#evolve wraith

[goopus]

Hehe EVOLVE fanart! These… again… from a while ago… This game is underrated and believable dead, but I still love it to death. The characters, the idea, the gameplay, the design of the environment- I want to eat it all! I have no idea if anyone knows or remembers this game at all but I shall share art of it too. It makes me happy :)

[head-empty404]

so who remembers evolve

[sga-owns-my-soul]

do you ever think about the ancient genii? cowen said they were a major superpower in the galaxy and were spread far and wide before the wraith fought back. and there are abandoned genii bunkers on multiple planets (its heavily implied that the trio one wasnt the first one they found). but how could the rest of the galaxy (like the athosians) believe the farmer act? did the ancient genii go by a different name? did everyone believe they had been wiped out and were clawing their way back up the socioevolutional chain? theres a huge gap in that lore and i want to KNOW

the writers were so bad for giving us the coolest fucking set up for a pegasus society and then Never Elaborating again. as much as i love the war crimes they could've just made a show exploring different cultures in pegasus and it would've been just as cool to watch

anyways i think after they got wiped out, for the longest time the genii were just simple farmers. it probably takes a hell of a long time to rebuild to that point and even with the bunkers and what not in place, i think the demands of their remaining people meant they were forced to focus on basic survival for a while. however i think when they finally regrew to a point of being able to continue their work, they decided it was safer to keep it all a secret. harder for the wraith to know they're a threat if no one in the galaxy knows they're a threat ya know?

[makingyourfavindti]

I am curious to see how you'd make the Wraith from Evolve (defunct game from 2015), maybe using the new scythe? 🤔

i made wraith from evolve in dress to impress

thanks for the request!

[plaguerenamon]

Drawing Wraith again because I like this creature a totally normal amount.

[i-suggest-weed]

drawing todd got me here like

[alexlexperiments]

Ex-boyfriend CEO! Satoru did not see that coming!

Ex-boyfriend CEO! Satoru did not move on from things. No, he would much rather gnaw on the metaphorical bone of his inconveniences to the marrow and stew, pout and annoy his way through any hardship, until things were finally done his way - the right way, as he would call it. A Satoru problem was a communal problem so it was in everyone’s best interest to keep him appeased.

When you broke up with him (out of nowhere!, he would say, despite your many convoluted discussions and screaming matches that ended on a flying shoe heading straight to his head), one would believe the apocalypse had finally arrived if the sudden hovering cloud of doom that covered the however-many-floors skyscraper of Gojo Industry was any indicator. Satoru dragged himself through the halls like an emo wraith, a strong-smelling flask in one hand and a comically large Hershey’s bar in the other, sucking the joy and laughter out of every room he entered.

Now, one might ask if he hadn’t fought for your relationship, considering you were, in his very own Shakespearian words, “his pookie”. And of course he would! He had fought much harder for much less, e.g the Great Kikufuku Fistfight of 2010. He would’ve hung outside your window with a boombox playing every Glee song until your neighbours threw stones at him; he would’ve bought you a whole ass Pop Mart so you could open every single surprise box until you forgave him; he would’ve… He would’ve… He would’ve worked on himself - grow by your side and become a better version of the man you initially fell in love with. He would evolve from his current ever-hungry, sassy manchild state to an… Well, ever-hungry, sassy manadult (?).

If only you gave him a chance! Instead, you had disappeared from the face of the earth as soon as you shut the door behind you, gone without a trace much like Nanami’s side bangs and just as missed. Suddenly, Satoru couldn’t find your socials, reach your number or contact your friends and family. If it wasn’t for a couple of belongings you left behind, he would’ve thought he dreamt of your relationship in a vape and Red Bull induced haze.

Now, years later and much more mature, no longer leaving his wet towel on the bathroom floor or smoking tutti-frutti summer tropical e-cigs, he still carried your vacancy like a scar, the weight of all the love he had stored for you sagging his posture. And despite his easy laughter, lazy smiles and concerningly odd gait, his stare was always a bit disconnected or dissociated, daydreaming of the day you would come back to his arms, all sins forgotten and forgiven.

Well, when that day finally came, it did not go exactly as he had planned or written down on his journal with crass stick figure illustrations depicting your first night together in a way that had even his stoic friend suguru blushing to the roots of his luscious hair. No, it happened when he was in the ER after swallowing a small Happy Meal plastic toy (don’t ask) and a young child with striking blue eyes sat next to him, legs kicking underneath the too high chair, looking chastised.

“Tough day?” he asked the child as if they were both salary men complaining at an izakaya.

The boy nodded grimly. “Ate too much candy”, he admitted. “Threw up. Scared momma.”

Ah, the wonders of childhood. “Yup” Satoru agreed “Been there. I once ate 3 packages of fruity pebbles in one day.” He refrained from telling the child that happened when he was in college, as that information was inconsequential.

“Momma doesn’t let me eat so much candy.”

“She seems like a smart lady. I had a girlfriend who didn’t like when I ate too much candy too.”

“You don’t have a girlfriend anymore?” the boy asked and Satoru suddenly felt as if he had met the smallest therapist ever for a free session.

“No. She left.”

“Because of all the candy?”

Satoru paused. Oh my God, could it be because of all the candy? “I… I don’t think so?”

“Maybe I shouldn’t eat candy,” the child mused. “I don’t want momma to leave.” 

Satoru looked around for the possible mother of the tiny shrink. “Where is your mother, by the way?” 

“Hiro!” a voice called. “There you are baby!”

Satoru had several thoughts at the same time, his epiphany pulling out a gasp from his throat that lodged the fucking toy even deeper in his airways. 

The first thought, intrusive and instinctual, was of how pretty you looked. Older and matured, filled out in all the right places. You paradoxically looked exactly the same, but somehow better.

The second thought was about how he was never great at math nor at telling children’s age. But even he could add two and two and come up with an educated guess at that boy’s parentage, considering the lazuli eyes and the worrying taste for forbidden candy. 

The third and final thought was of how lucky he was to already be in the ER, because he was about 76% sure he was having a heart attack.

A/N: english is not my first language and this is my first time writing for the JJK universe, so feedback would be greatly appreciated!

