#ill give it a shot ig

[trashcreatyre]

Didn’t want to post this for whatever reason

[boyghcst]

-

[todayisafridaynight]

I genuinely can never thank you enough for the past year. I can't express how much it's meant to me to be understood and have my energy reciprocated with someone on the same wavelength. