#thank you for the ask..... these guys haunt me....

[ggidolsmuts]

Single's Inferno - ARTMS Choerry

"Hey man, you ready to get the pants scared off you?"

"Sure sure, where are the others?"

"There they are!" You join your group of friends—it was right before Halloween, and they wanted to get the full experience and go through a haunted house attraction. Begrudgingly you agreed—you're not the fondest of jump scares.

"Yah, where's your date?" One of them asks.

"Date?"

"Yeah, it's a good opportunity to get to know someone, having a joint experience."

"How would I get to know someone in the dark when we're going to be screaming?"

"Look at Mr. Scaredy Cat here, I see why you didn't want to bring someone now," your buddy teases.

"Yeah fuck you, be glad I showed up. Let's just go in." Your group gathers at the entrance of the house, and a usher calls out.

"Okay guys how we doing tonight? For the best experience for everyone, you should be paired up with a friend, so pair off as needed and we'll let you in two-by-two, okay?" To your horror, your friends have basically paired off already—they came with their girlfriends, or brought their own dates. You would be going into the haunted house alone!

You would be going into the haunted house alone... Fuck, rather than being scared you're more sad than anything.

"Hey guys—" Before you know it your friends are already in line, every pair already locking arms. Some friends, hmph. You steel yourself and join the line, trudging along solo. You're on your phone when you hear a bright voice next to you.

"Hi! Are you going in alone?"

"Yes." From her tone you assumed it was an overly enthusiastic employee, but no.

"Can I pair up with you then?" You turn to look at your speaker—she's dressed simply in a fluffy sweater and jeans, but her smile is absolutely radiant, her eyes round and hopeful.

"Y-You want to go in with me?" You wouldn't say no of course, but she's way out of your league, and you had to double check.

"Mmhmm, is that okay?" You nod and she slides in right next to you—more than that, she slips her arm between yours. "Thanks, I'm Choerry!"

"Nice to meet you Choerry, you came to this alone?"

"No, but my unnies are all with their boyfriends, so they kinda just left me alone." She pouts cutely.

"Really? Same here, my friends ditched me for their dates too." You shake your head and Choerry laughs.

"That's great, let's ditch them then!"

"Sure!" Her enthusiasm is infectious. But as you get closer to the entrance, Choerry's hugging you tighter and tighter.

"To be honest, I don't like scary things, I might be loud, sorry."

"Why come then? You don't have to do this."

"No the unnies will make fun of me!"

"If you say so. To be honest, I don't like scary things either, hate jump scares."

"I can tell."

"What? How?" You're a little indignant, how did Choerry already chalk you down as a scaredy cat?

"You've been holding on to me since we got closer." You blink and look down—you've had a hand on Choerry's arm this whole time, and now you're not sure if she's been hugging you tighter, or if you've been pulling her closer to you.

"Oh, damn, sorry!" You hastily let go, but she stays close. If anything, she's even closer now.

"It's okay, good to know we're both scared."

"Enjoy!" You shake your head at the happy staff as the two of you walk through a curtain of dangling chains, loudly drowning out the shouts and screams ahead. It's dark and there's manmade fog everywhere, but you see an eerie green exit light across the room.

"I think we go this way."

"Oh, okay." The two of you walk forward into the fog side-by-side.

"Ahh!" The door behind you slams shut with a loud bang and Choerry is shouting already. "Sorry, sorry!"

"It's fine, I'm here," you reassure, hoping you sound braver than you are. You walk forward with her, dodging the hanging pig corpses—you were in a slaughterhouse.

"RAAAHH!" A huge man makes his presence known, wearing a bloody apron and carrying a cleaver. His boots squelch wetly, as if walking in pools of blood. "GET OVER HERE!" Choerry screams, clinging on to you tighter and burying your head against you.

"Oh shit!" You shout, quickly dragging her through, away from the menacing butcher. "Fucking hell!" You curse loudly. You blink as your eyes adjust to the new room, and your crinkle your nose at the new smell—chlorine and chemical cleaner. A brief spark runs through you as you assess the situation—Choerry pressed tightly against your arm, and the only way to describe that sensation is soft. But you shake that thought from your head as you gently rock her shoulder.

"Hey, he's gone, we're in the next room."

"Huh? Really? Thanks for getting me through."

"We don't have to do this if you're too scared, I can exit with you?"

"N-No! I'm not scared! Well, I won't be, if you'll guide me through the rest!" A spark runs through Choerry as she grabs your arm—firm, comforting, reliable, hot. But she's jarred out of it as someone starts shouting.

"Help me, help me!" In the far corner someone is chained to a chair, various needles seeming to stick out of them, connected to pipes. You're in a mad scientist's lab! A voice booms in the room.

"Ah, new test subjects, are you? Excellent, excellent. Nurses, get them!" On each side you see nurses step out from the shadows, pushing a gurney towards you two, complete with straps hanging off the sides.

"We should keep moving!" Choerry pulls on your arm, and the two of you hurriedly dash through a maze of dividers to walk around and curtains to pull open. The two of you never knew what horrors awaited behind each—you cursed at a single "person", their hands and feet on all the wrong limbs; Choerry screamed at an oozing "corpse". Somehow you manage to drag each other through the demented maze and into the next room.

The room is dim and jaundiced yellow, and you see white sacs hanging from the ceiling—cocoons?

"Oh no no no no no..." Choerry's hiding behind you, and she's shaking. "I can't, I can't do spiders!" You look again and indeed see a large spider perched on its web in the corner, numerous eyes glittering back at you menacingly.

"Stay behind me, I can stay in front." You intended to leave an arm behind for Choerry to grab, but instead she wraps her arms around you, hugging you from behind.

"Please, thank you!" She's warm on your back, and your hand finds its way over hers, and she gratefully grabs it. With her hugging you tightly you waddle your way through the cocoon obstacle course. The large spider hisses and screams at you.

"Oh fuck!" "Ahh!" Choerry screams and you shout when a large spider leg bursts out from a nearby cocoon, swinging away wildly, and the two of you hurry forward. You reach the exit with her, and as you take a deep breath to calm yourself your own nerves are shattered as Choerry screams again!

"Help, help!" Choerry slumps against you, and you whirl around to find her covered in what looks like web, but you take a closer look and realize what it was.

"It's not real, it's just silly string!" you reassure her, and you have to hold her still as you get rid of the string all over her hair.

"Really? I thought the spider was going to trap me or something..."

"I won't let that happen, okay? Hold still." Choerry's heart thumps as you pick out the last pieces of silly string—maybe it's beating quickly from the scare, but she felt attracted to you, taken care of, protected. She felt you trembling against her when she was hugging you, but yet you powered on even if you were scared. The other part of her also felt your midriff as she hugged you—not ripped or shredded, but solid and strong, reliable. A new spark runs down her spine as you touch her hair, trying to remove an annoying piece of string.

"There, all gone." You brush the last piece of string from her hair, and you find yourself stunned momentarily when looking right at Choerry. She is exceptionally pretty, cheeks lightly flushed from the frightening experience. Your fingertips tingle as you brush her hair aside, feeling the light sweat on her hair. Your hand moves down, wanting to cup her face, but you realize what you're doing and clear your throat to shake that thought.

"W-We should move on," Choerry says, voice a little hoarse, husky even.

"Right."

"Wait!" As you make to move forward Choerry grabs your t-shirt. "Sorry, my legs are weak." She was scared silly from the "attack", and you realize what you had to do.

"I'll carry you, we're almost at the end I think."

"Are you sure?"

"You can't be that heavy," you try to joke as you kneel down for her to get on your back. She gets on you gingerly, and her hair tickles your neck as you get on.

"Thank you," Choerry whispers in your ear, and you pray she doesn't notice your tremble as you grab her legs and get up. Meanwhile Choerry's hoping you don't notice her rapidly beating heart—you've literally swept her off her feet, and she's thinking back to her conversation with her unnies.

-----

"Haseul unnie, how did you meet your boyfriend?"

"Oppa? It was during COVID, I had to quarantine, we were stuck together, and then things just happened?"

"What just happened? Like did he ask you out?"

"Pabo, we couldn't go out, we were in quarantine!" Haseul blushes and continues. "We just kinda, ended up doing everything during that time together, and we found things compatible."

"Compatible? You mean— Wait, by everything you mean—" Choerry blushes, she can't believe her unnie would do something like that!

"Yeah, we did everything together! I just let things happen... Naturally." Haseul shouts initially, but plunges on, face red in embarrassment.

"But that's so random! It could have been anyone else!"

"We just had chemistry, you know, so I initiated. Like there's no reason, but it felt right, felt good to be together."

"And he didn't even ask you out, you just asked him?"

"What's wrong with that!" Jinsol interjects herself into the conversation. "I also asked oppa first too."

"Really?" Choerry's shocked by her other unnie.

"Yeah, he saw me as his best friend's little sister, but I liked him, so I went up to him and kissed him! I'd say the results are quite good," she adds with a dopey smile on her face.

"You're texting him right now aren't you?" Haseul jokes.

"Mmhmm!" The two of them bicker, leaving Choerry to drift off on his warm back.

-----

"Oh fuck!" Choerry's startled out of her thoughts as she's spun around. "I can't, fuck ghosts, I don't do ghosts." She looks at the way they have to go and sees a long corridor, complete with a few Sadakos, long hair covering their face, dressed in white gowns and hands outstretched—some sort of haunted high school concept.

"Huh? They're zombies!" she tries to make you think of them differently, but it doesn't help.

"Zombies, ghosts, same difference, I don't like them!" you mutter in a rush. Choerry hurriedly comforts you, gently brushing your face.

"Hey, it's okay. Do you trust me?"

"Trust you?"

"Yes, just look down at your feet, okay?" Choerry has a hand over your eyes. "Whatever you do, don't look up, just make sure you don't trip, and listen to me." You take a deep breath and whirl around.

"I'm ready."

"Okay, just walk forward until I tell you to stop." Choerry encourages you as you go. 

"Yes, one step at a time, you're doing good."

"Take one step to the left, do not look up."

"Now like 3 steps to the right. Omo hello!" Choerry is surprised by one of them, but greets them happily.

"Choerry!"

"Sorry, sorry, we can just walk forward." You fill the images in your head from the sounds—the screech of nails on blackboard, the haunting laughs of children, the unyielding ticks of a loud clock. But Choerry's in your ear, noticing your fear and whispering comforting directions.

"We're almost there, just a few more steps." You only notice you're done when you feel Choerry tap your shoulder and tilt your chin towards her.

"We're done, we finished!" You're so thankful you could kiss her, and she's so pretty up close. Choerry notices the closeness too—you're pretty cute when scared and flustered, and kinda cute regardless. She's already moving closer when she catches hold of herself and blinks rapidly. "You can umm, put me down now."

"Huh? Oh, yeah." You let Choerry down, and when you think you can finally relax a booming voice is heard from behind you.

