didn’t show up?”

“Don’t wanna talk about it. Be there in 15.” You hung up and immediately started driving to the club.

You’d been on the road for 10 minutes and there was still no answer from Ryan. The second you parked you checked his location, and it showed that he was still at his friends house.

You quickly got it off your screen and rushed into the club, trying hard to find your friends. You also were trying hard to not let the tears in your eyes fall, but it was proving to be difficult.

Once you finally spotted them, you made a beeline towards the back of the club. Except you didn’t make it very far. You ran straight into a tall figure.

“Fuck, I’m so sorry.” The figure turned around and a brunette stared down at you.

She must’ve seen your shaken state and shook her head softly. “No worries.” She paused. “Are you okay?”

You blinked a few times and your eyes met hers. They were soft and brown and you felt yourself immediately being pulled in.

“Hello?” She waved her hand gently in front of your face.

“Oh, yeah, sorry. I’m- I’m okay.” You smiled a bit at her.

She smiled back and nodded. “I’m Nika, by the way.”

The second you heard her name it clicked in your head who you were talking to. Your eyes widened a bit. You were new to the UConn scene, only arriving as a transfer at the beginning of the year, but of course you had heard about Nika Muhl.

“I- I know.” You shook your head immediately. “I mean, I’ve seen you. Fuck- I’ve seen your games.” You let out a long breath and looked away from her. “Sorry, I’m a mess right now.”

She couldn’t help but smile at your nerves. She thought it was adorable. Nika laughed softly. “I’ve never seen you around before, y’know.”

“I transferred from Boston College this year.” You met her eyes again and realized her gaze hadn’t left you.

She nodded. “Why don’t I get you a drink, then you can tell me more?”

A small smile twitched at your lips. “Deal.”

The rest of the night went smoothly. You and Nika talked, and both of your groups of friends had been long forgotten.

Everything was going great until she asked about the one thing you hoped she wouldn’t. “So.. d’you have a boyfriend or anything?”

You froze for a second and took a deep breath. “I, uh, yeah. Yeah, I do.”

She nodded and took a sip of her drink to mask her disappointment, but she didn’t miss the tone of your voice when you answered.

“He’s.. awful though. I’m only here because he forgot about our date night.” You took a sip of your drink after that.

She scoffed. “What a dick.” She couldn’t believe that anyone could treat a girl like you that way. Nika had only known you for less than a few hours but she knew you were special, and deserved to be treated as such.

You shrugged and looked down at your lap. You fidgeted with the promise ring on your finger, only feeling more hurt by looking at it.

She watched you for a moment before standing up and pulled your hands out of your lap. “C’mon, let’s go dance. Forget about him.”

“Oh, no I-“ You shook your head. “I’m not a dancer.”

“Neither am I, but have some fun, yeah?”

You sighed and got up, letting her lead you to where everyone was huddled together and dancing. You stood there awkwardly for a moment before Nika started swaying, moving your arms around.

You couldn’t help but smile at her, and she smiled back. You started swaying on your own, dancing along to the music blaring from the overhead speakers.

More people joined their friends on the dance floor and it started feeling like a can of sardines. At this point, you were practically pressed against Nika.

The heat radiating off her body could be felt a mile away. You shouldn’t have been doing this with her, you had a boyfriend, but she was so beautiful and kind, you couldn’t help yourself.

Her hands found your waist and you let her rest them there. How could something so incredibly wrong feel so good?

Nika’s brown eyes stared down at you as you danced against her. Her gaze flickered lower, landing on your lips. She couldn’t help herself. She leaned in and kissed you feverishly.

You melted against her, letting the kiss consume you whole. But then Ryan’s face popped into your head. You were out, kissing a girl in a club, while Ryan was probably at his friends house asleep. He had no idea, and even though he was awful, you couldn’t do this to him.

You pulled away from her and took a step back. “I- I can’t do this, Nika. I have a boyfriend-“

“Yeah, but he’s a douche, and you deserve better.” She cut you off.

You shook your head. “But this.. this is wrong. I’m sorry.” You quickly pushed your way out of the crowd of people and through the exit of the club. You reached your car and let out a deep breath.

You ran a hand over your face and blinked a few times. “What the fuck did I just do?”

[ickadori]

You right, i havent been giving my man choso proper attention for the longest....... buuuut,

Thinking abt repressed virgin nanami who falls for a hot milf or smth idk and just like.....hes such a tits man to me idk, would literally love to eat her out for hours and massage her and then take care of her infant so she can get some rest

I js realized this was supposed to be abt choso but oh well!! Still thinking about nasty fat dick naoya and ummmm pls ur dirty talk writing is literally >>>> like its in part why i got so hooked on ur writing (besides that iconic tall!reader scara fic oh my god(

Idk im just so thirsty for virgin male x slutty reader content like theres such sparsity, i wish i cld writeee like u!!! Anyways this was all over the place but im trying to get wasted so happy weekend dori 😋💋

cws for fem reader & lactation kink.

-

Nanami isn’t big on children. He thinks they’re cute, and he finds his eyes lingering on baby clothes every now and again when he happens across them, but he doesn’t give them much thought other than that.

His lifestyle doesn’t allow for him to - a jujutsu sorcerer having a child? It was a selfish, inconsiderate thing to do. He could die at any moment, leaving behind a child and a mother to support themselves..he wasn’t that cruel.

But he didn’t give you that child —a part of him wishes he had. Wishes he had been the one to slide into your wet, warm pussy, felt you grip him tight and suck him in. The one to pump you full of cum until it was dripping out and making a mess for him to clean— so this was fine then, wasn’t it? You had been doing well enough on your own before him, and you’d do well after him as well, so it was fine for him to…indulge then, wasn’t it?

~

“I’m starting to think you’re enjoying this more than me.” You sigh out, head lolling back onto his shoulder as his hands work over your breasts.

You had been complaining all day about them being sore, something about the baby not latching properly that morning and not having any time to pump at work, and Nanami had been more than willing to offer his hands as help.

That’s how you ended up sat between his legs on the sofa, shirt and bra discarded as he gently squeezed and kneaded at your engorged breasts. They were heavy, full of milk, and he gently coaxed it out, pointed fingers rubbing over puckered, sensitive nipples as milk began to bead.

“Just trying to help…” He murmurs, chin hooked over your shoulder as he watches. “Don’t like seeing you in pain.” You hum, hips squirming, and he wonders if you’d be wet if he put his hand down your skirt.

“You’re so good to me, Kento.” You rub at his thighs over his slacks, and the muscles tense underneath your touch. He squeezes, a thin stream of milk dribbling out and over his fingers, and he sucks in a breath at the feel of the warm liquid. “Fuck.”

“Hey.” He softly chides, and you whisper out an apology, head turning so you can kiss at his bobbing adam’s apple. He squeezes again, a steadier stream coming out, and he harshly swallows as a need begins to curdle in his stomach. “Can I…?” He doesn’t finish the sentence, and he doesn’t need to, it’s a request he’s made before, and he gets the same response.

“Just a little.”

He’s on his knees between your spread thighs the next second, hands latching onto your waist just as his lips latch onto a nipple. He groans at the taste of you, lidded eyes locked onto yours as he sucks, your milk filling his mouth and sliding down his throat. Your fingers are curled tight into his hair, hips still squirming and rocking against the sofa, and one of his hands leave your waist to venture underneath your skirt.

His cheeks hollow out just as his fingers slide past drenched, sticky panties, and you both moan when he meets puffy, wet folds.

“Ken,” you tug on his hair and he relents, tongue laving over your now puffy nipple before he’s placing a wet kiss against it. “‘s aching, Ken.”

“Yeah? Because of me?” He rasps out, hands roughly tugging up your skirt. You lift yourself off the couch to allow him to bunch it around your hips, and then he’s pulling you closer to him, face burying itself between your thighs as he mouths at your cunt over your panties.

They’re quickly tugged to the side, and he sighs into you, lashes brushing against the tops of chiseled cheeks as he licks a stripe up your slit - starting from your dripping, clenching hole up to your twitching clit.

Your essence is dripping off his chin and coating his face in seconds, and he relishes in it - breathing your scent in deep, suckling at your clit to coax more of your juices out, suctioning his mouth over your hole and swallowing down everything you offer him.

He’s greedy as he eats you out: hands kneading at the body he’s sworn to love and protect, lips mouthing at the first, and last if he has anything to say about it, cunt he’s had the pleasure of worshipping. His cock is heavy and leaking in his pants, but it’s the last thing on his mind, especially when you cry his name out and yank on his hair, a rush of fluids rushing into his mouth as you come.

He drinks it down as if it’s second nature, not protesting as your thighs close and squeeze around his head. His frantic sucking turns to languid, gentle licks as he helps you come down, nose nudging up against your clit as his tongue traces your slit.

You eventually ease up, body melting into the cushions as your hands slip from his hair, and he lifts his head up, tongue swiping over plump, wet lips as he looks you over.

His hand moves to his belt.

“…baby…crying.” You pant out, and the blood that had been rushing in his ears finally settles down, allowing him to hear the cries coming from down the hall. You make a move to get up and he stops you with a hand on your stomach.

“Relax. I’ve got it.” He places a sticky kiss onto your lips before he’s rising to his feet and heading back, but not before making a quick stop in the kitchen to clean up his hands and face, as well as making a quick bottle with the formal on the counter considering he hadn’t been much help with the whole pumping thing.

[carlsaganftsh]

the lets player im watching after isabeaus failed confession went straight to bonnie and went "YOU."

[atrueneutral]

"It's nothing" for the two word prompts for Tav x Raphael, please? Perhaps Raphael notices and injury on them that she tries to brush off but he is not having it. Or maybe it's the other way around. Idk. I just really enjoy your writing.

“It’s nothing,” Tav said, brushing off the scrunched nose assessment Raphael gave her as she limped across the room and collapsed in the nearest chair from the door of the Den - an unwise action that left her hissing and wincing.

“‘Nothing’, you say?” he asked, tone flat and skeptical.

It was fair to say it wasn’t entirely ‘nothing’; pain flared from the injury on her thigh - a deep gouge from the tusk of a giant boar sustained in a surprise attack in the forest. Seven swine had ambushed the camp as she and another were settling down for the night, and at the end of the slaughter-fest, a majority of her (expensive) healing potions were used to keep her novice-of-an-adventuring-partner alive. A Potion of Healing was all that remained for her own consumption, and, thankfully, the single tincture had been enough to finish the job tasked to them.

Two days of travel later, here she was at the Devil’s Den with a festering wound that had barely mended.

“It’s fine,” Tav said (still wincing) with a wave of her hand. “I’ll grab a Superior Potion of Healing on my way home. Thought I’d first personally deliver the news that everything went smoothly - mostly.”

It would have been more accurate to have said she’d ‘purchase a Superior Potion of Healing on the way home if she could’. The empty, cavernous state of her coin-purse meant she would be limping home and limping into bed with no relief.

As for why her coin-purse was spent, she’d recently (and covertly) upgraded her leather boots and gloves to go with her upgraded (and quite stylish) leather breastplate.

Hindsight lamented that these newer, costly additions to her ensemble did not include thigh armor.

Raphael judged her disapprovingly from where he stood.

Snap!

A chalice filled to the brim with what she knew to be a Superior Potion of Healing materialized in his hand.

Tav’s cheeks became heated. “Oh, thank you, but like I said, I’ll get one on my way home.”

His eyes narrowed, and Raphael began to move towards her with resolve plain on his face; the potion he held would not be declined; he would force it down her throat if need be.

“Really, Raphael, this is unnecessary. I’ll go right now,” Tav said, pushing herself into the back of the chair in a superfluous attempt to inch away from the fiendish man who came to loom over her after four great strides.

“You are being more stubborn than usual - either you will drink this potion, by my hand or yours, or I will steal you away to the boudoir and dump you in the bath.”

“Is there a third option?” Tav meekly asked, cowering in his shadow.

“I sever your leg from your body.”

A morbid joke, but one that saw her glower and grab the encrusted-chalice from his hand.

“Bastard,” she muttered before bringing the rim of the cup to her lips and tilting the contents back. Swallowing every drop, Tav shoved the chalice into Raphael’s chest, and his hand snatched her wrist.

“My stubborn little mouse,” he rumbled. “Here I was favoring the second option...”

“Oh, not the third?” Tav retorted wryly. She sighed and relinquished the chalice to him as she pulled her hand away and sagged in her seat. “I feel like I’m relying on you too much. Not that I don’t appreciate everything you do for me, but I’m used to fending for myself… You always have what I need when I need it, or provide me with what I want - which is in your job description, I know.” She stared at her thigh and could feel a tingling sensation taking over her wound. “It’s probably past experience that’s telling me it’s all going to blow up in my face one of these days.”

“I have told you before that what I provide for you is given freely.”

She peered up at him. “You’re not secretly logging every donation? To foot me with a bill for thousands-upon-thousands of gold when I’m crawling to you on death’s door needing you the most?”

“No,” came his reply. “And let it be said that death would not take you even as you clamber on his doorstep - your maddening obstinance would not allow it.”

The corners of her lips twitched, and Tav heaved herself to her feet (without wincing in the process) to come face to face with Raphael. Her hand raised, cupping his cheek, and she caressed stubbled skin with a swipe of her thumb.

“Thank you for the potion,” she said, planting a kiss on her cambion’s lips.

“It’s my pleasure, my dear.” 

[rick-ety]

Here’s the first batch of drawings I have done!

@robygoonn I love him so much you have no idea omg…. He’s a pathetic wet cat in the best way possible and needs SO much more love I swear. One of my favorite interpretations of the narrator I might even say

@bugenthusiast0 (from discord) I’ve already drawn this guy quite a few times FOR GOOD REASON I might be in love. I love love love him so much please tell him to not eat me 🥺🙏 /silly i do NOT taste good we should cuddle instead

@an-theduckin these guys were actually so much fun to draw and idk why,, I love how tired Stanley looks btw hehej z

@unorchido your narrator is so unique and silly I LOVE how stylized he is!! The arrows were really fun to draw, I had a really good time making this guy <3

@genericusername422 (from discord!) I actually tried drawing him a while back but I totally forgot to finish it,, agh. His HAIRR and I love his robotic markings those are SO cool. Anyways throws him at a wall really hard

@employee052 YOU KNOW HIM YOU LOVE HIM. VIRGIL MY BABY (old man)…. I’ve definitely been familiar with this guy for a long while, I’m really surprised I didn’t draw him sooner but honestly it was a good thing since I can really do him justice now… though I may need to draw him again in the future..

@machathecat another really pretty design! I love seeing more animal like designs in characters. I just think his horns are really neat……… 🥰

@dirtylittlemuffin THEY ARE SO IN LOVE. AAGH I love your Stanley and the little arrow goatee it actually drives me crazy bro.. and this narrator design is really neat to me <3 I love them

@sketchygoober MY BABYYY I’ve always loved your narrators, they’re so iconic to me.. drawing your characters is always so fun and I LOVE drawing wings!!! Ahhfjriehwkakdkf he is so pretty..

@bookshopsandtea last not DEFINITELY not least! Your coloring is so soft with them and it’s so so so soooo <€{£{£\¥\ ♥️♥️♥️ interpreting your characters into my style was definitely really cool!

and that’s it for now, but there’s still a lot more to go so don’t worry we’re not done yet ahah. Drawing everyone’s different face shapes and nose shapes and body types and hair styles is really helping my art skills <3 so thank you for the submissions!

[kentopedia]

˚₊‧꒰ა cold embrace (provenance) — fyodor dostoevsky

𝓈𝓊𝓂𝓂𝒶𝓇𝓎. you buy a two hundred year old house with a two hundred year old painting hanging above the mantel. it's not the only thing the previous owner left behind.

𝒸𝑜𝓃𝓉𝑒𝓃𝓉𝓈. ghost!fyodor, f!reader, violence, angst, death, alternate / modern universe, no smut but it is suggestive, fyodor is kind of a pervy ghost so, wc: 6.1k

𝓃𝑜𝓉𝑒𝓈. this one has two titles bc it was supposed to be for my kinktober... never finished it. embarrassing ! but here is a semi-revamped version for this series! i can finally check it off my wips page <3 idk how i feel about it but i hope you enjoy

part of my summerween series !

A chime from the grandfather clock brings Fyodor out of his stupor, the sound signaling another day, another meaningless hour that will only continue his eternal misery. He’s grown used to it now—evening after evening of emptiness, of reading nothing but the same books, playing the same pieces of dull sheet music, and the lifeless chess matches against himself. The house is cold with only his presence, dusty without a housekeeper and a life to make it a home.

There are a million things in Fyodor’s life that he must have done to deserve this misery, but he can’t pinpoint which one solidified his reward of a lamentable, endless cycle.

He’s certain hell is better than this. It’s something he wishes for every day, if only to have an eternal companion with the devil, a challenge to overcome.

Though, even with this boredom, Fyodor refuses to let anyone live in his home. They’ll only serve to be another pain, something that would, surely, push him past the brink of sanity.

The centuries old décor will get replaced with gaudy twenty-first century items, ones that will be nothing more than an eyesore. There are a few already scattered around his home from previous tenants, but only things that he believed useful enough for him to keep; a few books from authors he didn’t live to read, a television from the nineties, a computer that he watched one couple scroll on before he murdered them in cold blood.

Perhaps he is two hundred years dead and gone, but he refuses to be an ignorant ghost, one that is unaware of anything beyond these four walls, caught forever in the past.

Although now, it’s been a while since anyone’s tried to move in, and he’s certain the only reason the house hasn’t been torn down is because its preserved nicely, an eighteenth-century home that has withstood the test of time.

Fyodor, in his lowest moments, wishes they would tear it down. Maybe then, and only then, can he be set free. Or maybe, he’s forever trapped in this exhaustive lot, doomed to decay, even when there’s nothing left of the foundations but soil.

He pushes a pawn forward on the board, putting himself in checkmate for the millionth time in a row. It’s been so long that he’s used to his own tricks. Even the computer, which he’d come to understand quickly, is no match for him. It’s far too exhaustive to play against a machine that utilizes an algorithm he can so easily decipher.

Out of nowhere, the front door unlocks, and Fyodor glances over at the sound, dark hair falling over his eyes. Seconds later, he notices an older realtor with a clipboard leading you around, a woman he’s never seen, dressed up nicely with a darker shade of lipstick smeared across your mouth.

He’s been through this before. It’s a miracle the realtor hasn’t given up on this house yet, a mansion she is determined to sell despite the endless horrors that have been committed by his hand.

“Here it is,” she says, nervous, gesturing around the expansive hall, the crystal chandelier and staircase that immediately follows. “It was built in 1731, but one of the owners remolded it in the style of the mid-nineteenth century. The structure has been stabilized; it’s safe… enough.”

The two of you chat, but he doesn’t bother to listen in. It’s all questions of: when can I move in? can we negotiate? — things you will come to regret once he sets his sights on killing you.

Then, the realtor is sighing, wringing her hands together as she watches you spin around the house in awe. It’s clear that you’re impressed by the layout, the rich furniture and colors that have been used.

That, at least, satisfies Fyodor. Everyone else who has moved in was looking to upgrade it to a modern style, rid the place of its aged grace and charm.

“I’m truly sorry,” she says, brushing curly hair away from her cheekbones. “But I am legally obligated to tell you that every person who has lived here before has suffered a terrible, terrible fate. There have been gruesome murders that cannot be explained, done in ways that I don’t even want to tell you about.”

You laugh, eyeing her with skepticism. “Are you telling me it’s haunted?”

The realtor shrugs. “That’s what people say.”

“I don’t believe in ghosts,” you answer, and Fyodor rolls his eyes, scoffing as he floats to the second floor, unable to listen into the unreasonable conversation anymore. It’s been the same story for decades. No one believes in ghosts, but it is always a ghost that kills them.

He returns to the chess board, irritated, though unable to consider the game any further. Your face is stuck in his mind. For some reason, he can’t remember the last time he’s ever seen anyone with such beauty.

Fyodor stops; your ageless elegance doesn’t matter—it can’t, and it won’t. You’ll be dead by the end of the month, when you gather all your things and invade the bedroom that was once his own. Even if you are beautiful, you are a nuisance, a threat to Fyodor’s eternal torment and quiet existence.

Still, he can’t help but wonder if it would be nice to have something other than his own thoughts to distract him from the endless misery.

You move in on the thirteenth of June, nothing more than a few boxes and a decade old car to keep you company. He guesses you’ve traveled a long distance to get here, and you’ve gotten rid of half of your life in the process.

A good thing for him. That means things can be over relatively quickly, and all your belongings can be disposed of easily after he kills you.

You spend the entire first day unpacking, and Fyodor waits patiently, allows you time to get comfortable in his home. He watches as you bring a stack of thick novels into the waiting room, which once boasted large parties, and place them on a shelf below those that have his name within the covers.

You take a few calls as you hang up your autumn coats, ones that won’t be needed for a few months. The voice on the other line sounds frantic, worried. A local, most likely. You only seem annoyed by his continuous string of anxieties.

When the sun sets, and you grow tired, you rub your eyes and head to bed. The first night you will spend in this place that Fyodor likens to Hell.

It’s the time he’s been waiting for—a moment to catch you off guard. You are so unsuspecting, already so at home in the mansion, that you have no fear of anything hurting you in the middle of the night.

While you get ready for bed, Fyodor slips into your room, observing the pieces of your life that have conquered his bedroom. A soft classical piece plays from your phone, one that he recognizes from his mortal life. Clearly, you are fascinated by the period he once lived in. A shame, really, he won’t be able to tell you more about it.

You leave the bathroom, come back towards him to change into a pair of small shorts, a large shirt hanging over your frame.

He’s forgotten how long it’s been since he’s seen a woman, how long since he’s touched one.

Fyodor finds himself distracted by your body, the smoothness of your skin. His eyes travel over your legs, your hips, the fullness of your breasts and ignores how much he desires to let his thumb graze over your flesh. There is something so soft about you, so gentle and innocent.

Perhaps, that is where his fascination stems from: he has always been the opposite. Even in his human existence, Fyodor was not a kind man, and he doesn’t plan on becoming one now that he is dead.

He shakes away the vision, the thoughts that swirl within his mind. It has been far too long since he has experienced any sort of pleasure, and maybe even a man as cold as himself is not immune to the desires that course within his veins.

Though he tries to be. He ignores his arousal desperately in exchange for a renewed bloodlust.

You climb into bed, put your phone on the white cord, and shut your eyes. Thirty minutes later, you’re sleeping soundly, soft puffs of air leaving your lips as you sleep.

It’s the opportune moment. The silver knife gleams brightly in his hand, streaks of moonlight tracing over the slanted point. It’s the same blade he’s killed every other new tenant with, their screams still echo in the halls like a harmonious melody each time he bring the knife down on another unknowing victim.

He stands before you at the side of the bed, watches as your chest rises and falls, the evidence of your life undeniable. You are a lovely image like this, something to be painted and adored; more beautiful than many of the women he’d met in his time, even those who were of the finest elite in the country.

Fyodor presses the blade to your throat, contemplative. He considers how much lovelier you will look with the scarlet stain of blood seeping down your neck, spraying across the room and ruining the fresh sheets. Will you awaken, gasping as you claw at your throat, or will you drift away without even understanding what has become of you?

He pictures it, and digs the blade close to your throat, nothing more than a pinprick of blood flowering there.

You don’t awaken; but you a little sound leaves you, something between a gasp and a moan, and you shift away from the knife gripped between his pale fingers. It’s a sound that has him pausing, musing, as he regards your vulnerable state, a beautiful figure there with no clue that such a murderous man is also a resident in her home.

You make another one of those pretty noises in your throat, and Fyodor, against two centuries of murderous intent, pulls the knife away. He watches as you roll on your stomach, your shirt scrunching, moving up your body to reveal the undersides of your breasts. Your hand shifts towards him on the bed, reaching in his direction, before you still. Then, your breathing is back to normal, evened out completely.

Your lips part blissfully as you sigh in your sleep.

He can’t stop looking at you, can’t stop wondering what his name would sound like leaving the perfect swell of your mouth, if you’d sound just as pretty when you orgasm as you do when you’re asleep.

Surely, he can find a better use for you—it would be a shame for such a pretty thing to go out so early.

