#there's enough.. there. for it to work...... temporarily...

[moonstruckme]

hiii bb

first off all GURL YOUR WRITING IS LITERALLY TOP TIER I CANNOT WITH IT—

and second, i saw you had your requests open and while i’ve never done this before i really, really would love it if you could write a poly!wolfstar with reader coming from a pretty similar family background as sirius and gets triggered by loud noises and remus is in a bad headspace because it’s just a few days before full moon and he accidently yells at her and reader just shuts down and tries to brush it off because she thinks she’s being dramatic and tries to act unruffled but sirius sees through it and overall just hurt/comfort, pretty please? ILY

Awe thank you lovely! For both the sweetness and the request <3

cw: migraine, reader panics because of shouting/aggression

poly!wolfstar x fem!reader ♡ 1.4k words

Remus has told you to leave him alone more than once. You know that you should, that you really ought to make yourself scarce because these moods before the full moon almost never yield good things. The issue is that you care about Remus more than consequences, and as a result you’re not very good at doing what you should. 

“Hey,” you say gently, when he passes you by on his way back to his desk with another cup of tea. “That’s too much caffeine, lovely. You’ll make your headache worse.” 

“It’ll be fine,” Remus grunts. He continues on his way, and, despite Sirius’ look, despite knowing better yourself, you give chase. 

“You’ll regret it if you have another,” you reason, following him to his work-cluttered desk, which has been shoved temporarily into the darkest corner of your bedroom. “I know some caffeine helps, but too much—”

“I know how it works.” Remus’ voice is low. Low, but not thin. He doesn’t look at you as he sits down. “I need it, alright?” 

You take a breath. Yes, you can see how you explaining Remus’ own migraines to him might not be well received. But it’s not easy to watch your boyfriend act against his own self-interest. 

Remus has described the feelings leading up to a full moon to you before. He said it feels like something sizzling under his skin, or crackling. It’s not entirely pleasant, but it gives him more energy than he ever has otherwise. Makes him restless, productive, lively. Eventually, though, that energy builds into something he can barely tolerate—that’s when the migraines usually start. Remus gets irritable, his joints ache, it’s like his body is trying to hold something no human can, waiting for the full moon and the chance for Remus’ not-human body to expel it all. 

When you think about how much energy he’s storing, that electric sizzle under his skin, caffeine hardly seems necessary. Until you take into account that Remus has hardly slept for the past three nights. Then you wonder if perhaps his brain can no longer keep up with the tireless dynamism of the rest of him. 

“Maybe you should rest for a while instead,” you try. 

“I have work to do.” 

“It’ll still be there after a nap.”

“And I suppose I may as well just wait until after the full, then, yeah?” 

“I mean, maybe.” You pick up on Remus’ sarcasm, but you don’t disagree. “You can’t be expected to just power through when you’re having such a hard time.” 

“Really?” There’s bite in your boyfriend’s voice now. Enough that you retract the hand you were about to set on his shoulder. “I can’t be expected to? That’s exactly what’s expected of me. I don’t just get a week off every month.” 

You push out a frustrated breath. “I know, and that’s not fair—” 

“None of this is fair.” Remus turns in his seat, glowering with such virulence it shocks you despite the argument you’d thought you were prepared for. “There aren’t allowances made for lycanthropy. If I told my boss that I need a lighter workload and he made the connection, he could report me to the ministry. I can’t afford to complain about how my head hurts or indulge in naps and breaks when everyone else keeps working.” 

His voice rises, and he’s suddenly taller than you, looking down on you. He stood up. Your ears are ringing. 

“If everyone else is able to handle their workload during the full, I have to, too. Do you understand that?” 

You find you can’t speak. There’s a horrible ache sitting in the base of your throat which won’t let anything out. You nod. 

“Do you?” Remus seems exasperated. Baffled by your naïveté. “I don’t want to be told that I shouldn’t be working. I don’t want to be told that I can’t have caffeine to get through it, because I know what I have to do, and that’s not something you can understand. Alright?”

“Alright,” you choke out. 

“Do you get that?” 

“Yes.” 

“Remus,” says another voice. You don’t turn, but you don’t need to; Sirius always follows the sound of shouting. It’s habit for him. “That’s enough, love.” 

“I was done,” Remus snaps. 

Sirius’ hand wraps around your elbow. His fingers feel cool, or maybe you’re only hot. You feel very, very hot. 

“Hey,” he prompts softly. Now you look at him. Sirius’ expression is all tenderness, and it feels like whiplash. “You okay?” 

You dismiss the question with a shake of your head. Your ears are still ringing. “Yeah.” 

You look back to Remus. You can’t help it. You want to fix, and to leave, and to dissolve. But Remus is the epicenter of everything, and you feel as though taking your eyes off him even temporarily is a danger. 

“Let’s be done squabbling for now,” Sirius says, his voice unnaturally light. “We’ve all said our piece, yeah?” He gives your arm a gentle tug, and you take a step back. You’d been nearly right up against Remus, you realize. Frozen to the spot where you’d gone to rest your hand on his shoulder. Sirius runs his thumb over your skin before asking again, “Are you okay?” 

Tears invade your eyes without warning. Your face burns, and you feel it screw up in an attempt to keep them from falling. “Yeah,” you say unsteadily. “I’m just—so—sorry.” 

Two things happen seemingly at once: your voice fractures, and Sirius crushes you to him. 

Remus exhales. You hear the creak of his chair taking his weight again. “Shit.” 

“Shh, I know,” Sirius murmurs, petting your head while your tears spill over to wet his jumper—Remus’ jumper, which smells like both of them and probably also you. “I know, baby, it’s okay. You’re safe here.” 

“I’m sorry,” Remus says. His voice sounds muffled, as though he’s speaking into his hands. 

“No, it’s—I’m sorry.” You sniff, trying to wipe under your eyes. Sirius keeps you held to his front. “It’s not your fault.” 

“It is my fault.” 

“I believe I said we were done with the squabbling.” Sirius kisses your head firmly. “What do you need, sweetness? Some quiet? Time to breathe?” 

“I’m okay. Really, I’m fine.” You give Sirius a grateful squeeze before letting him go. He lets you, but watches you concernedly as you swipe a knuckle underneath your eyes. The ringing in your ears has faded to near nothing, aftershocks trembling through your fingers in its wake.  “I’m fine. I just—needed a second. Sorry.” 

Sirius makes a quiet sound. “Stop that. You don’t have to be sorry.” 

Remus nods his agreement. His head is in his hands, you can see now, but he lifts it up to look you in the eyes. “I shouldn’t have raised my voice at you.” 

You shake your head. “You were right. I was insensitive. And I don’t know why I reacted like that, I’m just being dramatic.” 

“Oi,” Sirius cuts in sternly, though half as stern as he’d usually be even to tease you. “I’m dramatic. Get your own personality.” 

That gets your lips to twitch a little. You watch as Remus sends him one of his fond, exasperated looks. 

“You weren’t being dramatic,” Remus says to you. “I shouted at you. However angry I was, that’s not alright. I’m sorry I scared you.” 

“You didn’t scare me.” Your eyes are beginning to burn again. You try to blink through it. “It was just—it was—” 

“I understand,” he says, softly. His expression is still taut with pain, but some of the harsher lines have melted away. “I’m sorry anyway. Do you want to come here?” 

Sirius hums satisfiedly when you go sit across Remus’ lap and wrap your arms around his shoulders. He draws his hand up and down your back slowly, with enough pressure to ease away any lingering tension coiled around your spine. You breathe out. Sirius doesn’t hold out long before he’s there too, curled around the two of you and squeezing heartily. 

“You two aren’t allowed to fight,” he mutters, kissing your head and Remus’ in turn. “In order for me to be petty and vain, I need you to be the sensible ones, understand? This is a delicate ecosystem.” 

“I don’t know,” you hum. “I think Remus should get breaks some way or another around the full moon. Can’t you take a sensible shift once a month?” 

Sirius lets out a sigh like the weight of the world is on his shoulders, but you hear the gentle sound of him pressing another kiss to Remus’ head. “Suppose so. Only once a month, though.” 

[re-freaks]

you’ve been working here for exactly three weeks.

it pays pretty well. not many corporations hire dhampirs—something about not being “human enough,” plus the usual drivel about your “distractingly human” traits.

but this company hired you for your passion. so it’s not that bad.

well, except for that one time you glanced up from the shelving ladder and saw a magical girl suplexing a demon into a parked vespa through the window. the demon snarled, and the girl just screamed back, glowing wand (which vaguely resembled a dildo?) aimed at his balls.

weirdest part is.. they kind of looked like two of your coworkers from upstairs.

well, whatever. it’s not your business. you’re not getting paid to think about that, so you file it under “probably corporate espionage” and move on.

you go back to filing grimoires.

then you hear the rumors.

apparently, someone from marketing had to take a leave of absence—not for burnout, not for bloodfever, not even because they got temporarily turned into a ficus. no. sexual frustration.

hell leave, your coworkers whisper. went back to the pit for some “self-care.”

which, okay. sure. you are working in the humanity outreach branch of one of the largest multi-realm corporations in the universe. and sure, demons are known for their "passions." but in your experience, anything labeled “demon” in a record is usually crusty, leathery, and smells like grave moss.

so you expect… like, an old guy. horns like broom handles. smells like egg. maybe three limbs, maybe seven. you don't judge.

you do not expect him.

you're in the stacks, shelving a particularly heavy tome on infernal contracts when you feel the shift in the air—static, hot, crackling like a kiss before lightning strikes.

and then he’s just there.

tall. broad-shouldered. business-casual, except for the sleeves rolled up over forearms carved by regret and gym memberships. eyes like heatstroke. horns like they've seen some shit. tie hanging loose like a promise.

you yelp and whirl, the spellbook slipping from your hands—and in a moment of inspired dumbassery, you try to catch it midair.

the pages flutter open on impact.

there’s a hiss. a pop. a sharp, wet ping that echoes in your chest. and then—

“shit,” you mutter, one hand flying to your throat. your skin is hot. your spine feels like a tuning fork. your thighs are—

your thighs are wet.

beside you, he swears softly, voice fraying. “fuck. that hit me too.”

oh no.

“you alright?” he asks, voice low and kind of… gravely. not gravel like rock. gravely like a man in mourning. maybe for his dignity. or his sex life.

his pupils are blown wide. his hands shake slightly.

you look up at him, your vision already going a little floaty. "did i just hex myself with a lust glyph?"

“...yeah. pretty sure you did.” he pauses. shifts on his feet. “also me, too. definitely also me.”

"oh." you lean back against the nearest shelf and fan yourself with a loose demonology appendix. "oh no."

being a dhampir usually comes with advantages. heightened senses, supernatural stamina, the ability to endure a lot of caffeine and the sun. but apparently, it also makes you really susceptible to cursed erotica.

your knees buckle. your pulse is in your gums. the grimoire at your feet hums once and goes silent. like it’s politely excusing itself from the upcoming HR report.

and he’s just there, steadying you with hands that could probably break your spine but are instead brushing your wrist like you’re something delicate.

he’s flushed, jaw tight, like he’s trying—and failing—to keep his breathing level.

you’re burning up.

and the worst part?

he smells incredible. like ozone and smoke and something you probably shouldn’t be getting into at the workplace.

but fuck it.

you’re pressed against the wall behind the reference table, and his tie is bunched in your fist. his mouth is already on your neck, hot, and open, and hungry. like he’s starving and you’re the last girl in the buffet line before armageddon.

“i can’t believe this,” he mutters between kisses, lips dragging along the sensitive skin just beneath your ear. “two months in the pit and this is what does me in. some horny new hire with bad luck and pretty eyes.”

you gasp as his teeth scrape over the curve of your throat, sharp enough to make your pulse stutter. “don’t blame me. blame you, for sneaking up on a nervous girl with a loaded spellbook.”

“you launched yourself at me like a spell-seeking missile.”

“i was startled.”

“you clawed my shirt off.”

“i panicked!”

his hand is already sliding up your thigh. your skirt is bunched around your hips, underwear shimmied down just enough to give him access. and holy hell, does he take it.

his fingers glide through your folds before entering you, and he growls under his breath. “fuck. you’re soaked.”

“yeah, well,” you breathe, rocking into the touch, “i’m cursed.”

his laugh is wrecked and stupidly fond. “i’m gonna be cursed too if you keep looking at me like that.”

you blink, dazed. “you are cursed. we both are.”

“fuck,” he pauses. “right. right. i forgot—did i mention i’ve always been pent up?”

then he lifts your leg around his waist and presses in, slow and thick and maddening, until you’re gasping against his collarbone, nails digging crescents into his shoulders. he stretches you open with obscene ease—like you were made to take him.

you choke on a moan. “you’re—fuck—you’re big.”

“i’m being gentle,” he mutters, voice frayed at the edges. “does it hurt?”

“you’re halfway in already,” you whimper, clenching around him. “finish what you started, demon boy.”

that’s all it takes.

he slams into you the rest of the way, a hand rising quickly as your head falls back to stop it from hitting the shelf. your whole body quivers—burning, trembling, wet, and wholly overwhelmed—as he starts to fuck you in earnest, sharp thrusts hitting deep enough to knock the breath out of your lungs.

“shit—fuck, you feel..” he groans, rutting into you like he can’t help it, like you’re something sacred and filthy all at once. “so tight. so fucking hot.”

your hands are in his hair now, fingers tangling in the soft, dark strands. his horns graze your wrist. his breath comes ragged against your jaw, and every drag of his hips hits something deep, something that makes you keen and bury your face in the crook of his neck to keep from screaming.

“i’m gonna—oh god—” your legs are shaking. your thighs clamp tight around him, pulling him impossibly closer. “i can’t—too much—”

he kisses you, sloppy, desperate, tongue tangling with yours as he swallows your moans and grinds against a spot that has you seeing stars.