"YOU THINK YOU CAN GET AWAY? YOU BETTER NOT COME BACK, YOU BETTER RUN, RUN AND NEVER COME BACK!" It seems to grow in volume, as if getting closer and getting angrier, and you grab Choerry by the arm and run further away, clearing the fence surrounding the attraction. A generic voice comes through a much smaller speaker.

"We hope you enjoyed your time here, thank you and we hope to see you again!" The absurd contrast of the two messages makes you break out into laughter, and you hear Choerry's piercing laughter right next to you—you had pulled her along to the exit, and when you stopped you caught her momentum, wrapping her up in a hug. The two of you laugh and smile, happy to be done with the ordeal.

"Thanks for getting me through it."

"Thank you for carrying me through it," Choerry answers back, holding your gaze. The arms you have around her stay there, and she doesn't make any attempt to break out either. You feel your own heard pounding, or is that Choerry's? You meet her sparkling eyes, drawn inexorably to them, wanting to see them closer up. 

But the next pair comes barging through, shouting and screaming just like you two were earlier, and the moment is broken.

"Oh! Sorry!" You quickly get out of the way, only to find that Choerry has stepped in the opposite direction.

"So umm, thanks!" You call out lamely.

"Yeah, thanks!" she calls back. Out of habit she checks her phone, and a few messages pop up.

*Choerry are you out yet?*

*It shouldn't take that long, did she just chicken out and leave?*

*Do they not let her in if she's alone? Is she still back at the entrance?*

She turns to look at you still standing there, on your phone too, and quickly fires a white lie to her unnies.

*Yeah, they didn't let me in, so I just went back, don't worry about me I'm already back home!*

With that done she puts her phone away. As she goes to tap your shoulder you're also turning around, slipping your own phone in your pocket.

"Oh, hey, you're still here?"

"Yeah, my unnies, they ditched me."

"Yeah, my friends too, ditched me as well." From the knowing smile you give each other you both know it didn't matter if any of that was true or not. But the two of you hang around, unsure how to breach the real topic at hand, and more couples come running out until Choerry decides to take the initiative.

"Hey, do you mind coming home with me? I'm still a little scared, don't want to take a cab alone."

"O-Oh, sure, of course."

Choerry's hand felt hot as you helped her into the cab.

"Safely home," you add pointlessly as Choerry unlocks the door.

"Yes, thank you. Please, come in." Daringly she pulls you through the door, and as she holds you close her initiative is rewarded—you're looking at her intensely, her eyes seeming to shimmer again with the sparks that are flying between the two of you. Choerry's heart is racing as you get even closer, and as you lean in head tilted, her own eyes flutter shut, letting the moment take over.

You're kissing Choerry, and her lips are every wonderful adjective you can come up with—soft, rosy, plump, sweet, juicy. You capture her bottom lip, gently sucking on it and finding her absolutely delicious. A little gasp escapes her, and you're cupping her cheek, pulling her back to capture her lips again. You wrap an arm around her, pulling her closer, hand playing with the hem of her sweater. A small hand on your chest stops you in your tracks.

"Sorry, I don't do this normally, or at all." Choerry can't meet your eyes, looking down at the floor.

"Right, I understand, sorry I thought— Yeah." You don't know what else to say, did you misunderstand the situation? Your hands fall away from her, abashed at your rashness. But immediately Choerry's pulling on your t-shirt and leaning into you, and you're feeling her lips on yours again. This time she is more passionate, throwing her arms around your neck, pressing herself fully into you, a hand running through your hair. When she pulls back both of you are breathless, and the spark in her eyes has become a fire.

"But it feels good, feels right, so..." Choerry takes your hands and has them rest on her hips. You press your forehead to Choerry's, watching her mouth hang slightly open when you move your hands slightly, going over the edge of her jeans and brushing circles on her bare skin. 

"Okay, we go as far as you're comfortable with." Choerry's losing herself in the moment, feeling the hairs on your neck stand—you're just as nervous as she is, and she overcompensates with bravado. She kisses you again before pulling away—she pulls her sweater up and over her head, revealing her toned midriff teasingly before her simple white top drops back in place. Her voice is heavy with desire, the words thick in her throat as she tells you how far she wants to go in the few words she can manage.

"All the way." 

You reply in kind, taking off your t-shirt, and your jeans get a little more strained as you see Choerry lick her lip subconsciously, eager eyes taking you in. You kiss her once again, hands sneaking under her thin top as her hands wander your shoulders and chest. Choerry parts her lips, sighing into the kiss, and you let yourself in, drawing a low moan from her. Your tongues dance and fight, and after a fierce battle both of you catch your breath—you take the chance to assure her of your intentions.

"Right there with you."

You're right there with Choerry, on top of her in fact, hungrily plunging your tongue into her mouth as she grips your arms. To Choerry her bed seems floaty, like she's barely laying on it—with how you're kissing her, sucking on her lower lip, it's like you're lifting her off the bed just off that alone! The muscles she feels on your arms only serve to turn her on even more, and the arousal is no more apparent than in the stiff nubs you feel as your hand brushes over her chest, making Choerry wish her top was removed already.

There is one thing Choerry wants to see removed more, and she reaches for your jeans, unbuttoning them and watching you kick it off, showing your desire for her.

"Your turn." Her breath catches as you reach for her jeans, right below her bellybutton. "Still with me?"

"Huh?" Choerry finds your questioning gaze, your fingers on her freshly popped jean button.

"You made a sound, like a squeak." Did she? Choerry's too engrossed in feeling you, unable to keep track of everything happening everywhere on her body, all at once.

"Just really sensitive, everything feels so... much."

"We can go slower." Choerry keeps her eyes locked on you, and you're looking right back at her as you slowly unzip her jeans—she has to remind herself to breathe, she's not sure she has ever been so turned on from such a simple act! You peel the tight jeans down her generous thighs and slim calves, revealing the simple black panties she has on.

"Wow." You let out a small laugh at just how lucky you are tonight, but Choerry tries to cover with her hands, long legs twisting, trying to hide from you.

"Don't laugh, I didn't think I'd be—" You shush her with a kiss, pulling her hands away and gently pushing her legs open with yours.

"No, it's a good wow, you're amazing." You push a knee up between her legs, and you grow even harder. "So sexy, so wet for me."

Choerry gasps, unsure which bolt of pleasure is stronger—your knee brushing against the apex of her thighs, or you saying that she's sexy. Soon it doesn't matter anymore as the constant friction between her thighs is becoming a burn, cauterizing and sealing off any idle thoughts. All she can do is focus on how good everything feels—your hot breath on her neck as you plant a mark on her, hands licentiously having their way with her underneath her top, your warmness both between her legs and on her lips as she leaves mindless hickeys all across your neck.

"Wait! No, don't..." You are halted by Choerry's breathless gasps, but it is a false alarm when you look down—her thighs squeeze around the one she's straddling, and she's openly grinding against you. "I-It feels good." Gone is the bright and cheery tone, replaced with something huskier, downright seductive.

"Okay, do what feels good." Choerry's hands are on your shoulders, and you watch her head sink into the pillow, tilted back as she loses herself in the pleasure. Her delicious midriff undulates as she writhes on your thigh, the little noises she makes causing you to stain your own underwear with precum.

"Mmph!" She's grabbing you by the neck, pulling you against her twisting body to use for leverage—she's bucking herself against you, and with your face pressed against her chest you hear her heartbeat spike, her lungs swelling to take in air—

"Nngh!" Any shout or scream Choerry wanted to make is snuffed out by the pleasure, but you feel her cum all the same, your thigh suddenly getting hot and wet as she rides out her orgasm. "Oh yes... Yes, yes, yes..." All she manages is a sigh followed by softer moans, her grip on you slackening as her entire body begins to relax. Your knee is sore from kneeling on the bed, and you slowly pull away, waiting for her to recover. Thankfully you're not left hanging for too long, and as she pushes herself up she looks at your own "wet spot" on your boxers.

"Sorry I took my time didn't I?" You don't even manage to reply as she takes off her thin white camisole before coming towards you. "I made a mess too, you felt so good." She wipes your shiny thigh with her top, cleaning it up and maybe ruining her top in the process. But both of you are too far gone to care as she discards the rag, fingers pulling on your boxers.

"Can I?"

"Y-Yeah, yeah." Choerry pulls your underwear down, letting your cock spring free. "Oh fuck!" you moan as she daringly wraps a hand around you, making a test stroke.

"Does that feel good?"

"Really good, really really good."

"But we can't end it early can we? We're going all the way." Choerry pulls away, propping herself up on her elbows as she looks at you seductively—for someone who's so bright and cheery, she sure knew how to entice you, and like a moth drawn to a flame you're on top of her once more, hands going straight to her panties.

"My turn?"

"Please." Your fingers tremble a little, but you get ahold of yourself and roll them down her hips, revealing her wetness, still swollen and pink from her orgasm earlier. Much like the rest of Choerry right now it looks delicious, and you're tempted to dive in, but she pushes you off with her feet, kicking her underwear off.

"All the way," she reiterates—Choerry wanted to go all the way, and she wanted to go all the way now.

"Stop me if I'm going too fast," you murmur, positioning yourself between her spread legs.

"No, I trust you." You start with just the proverbial tip, wedging yourself in her. "Wow, it's so big." Choerry blurts out, half-praise, half-concern. She's not wrong either—you feel just how tight she is right from the get go, see the way it must look to her, watching herself be split open. Yet she wants all of it, pushing herself down the bed, just enough to take another half inch of you.

"I want it all the way in me." Choerry holds you close, the pressure between her legs seeming to grow without end as you give her what she wants. Your groans are music to her ears, knowing that it's overwhelming for you too—just like the haunted house earlier, you're experiencing this together. A few seconds later you're pressed on her, and Choerry can feel you throbbing, in time with your heartbeat.

"All the way in... Fuck," you mutter—much like Choerry, you can feel all of her, how, despite her nerves, she's hungry for you, her body trying to draw you in, walls pulling at your shaft. You stay still, both of you breathing deeply, taking it all in.

Then she squirms. Much like she did on your thigh earlier, and it is your sign to move. You draw back, feeling Choerry shudder as you pull out, a balance of delicious friction and wistful emptiness. You push in, and this time her pussy yields easier, the slickness coating your cock making things smoother but just as delightful. 

Now one more time, but faster.

"Ah!" 

Choerry's yelp triggers something in both of you—she can't control herself, so you didn't need to either. This time you no longer stay composed, no longer measured in your movements; No, you're hugging Choerry and *doing what feels good*. With your face buried in her neck, you don't see much, but much like earlier, you don't need to—Choerry's whispering all the directions you need right into your ear.

"Harder, yes harder!"

"Faster, please go faster..."

"Right— Nngh right there, right there!"

Along with a few not-so-useful descriptions.

"You're so deep in me, no one's ever been this deep!"

"Y-You're stretching me, oh my god, please don't stop!"

"I'm so close, please, please!"

"Fuck I'm going to cum so hard..."

Your reply to Choerry makes her pop right away.

"Do what feels good."

"Oh oh oh I'm cumming, I'm cumming! Feels so— Mmm!" Choerry sucks on your neck hard as she combusts, wrapping her legs tightly around you. When she's done you're close yourself, and you need to do something to mix it up.

"You trust me right?"

"Mmhmm?" You sit up and get Choerry to sit in your lap. She thought you wanted her to ride you, but as soon as you're in her again you have her ass in your hands, and she's clinging on to your neck while you stand up.

"Oh god..." With gravity's help you're even deeper in her, and a jolt of pleasure goes through her when you make an experimental thrust.

"See, you're not heavy."

Choerry wants to say that that's not the point, that what is important to her is that you're fucking running your cock through her, kissing the very end of her warmth and making her toes curl.

"Mmph, hnngh... Ah, ah ah ah— mmm!" Yet that's all that comes out when you start thrusting, and Choerry dips her head, succumbing to the sensation of truly going "all the way" with you, your tip nudging against her cervix with every thrust. She's putty in your arms, hanging off you, powerless to do much more than cum, and she cums hard.

"Mmm, ah!" Choerry yelps and braces herself against you, unable to stem the tide of pleasure rushing through her. It starts as a warm wave of slick over your shaft, but as you keep thrusting into her it becomes a splatter against your crotch and your thighs. When she digs her nails against your neck you take that as your sign to stop, and like an awning after a storm Choerry's dripping all over the place, and her husky harsh heaves are loud in the room, the last howls of the storm that just ripped through her. 

"Feels good to trust you."

"I'm glad, but I'm close."

"Good, I was wondering when I could make you feel good. Put me down." You let Choerry down, and she drops to her knees, grabbing your slick shaft and stroking you. You feel too good to notice the slight tremble in Choerry's hand—you had just given her the strongest orgasm she's had in a while, and yet she finds herself wanting more.

But she definitely wanted to repay your efforts first.

"Look at me." Choerry directs, and you listen. She's still incredibly pretty, but the large round eyes that twinkled as she laughed and screamed and whooped with you at the haunted house are now tinted with a shade of lust. Choerry looks innocent, but only innocent enough for you to stain. You're pointed right at her face, but you're quickly pointed to the back of her throat as she takes you in, distorting her beauty even more.

"C-Choerry..." you moan, meaning to tell her how good she feels or some such, but those thoughts fly out the windows when she starts ruining herself on you, tongue doing things that you never imagined she would do—around and under your shaft, swirling right over your tip. Your legs quiver and shake as it all becomes too much, and Choerry grabs your hips, pulling you deeper into her.

"Fuck!" The first two shots go right down her throat, and then you're out of her mouth. You're powerless in front of Choerry—eyes closed and hand stroking you furiously, all you can do is stand there and let her do it. You can't take your eyes off her, unable to hold back the surge of pleasure and cum that begins to cover her face. You let out a low moan of relish as she extends your orgasm, rubbing your tip and getting more makeup-ruining seed all over her as a reward. When she stops you're staggered and she's completely glazed, a particularly heavy blob sliding off her cheek.

"Oh shit... Uh hold on." You scramble to find her tissues, but given that you're in her apartment, she beats you to it with a soft laugh, beginning to wipe her face clean. The pretty and sweet Choerry reappears as she removes your load.

"There, all better."

"You umm— There's still a little bit." Choerry makes to wipe the little bit still on her lip, but she thinks better of it, smirking and making a show of licking it off, reminding you of what she can be just a moment ago.

"Mm, salty."

"Wow, you were amazing," you blurt out lamely—what else do you say when you've busted down their throat and covered them in cum?

"I'm glad you liked it, it was great for me too." She makes a show of cleaning up between her legs, slowly bringing the tissues up her creamy thighs and removing the slick shine off them. Cleanup is supposed to be awkward but necessary, yet Choerry makes it hot, showing you just how good you made her feel earlier. "I'll be right back."

As Choerry takes the soaked tissues to the restroom, her thoughts are a bit of a mess, much like the rest of her. She doesn't remember the last time she came that hard or that wetly, and as she flushes the tissues down she briefly brushes between her legs, gasping at her own findings—Choerry's still sticky, a gooey mess. She finally understands Haseul's drunken confessions.

-----

"How do you know oppa's the best you ever had? You haven't even been sleeping around! Or have you?" Choerry asks incredulously, not believing her unnie's declarations.

"Yah, of course I haven't!" Haseul looks around, and motions Choerry to get closer. "You know how when you do it alone, you're happy with one round?" Choerry blushes but nods, she knows what Haseul means exactly—the satiating satisfaction of getting herself off once is usually enough. "Well when I do it with oppa, I just... Want more. Want to be closer to him, want to, you know, receive more 'love' from him." Haseul replaces the crude 4-letter word in her head with something nicer. "But don't guys only do it once, how can you get him to do it again?"

"Choreo."

"Choreo?"

"Mmhmm, our choreo has sexy parts right? The ones where the fans scream because it's just a little too sexy but fine since it's only for a line or two? Just do something in those positions."

"I just bend over, it's mm... Easy to get him to do it again..." Jinsol mumbles, half-asleep already. Before Choerry could ask them more they both headslam the table, falling asleep in their drunkness.

-----

It is with those thoughts in mind that Choerry returns to the bedroom.

"You should umm, stay the night, it's late."

"Are you sure? I don't want to impose or anything."

"No, I wouldn't mind at all."

Choerry watches you put on your boxers and t-shirt, debating with herself how forward she wanted to be and what choreo she should use.

"Which side should I take?"

"Hmm? Whichever you want," she answers distractedly. It is a little later, when you have an arm around her, that she settles on Flower Rhythm.

Just as you are drifting into sleep, you feel the weight on your arm lessen. You take a peek and immediately start waking up—Choerry's holding a hairtie in her mouth, bunching up her hair behind before tying it off. Even that simple act is hot, and it gets even hotter when she bends over, getting on all fours right next to you. You're wide awake now, but Choerry only notices it when she pulls down your boxers and finds a half-stiff cock in front of her.

"Oh, you're up?"

"Only halfway," you manage to joke. "I felt you move, and then I saw you tie your hair and then now... Yeah, I'm awake."

"Let's get you all the way awake then." She takes you in her mouth again, but this time, more than her skills with her tongue it is the sight of Choerry bent over and wearing nothing but an oversized t-shirt and boy shorts that gets you harder than steel and eager to pump some of that iron into her.

"I'm wide awake, just stay there." Choerry reacts viscerally to your rasp—she felt just how hard you were in her mouth, and now you're going behind her to... She gets lower on the bed and curves her back a little more, pushing her butt a little higher—god she wants this so bad! All she can think about is you looming over her, grabbing her hips and—

"Ah!" Her shorts are yanked down unceremoniously, bunching at her knees—Choerry's forgotten that she's still wearing clothes, and in a flurry she pulls her t-shirt off and kicks her shorts away. She blushes a little at how eager and direct she's being, but she's grateful that you don't say anything; Or rather, she's grateful that you're already grabbing her by the hips, and that delicious pressure is growing between her legs immediately.

"Fuck yes..." you hiss, enjoying sinking yourself into Choerry for a second time tonight. Despite having stretched her deep and spread her walls once, she's just as tight as before, and you have to firmly push into her, drawing a loud moan.

"Ohhh yes! Ah..." Choerry's labored breaths give you pause, and you stop moving, letting her get used to you again, but she turns back to face you, beckoning you to lean over her. "Don't worry about me, you feel so good. Do what feels good for you." She emphasizes this by leaning forward and pushing back, making sure you feel her butt pressed against your hips. It's utterly unholy the way she's flush against you, urging you to hilt yourself deep in her.

Choerry braces as you grab her hips and pull back, but nothing prepares her for the sharp spike in pleasure when you snap your hips forward, and her arms give way immediately. She's wrinkling the bedsheet, biting it with her teeth and grabbing it with her hands as you pump into her. She's moaning into the bed, her muffled whimpers joining the solid smack of flesh on flesh ringing in her head. Each thrust leaves her gasping for more, and her body reacts with a mind of its own, pushing her cunt back against your rod, just to get you back in her faster, harder, deeper!

"Fuck Choerry... holy shit!" She feels like velvet and silk, trying to tug you deeper into her each time. The rest of her toned body is just as enticing—the way her shoulders flex when she pushes herself back at you, and you follow the slim line of her body to— Oh how her thighs ripple when you slam into her from behind! It's one thing to bounce her in the air on top of you, it's another to take her from behind, bouncing your hips off her ass, and you wanted more.

"Hnngh!" Choerry's moans grow louder in volume when she feels a hand on her lower back, forcing her to arch her back even more. You're taking charge now, and the new angle causes you to rub right against her g-spot, the pleasure tugging Choerry's eyes back, rolling them into her head. Her legs flex, trying to push her ass higher, to give you an even steeper angle to fuck her at. But no, you grab her hips and hold her down, seeming to fix her at the perfect height to pump down and forward into her.

Over and over you slam down on Choerry, striking at her g-spot repeatedly, numbing the rest of her body and replacing all of it with pleasure. At some point she begins to cum, her toes curling, teeth biting into the bedsheets to stop herself from screaming. A tidal wave of joy slams into her... And then another one, and then one more—there's no end in sight!

Now Choerry understands why Haseul does that move in Flower Rhythm so well, she must get fucked in this position so often, because it feels fucking amazing. Choerry doesn't even have to do anything, just lie there and take it and cum. And cum she does too, ecstasy consuming her thoughts as you fuck her silly. At some point she's no longer biting the sheets, and she's yelping and wailing, trying to swallow her screams and failing spectacularly. 

"Feels so good Choerry, I'm close!" She keeps getting tighter and wetter, you're not sure how long you can last.

"I-I'm cumming!" It doesn't even come out right, Choerry wanted to say "I've been cumming!" But she's been trapped in her orgasms the whole damn time, cumming her brains out and barely coherent, a mess between her legs and her ears. Yet you still fuck her, pounding her until her whole body feels like jello. You treat her words as approval to finish, and the bedsprings creak loudly, the bed rattling faster and faster as you chase your own peak.

A small groan escapes her when you pull out, and the slick that should be coating your cock comes out as a small squirt against your thighs. Both of you moan loudly when you cum, the hot jizz all over her back just as satisfying for Choerry as it is for you. You fire large spurts all over her, covering her pale skin with your thick load.

"Damn! Shit!" You're left speechless as your legs go weak, forcing you to sit on the bed. Choerry similarly slumps forward, sighing as she lands on the bed with a thump. "Are you okay?" Both of you are silent for a while, gasping deeply to catch your breath and process the fuck that just happened.