As he draws back, Fyodor notices the chess board on the side table, the pieces arranged nicely, each on the correct square. He can’t tell if you play. You could just have it for decoration, or perhaps it was a gift given to you from a lover that he hasn’t seen pictures of, the one that he’s certain someone as lovely as you must have.

The board is aged; not as old as the one in the drawing room, but a nice set, nonetheless. Fyodor glances back at your sleeping form once more, smiles coolly to himself, and shifts a pawn forward.

The chess piece is the first thing you notice in the morning.

It’s almost ridiculous how easily it catches your eye, a tiny little movement within the chaos that was your brand-new room. A pawn is on a different square, leering at you from the other wall, as if smiling, a flashing sign above its head, calling to you, hoping you’ll pay attention.

You almost think nothing of it; things can move, can’t they? Perhaps there was a shift in the earth overnight… Though, that makes little sense when you think about it rationally.

It’s strange, that much is certain. You remember the realtor telling you about the ghosts, and though you aren’t inclined to believe in haunted houses and scary stories, you find a part of yourself questioning the logic of the chess piece.

You are certain it was on the correct square before you slept.

It’s the only thing on your mind as you get ready, suffer through a tasteless breakfast, and throw on a rain jacket to combat the dreary weather. You’re meeting a friend for lunch—the only friend you have in this town. Sigma is the sole reason you decided to move here, instead of the other arbitrary cities that you’d been desperate to escape to.

Still, the board won’t leave your mind. You take one last glance at it before, on a whim, pushing the opposite color pawn forward as well.

Then you leave, hoping that a conversation with your friend will take your mind off the strangeness of that happenstance, the anxiety you feel about moving to a new place, a new job where no one knows you, a home that stays cold, despite the heat that reigns with long summers.

The walk to the cafe is short, but with the wind and the drizzling rain, you are miserable, your hands wrinkling from the dampness, even within your pockets.

Sigma is waiting for you, his lavender and white hair loose over his shoulders as he peruses the menu, eyes darting across it like he’s never read it before.

You sit, offer him a greeting, and though your conversation is cordial, the two of you catching up on your day, you eventually ask the question you’ve been dying to know.

“Do you believe in ghosts?”

Sigma stops, puts the utensil back down on his plate, and regards you with a thin frown. “Did something happen?”

You think of the chess piece, wonder if another will be moved when you get home. “No, but—”

“I told you not to move into that house,” he says, eyes narrowing. Sigma refuses to step into that mansion, grows anxious every time you mention it. “Over ten people have died there. Do you want to get murdered?”

“No particularly,” you say, staring at him flatly, your mouth pulling into a line. “But I’ve made it one night already. I’ll be fine.”

A hard laugh leaves him, as he shakes his head, unamused by your cheekiness. “That’s what they all say, isn’t it? Then they all die.”

“Very dramatic.” You take a long sip of your water. Sigma’s features don’t crack in the slightest as he stares at you, waiting for you to continue. “I’m not scared. I just want to know if you believe in ghosts or not… Because I don’t.”

Sigma’s eyes flit across your face, searching for any hint of a lie, for any signs of fear. When he finds none, his hands stretch across the table, lacing them together as he glares. “Whether you believe in ghosts or not doesn’t matter. There’s something evil about that house, and you’re putting yourself in danger by living there.”

The conversation with Sigma weighs on your mind for hours after, when you return home, still thinking about the chess board. It was just as you’d left it, two pawns moved forward, staring each other down menacingly. Nothing out of the ordinary.

You sigh and finally put it out of your mind. It was just a coincidence, that’s all. The piece was probably on the wrong square all along, and you’d been too tired last night to notice it.

Instead, you focus your sights on unpacking, and contemplate what to do with the portrait hanging above the mantel.

It’s a dusty old thing, one that the previous owners had, for some reason, never taken down. It had hung over the mantel for centuries, the corners faded from the sun, but the sinister grin of the subject never losing its effect.

You tilt your head, stare at it from a different angle. Looking at it that way, you could, perhaps, see why the painting appealed to them. It’s old, with a style from a different century, and the man composed of deep shadows and pale colors is undeniably handsome. He seems out of place in the portrait, trapped there, too otherworldly to be captured on such a canvas. His features are sharp, molded out of something tougher than diamonds, something more beautiful than this plane is able to comprehend. His deep eyes seem to know all as they stare at you, trace you across the room.

For minutes, you are hypnotized, before a wave of disgust washes over you, and you turn away, unable to look at it any longer. You’ll sell it, you decide. Maybe it will be worth a pretty penny.

That evening, you decide to look into it, but the search into a local art dealer doesn’t get far. When you sit down at your laptop, beginning to type your question into the browser, the lid shuts on your fingertips.

It takes a moment for you to register what had happened. A faint sting dances along the back of your hands, your knuckles tender as you lift the lid back up. Lines bounce along the screen, as if the imprint of your hand had made its way into the pixels, matching the pulse of your nerves.

You curse lowly, hoping that a reset will fix the issue.

The lid had just fallen, nothing serious. It was a newer model, but those things could happen. Issues with the manufacturing, with the way it was assembled. Technology fails you all the time.

You hold the power button, irritated, and upset, when a horrible, screeching noise echoes from the computer. Nothing but a shrill scream, the speakers begging you for help. You slam it shut once more, and the noise stops, but your heartbeat doesn’t slow down.

Shit.

Tomorrow, you’ll have to take it in, and see if anyone can discern the issues. It’s not ideal, but there’s so many things to still need to do, and a broken laptop makes those things very difficult.

You sigh, pushing the chair back into the table. The portrait looms above you as you retreat back to your room, hands shaking. It’s irrational, you know it is, but you swear his eyes follow you all the way up the stairs.

It doesn’t take long for you to start believing in the ghost that is haunting your manor, the one who has let you live for a week and who plays a new game of chess every time your back is turned. Whoever it is, they are much better than you; so far, you’ve lost twice—haven’t even gotten close to winning.

He hides things from you, items that you are needing for the next day, papers that you can’t submit to work on time because the important files have been stashed away.

You find your books opened to paragraphs the ghost seemingly finds interesting, your sheet music scattered in a mess when you return. The candles get blown out unexpectedly, and doors slam when you’re not suspecting it.

If he’s trying to scare you—it isn’t working. You remain in the house, sometimes talking to him like he’s a friend, whispering amongst the walls that know all of the secrets in your home.

You stop at the library on your free weekend, flipping through a dusty copy of the local legends, only stopping when you find your home. There’s a copy of the painting there—your painting, the one that still hangs above your mantel, despite your better judgment.

Beside it, there’s a painting of your home, done when the house was first built. The outside of it is a differently color entirely, the garden in front blooming with pink and yellow flowers. It looks cheerful; the home of a warm and loving family, inviting and kind to each of the neighborhood children. Nothing like the dark manor it is today, with a dead garden in the front and shutters that keep even an ounce of light out.

You read the pages proceeding the painting. The first owner had been a kind man, but the next were not such. After the original owner lost his wealth, he sold the house, passed it to a line of greedy men, ones that were focused only on their money. For a century, it went on this way—until a man named Fyodor Dostoevsky purchased the home for twice as much as it once was.

He was the one who changed it, renovated it, upgraded it to his own personal style, ensuring that it fit in with the times and his own opinions of luxury. Fyodor was charming, but ruthless, deadly with his own intelligence, owning half the town as they lost their money to his schemes.

Fyodor’s rein came to an end when he was poisoned by his closest friend, perhaps the one man he had trusted. It was the first murder in a string of ones to follow within the house.

You close the book, unsure if you regret the knowledge you’d gained or not.

The house feels colder now that you know the history of it. As if you can see the cruelty etched into every wall. Colors of the home bleed into each other, a pastel yellow of warmth and light, and the next room empty, almost uninhabitable, with its royal purples.

You stare at the portrait as you make dinner, feeling like you can never escape the gaze of those oil painted eyes. He has a name now—Fyodor. It feels even more disarming now that you know more about him than he’ll ever know about you.

And though Fyodor watches you, every night, from every angle, you convince yourself it’s just the way that the painting is situated. It would be foolish to think that he’s really watching every move you make, irises pinned on your form, unblinking.

The oven heats up behind you as you cut up your food, humming a soft tune to yourself. It’s getting hotter outside – you’d almost forgotten how miserable the summers could be. You forget every year, even though you’ve lived many.