“cum for me,” he groans, thrusts turning frantic. “fuck, please—need to feel you.”

pleasure explodes low in your stomach, bright and blinding, and he fucks you through it—his pace losing rhythm as he chases his own high, chanting broken curses in a language older than sin.

he follows you with a whine, buried deep and twitching inside you, heat spilling over as your bodies shake and lock together.

you’re panting. boneless. your blood sings in your veins like you’ve just drank sunshine.

somewhere above, a filing cabinet rattles from the impact.

afterward, you find yourself tangled in a blanket he pulled out of his bag (affectionately named “tiffany”), a sticky mess between your legs and a smug, dazed demon curled around you like a heater that fucks.

you’re both still thrumming with residual magic, like the glyph hasn’t quite let go yet, just softened into afterglow.

he stares at the ceiling, cheeks flushed and tie somehow still hanging around his neck like a badge of honor.

you reach over and pat his chest.

“feel better?”

he covers his eyes with one arm and mutters, “i’m going to propose to you.”

“you don’t even know my last name.”

“i’ll learn it. i’ll take it. i’ll hyphenate. i don’t care. oh, are you okay with cats? i have this cat, greebo. i named him after this book series i really like. if you're allergic i'll leave greebo with my mom—oh, my mom!"

you stare at him, amused.

"you can meet my mom," he continues. "she’s down in hell right now, but i’m sure we can use our vacation days. she’ll love you."

you snort. "i work in archives."

he exhales slowly, eyes heavy-lidded and mouth curled into something dangerously close to a smile.

"god, that's hot."

you open your mouth to reply, but pause when you hear voices echoing from up the stairwell—two people bickering in low, irritated tones. you peek from behind the shelves just in time to catch a very singed steve from accounting arguing with a girl in a glitter-stained outfit and star-shaped earrings, both looking like they’ve just crawled out of a dimensional explosion.

you blink. slowly turn back to the demon beside you.

“that’s,” he says, reading the question on your face. “why i had to go on leave.”

you stare at him. then nod.

“yeah,” you mutter. “that tracks.”

[ravenstargames]

Are there any wedding customs in Limbo? And do the LIs have their own image of their dream weddings?

✦ Are there any wedding customs in Limbo?

(I purposely left out the second part of the ask because this is gonna be long enough OTL im sorry...)

There are wedding customs in Limbo! However, the Sovereigns "officiate" the "weddings".

Limbo's weddings are referred as Bonding Ceremonies or Trials and require to overcome a few...well, yes, trials. Every Sovereign has a different way of approaching this. They themselves don't get bonded with anyone. It's not seen as fair neither to the people of Limbo nor to the people they'd want to be bonded with. Which doesn't mean it hasn't happened befo—

Also, you don't have to be bonded to anyone to be considered legal partners. That can be done signing a few papers!

To quote myself from the Discord server a while ago where we briefly discussed what a bonding trial would entail if you were to ask for The Mindbender's blessing...

It's seyl yapping time with some corrections :^)

Each Sovereign focuses on certain blessings and "rules" you have to follow for them to agree to bless the ceremony. When it comes to blessings, for example Raeya is Strength in the face of adversity, Amon is Determination in the face of failure, and Gael is Knowledge in the face of ignorance.

If you ask for Gael's blessing you basically have to prove him you and your partner/s have the drive to learn from each other constantly. You have to accept your naivety and your ever-changing nature. You have to be willing to accept actions and reactions (independently of if they're considered morally right or wrong) are born from the knowledge (or lack of) you've acquired throughout your experience as a living being. So basically it requires a long period of meditation, self-discovery and understanding of those you want to be bound to forever. People prepare for this for years.

As for the trials—first of all there's a cleanse of the soul and mind done by "priests". Each participant is taken to a small empty room with no windows and no external stimuli with only a priest, covered from head to toe to not be recognized. I'll save the details of this ritual for the sake of not literally writing the whole lore of the ceremony.

Then the participants are evaluated personally by Gael; this process is a bit painful as he basically gains access to any relevant memories and is able to explore them at will. For this he manifests in some sliver of his true form, which can shake the soul of the participants, in which case they're deemed unworthy by the priest. Gael can protest to this, but it has rarely happened.

The rest of the memories have been temporarily cleansed by the priest, beforehand, to preserve the participants' intimacy to an extent, so Gael only has access to things related to the Bonding Trials.

He then decides if they're adequate or not to receive his blessing. If they fail, they are welcome to try again in the future.

If they're worthy, their memories of the previous ritual are completely erased by Gael himself for their safety. Basically the participants just remember they have been deemed worthy.

Then we move to the soul-linking ceremony! This can be public or private. This step is vital for every ceremony in every "pantheon". All the participants kneel down, hands linked together between them with a special rope / tie. Every participant has to be personally linked to the others so in ceremonies with more than one participant this process can take a while as the tying of the rope is very specific.* This is done by another "priest".

*if all the participants want to be linked to each other. if there's two participants who don't want to be linked to each other but they want to be linked to the third participant, that's doable too!

(There's more stuff happening but we'd be here until tomorrow and I have to work or my team will kill me) (I wrote this in the discord message and it's still relevant)

Then Gael extracts a fraction of the essence of every participant as well as blood (this done again by the priest) and mixes it together. It's then solidified in an essence crystal (or more than one if not all participants want to be bound together) that he breaks in as many parts as participants in the ceremony. The crystals symbolize the permanent, unbreakable union of the participants. When Limbo claims their souls in death, they'll travel back to the Great Void together, which is seen as the utmost declaration of love among Limbanians.

After this, everyone is free to celebrate how they see fit!

Some people describe the bond as being able to understand their partners to a deep, spiritual level, or feel them. Others don't notice anything changing.

[themetaphorgirl]

so apparently my ex died a few days ago

Genuinely I feel so relieved. It’s like my body is floating now, the tension has just DROPPED. that might make me a bad person, but he was an awful human being.

we started dating when I was nineteen (my first boyfriend and my first kiss, which is a huge deal for a very evangelical teenage girl). We got “pre-engaged” six months later and formally engaged right after I turned 20. I thought he hung the moon. I had excuses for all the ways he treated me, I thought that we had the perfect relationship. We taught Sunday school together and they used to hold us up as role models. “You kids want to be just like them, they’ve got it right.”

We got married a month after my 23rd birthday, right after I graduated college (he didn’t graduate, he failed the same algebra class three times and dropped out). I got pregnant immediately (I saved myself for marriage so it was literally the first time) and miscarried around seven weeks. (His response when I told him? “Oh, sorry, that sucks,” and then he went back to his video game. Around that time I found out he was cheating on me, specifically by soliciting underage girls online to send him nudes, and he wept and apologized and promised it would never happen again.