[oof-ow-my-bone]

looking into wraith the oblivion and i will not lie… i am so interested… 🤧

vtm brainrot coming back. starts consuming more lore videos and mixing the editions togethe r

[chiqelatasblog]

Let Me Help You

-> Ao3 link is here.

-> Part 4 of the Savior Series

Pairing : Bi-Han / Sub-Zero x Reader

Tropes : Married Life/Sex, Making Love, Restraints, Handcuffs, Blindfolds, Smitten Bi-Han, Possessive Behavior, Biting, Marking, Fluff and Smut, Blowjobs

Summary : “I didn’t know you had this side to you,” Bi-Han said, his voice neutral and his expression unreadable in the soft light of the candles and fireplace.

You nervously bit your lower lip, then, with an anxious voice, asked, “Will you let me?”

“To blindfold and handcuff me?” Bi-Han raised an eyebrow. “I told you I’m okay with whatever comes from you.”

This is a one-shot set during the time when the reader was Bi-Han’s wife (Noob Saibot before becoming a wraith), offering a glimpse into their relationship. It can be read as a standalone.

Author’s Note : This thought came over me yesterday, and I had to get it out of my system. It’s about the reader helping her husband *cough* relax in some intimate ways. Happy reading!❤️

.

.

.

“No,” Bi-Han said.

His tone, usually carrying a growl, softened as he looked at you. The hoarseness was still there, but now it was tamed, gentle—reserved for moments shared only between the two of you. You smiled at your husband, just a small smile, nothing grand. But you knew even the smallest smile from you was his weakness, though he’d never admit it. His gaze, however, betrayed him, softening and shining with a rare kindness that anyone could see.

When you smiled at him, looking into his eyes and tilting your head slightly, it was as if you saw him as someone who hung the moon—or, as he’d tease, like a lost puppy. You adored your husband, hard edges and cold demeanor included. It had taken you a long time to scale the walls he’d built around himself, but in the end, every effort was worth it. Bi-Han was a man who kept his distance, his tongue as sharp as a blade, capable of cutting deeper than steel. Yet, you had been patient with him, always respecting his need for space, never crossing his boundaries or making him retreat, waiting until he allowed you in.

It all began with small conversations at night. When sleep eluded you—your thoughts sometimes too loud to quiet—you would often wander the palace gardens, only to find him there as well, either pacing or gazing at the stars, lost in thought. His voice captivated you from the very first word—deep and resonant, like distant thunder. That first conversation lingered in your mind long after it ended, a memory that refused to fade. Bi-Han was undeniably handsome, with sharp, strong features and pale skin that contrasted strikingly with his ink-black hair. But to you, he was more than just handsome—he was breathtaking, especially that night when the full moon bathed him in its silvery light. His pale skin seemed to glow, outlined by the moon’s soft radiance, making him appear almost otherworldly, inviting you to touch it, though you knew well that he could snap your wrist like a twig.

After that some time, your conversations evolved into playful banter, and before either of you realized it, the banter turned into flirting. But it was you who made the first bold move—you kissed him. It was the Year of the Rabbit. While the Lin Kuei rarely held celebrations, they made exceptions for significant occasions like New Year’s to honor tradition. That night, it was just the two of you. His brothers had left for Fengjian with the others, leaving Bi-Han behind. Crowds, noise, and the chaos of so many people often overwhelmed him, though he never voiced it aloud. But you had come to know him well enough to catch the subtleties, the small tells that revealed his discomfort.

So, as usual, he stayed inside, sitting on the cushions near the fireplace after dinner. The sandalwood scent from the incense wafted through the air, soft, small talk exchanged between you, though your focus was more on him than the conversation. The golden light from the fire illuminated his strong features, making him appear almost serene in that moment. His usual furrowed brows were relaxed, his lips tilted in what you might call a ghostly smile, and his brown eyes looked warm, like dark honey. You were more than a little drunk, feeling light-headed and giddy as you looked at him, and all you could think about was how much you wanted to feel his lips against yours.

Before you knew it, you were kissing the Grandmaster of the Lin Kuei, your heart hammering in your chest like a wild creature. Bi-Han was surprised at first, perhaps by your boldness, and for a moment, you feared he wouldn’t respond as he stood rigidly in place. But then his lips moved—tentatively at first, gentle and restrained. It was a chaste kiss, and when it ended, he looked at you with a tenderness that made your breath catch. He told you he wanted to kiss you again, but when you were fully conscious, not drunk. He didn’t want to feel like he was taking advantage of you.

And now, a couple of years later, you were his wife.

“Please,” you said, batting your eyelashes at him with an exaggerated sweetness that almost made him smirk. “Why are you against the idea?”

Bi-Han looked away for a moment. You were sitting together on the bed, the fabric of the duvet brushing against your bare legs. This room was your shared retreat, a place where no one could intrude on your privacy. Here, Bi-Han could set aside the mantle of Grandmaster and simply be a man, your husband. Gently, you cupped his cheek, your fingers caressing his skin as you brushed a small spot under his eye. He caught your hand in his, his thumb tracing soothing circles on your skin as he met your gaze once more.

“I don’t like being vulnerable,” he murmured, his voice so quiet you almost didn’t hear it. Your expression softened as his words sank in. Before you responded, you leaned in and pressed a light, tender kiss to his lips.

“My love, do you not trust me?” you asked softly.

Bi-Han’s eyebrows furrowed, a flash of hurt crossing his features, as if the question itself had offended him.

“More than anyone.”

“Then let me take care of you,” your voice as soft and gentle as a feather drifting down from the sky. “Please, Bi-Han.”

For days now, Bi-Han had been tense, like a bomb ready to explode. The tension around him was palpable, his frustration almost tangible. A vein would appear on his forehead or neck whenever something small and insignificant irritated him—things he would normally overlook, leaving them to be handled by his brothers or his trusted right-hand men. The role of Grandmaster was a heavy burden, one he had been groomed to bear from a young age, but even he was not immune to stress. Bi-Han was a man who never showed any sign of weakness. He was closed off, unwilling to seek help or express his needs—a locked box, guarded and secure. It had taken you an immense amount of time and patience to get him to open up to you. Even now, with years of trust between you, old habits died hard. This particular bout of tension had been going on for nearly five days, and everyone around him felt the strain. His brothers were as clueless as anyone when Bi-Han got like this—coiled like a predator ready to strike, every muscle wound tight with suppressed emotion. You longed to ease his burden. It troubled you deeply when he became like this, struggling to purge the tension from his system on his own.

Bi-Han looked at you, his gaze contemplative as his other hand slowly caressed your upper thigh, where your nightgown had gathered. The cool touch of his fingers sent a shiver of goosebumps across your skin. After a moment of silence, he sighed deeply, kissed your palm, and gently lowered your hand.

“Okay, do what you want, wǒ lǎopó,”

You flashed him a bright smile, your teeth visible as you leaned in to kiss him again. “Thank you. You’ll like it, don’t worry.”

“I’m alright with whatever, as long as it comes from you,” Bi-Han said seriously, his gaze unwavering as he looked at you with eyes that always seemed feline in their slant. In the low candlelight, his deep, rich brown eyes appeared almost dark, his entire focus locked onto you. Hearing such words from someone who was so secretive, reserved, and often harsh about his feelings warmed your heart and made it flutter, making you feel cherished and deeply loved.

With a swift motion, you climbed onto his lap. Bi-Han’s large hands effortlessly gripped your bottom in a possessive hold, pulling you close against him. You placed your hands on his broad shoulders and began to gently lay him back, or rather, he allowed it—there was no way you could have managed it on your own. “I want this off,” you said, tugging at his upper garment. “Then I want you to lie here exactly like this and wait.” Bi-Han complied silently, removing his clothes in one fluid motion and tossing them somewhere in the room. He had questions in his eyes but chose to remain silent as you slid off his lap and began to move around the bedroom.

Your footsteps were light as you walked across the floor, the small fire in the fireplace nearly extinguished, with only the occasional crackle from the wood breaking the silence. A short distance away, at the bottom of your wardrobe, you retrieved a small box containing metal handcuffs and a blindfold. Your heart beat a little faster with a mix of curiosity and anxiety about your husband’s reaction. As you turned on your heels and walked back to the bed, Bi-Han’s gaze immediately fell on the items you held. His eyes narrowed slightly, a hint of intrigue crossing his expression.

“I didn’t know you had this side to you,” Bi-Han said, his voice neutral and his expression unreadable in the soft light of the candles and fireplace.

You nervously bit your lower lip, then, with an anxious voice, asked, “Will you let me?”

“To blindfold and handcuff me?” Bi-Han raised an eyebrow. “I told you I’m okay with whatever comes from you.”

You were acutely aware of the trust Bi-Han was placing in you. He loathed even the thought of weakness, training his clansmen with such sterness that they often deemed him cruel for pushing them to their limits. Yet, he was even harsher with himself. The idea of being vulnerable, meant opening himself to potential danger—a concept he despised. This was a side of him he never showed to anyone, let alone exposed himself to potential risk in such an intimate way. By giving you this power, allowing himself to be handcuffed, he was placing his complete trust in you. He knew you would never betray that trust. To you, this act was a precious gift, one you would handle with the utmost care.

“Thank you,” you whispered again as you settled back onto his lap and carefully handcuffed him first. “I know these won’t hold you if you truly wanted to break free, but please keep your hands away. I want this night to be all about you.”

“You’re my wife. It’s impossible for me to keep my hands away from you,” he said, his words laced with a rare, bold honesty. You blushed at his words. Despite his usual reserve, when he did express his thoughts, he did so with striking directness. “You’re simply too beautiful, and I’m often amazed by how someone as kind and strong as you is mine. I can’t help but be drawn to you.” His tone was deeper than usual, almost whispery, as he looked at you with half-lidded eyes. His gaze was gentle, almost caressing you, but it also held a fiery, possessive intensity.

“Thank you for the kind words.” You kissed him on the lips again, letting your lips linger for a moment as you savored his icy taste. Then, pulling back slightly, you looked into his eyes. “Please, just try it for me tonight.”

“Alright, fine,” Bi-Han breathed out, his voice a low rumble. You kissed his cheeks in thanks as you began to secure his wrists with the handcuffs to the bed rail. Once his hands were restrained, you gently tied the blindfold around his eyes. You could see his muscles tense under his skin, reacting instinctively as his sight was taken away. To calm him, you placed soft kisses on his forehead and then his temples.

“It’s alright, my heart,” you murmured soothingly. “There are just the two of us here. You’re safe with me. Just focus on me and nothing else.”

Bi-Han exhaled again, his chest rising and falling beneath you, a thin mist escaping his lips and meeting the warmth of your skin. He looked stunning, his massive, muscular arms raised above his head, each muscle tensed and exposed. His body, honed by years of rigorous training, gleamed in the golden light from the flames, freckles dotting his chest and shoulders, and fine hairs tracing a tantalizing path down his abdomen.

You shifted down slightly, sitting on his pelvic bone. You could feel the hardness straining against the fabric of his pants, pressing against your groin, hot and firm. The sensation made you bite the inside of your cheek, and Bi-Han’s breathing became more ragged, betraying his growing arousal despite the minimal stimulation.

A soft chuckle escaped you, filled with fondness for the man before you. Pressing down a bit harder, both of you groaned openly. You leaned in for a deep kiss this time, and Bi-Han responded immediately. The kiss was slow and sensual, unhurried, as if time belonged solely to the two of you. Your tongues explored each other’s mouths, savoring the lingering notes of mint and a hint of wine from earlier. You kissed and sucked with deliberate slowness, your body rolling in a teasing motion. Bi-Han hissed when you gently bit his lower lip, and you soothed the bite with a gentle suck—both of you knowing it was more of a playful gesture than a true apology.

“You’re so good for me, Bi-Han. So powerful, so strong, and now you’re laying bare for me to care for you.”

Bi-Han tried to respond, his lips rolling in a restrained attempt, but you grounded him with your weight, pressing him firmly into the mattress. You shushed him gently when he growled in frustration. This was your moment of control, and you intended to make that clear. Normally, Bi-Han was the one in command, whether it was over the clan or in bed. He was accustomed to wielding control, having been born into it. But tonight, for a few hours, you wanted him to relinquish that control, allowing yourself to take charge. Your aim was to ease his stress and help him relax after days of mounting tension. It felt like taming a beast, one that responded only to you. Any hint of vulnerability shown to others would be met with a ferocious reaction, but with you, Bi-Han yielded, trusting you completely.