Just as you’re getting lost in your thoughts, going through a list of things that need to get done in your fixer-upper home, you hear a scratch behind you.

It’s a quick sound, so quick that you almost think it was only your imagination. It’s enough to give you pause, your humming fading out into the night as your eyes dart around your house. Although you’ve tried not to let urban legends get the best of you, you’re paranoid in this aged mansion now.

A few seconds pass. You listen to the sound of your own heartrate, feel it pounding in your chest as you will it to calm down. It’s just enough time for you to convince yourself that it was nothing, that you’re far too nervous about silly ghosts to think rationally.

Though as you turn, a knife flies from the counter, just grazing your cheek, but enough to cause a scratch to open up against the skin. Your finger draws away scarlet as you press it to the wound, staring at the painted crevices of your fingertip.

You can’t move. Despite every cell in your body begging, screaming at you to move, you’re frozen, trapped in the four walls of that kitchen as you stare at your bloodied hand.

It’s all a dream, you repeat to yourself. A dream.

One that you don’t wake up from.

Time passes strangely, when every muscle in your body is on edge, your head pounding from the anxiety that spikes throughout your nervous system. A bead of sweat drips from your temple, and though you aren’t sure how long you stand there, nothing else happens. The knife remains lodged in the wall behind you, and the ghost makes no other attempt to lodge one into your stomach.

It’s quiet. There’s no noise, save for the music that plays softly from your phone.

After you regain control of your racing heartrate, you realize that the song playing isn’t what you’d put on originally. It had switched to a gentle, classical piece. Tchaikovsky, you think… or something similar. Something that a man from a different era would be familiar with.

“Who’s there?” You find yourself saying, perhaps stupidly. “What do you want?”

There’s no response – of course there isn’t. You’re talking to the air. To a ghost. No one had gotten inside the house. You’d checked more than enough times, just as you always did.

“I live here now,” you offer, thinking that, perhaps anger is not the best course of action. Neither is fear, though, if the scary movies you’d watched as a teenager had been any indication. “But I’ll leave, if you want me to.”

There’s no answer to that either.

You sigh, and deflate once more, trying to make yourself believe that there was a logical explanation to knives flying and playlists changing. Just as you’d made yourself believe that everything the “ghost” had done before was just a game, innocently played.

Perhaps, there was never a ghost at all. It could be that stress is driving you to insanity.

With a glass of wine in your hand, you finish up dinner, feeling like you are at your wit’s end. How is it that only a few weeks in this house has already singed your mind, turned you into a believer of things that you are not?

The portrait feels like an omen, staring at you with violet eyes, as you wonder where Fyodor is now. Does he watch you when your home, cooking, as you shower, a vicious gaze tracing over each curve of your body, with a sickening thought of all the things he wishes to do to you?

You shiver. It’ s been a while since anyone’s looked at you with a hint of desire. The feeling has become foreign, now, but you can still recall the gratification that comes with being wanted, how it makes you feel, if only for a moment, comfortable in your own skin.

That thought alone quickly snaps you out of your irrational behavior. Thinking of a ghost wanting you? A man that had been buried in the earth for so long that his body would be nothing more than bones?

This house was making you sick, you concluded, wrapping your leftovers up in plastic and tinfoil, placing them in the fridge. Your nervous friend was right – you never should’ve moved into this house, and you never should have stayed this long.

Your hands shook along the banister, heart racing around every corner. You expected that, maybe, you would see a dark-haired spirit there, his body translucent, but still corporeal. Though, there was no spirit hiding within the depths of the shadows, lurking in the places where he still belonged. No sounds startled you, caused you to jump as you brushed your teeth, completed the one last routine of your day.

The bed was colder than usual as you climbed into it, like a flush of a cold spot had settled within the sheets. You remembered what they said about temperatures and ghosts—how they changed, nothing able to survive in the places that they haunted, as they were not of this world, but something in between, something unnatural.

Your lamp flickers as you turn it on, and it’s just one more red flag you choose to ignore. In houses as old as this one, there are issues like that. The wiring is faulty, the electric needs to be monitored, a laundry list of items you will probably never resolve.

There are a thousand rational conclusions, though, and only one irrational one, which puts your mind at ease. Things like flickering lamps and cold spots can be explained simply, even if knives flying at your face cannot.

Still, you settle into bed, deciding that you will talk to the realtor again soon. You’ll move in with Sigma if he’ll have you. Anything to put your mind at ease for good.

That night, you dream of Fyodor, as if he is there right in the room with you, looming above you with those deep, violent eyes. His fingers, long and pale, trace across your cheekbones, as your eyes flutter open, consciousness coming back to you.

He says your name – it’s no surprise he knows it, after living with you for so long. It’s spoken softly, with a hint of possession behind it, like you belong to him. And yet, you’ve never said a word to him, even if all this time, he’s gotten to know you better than anyone else ever has.

You expect a scream to leave your throat, some hint of surprise, of fear, even, to see a stranger in your bedroom. To see him watching you with those familiar eyes, hair falling over his pale forehead as he gazes down at you from the edge of the bed.

No sound emerges.

Your mind feels a little fuzzy, hazy at the edges as you blink at him, closer to a state of intoxication, than you are alertness. Despite that awareness, you can’t seem to snap out of it; maybe you don’t want to. Instead, you sink deeper into the warmth, the honeyed feeling that comes with turning off your rationality. Everything feels as if it’s coming through in blurred, rosy glasses.

“Fyodor,” you mouth, instead of the scream that you’d anticipated, his name coming out in two wistful syllables.

You should hate him – there’s something in your instincts pushing back at you. A flash of a knife, the days of chaos and uncertainty, where you were sure you were losing your mind, come back at you.

But none of that seems to matter now, as you trace your finger across his cheek, feeling the sharp indent below the high bone. His eyelashes are a shade lighter than his hair, soft as they flutter over his forehead. The portrait of him didn’t do him justice… or perhaps, it is in death that he has found his purest form.

“I’m too tired.”

You’re not sure where those words even come from. Calm, like this is nothing but routine, and waking up with Fyodor beside you is the closest thing to normalcy.

He smiles at you, leaning over you again on the bed, lips pulled tightly together in a morbid grin. It does little to sour your mood, to scare you into action, even if you can’t quite understand why.

“I know,” he replies.

It’s the first time you’ve heard him speak, a deep, accented sound smoothing against your ears as he traces his gaze against each of your features; musical, almost. His voice calms you, lulls you back into a meditative state.

You reach for him, in a trance, and twirl a strand of his hair between your finger, just to see if he’d let you. After the hell you’d been through the past week, well – was it really that miserable? He seems content to watch over you, observe the gentle movements of his dark hair coiled up around your pointer finger.

“Why are you here?” you ask, your voice softer than a whisper, carried away by the wind until it never existed at all.

Fyodor never disappears from your line of sight, even when you try to blink, to close your eyes. He’s there, gazing at you with a lustful fondness, one that’s dangerous, perhaps even malicious. If it’s a dream, it sure feels like a vivid one.

“You wanted to leave,” he says, taking your finger away from his face, before bringing it to his lips. The kiss is barely there, and his mouth is cold, chapped, from the brutality of the afterlife. “I couldn’t let you do that.”

“Hm?” You try to sit up. It takes more effort than it should’ve – you’re so relaxed, so weak, that you fall back down, letting yourself sink into the plushness of the pillow. “Why?”

Fyodor releases your hand, before touching his own finger to your mouth. It’s slender, like a piece of ice, gently parting your lips before grazing your chin, hovering over your neck. Then, he drops his touch to your collarbone. He stakes a claim on every inch of your skin, pausing as he reaches your chest, still covered by the blankets.

Your clothing is thin – it wouldn’t take much effort to get his cool hands on your bare skin. But he refrains, still smiling before answering your question, tucking his hands together onto his lap. “It’s been so long.”

It doesn’t make sense, but you can’t muster up the effort to question him, not when he’s contemplating every word, like he’s hesitant to scare you away. You let him think, watch him ponder, as you stare, too exhausted to move a muscle.

“I thought you’d be like all the rest,” he says, taking a seat next to you on the bed, nearly touching your hip. “They were nothing but filth, stains in these halls. It’s a crime for them to ever think that they belonged here. In my home.”