Except it did. It happened repeatedly. And I was young and scared and very religious and blamed myself, and I stayed. I stayed when he totaled four cars, I stayed when he got fired from two different jobs, I stayed when we couldn’t afford to live on our own and moved in with my parents temporarily and it lasted two years. I worked two jobs, seven days a week, and all he did was yell at me for not having the car available so he could go play video games with his friends.

He emotionally abused me and manipulated me to stay because he couldn’t afford to live on his own and his family was broke and couldn’t pay for anything. He kept saying that if I did this or I did that it would make a difference and he would love me more. He stole money from me constantly (he would take my debit card and withdraw cash and think I wouldn’t notice.) He said horrible things to me and about me without batting an eye.

And his cheating got worse, and more vile. At one point he pretended to be one of our Sunday school students (he used her name and her photo and her background information) and started dating a teenage boy- they would role play, I shit you not, My Little Pony sex. I found out because he was doing it on my computer and he stayed logged in like an idiot. When I confronted him all he could say was “I don’t know why I did it.” I kept trying to find people to help me, but the only support I received was “good Christians don’t get divorced.” I thought I just needed to be a better wife and a better person.

He waited until we moved to a whole new state, and then confronted me to say that he never loved me, he never wanted to marry me in the first place, and he was leaving as soon as he had enough money for an apartment. Like an absolute idiot I asked what I could do to change his mind.

Gifts. He said he wanted gifts.

Like an idiot I bought him presents and hid them around the house with letters saying how much I loved him and how much I wanted to fix this. He didn’t touch them. After a few weeks I asked if he liked the gifts, and he shrugged and said he thought it would change his mind but it didn’t. I look back and wonder sometimes why I didn’t wise up, but in reality I thought so little of myself that I didn’t care that he was hurting me. I didn’t matter. It wasn’t until he threw my cat against a wall that it finally shattered any illusions I had left.

He ended up walking out for good right before Thanksgiving. Turns out he already had a girlfriend. He even messaged me on New Year’s Eve to tell me about her and asked if I was okay with him dating. Like…what the fuck.

I did eventually call an anonymous police hotline about him to report his predatory behavior- by then he’d gotten even more brazen, he had even gotten caught by one of those Good Samaritan vigilante websites that pretend to be kids to catch predators. (I think I still have the screenshots). After that I washed my hands of him.

I am so, so, so lucky to be free. I had to start over completely- I was a shell of a human being at that point, I had no real personality left. I had to slowly learn how to become my own person. The trauma was so deep and so intense that I didn’t even realize it was trauma, I thought I deserved everything I experienced.

I rebuilt everything. I forged a whole new life for myself. Sometimes I feel like I’m so far behind everyone around me, and then I remember how much I had to go through to get to this point. I am finally living the life I deserve- a job I love, friends that genuinely care about me and that I love so deeply, a home where I am fully safe from harm, a husband who adores me for who I am and would never dream of hurting me. All I need now is a baby, and to be quite honest I’m wondering now if I needed this to happen, that I needed to feel completely safe for my body to relax and get pregnant.

All this to say…fuck you, Patrick. You were a shitty human being. You nearly destroyed me and you didn’t even care.

And I know that there’s a couple of former friends that still check my social media from time to time, so- hi Rose, hi Kat. I went to you for help and you didn’t believe me, on top of all the shitty things you did to me yourselves. You can clutch your pearls all you want, but I don’t care.

this was me at 23, right after both my miscarriage and finding out he was cheating on me. there was already no light left in me. I was already shattered and it only got worse.

This is me on my wedding day, as my real happy self, with a man who loves me so much that it’s written all over his face. I got my light back. Sometimes it’s still hard and sometimes the trauma surges up, but I did it. I got back up. I’m still getting back up.

[akeaaan]

Change 2

Jinu X fem. reader

part1

word count: 4.7k

a/n: I bless you guys with this, idk why I made it like this and shit but yeah here the last part yall

Synopsis: ╰┈➤You were once a feared demon of the underworld—until you turned your back on that life. Branded a traitor, you escaped to the human world and lived quietly in the shadows, blending in among mortals for years. Peace became your new normal. Routine. Safe. That is, until fate stepped in. A single encounter with Jinu—the sharp-eyed, silver-tongued leader of the rising idol group Saja Boys—shattered your calm existence.

〃✦ ┆ You vaulted over the railing of your penthouse bedroom, landing with a soft thud on the floor below. Sliding the glass door open, you walked in with a tired groan and shook your head, muttering under your breath.

“Why the hell did I do that…” you sighed, pressing your fingers to your temples. “Stupid. So stupid.”

Sealing your father’s voice—the ancient, terrifying weight of Gwi Ma’s presence—into Jinu’s head temporarily? That wasn’t just reckless. That was borderline suicidal.

A low, rumbling growl snapped you out of your spiral.

Your gaze shifted toward the bed, where a massive figure had claimed your mattress.

Not a dog.

A wolf.

No—a demon wolf.

It lay there like it owned the place, sprawled across your bed with limbs stretched out in every direction, completely unbothered by your mental crisis. Its fur shimmered faintly under the moonlight slipping through the windows, black with streaks of silver like ink in motion. Its tail gave a lazy flick.

The demon yawned, glancing at you with glowing amber eyes before settling back down.

You raised an eyebrow. “You're real comfortable, huh?”

In response, the wolf purred—a deep, vibrating sound—and rubbed its fur deeper into your mattress. You plopped down at the edge of the bed with a tired grunt. The wolf shifted without protest, curling around and laying its massive head on your lap.

You stared down at it for a long moment. The gentle rise and fall of its breathing didn’t match the chaos in your mind.

Because really, what the hell had you done?

You sealed Gwi Ma’s voice inside Jinu.

Temporarly

Jinu. Of all people.

Why him?

Was it pity? Guilt?

Or was it something uglier—some selfish instinct to push the curse onto someone who could carry it without tearing your world apart?

You couldn’t even explain it to yourself.

And now, it was done.

The seal was in place. Gwi Ma’s voice echoed in Jinu’s mind, long gone for now. And you could only hope he was strong enough to handle it.

You sighed, hand absentmindedly brushing through the wolf’s thick fur.

Even if you tried to avoid it, your paths were bound to cross again. You were both idols, standing on stages under the same spotlights, your names whispered in the same circles.

Destiny had its own sense of humor.

“Maybe the Huntrix will just finish the job,” you muttered dryly. “Save us both the trouble.”

The wolf let out a sleepy snort.

You weren’t even sure if that was agreement—or mockery.

You stood in front of the mirror in your waiting room, hands braced on the vanity as you tried to calm the racing of your heart. The makeup lights made your skin glow, but your eyes—your eyes told a different story. Focused. Fierce. A little scared.

You inhaled deeply through your nose, held it, then exhaled slowly.

Tonight wasn’t just another comeback. This was the comeback.

Your outfit shimmered under the warm lights—custom, sharp, stage-ready. The mic was clipped to your ear, in-ear monitors already tucked in. Everything was set. This was your newest single’s first live performance on Mnet, and the world was watching.

KNOCK KNOCK.