"Yeah, feels so good..." She tries to reach behind herself, and you quickly wipe the cum off for her. Choerry turns herself around immediately, pulling you into a passionate, almost desperate kiss. She's sucking on your lower lip, tugging with her teeth, trying to draw you in deeper. You reply in kind, tongue pushing past her lips, wanting to suck all the oxygen out of her, to leave her breathless once more. You're stirring for a third round, but you recognize the lack of sparkle in Choerry's eyes—not dimmed by lust, but dulled by fatigue. It's time to call it a night.

"We should rest."

"Huh? Sure... my clothes, where?" From the sleepiness and pleasure rendering her brain earlier Choerry makes just enough sense, and you grab her clothes, helping her slip them on before she bundles under the covers. You manage to find your own boxers and put them on before joining her in bed. As you sidle next to her under the covers she shifts herself closer to you, resting her head on your shoulder.

"Good night," You murmur, and a smile is all she manages before her eyelids droop, and she's off to dreamland, a hand on your chest feeling your heartbeat. You just hope it doesn't wake her up.

That amazing smile.

You fall asleep eventually. When you wake up, you unfortunately don't see Choerry snuggling next to you, but you do hear the clink of cutlery on dishes outside.

"Good morning!" Choerry calls out cheerily as you step out of the bedroom. You rub the sleep from your eyes and blink—you blink very quickly. Choerry's dressed simply in a white singlet and powder blue shorts, there's a bit of red on her neck from where you left your mark last night, but she looks otherwise flawless.

"Something to eat?"

"Sure, whatever you're having there I guess."

She quickly gets you a bowl of granola and yogurt. There is a quiet awkwardness to the whole thing, and you wonder if you should have put on all of your clothes before coming out rather than just your t-shirt. Choerry's eating silently next to you, both of you thinking about the same thing.

What do I even say?

"So umm, I have to go to work later." Choerry states quietly.

"Right, let me get out of your way, let you prepare—"

"No! I mean, there's no rush. Please, finish your food. Oh..." She notices a bit of yogurt on your lip.

"What is it?"

"You have a little—" She points to her own lip, but you miss it, because for a second she looks so pretty you can't tell left from right. "No, let me get it" She leans in—

She's kissing you again. Choerry's smudging the yogurt, tugging on your upper lip, cleaning it for you. She often joked about how her unnies were always finding chances to steal away and be with their boyfriends, but she understands their actions a little better now, now she's just like them. The attraction is magnetic, and as soon as she's close enough she wants to kiss you, touch you, feel you against her body— Fuck she's wet again. Choerry's shorts land in a pile on the floor and she swings her legs across your lap, straddling you. 

"One more time. Want to feel good again." Choerry murmurs. Now the passionate and desperate kiss from last night returns in full force. You drop your cutlery with a clang, and she's light enough that you can squirrel your boxers down just the right amount.

"Ch-Choerry!" Your tip is engulfed in her wetness almost immediately, and she's whining into your gasp, both reactions to just how needy and ready she is for you.

"Let me ride you!" She's asking, but not really, as Choerry's already starting to rock her hips back and forth on top of you. More and more of you slips into her, and her husky moans get louder and louder. You're buried in her neck, and Choerry let's her top slip down, an invitation for you to play with her chest. 

"Mmm!" She whines when you kiss along her bust line, hands on your head urging you to do more. You make her slow down, steadying her so that you can take a nipple between your lips, gently sucking and licking it. "Yes, just like that..." The frantic riding settles into a slower but no less intense grind, as if you playing with her tits has made her tighten around you, and she's savoring every inch of your cock she's taking even more. You play with both of her breasts, and her moans get quieter and faster, her lungs struggling to keep up with the sinuous and sinful exercise she's putting herself through.

"Mmm, I'm cumming, I'm cumming!" Choerry flings her arms around your neck and crushes you against her. She buries her face in your hair to muffle her cry, the vibrations rattling you to your core. You help her along her orgasm, pulling her waist towards you each time she clenches around you, adding wave after wave of pleasure and extending her peak. When she finally recovers your connection is sticky, and Choerry is a bit of a wreck—top pulled down, hair mussed, a pale skin flushed with pleasure.

"J-Just one more..." she mumbles, beginning to ride you again. Choerry's not really "pent up", but her body's asking the question her heart hasn't put into words yet—"Where were you all this time?!" Now she's more surprised that the unnies spend so much time with the group—if she had a boyfriend like you she would be spending as much time as possible with you and not the group! She throws her head back and lets out a low moan, hilting herself and cumming again all over your cock.

"Fuck Choerry, I'm close, you need to get off!" You're throbbing hard inside her. If last night was Choerry losing it because of your fucking, today morning is Choerry taking charge, fucking you, and making you lose it—you're going to cum even harder than last night. She's sweating, her entire body just as hot and wet as her walls are wrapped around you. At your warning she seems to ride you even harder, her moans long and low.

"Choerry!"

"Do you trust me?"

"What?"

"Just do what feels good, trust me." Choerry's holding your face in her hands, begging you to say yes.

"Yes, I— Oh fuck! Trust you!" You can't form a coherent sentence either.

"Just tell me when, tell me when you feel good, last one!" Your hands settle on her waist, trying to steady her, but Choerry's movements only get more intense, borderline violent—her knees dig into your hips and she's bouncing herself in your lap, your thighs taking a beating against the chair. 

"Want you to cum, please, please..." She's determined to drag you off the cliff with her, struggling to maintain eye contact with you as her chin dips down, her body bracing and holding off her own orgasm best she can. The way she calls out to you, moans for you, her walls clenching around you with raw need, it all becomes too much.

"Fuck, now!" you groan, and Choerry has a split second to decide if she should get off you or sink even deeper in your lap, but the only thought her in mind is—

Do what feels good.

"Fuck yes, oh yes, ohhh yes yes yes! Oh my god!" Her words and your moans ring loudly in the apartment. Choerry spreads her legs and lowers her hips, and your arm around her waist pulls her in on instinct, both of you making sure that she takes every last inch and every last drop of cum into her. The burst of warmth in her womb and surge of bliss rips through her body, tearing a scream from her as she loses control. Choerry tries to close her legs, as if it's too much to experience, but all it does is trap you in place, keeping you there as you continue pumping her full of thick seed.

"Ahh, it's so hot, so much..." And it quickly becomes too much, the flow of cum into Choerry seeming to reverse—a sinful mix of you and her leak out the sides, coating your shaft as the two of you tremble and shudder, tangled together in the heat of explosive intimacy. When Choerry manages to gather herself again she sees you still recovering, head tilted back and looking like a man totally drained. Only now does she wonder about her decision—was it reckless, was it safe, was it what she wanted? Yes, yes, and yes. But there is one question Choerry doesn't know the answer to—What would you think? Would you think less of her? She told you she doesn't normally do this, yet she just let you—

"Worried?" you ask, knocking her out of her reverie.

"Yes, I mean no, not about that, I'm umm, safe." How does she even ask a question like that? How does she even begin to phrase it.

Meanwhile you have your own worries. You wanted this to be more than a one-off, but Choerry is so far out of reach. From the waist up, blushing slightly as she fixes her top and hair, Choerry looked like a virtual angel. Yet she's in your lap, panties pulled to the side, with what's left of your morning wood leaking out of her freshly fucked pink pussy. What do you even say to someone like her, the perfect girlfriend and perfectly ruinable lover, to appeal to her? You settle for reassuring her for now.

"I'm with you all the way, whatever happens." Choerry opens her mouth to dispute, to tell you that's not what she's worried about, but as you brush her hair tenderly, she realizes you've answered everything she couldn't put into words. When she leans in, asking for a kiss with a pout, you realize you've said everything you needed to say, and you give her a kiss happily.

The magic ends when an alarm on her phone sounds.

"I need to leave soon, do you mind getting me some tissues?"

"Oh, yeah of course." You find her the tissues, and she does her best to quickly clean up. "Should I go first? I'll give you your privacy."

"No no, I'll be done quickly, the rest I can do at the salon. Here's your clothes." Choerry disappears into the bedroom as you get dressed in the living room.

"You go to a salon for work?" you ask her as she comes out fully dressed.

"Yeah umm for makeup, I'm an idol."

"Oh, so... we can't meet again can we?" You have a sinking feeling—after the best night of your life, you might be facing the worst day right after.

"No, we just have to be careful, go to less popular spots, or at odd times, stuff like that. I... hope that's okay?" Choerry holds her breath, praying that it isn't a dealbreaker.

"Yeah, no that's great, we can do that." Both of you breathe a sigh of relief internally as you enter the elevator. "I'd love to take you out somewhere quiet, one where we're not jumping out of our shoes every few minutes."

"Yes, no spiders and zombies."

"And ghosts," you remind her.

"Right, they're the same thing." Choerry realizes that the elevator is close to ground floor, that she's close to being in the public eye once again. She takes your phone and puts her number in, shushing your indignant sputtering about zombies and ghosts with a peck on your lips. 

"It's a date then, don't make me wait."

She feels her phone vibrate almost immediately after she leaves you, and she's smiling at your invitation for next weekend as she tumbles into the van with the other members.

"Choerry yah, did you get back okay yesterday? I'm sorry they wouldn't let you in, you could've just stayed home the whole time!"

"Oh no unnie it was fine, I'm glad I went all the way."

A/N: Haunted house fic a month after Halloween lmao. Anyways been wanting to write Choerry for a long while but didn't have the best setup for it until now, so I kinda overcooked it with scenes and pics XD Hope you enjoy it and thanks for reading!

[pandapetals]

Idk if you've already done an imagine like this but could you do one where the reader is being harassed by someone in a bar and Logan protects them? You could do professor Logan or a stand alone if you want to do it! Thanks!

Thank you for the request! Sorry, it took so long. I decided to do Worst Logan because it’s been a minute since I wrote for him.

logan howlett x fem!reader - no y/n used, logan being protective, reader is bartender, creepy group of guys, slight angst, some fluff

It was a typical Friday night, the kind of evening that blurred into all the others for Logan. He sat hunched over the bar, nursing yet another glass of whiskey. He’d stopped keeping track after the third pour, the warm burn doing its job to dull the sharp edges of his thoughts. The bar wasn’t one of his usual haunts, but he liked its quiet simplicity—dim lights, no bullshit, and a bartender who didn’t pry.

And, if he was honest, he didn’t mind the view.

You stood a few feet away behind the counter, your movements fluid as you poured a drink for an older woman seated at the far end. Your laughter, light and unguarded, reached Logan over the low murmur of the bar’s patrons. That smile of yours stirred something unfamiliar in him—a flicker of warmth in the pit of all his cynicism. It irritated him and intrigued him in equal measure.

Logan tipped his glass back, letting the whiskey scorch its way down, but his eyes stayed on you, drawn to the way you moved, the natural ease in your demeanor. That’s when the group of guys at the other end of the bar started getting louder.

At first, it was just obnoxious laughter and a few crude jokes, the kind that Logan had learned to tune out. But as you approached their table to collect empty glasses, their comments shifted tone—lower, more pointed.