Bi-Han seemed to sense your unspoken words and complied silently. You gave his lower lip one last gentle suck before your mouth began a trail of kisses—starting at his chin, moving along his sharp jawline, and descending to his neck. There, you sucked lightly, leaving a mark that would be concealed by his collar when he wore it. Bi-Han groaned deeply, his voice a throaty rumble that vibrated through his chest as you continued to mark him. Your kisses traced the rigid lines of his abs, his skin smooth and unblemished like marble, sculpted to perfection and cooling to the touch. Though he was a cryomancer and his body temperature was normally colder than a human’s, as you worked over him, his temperature slightly warmed, becoming almost pleasantly cool.

You marveled at the sight before you, kissing down his well-defined muscles, your fingers tracing the veins beneath his skin with a curious, mischievous touch. Bi-Han shivered slightly at your exploration. You smiled at his reaction and began to unbutton the bottom of his garment as you slid down. As you worked, his clothes fell away, discarded at the edge of the bed.

His length was as beautiful as the rest of his body, standing hard and proud for your attention. The tip, flushed a deep pink, contrasted strikingly against his pale skin. The sight of him stirred a deep, primal urge within you, making your mouth water with the desire to taste him. Though his length was average in size, it was thick and impressive, a fact that promised both challenge and pleasure. You knew that taking him fully in your mouth would make your jaw ache and leave you walking with a delicious ache between your legs—a feeling you welcomed.

You began to kiss and nuzzle between his thighs, savoring the reactions you elicited from him. He always smelled clean, with a fresh scent reminiscent of falling snow, mingled with hints of mint and something earthy and rich. But here, in such close proximity, his scent was even more pronounced. Bi-Han exhaled a curse, his breath catching in surprise, likely expecting you to take him into your mouth or touch him, but not yet receiving that attention. Your smile widened at his reaction, noting the flush spreading across his pale skin. His neck, chest, and even part of his shoulders turned a lovely shade of pink as his arousal grew—a sight that was uniquely yours to witness, as you were his first.

Bi-Han was a strict man, deeply committed to his clan and himself, often neglecting personal pleasures in favor of perfecting his skills and fulfilling his duties. His self-denial initially surprised you, but it was understandable given his dedication. He had stripped away many of life’s pleasures to focus solely on his role as grandmaster. When you first met him years ago, he seemed more like a machine than a man. Despite his captivating presence, it took a long time for him to ease his rigid demeanor and open himself to the world. You believed that balance was crucial to life, a concept you hoped he would embrace before his self-discipline consumed him entirely. With your gentle demeanor, he began to respect and understand your perspective, a feat that was challenging to achieve with someone as resolute as him.

And now, here he was, completely at your mercy, savoring the attention you lavished upon him. The sight of him so utterly dependent on your touch warmed your heart as you finally took the tip of his length into your mouth, straining your jaw. Bi-Han groaned deeply at the contact, his head falling back against the pillow, the handcuffs clinking softly as he tried not to writhe beneath you. He was highly sensitive to touch, with even the smallest sensation making his breath hitch. Although he initially tried to mask his responses with a furrowed brow and an impassive expression, you coaxed him out of his shell, showing him it was okay to feel and express pleasure. Seeing him enjoy himself brought you immense satisfaction.

It took time to get him to open up to you, as with many other aspects of your relationship, but the reward was worth it. Even with the blindfold, you could see the pleasure coursing through him—his mouth slightly agape, a few drops of sweat rolling down his temples. Your hand wrapped around his length, while your other hand massaged his muscular thigh, feeling the powerful muscles twitch and spasm under your touch.

His taste made you moan softly as you guided him deeper, expertly bringing him pleasure. The sensation of having such power over his pleasure was intoxicating, mirroring how he had always known how to bring you pleasure. You wanted to savor this moment, drawing it out as you watched the tension gradually melt away from him. He appeared more relaxed, a prominent vein pulsing in his neck, and a sheen of sweat glistening on his body. His dark hair became increasingly tousled as he writhed and twitched beneath your touch.

The sight was arousing, your core aching and hot with desire. You wanted nothing more than to climb onto his lap and take him deep, rubbing your throbbing ache against him to satisfy yourself. You could almost feel him inside you as you continued to suck and lick him, careful not to graze him with your teeth. Tonight was all about his pleasure, so you tried to focus solely on him, though you could feel your own arousal intensifying. Even without touching yourself, you knew you were wet.

You licked slowly from the base to the tip, knowing that the sensitive head would drive him wild. His length was a throbbing, heated presence on your tongue, heavy and slightly salty, filling your senses and making your head spin with desire. You traced a thick vein with your tongue, then moved to kiss and suck on one of his jewels, eliciting a string of curses from Bi-Han. His chest heaving as he clenched his fists.

‘’Fuck, you’re driving me insane,” he said sharply.

You shivered with pleasure at his response, savoring the taste of his precum on your tongue as he cursed again. His muscles rippled, his back arching slightly to get deeper into your mouth. You moaned around him, the taste of his precum only intensifying your own desire. Unable to resist, you slipped your hand down to your aching core, seeking relief from the mounting tension. The sight of him, so vulnerable and responsive, heightened your arousal. When your fingers brushed against your lips, you whimpered around his length, your fingers becoming soaked within seconds. The sound of your voice drove Bi-Han wild, his growls growing more intense and feral.

“Are you touching yourself?” Bi-Han’s voice was a ragged whisper, barely coherent.

“Yes,” you moaned, your voice shaky as you responded. Two of your fingers slipped inside you easily as you continued to bob your head, soft moans escaping with each movement. Your other hand wrapped around his length, your motions in sync with the rhythm of your mouth. Bi-Han’s hips bucked, and he pressed his heels into the mattress, trying to resist the urge to thrust into your mouth, still respecting your wish with what little resolve he had left.

“Fuck, I don’t want to come without being inside you,” Bi-Han growled, his words coming out in sharp, desperate bursts. “I want you up here.” His voice was raw and primal, tinged with snarls and growls you hadn’t heard before. “I need—had to be inside you.” When he whispered your name at the end of his sentence, the way he uttered it made your resolve crumble. The intensity in his voice drove you to act.