“Y/N, you're up in five!” called a staff member through the door.

You swallowed hard and forced a reply. “Y-yeah, I’ll be right there.”

Their footsteps faded. Silence returned. You looked back at your reflection and gave yourself a small nod.

You’ve worked too hard to get here. Too many sleepless nights. Too many sacrifices. This stage is yours. Nothing and no one’s going to take it away.

With that thought, you turned and grabbed the door handle.

But the second you opened it, your body froze.

Your breath hitched.

“What the heck are you doing here?” you blurted, eyes narrowing.

“Jinu…”

He stood leaning against the hallway wall, arms crossed over his chest, wearing his idol outfit, but there was no mistaking him. Same intense eyes. Same aura that never really let you breathe when he was close.

“We need to talk,” Jinu said calmly, voice low but serious.

You blinked, shaking your head. “Now? Really? I’m about to go on stage.”

You moved past him quickly, boots echoing against the linoleum floor as you headed for the backstage corridor. But of course, you heard him behind you. His quiet, deliberate footsteps.

“There’s nothing to talk about,” you snapped, not even glancing back.

“I think there is,” he replied, but his tone wasn’t biting. It was... tired. Hesitant.

You kept walking.

But then you felt it—his hand wrapping gently but firmly around your wrist. You stopped in your tracks. You feel the demon patterns on both of your arms starting to form.

“Y/N,” he said, and this time when you looked back, you saw it—whatever he’d been holding in. The regret. The urgency. The softness he only ever showed you behind closed doors.

You didn’t speak.

Not yet.

But you didn’t pull away either.

“I don’t want to work with him anymore,” Jinu said finally. “With Gwi Ma.”

You blinked. 

He looked straight at you.

“You can help. You’re his daughter.”

You stiffened instantly. The hallway felt colder.

“Don’t say that out loud,” you snapped, stepping forward, eyes darting. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

But he didn’t flinch. Didn’t back off.

“You are,” he said. “You don’t work under him. You were never branded. Never bound like the rest of us. You're the only one who can talk to him without a blade at your throat.”

Your mouth opened—but you didn’t know what to say.

The truth was… he wasn’t wrong.

You hated it. You hated that your blood had ties to a name like Gwi Ma’s. You hated that even after cutting every tie, leaving the underworld, his rule, everything behind, people like Jinu still found you. Still needed something from you that only he could give.

But beneath the tension, the unspoken history, and all the things you left unsaid... You and Jinu shared one undeniable truth— Freedom.

You both craved it. From the shadows. From the blood-soaked contracts. From the underworld that shaped you and broke you in the same breath.

You weren’t just performers. You were survivors. Bound by the same cursed fate that ran deeper than fame, deeper than music. You both wanted out.

Jinu’s grip on your wrist loosened slightly, like he didn’t want to force you—like he hoped you’d choose him on your own.

And you did.

You closed your eyes, the weight of everything catching up to you for just a second. 

“…Fine.”

Your voice was barely above a whisper. Tired. Resigned. But resolute.

You opened your eyes, lifting your gaze to meet his. Jinu’s expression had softened, the usual cool edge in his stare melting into something vulnerable. Something real.

“I’ll help you,” you said quietly.

His hand didn’t let go—but it didn’t tighten either. It just stayed. Solid. Grounding. A silent thank you.

The stage was calling, but now… so was the war you swore you'd never fight again

Your legs dangled over the balcony railing, swaying slightly above a dizzying drop—hundreds of feet from the ground. One wrong movement and it would be over in an instant. But the danger didn’t faze you. Not tonight.

The city glowed beneath you—alive, unaware. Neon signs blinked in rhythm with traffic. A breeze rustled your hair, cool against your skin.

“You’re a terrible sneaker, you know that?” you said casually, not even turning your head.

A low chuckle answered you before a soft thud followed. You glanced sideways to see Jinu, landing on your balcony with the grace of someone who’d done it a thousand times.

“What gave it away?” he asked, brows raised as he pulled back his hood.

You turned your eyes back to the skyline. “I can feel your energy. It always gives you away.”

A dim glow started to pulse along your arm—faint, curling demon marks slowly forming like ink soaking through your skin. You studied them with no urgency, just resignation.

Jinu leaned beside you on the railing, hands in his pockets. He didn’t interrupt the silence.

“My father…” you began, voice low, “is the worst man alive.”

That caught Jinu’s attention. He turned slightly toward you, waiting.

You gave a bitter laugh. “And I’m his favorite daughter. Funny, right? The one he loved most… is the one who betrayed him.”

Jinu didn’t speak, but his silence felt like encouragement. You continued.

“I don’t even know how I survived all these years.” He tilted his head. “Then how did you?” he asked softly.

You finally looked at him, eyes tired but calm. “I fed,” you said bluntly. “On corrupted souls. I hunted them myself, quietly. It was the only way I knew how to live without becoming what he wanted.”

Jinu's expression darkened, but he remained quiet.

“When I was a child,” you continued, “he started sending me here… slipping me through cracks between realms like I was nothing. Just a spy. A pawn.” You exhaled sharply. “He didn’t care how small I was. He just wanted information. Souls. Obedience.”

Your hands clenched the railing. “But every time I crossed over… I felt something. Peace. Even if it was brief.”

You smiled faintly, eyes softening with the memory.

“A young couple found me once. Took me in. They thought I was just a lost child.” You paused, your voice nearly breaking. “They were kind. They raised me. Loved me. And when my father found out—he forced me to take their souls.”

Jinu finally looked at you fully. You didn’t meet his eyes.

“That was the moment I knew,” you whispered, “it was all wrong. Everything. I ran. I hid. I started using my power in secret—helping the Hunters. Sealing the honmoon. Destroying demons that slipped through.”

“…And killing your own kind,” Jinu finished for you, voice steady.

You nodded.

“I killed them because they were hurting innocents. Because they didn’t care who they destroyed. But I’m no hero either… I’ve taken souls too, even after I swore I wouldn’t.”

Your voice cracked as you added, “I know this world isn’t perfect. It’s full of pain and selfishness. But it’s still better than the never-ending torment of the underworld.”

Jinu didn’t speak right away. The wind rustled your hair again. Then he said, barely above a whisper:

"Sounds to me like you saved yourself."

You blinked slowly, letting his words sink in like a knife dulled by time but still sharp enough to hit where it hurts.

Then, quieter, gentler—his voice barely above a breath:

“And maybe… there’s still more worth saving.”

Your gaze met his, locked—daring, vulnerable, charged with something you didn’t want to name.

"You..." you whispered.

In a swift motion, you leapt from the railing, boots landing soundlessly against the cold rooftop tiles. Jinu pushed himself off the opposite side, standing tall as he faced you—chest rising with every slow inhale.

Then, it began.

Your patterns awakened first—slowly crawling up your arms like living ink, pulsing with familiar power, before consuming you entirely. Your eyes burned with a fierce, glowing violet hue. This was the real you. The form you didn’t show just anyone.