“C’mon, sweetheart,” one of them drawled, his grin wide and sleazy. “Why don’t you show us that pretty smile up close?”

You brushed it off with a polite, practiced response, but Logan caught the flicker of discomfort in your eyes. His jaw tightened, his fingers curling around his glass as he tried to focus on the whiskey before him. But then one of the guys reached out, his hand grazing yours as you leaned to grab a glass.

“Hey!” you snapped, stepping back sharply, your voice firm but not loud enough to cause a scene. “Hands to yourself.”

The man just laughed, nudging his buddies. “Aw, don’t be like that. We’re just havin’ a good time.”

Logan’s eyes darkened, the subtle twitch of his hand betraying his rising temper. He set his glass down with deliberate care, the quiet clink echoing louder than it should have. Slowly, he rose from his stool, his broad frame casting a shadow over the group as he approached.

“Leave her alone,” Logan growled, his voice carrying a dangerous edge.

The guy turned, looking Logan up and down, his lip curling. “What’s it to you, grandpa?”

Logan’s gaze flicked to you, catching the tension in your stance, before settling back on the guy. His smirk widened, revealing just enough teeth to unsettle. “You don’t wanna find out.”

“Relax, old man. We’re just havin’ fun,” another chimed in, leaning forward as if to grab your wrist.

That was it.

With a quick snikt, Logan’s claws extended, glinting under the dim bar lights. The sound alone was enough to make the man freeze, his eyes going wide as Logan stepped closer, the metal claws inches from his face.

“Still havin’ fun?” Logan asked, his voice dripping with menace, his hazel eyes cold as steel.

The group exchanged uneasy glances, their bravado crumbling as all but one of them muttered a hasty, “We’re outta here,” scrambling toward the door in a mess of jostling elbows and poorly concealed panic.

One guy didn’t move. He stood, squaring up to Logan, his chest puffed out in a bravado that didn’t quite mask the flicker of hesitation in his eyes. “Oh, you think some little forks are gonna stop me?” he sneered, taking a step closer.

“Kid,” Logan drawled, his voice calm but carrying the weight of a storm about to break. “Those ‘little forks’ could gut you before you blink. You really wanna test that theory?”

The guy faltered, his confidence visibly cracking as his gaze darted to the glint of metal barely inches from his chest. Logan tilted his head, his smirk dangerous and cold. “Go on,” he said, his voice dropping lower, “make my night.”

The man stumbled back, his bravado evaporating. “Whatever, man,” he muttered, raising his hands defensively as he backed away. “This place isn’t worth it.” He turned on his heel and made a quick exit, leaving Logan standing there.

The bar was silent for a moment, the tension thick, before the soft clink of Logan retracting his claws broke it. He exhaled slowly, shaking his head as he sat back down, picking up his drink like nothing had happened.

You let out a breath, your hands gripping the counter for support. “That was… something,” you finally said, your voice steadier than you felt.

Logan glanced at you, his rugged face softening just a fraction. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” you nodded, your pulse still racing. “Thanks. I don’t know what I would’ve done if you hadn’t stepped in.”

“Don’t mention it,” Logan muttered, lifting his glass to his lips.

You hesitated, then offered him a small smile. “Drinks are on the house tonight. Least I can do for my knight in shining... claws.”

That earned a faint chuckle from Logan, his lips curving into something close to a smirk. “Appreciate it. But only if I can keep you company while I drink.”

Your smile widened, and you grabbed a bottle of whiskey, pouring yourself a glass. “Deal,” you said, sliding onto the stool next to him.

For the rest of the night, the two of you sat at the bar, trading dry remarks and easy banter. Logan’s gruff exterior began to crack, revealing glimpses of humor and warmth that took you by surprise.

[nekrosmos]

questions about nikolai and price (originally from an ask meme about original characters but i wanna hear your thoughts):

what do they want to hear?

what do they need to hear?

what do they dread to hear?

Thank you for the ask !! I honestly struggled with the answers, I'm not the best at deep character introspection so this really had me scratching my head. I hope what I came up with makes sense !

What do they want to hear?

Nikolai: "I trust you."

Nik is intimidating, isn't he ? Intelligent, strong, well-connected Nikolai. People know that. It usually takes only a half a second glance to know that you do not want to be on this man's bad side. He's used to it, really. But how many times as he entered a room only to see people shift uncomfortably, suddenly very aware of his presence? He makes people uneasy, whether he wants it or not. It's fine when he's on an op and needs to be menacing, but it gets old quickly when he just wants to relax, sometimes.

He's trustworthy, despite his shady dealings, he's loyal. Thankfully, a handful of people know that.

Price: "You made a difference"

Yes, his hands got bloody, but it was all worth it in the end, right? He saved people by pulling the trigger when it needed to be done. No hesitation, it's what the world needs. So what if he can't sleep at night and his file is covered in black ? He made a difference, the rest, he can live with.

What do they need to hear?

Nikolai: "You need to think of yourself, too."

Nikolai puts others first, this has always been true. He likes to help out, likes to feel useful, ready to answer a call. Loyal to a fault, devoted to his friends. But when was the last time Nik put his needs as a top priority ? Has he ever done that ? He has no trouble flying to the other of the planet at a moment's notice if someone asks him to. How many nights of sleep has he missed because someone needed a hand? How much time has he spent fixing up his helo because it got banged up the last time a friend needed transport in hostile territory ? It's always others first, never himself, and he needs to be reminded of that.

Price: "You matter."

It's easy to forget that you're someone when you've been used as a weapon since you were 16. You forget that you have a purpose outside of your work, too. You forget you're a human first, with needs and wants and desires. You are Captain John Price, but you are also just John Price, and he matters too.

When he comes home for a break, what does he see outside of blank walls and a barely lived in house he never really took the time to make his ? It's temporary, he thinks, he doesn't really live here.

Maybe John needs to be reminded that he exists outside of his work.

What do they dread to hear?

Nikolai: "You don't belong here."

From either side. I think Nik feels strongly about his relationship with his home country, how he's been working against it and how his actions might be perceived by his countrymen. I think he's scared of losing this part of himself, and being rejected, even though all he's done was in the name of his country.

And then on the other side, Nik knows he stands out, knows people see him as a "could have so easily been the enemy" kind of guy. People like him, sure, but how many, aside from Kate, John and Gaz actually trust him ? Everyone else sees him as useful, but ultimately, they still look at him with a suspicious eye.

Where is home for Nikolai, really ?

Price: "You failed them"

Losing people, he's used to it. It never gets easier though, does it? Men and women under his command, people he's known for years, people who trusted him, friends. But, there is something entirely different between losing someone when you did everything you could have done and it was the way it was supposed to go, and losing someone because of your mistake. He failed them, he knows that, and it haunts him.

[itsonlypolite]

Hi!!! I have a question :] If you where to give the voices human names, what would you call them? I like to think the voice of the hero would be named Theodore. Along with that, it’d be awesome if you gave the princess and the players names :]

Hello!! Thanks for such a fun question, @just-a-itty-bitty-kitty and I talked it over so first, big thanks to Kitty for all their help!!!! We have explanations for the names we chose not only for all the voices but the vessels too! (I also took the opportunity to touch up my old human voice designs!!)

First batch:

Hero -> Robin : This was one the simplest to come up with but I really like it! I love robin based designs for Heros, and this name invokes Robin Hood and Christopher Robin vibes which I really like! :)

Base Princess -> Sarah : Literally means "Princess", it's perfect.

Broken -> Will : Its a pun/reference to his "broken will". Fitting since his ch 2 is all about agency or lack thereof!

Tower -> Adeline : Tower has SO many good name options!!!! We went with Adeline because it means "noble", but other options we considered were Maria or Hera.

Paranoid -> Harvey : Though the name was initially suggested for vibes, it ended up sticking for the reference to William Harvey, an English physician and the first person to describe in detail the pulmonary and circulatory system!! And Paranoid's the heart liver nerves guy!!! What a perfect match :D

Nightmare -> Annabelle : Famous haunted doll!

Stubborn -> Brutus : The name I think says it all, it sounds like "brute" and means heavy!

Adversary -> Vicky : A shorter, sharper version of the regal sounding Victoria! And "victory" is in the name!

Next round:

Cheated -> Jack : Another easy to decipher choice. Blackjack is a card game, and the way he brings in all the other voices and their various skills for his ch 2 route makes him a "Jack of all trades"!

Razor -> Jill : As the nursery rhyme goes, "Jack and Jill went up the hill to fetch a pail of water. Jack fell down and broke his crown and Jill came tumbling after" Jack (Cheated, as well as the other voices) get silenced first in Razor's ch 4, but Razor isn't far behind from being silenced herself, so the order of events in the rhyme matches. Jill also means "sweetheart" which is fun since it matches how she initially presents herself. It also rhymes with "kill".

Skeptic -> Cliff : Just as a climber always searches for new heights to reach, Skeptic is always on the hunt for answers! Also you fall in the Cage's route, "falling off a cliff", you get it. Full name is Cliff Grey!

Prisoner -> Cordelia : Regal sounding + Cord-elia, she uses her chains as cords in her new chapter 3! Full name is Cordelia Grey!

Opportunist -> Oliver : if you asked Opportunist what his name was, he'd tell you the name of one of his many aliases (Malcom, Jacob, Trey, Sylvester, Nick) but his real name is Oliver! It's a sweeter name than expected, just hidden behind many, many, layers. And it starts with "O"!

Witch -> Hilda : Perfect name for a witch!!

Smitten -> Romeo : I'm almost tempted to say someone calls Smitten this in-game, the connection is so obvious.

Damsel -> Daisy : It's the name of the same flower traditionally used for games of "he loves me, he loves me not", a game all about true love - that leaves a flower petal-less by the end. Her full name is Daisy Grey (sister of Cordelia!)

Final section!

Cold -> Cain : Cain's the first killer in the Bible, fits with Cold's ch 1 lead-in! We also considered Isaac since the vibes fit him so well.

Spectra -> Mary : Mary's a sweet name, but combine it with the idea of ghosts and you end up with "Bloody Mary". Fitting for the two sides she flips back and forth with in her chapter. (runner-up was Carrie)

Contrarian -> Shena : Short for "Shenanigans"!

Stranger -> Catherine : And Kathy, Catie, Kate, and Kitty. Chosen for all the different ways you can spell it and it's many off shoots!

Hunted -> Wren : Wren is a species of prey animal, specifically very small birds.

Beast -> Messalina : means "she who has an insatiable appetite", which is fitting! Also still sounds regal, which I love for Beast.

And Kitty and I agreed not to do ch 3s because that would be way too many but just as a bonus round for the two we accidentally did do:

HEA -> Theodosia : means "god's gift", something about calling her a "gift" slots right into some HEA analysis

Thorn -> Briar : Essentially just means "thorns", perfect

And that's it!! Thank you again to Kitty for all the help!!!