You discarded your soaked underwear hurriedly, your hands slightly trembling with anticipation as a thin strand of saliva connected with his length. Positioning yourself over him, you guided his length to your entrance and, with one swift motion, took him into your warmth. A blissful sigh escaped your lips, your eyes fluttering shut for a moment as you savored the sensation. His thickness stretched you fully, and you took a few seconds to adjust to the fullness, relishing how completely he filled you. It was a beautiful sensation to be this full, chasing away the emptiness and connecting with him like this—body and soul.

‘’By the elder gods, you’re so wet,” Bi-Han bit out the words, his voice strained as you began to move slowly, your hips tracing lazy circles to adjust to him. Each motion pressed his balls tight against your pelvis, filling you completely. You braced yourself with both hands on his chest, lifting yourself up and down. Bi-Han was a groaning mess beneath you, cursing and hissing throatily as his hips bucked to meet your movements. You took him deep, your clit rubbing against him as you ground yourself on him, then lifted slightly before sinking back down.

“You make me feel so good,” you whispered, lying against him, your teeth grazing his pulse before catching his earlobe. “Do you feel good too?”

‘’Heavenly.’’ Bi-Han groaned. As you found your rhythm, you picked up speed, the pleasure intensifying with every stroke. Even without much movement, his length pressed all the right spots inside you, making you mewl and whimper. Your eyes rolled back in pleasure, savoring the fullness and the way every inch of him stimulated your sensitive spots.

Suddenly, Bi-Han’s muscles tensed. With a controlled snap, he froze and shattered the handcuffs. He tore off the blindfold with a growl, his gaze now fierce and predatory. His eyes were dark, almost black with desire, intense and focused on you with raw hunger, making your heart flutter. His hands grasped your bottom, fingers digging into your soft flesh as he pulled you onto his lap. He began to thrust into you, his jaw clenched and a vein pulsing in his temple as he took in every moan and whimper from you. You clutched onto him, your nails raking down his back as he drove deeper into you, your breath coming in ragged gasps as sparks danced behind your eyes.

“You broke your promise,” you managed to say between moans, struggling to catch your breath. Bi-Han bit down on your neck, leaving a clear mark that anyone could see. It was a possessive gesture, and despite the pain, it only fueled the heat pooling in your belly. He licked the mark before responding, his breath chilly against your skin.

“I tried to hold back as long as I could,” Bi-Han snarled, his voice a harsh whisper against your ear. He lowered you slowly, deepening his thrusts as he positioned your legs on his shoulders, almost bending you in half. The sensation made you arch your back, a loud moan escaping your lips as he drove even deeper, your legs trembling with pleasure. “But it’s you we’re talking about. I can’t resist myself with you. You’re a sight to behold.” He pressed a tender kiss to the shell of your ear before his mouth sought out your neck again. “And mine.” His teeth grazed your skin, marking his claim on you once more.

The heat coiling in your belly spread through your entire body, making your head spin with pleasure. Bi-Han’s weight pressed you down, pinning you firmly as he kissed you deeply, moaning when he tasted himself on your tongue. His movements matched the fervor of his thrusts. You held onto him, doing your best to meet his thrusts with your own. His breath fanned over your neck and jaw as he pressed kisses, occasionally grazing his teeth slightly.

Bi-Han growled, his grip growing fiercer as his thrusts became more erratic and bruising, the sound of slapping skin echoing in the room. You were also reaching your peak, pleasure raging in your veins and with one, two and the third thrust you came, white hot pleasure make you almost blind and you clutched to Bi-Han hard, your nails digging into his skin as you afraid of being fly away as how much orgasm shooked you. Bi-Han followed you almost immediately, spilling inside you with a hot, molten rush that filled you completely. He stayed deeply embedded, his breath a cold contrast to the warmth of the moment, as he bit down on your shoulder, grounding himself as he came down from the height of his pleasure.

You both remained intertwined for a while, taking slow, deep breaths as you came down from the peak. You caressed Bi-Han’s hair, which felt as soft as silk against your fingertips. His dark locks were tousled, and his eyes, now softened, held a depth of emotion that spoke more than words ever could. The contrast between his cool, pale skin and the warm, golden light of the candles highlighted the beauty of his form, the sharp angles of his face now relaxed and content. You basked in the afterglow as he lavished you with tender kisses, dotting your skin with affectionate touches.

“How are you feeling?” you asked, your voice slightly husky and your palate dry from all the moaning.

‘‘Better,’’ Bi-Han replied honestly, lifting his head to press a kiss to your forehead. His eyes met yours, revealing a love so profound and fierce that it seemed to unfold before you like an open book. “I love you,’’ he whispered, his gaze steady and sincere.

‘‘I love you too, husband,’’ you responded, adding a playful lilt to the last word, which elicited a gentle smile from him.

“Wife,” he murmured in return, pressing a kiss to the corner of your mouth. “We’re going to do this again. This time, you’ll lie down while I take care of you.”

[yuriosakawa]

Wraith

Just because Danny’s signature weapons are his twin ghost-forged pistols doesn’t mean he’s limited to them.

No. Danny Fenton may have once been a teenage superhero, but that boy died alongside the illusion of safety and simplicity. What remains now is a man forged in the crucible of obsession, loss, and spectral warfare.

And he’s learned to adapt.

Over the years, Danny has made it a point to train with a wide array of firearms—not out of necessity, but out of strategy. Ghosts evolve. They get smarter, stronger, more unpredictable. Some even adapt to his pistols. So he made sure he could pick up anything and turn it into an extension of his will.

Revolvers give him that old-school kickback, something grounded and raw, like a cowboy ghost-hunter roaming the liminal frontier. He’s used them when he wanted to make a statement—one shot, one kill, a single thunderous echo in the night that reminded the ghost world he was still out there.

AK-47s are for crowd control. For when things spiral into chaos and he needs something durable, relentless, and mean. It’s not elegant, but it doesn’t have to be. Sometimes, the job’s about survival.

Shotguns? That’s for up-close encounters. The kind of missions where you’re too deep in hostile territory, and every corner might hold something clawed and screaming. The ghost-infused rounds tear through ectoplasm like paper. It’s messy. But then again, so is grief.

And then there’s the AR-15.

His favorite.