Your demon form stood bare before him.

Jinu's breath caught in his throat. His lips parted. He couldn’t look away. Something primal stirred in him as he lowered his gaze—his own markings responding instinctively. They crawled across his skin like heat rising beneath the surface, until his yellow eyes locked with yours—burning to match.

You stepped toward him, silent, slow, dangerous. Your hand rose, fingertips barely grazing his jaw before your palms gently cupped his face—like you’d done the last time you were alone. Back when everything was simpler... or maybe just easier to ignore.

Jinu didn’t move. He stood there, eyes flicking from your lips to your eyes. You leaned in slightly, almost ready to speak the chant pulsing at the back of your throat.

But his voice stopped you.

“You never noticed me…” he murmured, barely audible—like a secret spilling from a locked place in his chest.

You froze, the words anchoring you in place.

“What?” you breathed.

He smiled faintly. Not out of happiness—out of resignation.

“I kept seeing you with Gwi Ma… I wanted to talk to you, I did. But I always got cold feet.” His laugh was soft, bitter. “Back then, I was barely holding it together. Newly turned, still figuring out how to control the patterns. But you...”

His voice trailed as the memory pulled him back. His gaze softened.

“You stood there, with your head high, commanding the space like you were born for it. Gwi Ma gave you orders, and you didn’t even flinch. You looked untouchable.”

You remembered that moment. The spy meetings. The night before everything shifted.

Jinu’s voice broke the silence again, quiet and aching:

“Ever since that day…” his voice was low, smoky, just above a whisper. “I couldn’t stop watching you.”

Jinu stepped forward—slow, deliberate. The kind of step that didn’t just close distance, it claimed it. His golden eyes flickered under the moonlight like burning embers behind smoke, catching every unsteady breath you took.

“And then you disappeared,” he murmured, now just inches away.

His words ghosted over your lips, and though he hadn't touched you yet, you could taste him in the air—warm, wild, and aching with something unsaid.

“Without a word,” he added, almost accusing. But his tone was soft. Hurt, maybe. Or worse—longing.

You couldn’t answer. Not really. Not with how your chest tightened. Not with how his presence filled the air like a storm.

“Until now.”

Your breath hitched. You hated how much he still affected you. How he always had. Since the first time he saw you—really saw you—backstage during Play Games With Us.

He told himself you just looked like her. Just a random idol with a familiar face. But when your paths crossed… when your shoulders brushed and he felt that undeniable pattern in his soul unlock—he knew.

It was you.

The girl he never had the courage to speak to in the demon world.

The one who haunted him across dimensions.

Your heartbeat thundered in your chest, deafening in your ears. It was too loud. Too fast. And somehow, Jinu heard it anyway.

“I see it now…” he whispered, his hand rising slowly to cup your cheek. His touch was impossibly gentle. No trace of the coldness your kind were known for. Just warmth—steady, real.

“The real you.”

You didn’t dare speak. The moment was too fragile, like it would shatter if you so much as breathed wrong.

Only the tension. The breath you both held. The weight of everything unsaid.

The ghost of hands that had hovered close but never touched.

Lips that once looked but never dared.

Not until now.

When his lips pressed against yours, your eyes widened. It was slow. Searching. Testing a boundary he’d waited years to cross.

You didn’t pull away.

You melted.

Your eyes closed.

Your lips parted—inviting him in without knowing why. Needing him like oxygen.

His hand moved to your hip, firm and possessive, pulling you against him as he deepened the kiss. His tongue slipped past your lips, and the kiss turned hungry, urgent, electric.

And all you could think was:

Finally.

Your heels hit the floor with each backward step, heartbeat pounding loud enough to drown everything else out—except him.

Jinu followed without hesitation, lips crashing into yours, his breath hot and uneven as he kissed you like he’d been starving. His hands were everywhere, gripping your waist, sliding up your sides, pulling you closer like the space between you two offended him.

Your back hit the cool glass of the sliding door. The contact made you gasp into his mouth, your hand still cupping his cheek while your other reached behind blindly, fingers fumbling until the door slid open. You stepped backward again, drawing him in, and he didn’t even pause—just kicked the door shut behind you.

The room was colder than expected, but neither of you noticed.

Not really.

Jinu broke the kiss, panting, his forehead leaning against yours as he stared at you—eyes blown wide, dark with something primal.

"You're so beautiful..." he breathed, but it wasn’t just admiration. It was a whimper. A confession. A breaking point.

Then he kissed you again—messier, harder, almost frantic. Desperate hands pulled you forward as he guided you to the edge of the bed, gripping your hips to keep you from falling too fast.

You shivered, but not from the cold.

He laid you down with care that contrasted the hunger in his touch. One hand slipped under your shirt, palm splaying over your stomach, fingers dragging up—slow and teasing—until they reached the curve of your chest. The other hand slid down, rougher now, grabbing your thigh and lifting it up, anchoring you to him.

You wrapped your leg around his waist instinctively, pulling him in, grinding into the pressure.

He groaned low in his throat, redirecting the kiss—his lips trailed from your mouth to your chin, along your jaw, then lower. His mouth attacked your neck—biting, sucking, leaving a trail of heat and bruises and sin. Your hands tangled in his hair, nails scraping his scalp as your hips arched into him.

You turned your head to the side, offering more, wanting more.

And he took it. Eagerly.

His lips found the spot behind your ear and when his tongue flicked against the skin, you nearly lost it. His knees shifted between your thighs and when one of them brushed there—through the fabric, right against your already wet slit—

You moaned.

You tried to stop it. Bit your lip. But it slipped out, raw and breathy and broken.

Jinu froze for just a second—just long enough to hear it, feel it—and when he looked back down at you, eyes dark and wild and locked on yours, it was clear.

He wanted to ruin you.

And God—you were going to let him.

Jinu’s hand slid slowly up your thigh, fingers trailing fire beneath your skin. He brushed against the edge of your shorts, and his smirk deepened the moment he felt it—the telltale dampness soaked through the fabric.

“Mm,” he hummed lowly, eyes locked on yours. “You’re already wet for me.”

The way he said it, voice all gravel and dark delight, made your breath catch. You propped yourself up on your elbows, looking down where his fingers teased, hovering but never touching where you needed him most. Your lips parted—maybe to protest, maybe to pretend you weren’t so shamelessly worked up already.

But you couldn’t lie. Not to him.

Not when your body betrayed you so easily.

Jinu's eyes gleamed. "No need to hide it, baby."

He gripped the waistband of your shorts and underwear, tugging them down in one slow, deliberate motion. You lifted your hips for him, heart pounding, heat pooling low in your belly. He peeled the fabric away, baring you completely, and let it drop to the floor with a quiet thud.

You turned your head, shame rising despite the arousal surging through you.

“Hey,” he murmured, his voice softer now—dangerous in another way.

His hand left your waist, slipped under your shirt and up to your chin, coaxing your face back toward his. “Didn’t I say all eyes on me?” His thumb brushed over your lips, slow and intimate, like he owned every inch of you already.