You blink. “It’s my home, too,” you say, suddenly filled with an immense amount of dread. It crawls up your neck, chokes you, and nothing leaves you but garbled sounds, as you panic.

Fyodor doesn’t move – there is no twitch in his features, as he watches you with disguised adoration, a kind you didn’t think a ghost capable of revealing. “Of course it is, darling,” he says, so softly, it could’ve been mistaken for kindness. Fyodor leans down, presses his cold, dead lips to your cheek, a kiss of death. “That’s why I couldn’t let you leave. It’s your home. You belong here.”

“Right,” you breath, steadying yourself, before nodding. “My home.” Once more, you gaze around the room, your eyes flicking over every surface. Things are exactly as you’d left them, nothing out of place. “With you?”

The ghost smiles, and reaches out to you, finally helping you into a seated position. Your neck is so stiff, in pain, and you roll it around, feeling nothing there when you expect shifting bones. “With me,” Fyodor confirms, running his icy fingertips across your throat, tangling them with your hair.

He leans into you, pressing a lingering kiss to your mouth, one that catches you off balance, before you accept it with an eagerness that surprises you further. It doesn’t feel unfamiliar, instead, it’s as if you’re coming home, like the man you’ve never seen until now was always meant to find you.

A thought that should’ve scared you, even though it doesn’t.

Fyodor pulls away, right as you begin to shift forward, maneuver yourself onto his lap. “You should rest,” he replies, keeping you at a distance. “It might take some time to adjust.”

“Hm? What do you mean?” you blink, holding onto his wrist as your gaze shifts from his impossibly dark eyes to the mirror across the room.

There, in the darkness of the evening, shrouded in moonlight, you can see your reflection staring back at you, eyes vacant, lifeless. You expect to see yourself as nothing but exhausted, but when you draw your gaze across the image of yourself, there is blood seeping from your neck, a stream of scarlet. There is thick gash across your throat, slashed so deep that it would’ve killed you instantly.

The expression on your face shifts from one of calm to horror, as you scrape at your neck, trying to clear off the blood that isn’t really there, the permanent wound that will follow you even into your death.

“What did you do?” you scream, tears rolling down your cheeks, even though you can’t feel them, can only see them in the mirror. “What did you do to me?”

Fyodor smiles, eyes crinkling at the corners. Though you fight against him, he takes you into his arms, and you are too weak to fight him off. “I told you,” Fyodor says, shushing you, running his palm over your head as you scream. “I couldn’t let you leave.”

thank you for reading !

[ch1zzie]

Forgot to post this here butttt

Working on a welcome home animation and mighttttt take me a while

[channiesdelululand]

Game Night

NSFW Lee Minho x Reader 2,951k words

Warnings: 18+, Minors DNI, unprotected sex, oral, cursing, overstimulation, competing screams with you best friend in another room (idk i this is a warning but just dont want anyone uncomfy)

Imagine hating your best friend's boyfriend's best friend... Or do you?

Best to pick your Chan bias friend!

______________________________________________________________

“YOU LIKE WHO?!” 

Your best friend about drops the wine glass in her hand as you both are cleaning up in the kitchen after another successful game night. A pretty common occurrence at the Bahng residence. The two of you catching up on the week while Chris and his best friend in the other room talking about their next record release. You looked forward to this all week every week. The ONLY thing that could make it better is if the man you hated wasn’t Chris’s best friend and roomate. 

“Jesus Christ bsf/n, lower you voice! Chris and Min are literally in the living room…” 

“Sorry, sorry! But like babe I thought you hated Minho? Just yesterday you said you hoped he walked into a vat of gasoline and then tripped on a match.”

“I can’t stand him! But he just, everything! It’s infuriating why does he need to be so god damn sexy with everything?”

“Why do you even hate him again?”

Bsf/n asked as you started to walk out of the kitchen to go grab your phone you left on the coffee table.

You cant even remember honestly when it all started. Maybe it was the cocky way he carried himself? Always so cold to everyone not really even giving anyone an opportunity to see a different side of him. But it wasn’t just you, he hated you too. Always acting like a school boy pulling at the things he knew would get to you. But after today, you were just confused. The looks he kept throwing your way. You caught him staring multiple times. His eyes following every little thing you would did, every slight move you would make. Which lead you to the conversation confessing that you may have breathed in every moment of him staring a little too much. That maybe, just maybe you wanted more.

Getting so caught up in your thoughts you didn’t have time to react to the tall figure colliding into, drenching you both in leftover punch. 

“Fuck Minho, Im so sorry!” You waited a few seconds to be called a dumb ass or some rude remark, but it never came. He set down the punch bowl he had been holding down on the table you left your phone at. And within seconds had your wrist in his hand leading you to his room. 

“Come on you can change into one of my shirts.” Thats all you heard before the door opened and you found yourself where you had never been before. But here you were back pressed up against the door, Minho inches from your face with an expression you just couldn’t read.

“The shirt Min?” Trying to break what ever tension was happening.

“Oh I’ll get to that, don’t worry. But first tell my how much I infuriate you. Go ahead kitten, if you can talk shit about me to bsf/n you can do it to my face.” Leaning with one hand above your head and the free hand brushing the little bit of hair falling in front of your face softly behind your ear.   

“I….”

Before you could even form a sentence his lips were already crashing into yours, pressing your whole body further against the door. Your hands holding his face in an instant pulling him closer into the kiss, if  that was even possible. It was painfully obvious as your tongues danced together the craving you both had for each other had reached its breaking point. 

“Can I?” Minho gestures to your button down blouse. You quickly nod in approval. As he starts to unbutton half way down he pauses and takes in every inch of what’s in front of him. Making a mental picture of the way the black lace popping out from your bra perfectly accents the curves of your breast.  

“Minnnnnn” You very impatiently whine out as he takes his time lightly peppering your collarbone with kisses, trailing his way done as he finishes taking off your shirt completely. 

“Oh y/n, kitten relax youll get what you want but im about to take my time with you. Tell you what though I'll share a little of what i have planned. After im done getting my hands and lips on every inch of this gorgeous body, im going to have you on your knees so I can see if those pretty lips are good for more then just talking shit, and then im going to fuck you into tomorrow. Sound like a plan?”

Before you could even think of a response you felt his hands quickly lifting you up under your thighs wrapping your legs around his torso pressing you up against him, feeling how painfully hard you had already made him. With you safely in his arms, your hands behind his head pulling him into kiss after passionate kiss he made his way with you over to his nicely made bed. 

Slowly setting you down on your back, lips never leaving your body but instead trailing down your neck right in the creek  that made you fold as he gave little bites, blowing on each fresh red mark he created. Little squeaks and whimpers leaving your mouth was like some kind of overwhelming drug to Minho. Like a song he wanted on repeat in his ears forever. Trailing down your body further licking, biting, marking every free spot available. But he needed to hear more. He needed to know just want kind of noises he could pull from you.  Finding your waist band he began toying with the elastic while looking up at you with the deepest brown eyes. You couldnt tell what exactly you were seeing as part of him was filled with such a dark lust that washed over his appearance but somehow he also was looking at you so softly something youve never seen him do. 

“You know ive really wanted this for so long y/n but I never thought i had the chance. I want to make this body of yours mine.”

“Please, need you Min.”

“You need what sweet girl? Come on use your words.” His hand still running along the areas of your waist, using the top of his hand to softly brush up against you feeling just how wet you already were through your thin leggings. Your hips moving and wiggling slightly trying to feel more. His face so close you could swear the pressure of even his breath was about to set you off. 

“I need you, I need you to touch me” the most pathetic sounds starting to pour from your mouth as you start to beg this man you thought you hated to finally fuck you. 

“Please fuck me, do what you want to me, i need to feel you in me minnie please.”

“What a good girl finally being honest with me for once. Lucky for you im a man of my word.”

With that he pulled down your leggings to reveal matching panties to your bra. You hear a harsh hiss come through Mins teeth. 

“Fuck you wear these fuck for me?” Minho was really taking in everything just like he said because with every step he took you in like a painting. Memorizing every detail to its fullest before continuing. 