Sleek, powerful, and meticulously modified with custom ecto-tech that only Danny himself knows how to maintain. The barrel is etched with protective runes. The magazine feeds with ghost-charged ammo—lethal to both spirit and flesh if need be. The sights are enhanced to detect shifts in spiritual energy. It purrs in his hands like a loyal beast. 

Reliable. Cold. Unforgiving.

He’s named it “Wraith.”

Most ghosts run when they see it. Others just die. Permanently.

People might call it overkill—But Danny doesn’t see it that way. He calls it being prepared. Because he learned the hard way that his powers aren’t infallible. That sometimes, you need more than just willpower and a ghost ray. 

Sometimes, you need firepower that can pierce through dimensions, through lies, through fear.

Wraith has saved him too many times to count.

And in those quiet, empty moments between missions—when he’s cleaning the weapon in silence, the metal glinting under dim motel light—he swears it hums with the same energy he once shared with Phantom. Familiar. Lonely. Tired.

But still fighting.

Just like him.

[autumnbrambleagain]

Favourite caves of qud mods? I wanna dive in and fully mod my game

I don't have the energy to turn these into hyperlinks so you have to do the work of typing these names into the workshop and finding them, I apologize that I am not apologizing.

Hearthpyre and the Clever Girl Fork are obvious necessities. Starapple Valley and Regrowing Plants and Qud Fishing is on that list too for being able to make your own imprint on the world. With how the uh, story's themes go, I am even more feeling validated in my decision to spend most of the game building bases and farming and stuff.

Dynamic Background Color because I don't even remember what the game looks like without it anymore. I think I use the More Dots mod too.

Allography lets you add descriptions to things, including yourself, which is great.

1 Percent Loot Drops adds a ton of neat, very balanced items.

Cleaning Robots lets you have robots that clean fluids and I honestly just wish one in on EVERY settlement so they don't become giant messes after one visit. Indispensable mod.

Choose Your Fighter is good if you aren't a lunatic like me who just makes your own phenotypes and sprites and pets and dialogue for every character you play.

Jademouth is what I would argue to be the best, most diegetically natural town mod in the game. It adds very little to the world outside of itself, and adds a very much needed mid-game town with a fun quest and good characters. None of the writing feels out of place, it doesn't add encounters all over the map, it keeps to its own lane and does an great job of it.

Cryptogeology is an incredibly good quest which helps guide you to each town in the game naturally, has a ton of flavor, and a really decent reward. It feels like a natural part of the game.

Tealeaves adds a much-needed merchant to the Six Day Stilt who is also very well written and lets you get a chance at Newly Sentient Beings rep.

Issachari Evolved adds much needed variety to that faction.

Nightmare Treats gives you a lot more ways to reroll mutations, AND ways to gain mental stats. Eat them. It's safe. Nothing bad will happen.

Wired Child is a fun mid-late stage quest in Ezra that gets you a VERY nice weapon if you can manage it.

Return of the Arcwyrk. You need more enemies in your life. zzzap.

Knife Fights at Eddy's is mandatory, I'm sorry I don't make the rules.

A Specter is Haunting Qud adds some VERY nasty enemies and you deserve to be killed by them. Things should be scarier. Get scared. Basically Templar Hologram Wraith Knights but they're Eater ghosts. Fucked up! I won't tell you how to beat them figure it out yourself.

Village Finder because I hate the "go to each parasang and press + and then -" when looking for villages. Am I that dumb my character can't notice villages when walking through them.

Folk Scrap and Mundanity. Mandatory. Very flavorful.

Baboons of Babel adds much needed variety to baboon faction.

Judicators of Qud add a fun neat challenging robot who is kind of like if a leering stalker and a feral lah had a baby that wasn't the sum of its parts but something all its own.

Disjecta Membra's lore feels a little out of sync with 1.0, and it makes the game a giant mess. So basically, enemies can be infected, and when they die things get Interesting. It can cause huge problems and it's a fucking mess. It can make Call to Arms an unworkable disaster and Templar historical sites become unmanageable. I love it. I cannot play without it. It makes the game so much more challenging and stressful, especially in the early/midgame. The writing is fucking incredible even if its flavor doesn't line up exactly right anymore. Do not do this on your first playthrough but after your first playthrough install this and suffer with me forever. This might be my favorite new-content mod tbh.

Your Own Personal Relics is a neat adjustment to the Item Naming system which honestly I just wish-name things when I mod them to max anyway but it's neat.

Feline's Furnishings are good tiles.

Fluid Storage is great and the Klein Bottles are fantastic and putting 500 drams in their weightless moebius will never go wrong for you ever.

I think that should do you with the unimax's share of the mods I use!

Sidenote, Eule does a lot of mods that are Very Cool but also last time I used them they had a problem of all of them would spawn things in the jungle, so with all of them active every jungle screen would have like, their populations taken over by all the Argent Somethingorother and the Unseen Adversaries and the Arboreta Guys. None of them work with 1.0 anyway I don't think, and the mods ARE very high quality! But their spawn rates were extremely overpowering to the point where the jungle was basically just entirely made of those 3 factions and it was a Bit Much.

I'm also about to try out the Labyrinthine Trail and Xeototin Mechanical Somethingorother for the first time but I haven't done them yet so i have no comment.

Also Facial Equipment Diversity is neat too.

[blushingdread]

My biggest folly in this project is realizing how few Eeveelutions there are.

I wish there was a ghost type Eevee so bad. Pretend that's a ghost type Eeveelution. Don't. Look at me. Shuppet bc they're attacted to feelings to jealousy, vindictivness, and evny, they'd flock to her. Also, they evolve into the abandoned doll pokemon, and that's what shifty calls Nightmare it's perfect.

Misdreavus are pokemon that love terrifying people and spend all their time looking for people to scare, which is also Nightmare.

Nightmare picks her pokemon based on how much they are her fr.

As for Clarity, she added a Gengar, them lurking in shadows and stealing your life force by being near you reminds me of her shutting down your organs, not to mention in Sun dex it says "theres no escaping, give up".

A very big Gourgeist because they'll attack basically anyone and drag them into the afterlife.

Finally, a Spiritomb, a pokemon that's made up a bunch of Pokémon that are sometimes implied to be bound to an odd keystone as punishment. It reminds me of the "Stay with your Nighmare." And how on every route you didn't see before molment of Clarity you try and trap or kill her over and over and over again until there's no other option than to let her out.