You met his gaze.

His smile was pure sin. “That’s my good girl…”

You clenched around nothing, heat flooding you all over again from just those three words.

Jinu dropped to his knees between your thighs like he belonged there. He slid one of your legs over his shoulder, positioning you exactly how he wanted, spreading you open like a gift he couldn’t wait to unwrap.

He looked down at you, then back up—his eyes dark, pupils blown wide, jaw tight with restraint.

“I want you to watch,” he said, voice like velvet and vice. “Don’t look away. Just keep your eyes on me… while I make this pretty pussy forget how to breathe.” 

He didn’t hesitate—not even for a second.

Jinu dropped to his knees like he was born to worship you there, hands gripping the backs of your thighs as he dove in without mercy. His long, eager tongue plunged deep into your soaked cunt, and you nearly lost your balance right then and there.

The obscene sound of him slurping at your core filled the room, his mouth messy with your slick as he groaned into you like a man starved.

“Mmf…, you taste like heaven,” he muttered between licks, his voice thick with hunger.

He didn’t stop—he devoured you. Tongue flicking wildly against your swollen cunt, then sucking on it like it owed him something. Your legs shook as you tangled your fingers in his hair, pulling him closer, guiding his mouth right where you needed him.

“Jinu—ah—don’t stop, fuck—”

You watched through half-lidded eyes as he kissed every part of your slit like it was sacred. His gaze flicked up, dark and locked on yours, and it only made the heat in your belly coil tighter.

Then—just when you thought you couldn’t take more—you felt it.

A sudden stretch inside. His fingers.

Two of them, sliding into your dripping hole with ease, curling upward with wicked precision as he pumped them in and out, his mouth never once leaving your clit.

The combination made you choke on a gasp.

“Oh my god—”

His growl sent a hot vibration through your core, and your hips bucked instinctively.

“You’re so fucking wet,” he rasped, breath hot against you, “All for me, huh?”

Your stomach clenched.

That knot—tight and burning—started building fast. Too fast.

He sucked your clit hard, fingers driving deeper, faster, and your body gave in with a cry. The knot snapped.

You came undone on his face with a moan so raw, it echoed around the room. Your body trembled as the waves hit, one after another, and he didn’t let up—didn’t stop—until you were shaking, until your thighs were twitching around his head.

And when you finally looked down at him…

He was smiling.

Lips glistening, tongue darting out to lick up your release, shamelessly savoring it.

Then slowly—deliberately—he slid his fingers out of you and held them up between you both, watching you.

And without breaking eye contact, he brought those fingers to his lips and sucked them clean.

“Tastes like fucking addiction,” Jinu growled against your lips, his voice a low, sinful drawl that sent heat straight between your legs.

He pulled back just enough to look at you, eyes dark and pupils blown wide, then leaned in again—claiming your mouth in a kiss that was messy and hungry. You gasped as you tasted yourself on him, the tang of your arousal still wet on his tongue as he licked deep into your mouth, slow and deliberate. His tongue curled behind your teeth, exploring like he owned every inch of you—and he did. Tonight, he fucking did.

When he finally pulled away, your lips were swollen and your lungs desperate for air. You let your head fall back against the pillow, dragging yourself up the headboard, legs still spread and trembling slightly.

Jinu just smirked at the sight—your wrecked expression, flushed skin, the way your chest rose and fell like you were trying to keep it together.

“You okay?” he asked, low and husky, with just a flicker of concern under all that cocky heat.

You nodded, breathless. “Yeah…”

“Good.” His voice dropped another octave as he reached down and peeled his hoodie off in one slow motion, tossing it to the floor without a care. It left him in nothing but those black pants, the fabric hugging his hips in the most unfair way.

Your eyes dropped immediately. Down the hard line of his torso—past the chiseled abs, the demon marks curling over his skin like some kind of dark prophecy etched into his flesh. Down to the sharp cut of his hips, the V-line so defined it made your mouth go dry.

And then there it was—his cock, thick and hard and pressing against the fabric.

He caught you staring, and that smug, lazy smirk spread across his face.

“I knew I’m hot,” he said, already unbuckling his pants with one hand, the metallic clink echoing in the quiet room.

“You’ve been looking like you want to fuck me all night, baby.”

And honestly?

You did.

you tossed your own shirt leaving you on your bra and nothing else. once jinu took off his pants he went back kissing your neck sucking on it giving marks, his cock pressed against your bare cunt, one of his hand moved its way on your back

clicked 

His fingers made quick work of your bra, the clasp undone like second nature. He didn’t even hesitate—he just pressed himself closer, his lips catching your gasp as your bra was flung somewhere into the shadows of the dim bedroom.

You felt him roll his hips against you, and your breath hitched. You could feel him—hard, needy, pressed right where you were pulsing for friction. A desperate sound escaped your throat, something between a moan and a plea.

Jinu’s breath was hot against your neck, but his voice? Low, strained, laced with restraint he was barely holding on to.

“Can I?” he asked, forehead resting against yours, his eyes searching—burning with both desire and something softer. Need.

You nodded, not trusting your voice. It was more than consent. It was surrender.

He slid his boxers down, and his [blank] pressed right against your entrance—hot, heavy, and aching. When he pushed in slowly, the stretch burned in the best way, making your legs tremble.

“A-ah—” you hissed through clenched teeth, your back arching slightly.

Jinu let out a rough groan, fingers flexing around your waist as he buried himself deeper. You could feel how he shook with the effort of holding still, breathing ragged. He reached up, brushing your hair gently from your damp forehead, voice soft—soothing.

“Hey… I got you, yeah? You’re doing so good for me already.”

When he was fully seated inside you, he didn’t move. He waited—only moving when you gave a shaky nod of approval.

Then he started.

At first it was slow. Tender. Every thrust deliberate, like he was savoring every second inside you. You whimpered, your body adjusting around him, pain melting into something slick and molten.

Then his rhythm shifted—slowly, gradually—until his hips snapped into yours with growing force. The sound of skin slapping skin filled the room, messy and obscene, your moans rising in pitch with every stroke.

He grunted as he braced himself against the headboard, hand digging into the wood for leverage. The pace was rough now—cock, relentless—and then with a sharp snap, the headboard cracked beneath his grip.

But neither of you cared.

Not when you were moaning his name like a prayer, not when his voice dropped to a low growl in your ear:

“Damm—you feel so fucking good. So tight—like you’re made for me.”

He slammed back into you, chasing deeper. “Say it. Say you want it.”

Your voice broke, breathless and wrecked, “I—want it —Jinu, please, don’t stop.”

And he didn’t.

He didn’t slow down—not even when the bedframe gave a harsh crack beneath you. His pace only grew rougher, more punishing, as if chasing something deep inside you. Each thrust dragged a broken sound from your throat, and the knot in your belly twisted tighter, sharper.

“Fuck.. you’re so tight,” Jinu hissed between clenched teeth, his voice guttural as he felt you start to clamp down on him. “You’re about to—aren’t you?”