[bingobongobonko]

Hassan + Yves:🍇🍑🍰🍹🍔🍟

Sitting in front of you so normally with a vice grip on your shoulders.....Hi!!!!!

For purpose of this ask, gonna be referring to DND Hassan :)

🍇: What sort of friend are they? Where are they in the group dynamic?

Hassan: unsure... hard to say. hassan really aint one to have long-lasting friendships, not outta choice but the fact that his friends usually dont stick around. but in a group he's usually the voice of reason but if that voice of reason could be easily swayed into being an accomplice. like yk the kid from the magical school bus thats like can we PLEASE have a normal field trip..... thats him. thats hassan de ruyter. he's so unsure about everything but he'll tag along cuz he dont got no one else. despite this and his fear of everybody he can honestly be a genuine and kind guy 2 hang with..... just a little bit tired 24/7 and easily exasperated but for the most part it really dont change the fact that he cares about people a LOT. he will sit with you after a very long day and reminisce the past and hope for the future. even if he cant assure himself, he'll sure as hell assure you.

Yves: PETTY ASSHOLE... you wouldnt be even sure if you WERE friends cuz its hard to tell if he likes you or not. cuz he can act like he tolerates you and then talk about you behind your back like its nothing. dreamy sigh... he starts problems with people on purpose... hes THAT guy yk. very petty, very judgemental, but not very secretive about it. he's abrasive and a drama queen but its ok hes silly about it..

🍑: What sort of traits does your OC look for in a Significant Other?

Hassan: same sorta approach he has for friendships: He doesn't. he's never dated, more or less because he doesn't feel like he COULD be dated. however... think his brain flares up for dominant women. women who can carry him bridal style... heeeeeeeeey... not exclusive to women though. but besides that, honestly someone who he can chill with and do fuckall. and probably as introverted out as he is.

Yves: someone who can loosen up and be silaaaay and have fun!!!! he goes out a lot, so having someone who can keep up with him is a good thing!! ofc thats less important. frankly someone who's willing to scratch his back and he'll do the same, mutually beneficial relationship.

🍰: What's something your OC counts as unforgivable?

Hassan: you can do whatever you want, but instigating shit with betsy, you are LITERALLY on his shitlist. thats the only thing in this world he cares about, that and his goat. you cant hurt his animals and get away with it, you are forever hated.

Yves: ripping him away from control, or making him feel like he's not in control. that's probably the biggest part of him. a need to be in control of everything and everyone - including himself. so taking away that choice, no matter how harmful or questionable his choice is, youre basically threatening his entire self worth since his entire persona is built on control and power.

🍹: Does your OC have any funny anecdotes told about them?

Hassan: saedboy... nawt really.. he can be a really HONESTLY funny fucking guy, even if on accident cuz of how he interacts with people, and being a scaredy cat, but no one really knows him long enough for any anecdotes to be made.

Yves: him and elias went out for a night in the city, originally intending to get parts for his mech, but something happened and i dont even know what happened, but they woke up in elias's apartment with half of their face temporarily paralyzed and also ppl on the omninet were calling yves and elias Mistresses. i dont know what happened. i dont know what happened.

🍔: Are there any recent trends you think your OC would hate? Or love?

Hassan: 😭 i dont know any IN trends rn... but i know he'd love the barbie movie i just know he'd gather all of his friends and beg them to watch barbie with him..... he's very fucking passionate about the shit he likes and hes not a pushy guy but he WILL beg on his knees.

Yves: i hate 2 say it... but this is just yves, thats just who he is. he'd HATE the re-emergence of unions.... he's those dudes on twitter who complain abt how no one wants to work these days and like. if youre living on minimum wage then save money and get another job. and then he goes offline and takes wages by being a landlord. do you understand. he's so fucking out of touch and tone deaf.

🍟: What does your OC admit to be their guilty pleasure? What actually is their guilty pleasure?

Hassan: if you'd ask him, *probably* sleeping in. he'll take any inch of sleep he can get, even if its 2 days in a row. that is actually his guilty pleasure. he would not move for anything if he had the choice.

Yves: if asked, he'd probably be like... :) my guilty pleasure is icecream or something super innocuous like that. but its actually making people angry at him and setting shit on fire.

🍩: What's a crime your OC is most likely to commit? What's a crime they're most likely to get arrested for?

Hassan: bit sad but public intoxication... tbh... he does. that a lot. its how he gets himself in deep shit cuz he's a lot more cocky and loud when he's drunk, compared to a sober him that's just anxious and soft spoken. he'd honestly get arrested for being just fucking insanely drunk and doing some stupid shit.

Yves: i cant even answer this question properly bc. he HAS committed crimes, war crimes. actual war criminal. not using the word as a throwabout, thats actually something he's done + tried to do again on more than one occasion. but he'd prolly get arrested for espionage lol

[weirdglassthing]

Posting more of my ouaw fanart here because I think I’d die if I shared it on the discord and one of the party members saw it.

Some guys

Some husbands

0 impulse control

[ghostradiodylan]

hi hello i have been rotating dylan lenivy in my head like the microwave for a couple of weeks and especially how instead of lashing out or acting up at all when he’s late stage infected he just. he just gets scared by lights?? figures out how to work a crane?? saves kaitlyn?? will NOT let kaitlyn get hurt by him and he’s so scared but he’s so. my boy :(

Hi hello yourself! Thank you for this, I have been doing the same thing except for LIKE A YEAR. Someone help me. 💀

I just. I love him so much?

Like, he’s an actually perfect character?

In a game about choices, we aren’t even allowed to make any bad decisions with Dylan. Is that a flaw in the game design? Or a sign that some crucial decisions he could have been tasked with hit the cutting room floor with the other 20-30% of the script? Maybe. Does it make me love him for it any less? Absolutely fucking not.

He should be a threat to Kaitlyn, right? He should at least be a little bit pissed off at her, a little bit grumpy before he’s turning. God knows he deserves it. Can you imagine if she’s kissed his crush and he’s stuck with her for the rest of the night? Dylan obviously adores Kaitlyn, and he knows that sticking with her is his best chance at getting out alive, but those emotions would still be complicated, I would think. If the infection brings out hidden insecurities (which seems to be the case for literally everyone else), we should see Dylan grapple with not feeling like his real self is good enough, with wearing a mask for two months and hiding how smart he is and all of that.

I’m not sure why we don’t see that. We know his insecurities aren’t gone because they can come up again when he’s talking about whether Ryan would want to date him with one hand (I’m sobbing internally). The only reasonable explanation I can come up with is that he’s no longer hiding that insecurity with the people whose opinions matter the most to him (Ryan and Kaitlyn). So maybe the truth really will set you free (from being a super bitchy werewolf)? I almost wish we did see him go off a bit though. I wish we had at least some kind of chase scene in that scrapyard after he turned. It would give so much more weight to the decision to not cut his hand off, if it put him at risk of mauling his gunslinging bestie, our Final Girl.

But SMG chose for him to remain a golden boy throughout and of course that also has its charms. He has an immutable set of core values and those are being good and selfless, even when he’s terrified. Which is most of the game! And even though he gets braver, he very clearly doesn’t stop being scared! He just does what he has to do anyway. Even if he’s turning into a monster. Even if the boy of his dreams cut his hand off with a chainsaw (because he asked him to). I understand why people make him too perfect in fanfic sometimes because he’s, like, almost too good?

He has his moments early on, like wanting to keep the gun, or wanting to leave Nick and Abi behind in case what attacked them has their scents (tbh these are just his genre-savviness showing and I can’t actually blame him for either). He also gives Kaitlyn some very bad advice relating to silver bullets (kill a werewolf that turns out to be Emma, leave the bullets Abi is trying to give you behind), but she doesn’t have to take it.

But have you SEEN what he does if Emma turns and comes after Kaitlyn and Kaitlyn fails to shoot? He just fucking tackles a werewolf to save Kaitlyn. He puts himself between WereEmma and Kaitlyn like a human shield. If he’s infected, great, Emma sniffs him and leaves him alone but he is clearly shocked by that. He did not know that would happen. And he did it anyway. It was a reflex. And if he’s not infected? If he was never bitten at all or he’s missing a hand? He still does the exact same thing. He can take a second bite to protect Kaitlyn. He can get infected a second time after cutting his fucking hand off. He can die to protect her if she doesn’t manage to get a shot off to save him.

Lots of characters give us the option to be self-sacrificial. Ryan can give Laura the vial of werewolf blood to protect her during the Silas showdown. Jacob can run, barefoot and mostly naked, into the woods when he hears Abi scream. Abi can die by refusing to shoot her crush because she doesn’t know it won’t actually kill Nick if she does. But those are all choices. Dylan does not give us a choice. We’re not even in control when he does that shit. He just does it. Because that’s who he is.

I’m fine. I’m so completely fine.

[ratatatastic]

idk if it's obvious but in the forsy offseason training vid the reporter asks "how do your legs feel, you know, for a man who, well, some see as a greek god" and forsy is just hand on hip staring off fondly in the distance he knows damn well who some is like even at home he's never living that ekky thirst quote down linked together forever just how ekky drew it up

OH YOU GOTTA BE FUCKING KIDDING ME

MAN HAUNTED BY HIS PARTNERS HORNINESS EVEN IN SWEDEN IM GONNA CRY EKKY LOOK WHAT YOUVE DONE THIS MAN IS GETTING HARASSED IN HIS OWN HOMETOWN OH MY GOD CAN HE NOT HAVE PEACE

[enlighten3d]

More thoughts on r!au, because you brought it up again:

There are 3 eras of wifies and his person, both of whom have similar skill sets. First comes evilfies and masked wato, who create escape rooms. Then comes clonefies and ken, who escape them. Finally comes lastfies and parrot who kill to survive. (Hearts at least are technically craftable)

Ken managed to rescue clonefies by outsmarting their predecessors. By proving that clonefies was more than a clone, through a game rigged in their favor.

Parrot managed to rescue lastfies by killing their predecessors. By proving that lastfies was just a clone, through mistaking one for the other.

There are so many stars in the bright sky, all of them basically identical. It takes knowing them and how they relate to the others around them to identify them. Who could blame you if just after sunset, when only a few are visible, you mistook one star for another? (And the sun is still a star, even as it burns you. It's your fault for mistaking distance for peace, and still inviting it closer)

And then, because the spyglass reminded me, you can't look directly at the sun- it'll blind you. Parrot can't look directly at his own actions, can't look clearly at lastfies, can't process what happened. Is it because of how bright his mistakes shine? Or is it because his spyglass is stained with blood?

(and yes, in my opinion, lastfies and parrot can share being represented by the sun. Clonefies needs something specific to contrast and parrot deserves every parallel he gets)

Finally, does wato eventually stop putting hanging roots in their escape rooms? I doubt lastfies would know enough about escape rooms to confidently declare them as the most useless item, and why bother sneaking in a signature when you have to show up to help them out of softlocks you could have sworn they would never get into.

Just what do you do when you don't have any of your friends. Wifies is different, and parrot won't meet your eye and ken is trapped in a prison that blocks messages. (except no one off-server has heard from him and the prison seems abandoned when you try to arrange a visit and you're pretty sure that ken wouldn't have let his stasis despawn and this is apparently the only prison that parrot won't try to break someone out of)

What do you do when you have no proof, but your server feels like a graveyard.

(post in which i brought up rau again, and heres the post explaining rau. yay for having context! context is great.)

forewarning that i wrote this over the course of like, a day, sorry if its disjointed lol. but then again, what else does one expect from a long lime post but incoherency.

HI HELL YEAHHH RAU THOUGHTS!!! REPLACEMENT AU!!!!!!!!!!! i love rau did you know that <- fucking insane about this au. nonnie i love you thank you. this is going to be as incoherent + probably hard to read as usual! sorry gonna yap a lot about rau!wato here because you made the mistake of mentioning rau!wato. replacement au may be about wifies clones stuff but OUGH DOES RAU!WATO HAUNT ME. that will be the latter portion of this post tho

SO!

OOOHHH OKAY GOOD POINT. about. fuck okay thats insane? have NOT thought about the eras of wifies each having their own person and the 'transitions' reflecting their relationships... actually fucking insane. dont have anything to add just know that im staring at you w wide eyes /pos

its your fault for mistaking distance for peace, and still inviting it closer- actually wild line im- okay. okay.

YEAH THE. the. yeah. you get it perfectly, i have no notes.the spyglass and the sun thing- fuck. he tries to look at the sun, his actions, and doesnt see, doesnt understand, but still he does it via the spyglass, via that same frame of mine of clonefies that hes unwilling to abandon. look at lastfies, understand him through the lense of parrots relationship with clonefies, understand him only as clonefies. hes still the same person! parrot didnt do anything! nothing happened! youre fine! look at lastfies, look at his own actions/mistakes through the lense of a spyglass. frame of mind of his relationship with clonefies. actuallly insane.

lastfies and parrot can share the sun/daytime. wild thought actually, i do agree. because. the sun is a star - clonefies is the stars and lastfies is just similar enough but also not really; part of a larger category but different, so different. and parrot always denies how much of himself he sees in lastfies, its a whole thing. theyre similar in so many ways but- no! this is still the same wifies! and wifies would never be like parrot. never!

OKAY. SO. NONNIE. NONNIE. ABOUT WATO. ABOUT RAU!WATO. THERES A LOT. that never got mentioned on tumblr i dont think. theyre so theatre metaphor (coughs long poem coughs). genuinely like. okay. we (milo and i) have thought abt all of what youve mentioned here. sorry the rest of the post is going to be about rau!wato i am actually fucking insane about rau!wato holy shit

the escape rooms stop having those personal touches. no hanging roots, no little injokes, hints at familiarity. theyre easier, because they know that what theyd normally make is for clonefies, who they know would figure it out. so the escape rooms are easier, and he still watches, and he still has to interfere where he shouldnt have to (why doesnt parrot pick up on these things either? (hes in denial, wato. deeeeep denial.)). its wrong on every level. because- rau!wato is so interesting. she knows that lastfies isnt clonefies. hes in WAYYY less denial than parrot (its actually impossible to out-denial rau!parrot), AND he... he was the one that found lastfies in the first place, right? so she knows about lastfies existence, she knows that something is wrong. still theres a little bit of hope (parrot wouldnt kill wifies afterall, right?) that gets held out. maybe theyve got the story wrong! but still they pull away. this wifies is wrong, theyve never been close with parrot, ken is trapped in a prison unable to escape (somethings so off about that, right? why isnt parrot helping? why is he 'respecting kens wishes' when those wishes go entirely against what he stands for? why does parrot look that way whenever ken gets mentioned? something is so wrong about this.)

what defines rau!wato is the inaction. theyre trapped in the audience, and the one time they forced their way onstage, tried to help, to do something for once, it goes wrong. and clonefies dies. now she just doesnt do anything. shes fucked everything up once already (this is all her fault, right? right?). shes got the most information out of anyone other than lastfies and parrot, shes the only one who can do anything. but he doesnt. hes messed it up already, and he doesnt know enough to get people to believe him. what do you mean, wato? what do you mean this wifies isnt the same wifies? no, hes always been this way? this violent, this quiet, this loyal- yeah sure hes a bit different from when he joined, but maybe getting chunkbanned messed him up just that much, you know? youre making things up. you have no evidence. and so wato doesnt say anything. theyre trapped in the audience, watching this play set to music that they wrote themselves, and they cant do anything about it. and everywhere he looks, theres death.

parrot and lastfies canonically die, in rau. not sure if i ever mentioned this on tumblr but whatever, am (re?)explaining it. eventually someone gets suspicious about the weirdness at proton, and maybe wato slips a piece of information or two, but they go and investigate, and theres no one there. its abandoned, more than just the lack of guards whom to ask to visit the supposed sole prisoner. theres no one there. breaking in is easy, figuring out that kenadian is not there is easier. naturally, one goes to parrot, the very person who said that ken was trapped in the first place. question him. parrot runs. lastfies follows. but parrot cant run forever, not from a bunch of people who considered ken a friend/ally, not a manhunt

this all started on a cliff, didnt it? parrot and clonefies watched the sunset from a cliff right before the lastfies thing. it ends on a cliff, too. a cliff, above the ocean. he jumps, doesnt fly, and lastfies, of course, follows willingly (theres a lot to say about lastfies). and then theyre dead, the both of them

the next day, theres an eclipse.

wato is the only person who really visits that cliff. theres this really pretty scene in the animatic milo is (was? idk) making about rau, where wato stands at that cliff during the eclipse, holding hydrangeas, and the petals fly off

onto the shore wash an earring, a spyglass, and a headband. (nothing else. parrots lost himself.)

and so, rau!wato is the last one left. out of everyone, hes the last one left. what now? pick up the pieces? sure, but theres no pieces to pick up. things remain obscured; its not like parrot or lastfies (the only ones who really knew everything, and even then their perceptions were warped in their own ways) ever wrote anything down or talked to anyone- and ken is dead, too. all she can do is piece together what she already has, and shes already done all that she could, and assumptions are dangerous, and-

its just this really really deep-seated feeling of unresolution. there will never be any resolution. watos just the last one left, left to grieve everything that happened and everyone thats died, and he cant even really talk to anyone about this, he never could, and he doesnt even know everything thats happened. hes just left to deal with the consequences of everything. and nothing is ever quite the same. whats she to do now? (they dont know.)

a server the feels like a graveyard, indeed

(pspspspspsps @milo-the-mage... i summon thee.....)

[b4kuch1n]

Your swsh art always makes me want to replay the game because i love it and its my favorite pokemon game and every time i play another pokemon game i think of it how i miss certain elements from swsh. Then i boot up the game and im once again caught in the 1 hour 40 minutes hand held intro and im like ah- now i remember why i have been playing other pokemon games instead of this one. Happy (late?) birthday!

you don't want to listen to hop? you don't want to hear him teach you about type matchups? you don't wanna let him cheer u on...? 🥺 waa....?

[nocentis]

Black Arum ┆ Siegrain

Content warning: main character death, cannibalism, gore, toxic/unreliable narrator, highly canon divergent character portrayal. Read at your own risk. You will probably take psychic damage from this.

╳┆A lure was stuck in the soot between his lungs. Many times he'd felt the tug — enough that the wire fray had worn a rut where his ribs met — and many times he'd found her on the other end, reeling for remnants of him that no longer existed. She would aim to break him open, sift around in the cinders for those specks of him she wanted to confiscate, keep for herself, so that she could finally be rid of him. Once those flecks were washed and panned, the remains would reek like plough mud closure. For that reason he would come to her whole, every whit of ash accounted for.

A cherry little game they'd play. Her with flint and steel, eager to reignite that paltry spark of "good" that flickered freely for a lapse before he remembered himself. Him with tinder and kindling, letting it light only to call on the rain again. Her with just enough hope. Him with just enough time.

That resolve was so very compelling. More than her beauty, her candor, and even that glow he so loved to bask in — that luster he wanted to hold between his teeth and bury under his nails — more than that, her tenacity was a toothsome temptation, and he wasn't keen to deny himself anything.

So when he felt the pull, he caved to the beck and spooled the lisle. That day, the line seemed lighter, thinner, than it ever had. It should've been strong. Tensile. Instead it felt gossamer fine and just as frail, poised to tear at an ill touch, and he wasn’t exactly renowned for his gentle hands. Still, he gathered it with both palms and wrapped it proudly around himself like a ceremonial sash, grin scrawled across his face something devilish.

╳┆He found her lying in the shade beneath a long-lived magnolia, still and silent as she never was, with the color of her namesake spread around her head in halo streaks. Battle-torn, as she so often was, and yet uncannily... passive.

Anything he'd planned to say went out the airlock. Instead, he stood there with an anchor in his stomach, reaping the benefit of doubt.

Not a frown nor a sigh when he darkened her sanctum, only heavenward eyes tearless and unblinking and a resigned breath just short of peaceful. That worn tether waned phantom thin, light as helium, and the tension in his chest went slack.

There was no definite snap. No dramatic severing or ear-popping moment of clarity. Only the vague sense of loss so fresh a wound that denial was a numbing salve.

“Get up,” his voice a command, sandgrit against whetstone, thickened by an unnamed antigen.

The silence felt like mockery. A placid scene void of chittering fauna, clouds' drum, or even the most timid breeze. It wanted him to hear the absence of her breath and the stillness of her chest. It wanted him to hear the hollow. The empty. The nothing. Wanted it to resonate; to find the furthest reaches of his mind and clean them out until all that was left was this icy, clarifying silence.

He knew the end when he saw it. This was something much worse. It was robbery.

Her life wasn’t for the world to take. It was for him to hold in his hands. 

Something wet and pathetic slicked his tongue — some whiny, pleading thing — and it was stubborn as oil. The authority slid to the back of his throat and left him choking, “You are the indomitable Titania. You’ve laced fingers with Death time and again only to rise and slay and conquer, so get up.”

Her warmth was set to a slow drip, spilling from her in tired beads and seeping soundlessly into her chosen ground. Little whispers of her lost to greedy loam, sullied, never to be returned.

A waste of precious love. The sod won’t drink of her as he will. It will take of her and give back what? New “life” so fragile and fleeting? A feeble weed will take root, bloom its days few, and curl itself inside out? Pathetic. An insult to her legacy. An insult to the diamond-split sharp of her bladesoul.

His heart boiled over — popping, sticking, simmering sicksweet saccharine. It colored him cloying, flooded his mouth, and forced him to kneel at her altar.

"Please," he keened, hollow and morose, and his own pleading sickened him, “Say something.”

The sun trickled through the leaves like ichor, lighting up her black-blown eyes and the thin ring of honey surrounding them. Dim, distant, and dead as the moon.