Finally, Wraith. She gains a Cofagrigus. Cofagrigus forcefully eating people and turning them into mummies feels like the same vibes but opposite process of the Wraith forcefully taking your body.

[justsomeimbicel]

I'm still really sad the HTTYD creators chose not to explore the concept of different types of Furies.

Like I get it, Toothless was meant to be the only one left but it could've been so cool to see how different environments effected their evolution! People have already theorized that the Light Fury species is so different because they're aquatic dragons unlike Night Furies (which is a better idea than just a "feminine Night Fury" anyway) and again shows how important environment is to evolution.

I mean, a part of the fandom has already created headcanons of this based on some Night Fury reskins in School of Dragons. The Sand Wraith and the Woolly Howl are so interesting to me because they look like Night Furies that evolved in drastically different environments.

It might not be canon, but the Fury Family will always be real in my heart <3

[itsa-me-lily]

Listen I don't have a COD problem, YOU have a COD problem...yeah that's how it works right?

Anyway I've gone down a monster!141 a rabbit hole and a Poly!141 rabbit hole. I'll admit I don't remember who came up with this characterization first, but whoever you are, you should have your brain kissed.

So for those who don't know what I'm talking about this is the idea of who's what

Price; Dragon

Gaz; Harpy

Soap; Werewolf

Ghost; Wraith

(and then in my own personal rabbit hole of thought there's reader who is human but was raised by the Fair Folk)

But I digress, back to my THOUGHT

Warning there are talks of kids and babies

So something something something the gang breaks up a trafficking ring and somehow they end up with a shape shifter. Technically in the scheme of a human life the shape shifter their old AF, but in terms of a shape shifter's life they're just a baby really, wouldn't even equate to being 10.

So they have this baby shape shifter (affectionately named Peep), who typically stays in this whispy shadowy form, but listen little beings will always get into mischief and they will always try the puppy dog eyes to get out of trouble.

Only Peep's puppy dog eyes equates to them turning into more 'accurate' offspring of the guys (because let's be honest Peep is their kid already).

So with Gaz, Peep is this chubby baby with his warm skin tone and feathers soft and downy. They always smile around their little taloned hand with a big gummy smile

With Soap, Peep evolves to a toddler, wild curly hair that flies behind them as they run around giggling, uncaring that technically they wouldn't have a wolf's hind quarters but it helps them zoom around Soap.

For Price, Peep kicks it up a notch, all limbs and knobby knees, tiny matching horns that poke through their hair with a pair of wings fluttering gently behind them as they look up dolefully through their lashes.

But Ghost...Ghost doesn't get a mini me. Soap likes to joke it's because no kid should have to carry around Ghost's ugly mug. Ghost though, wonders if Peep realizes that he wouldn't be able to handle seeing a kid that's as pale as he is with the same sad dark eyes. No what Ghost get's is a german shepard with bits of smoke dancing off it's fur.

And of course Peep has names for all the guys.

Gaz is Daddy, while Soap is Da, Price is Papa and Ghost is Baba.

Gaz and Soap snicker, even Price is puffing up with fatherly pride. Ghost is Baba and he wouldn't have it differently.

Then Plot happens and maybe Peep gets kidnapped and of course the guys move heaven and earth to get their kid back. And once they break through and Peep sees them? They become this amalgamation of all of them; wings, horns, fur, and whips and throws themselves into Ghost's arms crying for their Baba.

And this time? This time Ghost treasures the sight of sad dark eyes of a child whos a little bit of everyone he loves in this lifetime.

[plaguerenamon]

My absolute favorite creature from a dead game.

The Wraith

[belphegorsheart]

seventeen candles 𐚁᭢༘۠ tate langdon

details one shot, gender neutral reader

note happy birthday tate langdon … this is a few days late but whatever

…

All the ghosts are stuck. Forced to remain in a perfect stasis of the bodies they had died in. Forced to reside in the home where they had expired. Never to change, grow, and evolve— but forced to watch helplessly as the world past the barbed iron gates went on without them.

The afterlife isn’t an extension of your life. It’s a cage, where you are forced to relive your own death, for all time. You exist only as an afterimage of all you once were. Memories blur and turn waxy as years pass you by in the same rooms… clusters of holes gathering in your mind as you try to place the names of your old friends and colleagues. You struggle to recall which day it is first… then the month, and later on, the year… soon, you live in blissful ignorance of the decade the rest of the world has moved into.

But watching all your memories slips through your fingers pales in comparison to the abject horror of knowing who has domain over you. He who has chosen to roost here: the beast with seven heads and ten horns, the fiend. His presence is felt in every crevice of the home, and the fog of confusion brought on by your now addled mind is tainted, too, by the shadow of His hatred for you.

The living may escape, but the specters are not so lucky. For death over a hell mouth is resignation to His sovereignty over your everlasting soul. A merciless demon, Satan himself, who tugs at the strings of his marionettes for his own lecherous amusement, reanimating what little is left of your soul to do his bidding.

And when you have died in that house, you will never quite know where you end and the Devil begins.

…

Tate Langdon.

Tate Langdon is not all so different from a myriad other sullen teenage boys in Los Angeles, California. In fact, despite being mostly ostracized in high school, it’s not as if he’s an alien.

Tate Langdon likes to read. Tate enjoys poetry: Byron, Keats. Tate likes birds. Tate was in track. In school, his disposition was quiet, perhaps, but not disruptive or malicious.

Subtract all his disfigured siblings, his monstrous mother, and his inclination to mutilating himself when he felt the world start to close in on him, Tate Langdon could’ve gone on to live and die just like anyone else would have.

Tate doesn’t. He storms into school in a trench-coat and opens fire on the world. Only fifteen truly die that day. And perhaps they would say it was the drugs, maybe they would look to blame his mother. Even if they had asked him “why” before they had pumped him full of rifle shells, there would be no adequate answer.

The only comfort that could be given to all whose lives were cut short? While they got to pass on to another plane, he remained tethered to the darkness. Days, months, years blending together into a personal eternal hell.