You couldn’t answer. Couldn’t form anything but a moan that pitched higher with every slam of his hips. Your nails raked down his back, leaving angry red marks that made him groan—not from pain, but pride.

“Just like that,” he growled, his breath hot against your skin. “Fucking take it.”

And you did. You took all of him—deeper, harder—until your body couldn’t take anymore. You shattered around him, crying out his name, spine arching off the mattress as your orgasm crashed into you.

That was all it took.

He cursed under his breath as his rhythm faltered—then stilled—burying himself to the hilt as heat flooded inside you. You felt it, that warm pulse of cum, and the way he trembled slightly above you as he rode the high with you.

Both of you were gasping, the room thick with the scent of sweat, sex, and something heavier. Jinu leaned forward, resting his forehead against yours, still inside you.

Neither of you moved. Not yet.

“I can’t hear him anymore,” he murmured against your lips—eyes fluttering shut, voice almost... relieved.

You closed your eyes too, pulling him even closer. His skin was warm against yours, heartbeat steady, chest rising and falling in sync with your own. There were no more walls. No more distance. Just the quiet rhythm of breath and the lingering fire of everything unspoken now laid bare between you.

You stayed like that for a while—bodies tangled, souls unwinding.

Jinu opened his eyes first.

He looked at you—really looked at you. And this time, there was nothing but love swimming in his gaze. Relief. Longing. The kind that had waited too long and held on too tight.

He exhaled softly, brushing a thumb along your jaw.

“…The bed broke,” he murmured, almost like he just realized it.

You blinked slowly, and then let out a breathy laugh. “It’s the demon strength,” you whispered back, voice tired but laced with affection.

He smiled—lazy, genuine, and rare.

“Guess I owe you a new frame.”

You rested your forehead against his. “Guess you do.”

Neither of you moved to get up. The world outside could wait a little longer.

For once… there was no hunt. No stage. No pressure.

Just you, and Jinu, and the quiet in between.

a/n: ITS SO BADDD OMGGG STOPPP it's my first time writing full-on smut yall don't judge :( also idk how to end it so here your food Jinu was a bit ooc during the smexy scene lol

taglist: @miffysoo @akariis4snowball @zhentheraven @nisarelle @aise-30 @pjs-gf-foreal @22carolina08 @violetraccoon-4

[sarcasm-and-references]

severance withdrawals about to go so crazy i might have to watch inside job for the fourth time

[starflungwaddledee]

Oooo starstruck dee has little stars at the bottom of her feet! Are they just aesthetic or would they make imprints into the ground? (like pawprints)

exactly like that! though she's not the only one...

edit: might need to add some additional dialogue to this to make it more clear, but a clarification in the interim; he knows about his own footprints. he's just surprised to see something similar already there when he knows he's only just landed. he lifts his own shoe to confirm that they're not identical (and also to reveal this to the viewer). seems his stoicism beat off the clarity in this one, sorry 😭

[fluffydeoxys]

I was chatting with someone and they pointed out how jeb's plush actually doesn't have a unique description, which I felt was kind of a shame. So I took a crack at writing one myself!

The self-proclaimed saviour of Nevada. Jebediah purges the madness-stricken masses as a one-man army, brandishing the fabled Binary Sword. Their loyalties lie solely with keeping Nevada staved from insanity, leading to Jebediah temporarily partnering with some strange and unexpected allies. Much of Jebediah's aberrant power is derived from the halo atop their head; an artifact that they have a long and complicated history with. It was once the heart of a world-changing undertaking that Jebediah was part of roughly 30 years ago: Project Nexus. The repercussions of this project changed Nevada forever, most notably Nexus City, which has remained dilapidated and derelict for over fifteen years. A necessarily evil, Jebediah would assure. 

Unknown forces have deigned to see Jebediah grace another plane of existence in the form of a collectable plush. … Is this really as cute as they get?

[catboysooyoung]

Geeking over the recent Go Yeongeun appearances... She's so cool and capable and reliable and I LOVE it when she gets a little mean 🥰

[maddieandangel]

First Ghost doodle page of the year! As I test out a new way of maybe drawing their cloak, based on a headcanon of mine.

[vulpinesaint]

[ wrapped in a blanket shaking and sniffling ] i just need to write another quiz i'll be fine if i write another quiz. writing another quiz will fix me

[aroaessidhe]

2024 reads / storygraph

Outdrawn

f/f contemporary romance

two cartoonist who’ve been rivals since uni, and now have competing webcomics online, have to work together on the relaunch of a cult classic at the comic press they both work at

they both struggle with art-related physical and mental health issues, and complicated families

[yessu]

happy 4th of july i was in Another car accident

not sure where things are going to go from here but i do know that i'm quitting my job. i can't keep driving for work my luck is just! too fucking bad for this! it's only been a matter of time before something else happened!

i'm just not sure if i'm going to be able to find something fast enough to just jump over to it. when insurance payouts happen i can figure out how much money i have to work with irt getting a new car, if i *really* have to i might go back until a new place hires me, but. hhghgh. i'm going into a 16 week class to get certified for a long-term, better paying job and just need something to hold over until i complete that. something that can pay rent. o|-< i'm so scared what this is going to do to our finances.

[blackbutler-readerinsertsandjunk]

tomorrow is my first day back to work and I'm a lil nervous

I haven't been able to get anything written for here bc I've been trying to get a couple other things written (updating my Bill Cipher redemption fic and starting a Gyutaro x reader x Daki because I make poor life choices)

but I'm on light duty for a month, basically just sitting at the register checking people out, unable to do any stocking or anything bc I'm not allowed to lift anything over 15 pounds so I can't lift totes, bend much, or reach much, so I'm allowed to bring something to do in between customers... maybe I'll get some writing done? I feel as if I'll be slacking off bc that's how my brain works

but you know what, I kill myself for that store normally, I don't work full time simply because I can't afford medical insurance if I did, but even working only part time I give my all while I'm there, I'm not someone who slacks off. so if I'm healthfully and approvedly permitted to slack off and take it easy for a month, I guess I'll take it (... plus, I mean, I'll still be working, just light duty, it's not like I'll show up and get paid to do ABSOLUTELY NOTHING, I'm still gonna be ringing out customers)

ANYWAY MY POINT IS-

get those last requests in! after I get home from work tomorrow, I'll be closing the askbox and won't open it back up till this batch is finished and I swear I mean that this time 😂

[pocketramblr]

Super7boy truly has one thing and one thing only going well for him, (because he has no name and no family and no friends and no personal identity after Superman died in front of him him and Lex forced him to take the clothes off his corpse and cut off his hair and no one to talk to because Hal left for space and Lex wants to fight him now and everyone else is dead), and that one thing is that he's immune to kryptonite so he's gotta stay that way, I can't take that one last thing from him.

[bloomburnburial]

starting to get the post-op sads, lads (mostly because I am like. okay. so when will i be leaving the house again)