His hand carved a path to her face, fingers featherlight against her fading flush. He brushed her bangs from her eyes and forced an unbroken breath through his quavering mouth. He traced each scar too faint to see and the parts of her skin their star kissed. Memorized the map of her face — each curve and crease, each fine hair, and every eyelash. He would carve out a space in his mind in her shape and fill it with the thousand sweet nothings he kept in his pockets.

He gathered her hand and threaded it with his own. When he opened his mouth, a rickety twine escaped from the deepest point of his chest, so he forced his jaws shut to keep the grief corked. He uncurled her fingers and pressed his cheek into her palm, trapping her there against his own scarred skin. His eyes fell shut as he breathed in this borrowed touch — this moment fated, stolen from him by this world's insatiable avarice.

He kissed her palm directly in the center; held it against his mouth and felt his own ruined breath echo back to him from the deepest grooves of her skin. Again, he begged, “Please, Erza.”

Of the armors innumerable now haunting this hallowed ground, this one least befit her. 

He revered Death. If there was a god, surely it was Death, he thought, for Death asks for nothing but life. The dead don’t know that they’re dead. They know a split second of euphoria and then a sharp, definite end. Isn’t that the work of a gracious god? One last stroke of color whether in peace or peril, and then eternal rest. Back to the dust you sprouted from.

But now he couldn’t see any of that beauty he often waxed poetic about. All he could see was change yet to come. All he could see was her, and he wanted her back.

He wanted her back, yet he knew better than anyone that there was no such thing as resurrection. While Death might be gracious, it was not generous, and it was not to be reasoned with.

The thought of her buried deep, bathed by the dark and abandoned to rot — it washed his mouth acid sour. It ate straight through his tongue and lingered in the roots of his teeth, burning, raging redhot in his jaws’ marrow.  A grave didn't suit her anymore than a pyre.

Soon she would be cold. Stiff. A feast for flies and their insatiable young. In the days to come, she would bubble and bloat and sallow. Her skin would loosen and slough off. The sun would bleach her bones. The meat of her would melt into oil and fat and bogspit. She would mix in with the soil, the groundwater, and this thankless magnolia would thrive.

It was tall, thick, with branches spread in all directions. The lowest of its limbs showed off the varied deep greens of its large waxy leaves, their undersides a chalky brown. A few white flowers bloomed, palm-shaped petals open in praise like they'd come to witness and worship. There was no question why she'd chosen to crawl here. It must've reminded her of home.

Despite its beauty, it was hardly worthy of her. Nothing in this ravenous world was. Her grave should be carved within his chest. There, he could keep her warm. He could host her in his veins. One day, they would wade the waters of woe together. Until then she could live under his skin.

He wouldn’t allow her to spoil. Wouldn’t place her gently into time’s whittlesome hands only to lose her peel by peel by rotting peel.

This world has taken much from you. Do not allow it to take her too.

A carnal ache etched itself into bone, a depth of passion he hadn't felt since he wrought for a false Heaven.

She is a fruit, ripe as a plum and twice the taste. Peel her open. There is a seed at her core. Plant it in your soot-field chest and watch her bloom anew.

What are these hands for if not this?

Flesh like sheets of silk. Muscle like rope. Blood like honey. Bone like an ivory trove. The splitting, the squelching, the straining, ripping, snapping; it burrowed marrow-deep and lingered there. Her chest peeled apart like jagged teeth, jaws croaking their rusted tune, and inside that redslick maw was the center of the universe.

The heart upon its throne, still as she, shielded by her precious lungs. It slid into his palm like it was always meant to be there. Raw, rich, and so very scarlet. Its sinews strained against his pull — those hollow vines that fed even the furthest parts of her — so he wrenched them free and draped himself in them like matchless finery.

Eat. Eat ‘til you’re sick. There’s a hole the size of her in the pit of your stomach. Eat until you fill it. 

What are these teeth for if not this?

Tough as leather; smooth as rubber. His teeth slid right off the rind and clicked together with nothing but metallic sheen between them. He gnashed at that ink-dripping muscle until he found a spot weak enough to tear apart. It tasted of rare meat and iron; a heady gore thick enough to drown in. He swallowed, gasped, and that first new breath felt like a blade.

The child inside him saw her split-open ribs as his cradle. He wanted to crawl inside, curl up, and die. He wanted to paint himself her color.

He lost his vision to the hot, angry wash. His own sobs were a distant sound, muffled by meat and blood and his own desperate fingers. He was numb in the mouth and in the shake of his hands, but he forced himself to eat, eat despite the choking, the gagging, the wet, weeping remorse.

Don’t you dare throw her up. Be grateful. Swallow and say thank you and finish what you’ve started.

He bit into his own palm, indistinguishable from her core, and he cried out in sour relief. His hands spread raw grief over his face, through his hair, and down his neck.

You’re no better than this starving world.

He curled into himself, hands clutching his own aching chest, and despite the cloudless sky, he called upon the rain.

[unproduciblesmackdown]

speaking of the horrors brian goosebumpsphantomoftheauditorium is still So funny for being like yeah i'm a ghost i know i'm a ghost. & he's befriended the horror fan menace duo who are giggling clutching each other like omg omg okay. we're fine. we're breaking into the school at night to investigate the horrors aaaa what if there's a ghost eek ok ok!!! & brian ghost who knows he's a ghost is like omg guys aaaa stopppp ;;m;; suffering thee Most but he's not putting on an act to conceal his phantomly destiny. he's just like that

[townofcadence]

25. your character

Munday Topics

GOSH I could say a lot about Artair!! He was the first character I ever rped, and he's changed a lot over the years as he became my own more and more. But every way he has has changed has made him more intimate to me, more mine and more unabashedly my own creation. I love all my characters, but there's just something so special about him, the way he thinks is a mindset I can slip into so easily. I know so much about his life and so many major events and how they shaped him, and I've forgotten so many moments on the blogs he's been on. Near as many as I'm sure I remember lol.

I don't even really know how to talk more about him. There's so much I could say that feels like a stack of layers. He's reckless and impulsive and self-sacrificing and sees himself as this corrupted horrific thing undeserving of love, but he pours every drop of himself into others and loving them so deeply. He doesn't want to save himself but he wants his pain to mean something because he can hold more if it means someone else holds less. He's believes himself incapable of being anything other than broken and monstrous, but in the same breath he can see the good in even the darkest of muses and he will reach out his hand for them. For someone who has fallen into so much darkness, he has so much hope and love to share, and he is so freaking kind and silly and tries to make you laugh.

He knows what it's like to be hurt, and chooses every day to be the person he needed. Every day chooses to make someone else's better. the pain and the horrors and the damage too deep to ever undo keeps coming for him, true to at least several of his abilities embodying misfortune, pain, and The End of All Things. He's been taken apart, he's died more times than you can count on both hands in terrible ways, and keeps his own tally of failings or people he's harmed or feels responsible for the death of.

But he always chooses to persevere despite what comes. He fights to keep going, even in the worst situations. If someone else is there, he might do sacrificial, foolish things to save them, but it's because he LOVES them. He loves people, he loves them being happy, finding what makes them feel good and like a person. He loves seeing them grow and smile and flourish. He loves them. He loves them he loves them to pieces and he loves seeing them find love and joy in the world, and he will put himself on a pyre as a willing lamb of sacrifice to protect that.

I don't know, there's something so fascinating by how deep and how gentle and how kind someone who has suffered beyond words can be. So many fall apart, but he desperately crushes his pieces together just so he can give you the hug you need and be there for you with every fiber of his being. It doesn't matter to him if he's okay-- what does is if you are. He still is flawed, imperfect, but he's still doing his best. He's NOT okay, he's twisted up in so many ways, taking what is usually a positive trait and it sometimes being the fatal flaw for him. But he hasn't lost what makes him human.

He's deeply tragic, written though horror after horror in past rps and blog events and M!As and such, but he is still so full of compassion and affection and still fights to be there for everyone, and to bring everyone home to those they love. And I love him so so so much.

[stuck-in-the-ghost-zone]

HIII DUDE good afternoon how r u how's the tokyo ghoul rewatch going!! i would. Love 2 hear ur ghostkicks and/or tg thoughts literally at any given time. taking ur joke tags absolutely dead serious because im trying 2 figure out How To Write Them currebtly & we're doin a bit of wrangling in the google doc 😭.

u know i have the brainrot so so so badly because im on episode 3 of tg and all i can think is "i can make a pd au out of this" so im feeling rlly normal abt it basically. im blaming it on unravel.

ANYWAY. ANYWAY. ANYWAY. YEAH. HI. GHOSTKICKS. they are soooooo. tired depressed introvert gets adopted by a loud bubbly extrovert trope. at least on the surface. like how they behave at school in season 1. thinkin abt jimmy going "what is UP with bro behind u" and william just ominously lurking there. and how dakota defends him later !!!!!!!! idk how much of this youve gotten to yet bc i dont remember when it actually comes up in canon bc its such an ingrained part of his character but dakota is soooooo. guard dog coded. this hits especially hard in the "what if pd were villains" oneshot but its sooooo prevalent in canon too.

they both hold each other in the highest respect. william sees dakota as the prime (ha) example of what a hero should be. hes brave hes kind he does his best to protect everyone no matter what. hes all the things that william Isnt. BUT !!!! dakota also looks up to him !!! hes so smart hes good at problem solving hes so curious about everything and asking questions and poking his nose into things that nobody else would even consider. dakota knows hes not smart so he automatically looks to william whenever he needs a plan or someone to tell him what to do when he feels lost. they complement each other and they dont even !!!!! know it !!!!!!!

also regarding williams powers. fuck dude. season 1 he was so fucking scared of himself and ashamed of the things he could do . he hid every time he had to use wisp form !!! but dakota always thought it was so cool and was not QUIET about it. boy went fucking STAR EYES the first time he saw wisp form !!!!!! i will never stop thinking abt the first rolled for season 2 where charlie goes "if dakota hadnt left, he probably wouldve been able to convince william to keep using his powers and not to completely disregard their existence like he has been" and . considering what william is like in season 2... god this wouldve been a COMPLETELY different fucking campaign. theyre so. incredibly soulmates to me. theyre so important to each other theyd do anything for each other. i cant say too much more without accidentally giving you spoilers bc i WILL keep talking and not be able to shut up but GOD fuck ghostkicks enjoyers eat so well in the latter half of s2. moirails. 2 me !!!!!!!

[agroupofcrows]

bansai is excellent because he is one of those horror movie characters who don't initially realise they are talking to a ghost, they just think it's simply a weird alive person. and when he does find out about it, he goes "love is love," and simply stays

[catman-draws]

Everyone wants to hug these characters, and I will admit, I do too. However, I would instead like to take the time to hug you, the dear artist, for doing what others only dare dream of and giving these wonderful characters a proper story and comic that has been long over she

-Puff

Puff, I am smooching your anonymous head so sweetly