“You are so fucking perfect y/n” taking his hands and harshly grabbing your thighs, he truly thought every part of you deserved attention. While his hands massaged up and down your thighs his head was situated in perfect view giving your inner thighs the same licking, biting, kisses he was to the rest of your body. Kissing so close to where you needed him most causing you to cry out for more. With a a smirk and a slight evil giggle he flicked the side of your black lace to the side very eager to get a taste of you. With the first swipe of his tongue he looked up at you with a low moan.

“My god you taste incredible kitten.”

Pulling your panties fully off he went back down licking and sucking every part of you, holding your hips down while you squirmed. 

“Now sweet girl you were making such pretty noises earlier why are you covering your mouth now?” He noticed once he inserted 2 fingers while continuing to give your clit the full attention of his mouth. 

“bsf/n and Chris are outside I dont want them to hear”

“Oh but kitten i want them to hear, i want them to hear exactly what we are doing in here. I want you to scream so loud the whole city knows who owns you tonight”

“Fuck yes please” you more confidently moan out. 

“There we go, thats my girl. Plus i guarantee they are playing the same game so why dont we play a little game back, called whos louder. Its only fair since it is still game night. Now baby grind on my face i can feel how close you are lets win the first round”

Obeying his orders you tighten your grip in his hair and grind against his perfectly sculpted face. Everything was so overwhelmingly pleasurable, the pace of his fingers, the way they were curling repeatedly i to the perfect spot, him sucking and licking perfectly. It was all going straight to your head making you dizzy. You could feel your high coming and listening to him loudly enjoying himself was exactly what you need to push you over the edge. 

With a scream of his name, your legs tightening around him, your body broke through your high. But that didnt stop Minhos pace. 

“Min, its too much, i cant. Please” 

You couldnt tell what you were feeling but you felt like your body was about to snap. He didnt respond to your pleas with any words just a low growl between breathes. You felt a new high climbing but a different high. Something yould never before this and as your cried out his name for the second time in less then a minute you felt everything below you became soaked. 

“God, fuck that was so perfect kitten.” Minho raising his dripping face up with the most shit eating grin. He threw in a few licks to cause your body to twitch at the over sensitivity. 

“I dont know what just happened but im so sor..”

You were immediately cut off with him on top of you mouth back on yours.

“Sorry? Oh god for what?  That was so fucking sexy i need that from you over and over again. I want to taste you  like that every night. Fuck i need you even more. Did it feel good?” He was looking so deeply in your eyes.

“It felt incredible, ive never felt that good. Can i have more please. I want to feel you in me. Need to feel you in me now.” You beg as he removes his shirt still hovering over you giving your hands free roam all over his body. Every part of him is so stunningly perfect. How have you had the strength to go on this long not getting to touch every inch of him. 

Using your nails a little to graze over his skin, watching goosebumps appear along his strong arms currently one on either side of your body holding himself up. Watching your movements, the look in your eyes silently begging for more.  You reach down to begin unbuttoning his pants and he helps you by removing them fully letting himself bounce up against his lower stomach. Your hand reaching immediately to grab him, smearing his precum over the beautiful caramel tip.  A little groan falling from his lips. And a shiver through his body finally feeling your touch. He had thought about it for so long, after a long day late at night. Alone in room with his thoughts. Thoughts about you, touching him, playing with him, how your mouth would feel around him, how good yould feel taking all of him thrust after thrust. Knowing this was finally happening was enough to make this once stern strong man to melt into a puddle. He was quickly taken out of his thoughts as you pushed him forward and switching him to the bed so you could bend down in front of him. 

Now on your knees you take a moment to look up at the god like man in front of you. Perfectly chiseled body, and holding him so beautifully in your hand… it was enough to bring out a few pathetic whimpers from you. You were waiting to hear some type of overly cocky bullshit come from his lips but all that you heard were small moans as you rubbed your hand up and down slowly. It was a dangerously gorgeous sight. 

Taking your tongue in replacement of my hand going up along the middle, bottom to glorious tip top. Taking in the feeling of every vein before circling around his tip and back down again. Stopping every few cms to give small kisses. 

Starting to see impatience grow on the man groaning before you, you decide to give in and fully take him into your mouth swirling your tongue around and sucking when needed. He felt so fucking good as he slid towards the back of your throat, starting to buck his hips needing fuck your throat deeper. 

“God fuck 자기야” groaning in between words louder and louder as he takes a fist full of your hair pushing your head as far as yould go. 

“You are so fucking pretty like this. So fucking perfect. My perfect toy.” Drool dripping everywhere, running down your chin as let out the most pathetic noises. This was a vision of heaven for Min. 

In between the sounds your mouth was making and Mins delicious moaning you could hear your friends in the other room playing the exact same game. The echoing of it all was making you dizzy. You need this man deep inside you now. 

“Please Min, please fuck me”

Looking up at him with begging eyes, pleading for him to finally take you. 

“Sweet girl i thought yould never ask.” His strong arms picking you up from the floor bringing you back to laying on the bed, him hovering over you. Something so animalistic about the look in his eyes while he brought his face closer to your so he could kiss you. More passionately then youve ever been kissed, his hands exploring every inch of you. Wanted to simply devour you in every way he can. While kissing and sucking at your neck he was perfect aligned to rub himself up and down your folds. Teasing you, causing you to gasp everytime he was close enough to enter. Little hip movements trying to get him inside you. 

“My impatient little bunny” he let out a giggle as he slowly sank into you. With a slow pace back and forth, kissing at your face, and leaning into your ear.

“You are truly so beautiful. Absolutely made for me. I need you.”

You giggled as his statement.

“You feel so good, you have me right now”

“No, no y/n i need YOU. I need all of you. I need this every night. I need to wake up to you every morning. I need YOU.”

Wrapping your legs tighter around his waist, pulling him deeper inside he rushed his pace.

“You can have me, i want you. Please take me and make me yours Minho.”

Nails digging into his back as he abused the perfect spot. You felt your body close to snapping at the incredible rush of feeling. 

Loudly sputtering out syllables of his name. 

“Yes come on tell me whos making you feel this good, scream for me.” 

Your moans were pathetic loud but so were your friends. It was like a match between you and bfs/n to see whose man was making the other feel better. It was clear both men had the same idea on how tonights game night was going to go. 

“I told you they would play too”

“Fuck Min, i cant take it please”

“Cant take what pretty girl? Come on tell me what you want. Tell our friends what you want. Go on scream for me.”

“Please i want to cum, i want to cum for you.” Moaning in a way you dont think youve ever moaned for anyone. Feeling your mind slip away into a state of pure bliss. 

“Yes!” The only word coming out of your mouth over and over and over again. Holding on as long as you could because it felt so good. 

“Go ahead 자기야 i want you to make another mess” 

Min wanted it to continue but with as good as you felt clenching around  him he knew he needed to let go with you right then. 

As wave after wave rushed over you Minho grabbed your hand in his as he let his orgasm go with yours both bodys twitching while the most beautiful melody of moans from the both of you came together.  

He stayed hovered above you for a bit his head in the crock of your neck. You could feel the smile on his face. Bringing his face up to yours giving him a gentle kiss on the nose.

“That was perfect Minho”

“No you're perfect y/n.” 

The gentle kisses continuing into something more passionate. You could feel Min on your thigh harding all over again. 

“It doesnt sound like bsf/n and Chris are quite done. And by the feel of it I dont think your done either I might have a little left in me.” Letting out an innocent giggle. 

“Fuck it ill go all night with you.” 

[mightbemod]

Protogen Picrew V2 WIP

ive been sharing my progress on twitter so it only felt fair to give a lil to tumblr too idk if anyone here is interested in the picrew haha

its mostly finished! Im working on the horns right now, then theres a few more smaller additions before its ready. im super proud of it so far, cant wait to release it!

(edit: changed the images after making these official teaser images rather than the shoddy screenshots!)

[whosthere54]

My notes on the Quixis Answers stream!

- all bleeding eyes pointing back to Icarus

- look about mid 20s icarus genuinely over resets 40-50 years true for every character

- No creation powers because they are not “all them” they have pieces of the other sherberts in them. No creation powers because they aren’t them, hesitation because they aren’t them.

- bound is last one standing in the infinite hall of portals

- Midas fully believes that they will die with their world BUT THEY DONT (and they’re totally okay with that)

- REO WAS QUIXIS (They do not remember their time as quixis)

- THE THINGS allowed glitches (we were The inciting incident) THE REAL WORKD GLITCHES INTO FABLE

- THE THINGS THAT TALKED TO THEM USED TO BE BIRDS RHAJFJSIFJR

- WERE THE REASON THEY WERE ABLE TO REMEMBER THE RESETS

- Were rifts in those things WE TALK AS THINGS THAT DONT EXIST WERE RIFTS IN THE REALITY

- Fable can’t be streamed anymore because the glitches will hurt that world

- CHARLES IS FROM THE WORLD OF THE FIRST EVER QUIXIS BECAUSE THEY TRIED TO TAKE HIM TO THE WORLDPORT WITH THEM BUT IT DIDNT WORK SO THEYRE AN ENTITY NOW

M U L T I V E R S A L C O N S T A N T

SO THEYRE NEVER ALONE (ILL CRY)

- Midas is from a dystopian utopia (I CARE SO MUCH)

- Midas had a fable and isla, Athena Centross, Caspian, Jamie

- ILL YELL ABOUT THEIR SHOW

- Real older than Midas (Idk if they said specifically said on that show idea or if that was cannon so I wrote it down anyways cause I care)

- SORRY MIDAS SINGING NEVER LOVE AN ANCHOR ABOUT ICARUS ILL YELL ABIUT IT

- The tiktok account how did I not know-

- World rebuild themselves

- Townhall board - whiteboard (in quixian)

- Every sherb has to wake up in their bed, theirs is their desk.

- WHEN THEY MOVED THE DUPLICATE HOUSE SHOWED UP (They mention again that it was the opposite X and Y coords opposite positive and negative)

- THATS WHY THE OFFICE BEDS GLITXHED

- THE ORANGE DIMENSION WASNT ALWAYS ORANGE

- THE SYNDACATE CMV HELP

- The vods being matched to the auras

- The outside cannon was the only one I hadn’t caught

- Their browser being yellow and brown lolol

- MCCR SHERB - EVENT SHEB AJAX SICJSIJFJSCJISJCJSJCJDJGIF

-guys I care about Ajax so much

- Hypixel Sherb - 2 different eye colors bleeding yellow TubNet bleeding smth I didn’t catch that

- Icarus was always pulled to the worldport when gone across dimensions. Hypixel to TubNet Eye glitch because of the change in dimensions

- Reo is the most okay with being alone because he just finished being quixis and is used to it (I CARE SM)

NOTES IN THE ORIGINAL CONCEPT ART

- things disappear reappear swap places things places spaces change time does not (smth like that)

- CAME FROM UNDER MY SKIN I CARE

- The concept of having to ascend to do things right and fix things I hold it in my hands

- “Are you in ic has feelings? No…”

- THE ART

- THE LONGER YOU SOEND IN THE WORLDPORT THE MORE COLOR DRAINS FROM YOU

- B I R D I E

- THE PRISON SCAR I CARE SO MUCH

- GLOWING WING EARS THE BELOVED

- LIL BABY IN A LIK WAR UNIFORM ILL SOB

- Midas did not die or go back to their destroyed world.

- THE HAIR IS NORMAL AGAIN

- Gray eyes

- WE HAVE TI WAIT AND SEE WHERE THEY ARE

SCALE :

1 - Denial (Hardcore sherb farthest from denial)

2 - Asshole (Kurt farthest from asshole)

- Sherbverse is a metaphor

- Not a System

- Parallel to what it is like to be a system

- 1 full CMV 2 Mini CMVs coming out and lots more sherbeverse content <3

- Sherbeverse section of the discord

- May have something to do with the Ven epilogue 👀👀

- #SQCU :0

[hum-suffer]

Just finished watching the first episode of heeramandi (you either die a hero or live long enough to become a villain) and this is my review WITH VAGUE SPOILERS

Alamzeb either has a mirror related kink or is just narcissistic

Everyone but Mallika has a crush on Cartwright and Cartwright cannot digest that

Mallika and Alamzeb are both rude and think it's superior and cute to be rude, respectively.

Everyone has a crush on Tajdar, including Mallika. (I think it's the hot translucent kurta with cute heart embroidery at the shoulder)

Alamzeb sucks at being quiet but that's not a huge issue, currently.

Consequently, Alamzeb's bestie/servant and Mallika's driver are fucking (in a haystack)(why)

Bibbojaan is the local eldest daughter who has too many responsibilities but is still loved by everyone around her because she developed a facade of being cute and bubbly.

The writers sat to plot down characters and searched up the things that booktok girlies find hot and wrote such scenes for Tajdar. (Him caging Alamzeb against a wall THRICE in the span of two meetings. Wow. Be less subtle, why don't you?) (kuch aur bhi baki ho toh make him say that he wishes he could worship her for their lives. Or make him caress her neck seductively)

Usse yaad aaya, Cartwright resorted to seducing Ustaad ji for info on Mallika??? DUDE. Seduction is an art. Answering your door in a towel isn't a part of that art. You're just asking him to jump your bones. All that naked chest and for what??? Hickeys.

Waheedan is smart. Absolutely love her stealing techniques. And she imagined a make out session with Cartwright within 3 minutes of meeting him. Fellow delulu girlie.

Lajjo has an alcoholism issue but she's got no issues on speaking facts. Alamzeb cannot be a shayra brother she needs to hone her skills

The casual child trafficking in this show is something that i don't have words for and hence I saved it for the last. It's honestly jarring how easily SLB mentions it. But as a writer, I get that he's trying to show how small of a thing it used to be at the time. Perhaps the trauma could have been explored more

I think we're seeing the show mainly from Alamzeb's pov and hence it's a little more rose tinted. Idk. Will find out

[sophiiwrites]

[TEASER] it's raining love ft. na jaemin

“you think love is hard? try predicting the fucking weather. that’s right. nature’s my own worst enemy.”

synopsis: you and na jaemin are both meteorologists, working at the korea meteorological administration. of course, you love your job and the people working there: however, it becomes hard to deal with when you're constantly working overtime with no pay and a jaemin crisis in your brain.

word count (so far): 3.9k

genre: romance, fluff, comedy (? idk if i'm funny or not lol)

expected release date: 5/25

want to be added to the taglist? please comment below and i'll add you right away!

Returning to the satellite data (and bending over it so no one could see your flaming red cheeks), you consulted a few charts of today’s weather, ultimately deciding that there wouldn’t be a lot of change and hoping you were right so you wouldn’t have to stare at those maps again. Allowing your cheeks to cool down, you then scooted your chair over to Karina’s desk. She was sipping on coffee and typing up a weather report for her boss.

“Hey, you can probably say the weather conditions for tomorrow are going to be like today’s.”

Karina smiled.

“Really? That’s amazing, because my boyfriend’s planning on taking me to a beach! If the weather’s this nice tomorrow-” Karina sighed dreamily. “It’ll be absolutely perfect.”

Minjeong, who sat across Karina, poked her head over the desk wall. 

“Did someone say a beach date? Karina, are you entering your lovestruck era?” All three of you giggled.

“Oooooh, I haven’t seen you entering this era since that man,” you replied, chuckling as you returned to your desk. Karina groaned behind you.

“We don’t speak of my mistakes!” she yelled. You laughed.

“Hey, I noticed Jaemin’s been talking to you a lot recently,” Winter added, smirking slightly. You rolled your eyes.

“We’re just friends! And we’ve been friends since kindergarten! I know everything about that man. There’s a reason why I’m not attracted to him,” you replied.

Winter smirked widely. “You should look at yourself when you talk to him. Your eyes go starry and your cheeks flush. Like right now!”

You patted your cheeks, surprised to find they were still a little red. You thought they’d cooled down. Maybe not.

“It’s hot in here!” you complained. “My cheeks are always red!”

“Remember that time Minjeong added too much blush to her cheeks and she looked like a clown?” Karina snickered. Minjeong rushed to hit Karina, complaining as she did so. 

“We don’t talk about that!”

You snickered too, and went back to work. You were tired and ready to go home, but it was important you finish your tasks for the day so that the weather reports could go out soon. You breathed in and smiled. Of course, your work was always annoying, but the people here always made it better. Karina and Minjeong were your two best friends at the office, always joking around but uber-talented when it came to weather reports- and negotiating with the higher-ups for more snacks in the office.

Sighing, you double-checked the weather reports again: and that’s when you noticed something strange.