That is why you are a fluke. A confusing mishap in an otherwise orderly universe. Tate doesn’t believe in god anymore. This isn’t divine interference, not the mercy of a benevolent deity. It was an accident. The best accident that had ever happened to him.

Somehow, some way, you found him, and you rescued him. From the monotony of being trapped day in and day out in that house, with only wraiths of the past to keep him company. Every cell in your body hums with life and feeling and it comforts him. The freedom to come and go as you please, to grow and live. While he exists only as the remnants of his animate self, a shadow of all he was in life.

Tate Langdon does not deserve you. He knows that. And selfishly, he will do whatever he has to, to keep you here regardless.

Sleep isn’t normal for ghosts. It is dreamless and provides no real relief. But Tate does anyway, because at least for a stretch of time he isn’t conscious.

When he finally starts to wake up, it’s already half past noon. The curtains are drawn, but sunlight still filters in through the gauzy fabric. The low hum of the air conditioner fills the room. Tate clambers off the rumpled sheets and pads out of his old room— your new room. He immediately freezes once he registers that there is something new in the air, for once. A smell wafts up from downstairs… and the sound of… sizzling? Tate’s eyes widen.

Tate treads lightly down the stairs, and the sound of sizzling grows in volume the closer he gets to the kitchen. He peers through the entryway curiously, and his eyebrows raise. So that’s what it was.

Burnt bacon strips slip off the pan into large ceramic plates, the grease dripping in rivulets off the spatula. A very dry looking omelet lies beside the bacon strips, and a clump of rosemary and parsley that he assumes was for decoration, or plating, was left on top of the egg.

The oven is lit and seemingly in use, though he has no idea what for. A line of smoke escapes one of the pots on the stove, and a thin layer of flour seems to cover every surface in the room.

In the center of all the mayhem? You. Running every which way and picking ingredients out of cabinets, your hands dirty with flour and… cocoa powder? Of course all this havoc is your doing…

Your frenzied pacing is put to a stop when you spy Tate lurking just outside the doorway— and your face burns with humiliation.

“No!” You yell, waving your hands around. “You have to— You were supposed to wake up after I was done!”

Tate’s brows cinch with confusion when you plant your hands against his chest to push him away from the kitchen. His lips tug into a smug grin as he easily bats your hands away and moves into the kitchen.

“What, are you embarrassed about your cooking abilities or something? I already knew about that.” Tate tries his best not to let out a snort when he spots all the broken egg shells and the silly apron you’re wearing.

“Is there some sort of special occasion that demands you do this? Or are you just trying to burn the house down…” Tate prods at the char black bacon strips.

You slap his hand, shaking your head. “Do you not know what day it is?”

Tate frowns. He only just now realizes that he doesn’t even have a clue what month it is.

“… I wanna say, February?” Tate shrugs. Your frown deepens.

“No. It’s March. March 9th. Ring any bells?” You jam your finger against the center of his forehead.

Shamefully, it takes Tate some time to place what exactly is significant about March 9th. He’s spent so many years in addled confusion; he doesn’t pay attention to these dates anymore. And then he realizes.

“… How did you know?” He mutters, taking a seat on one of the kitchen stools.

“Maybe I’m clairvoyant…” You wiggle your fingers for dramatic effect. Tate stares back at you and snorts. “Or, I found old stuff at your mom’s house.”

Tate’s expression darkens at the mention of his mother. Constance used to bake him a cake for each of his birthdays— a luxury not afforded to his siblings. He often made a big show of turning away the food out of spite, as he knew how much it would anger her.

He can’t help but wonder why you cared to do this for him.

“So… this is for me?” Tate motions to the food on the counter. The prior edge in his tone has melted away, and his expression turns more gentle.

“Well, not since you were so mean about it,” You retort. When you attempt to pull the plates out of his reach, he places his hand over yours.

“I’m sorry.” Tate says quietly. “Thank you.”

Your breath catches in your throat at the contact of his hand. It doesn’t last as you pull away, clearing your throat loudly.

“And the cake is a surprise, so...” You scratch at the back of your neck, averting your gaze from him.

Tate glances at the bits of cocoa powder caked on your nose. This embarrasses you further.

“Need any help?” Tate sees the retort bubbling up on your lips and stops it in its tracks. “Sorry, ‘want’ any help?”

You hum. “Well, since you offered so nicely…”

…

When the cake is out of the oven, it doesn’t look bad at all. You’ve spread fudge over the top, and are now clumsily moving around a squeeze bag to scrawl a message over the top. Tate stands behind you, his head resting on your shoulder as he stares down at your handiwork, his arms braced around your waist.

“Do you want to play Scrabble later?” Tate’s voice comes out muffled against the crook of your neck. You hum in response.

“It’s your birthday, so we can do whatever you’d like.” You reply, struggling to keep your hands steady.

“Can I do one?” He asks. You nod absently.

Tate takes the squeeze bag from your hand and draws a little snake on the cake, right beneath your bold letters.

‘Happy Seventeenth, Tate.’

He smiles wryly; his eyes crinkling. “I’m touched. But you know I don’t age, right? I’m always gonna be seventeen.” You don’t miss the glum note in his voice at those last few words.

“Well then, congratulations on having the thirty first of all your seventeenth birthdays. That only happens once, you know.” Tate cracks a smile at your attempt at humor. You raise your lighter to each of the candles planted on top of the cake. “Make a wish.”

There is only one thing Tate Langdon wants anymore. He leans down to and blows out the candles.

I wish you would stay here with me.

Tate looks at you and notices your staring. He returns the smile you give him.

“Is there anything else you want for your birthday?” You remove the candles, taking a knife off the countertop as you prepare to cut the first slice off for him.

“Yes,” Tate says gently, drawing his hand up to sweep the hair out of your face to kiss you. After a few moments, he slowly pulls away, still retaining proximity to you. “Spend the day with me.”

Your skin is tingling and you feel dazed as you nod back at him, disoriented after the suddenness of the kiss.

Tate smiles at you, his eyes crinkled up mischievously. “And you can show me how to use the laptop.” He quips.

“Remember, YouTube is spelled Y-O-U….” You begin to lecture.

Tate follows as you lead him up the stairs to your computer. You’re here. And you aren’t going anywhere.

For one brief moment in the infinite darkness that is Tate Langdon’s ‘afterlife’, everything is perfect.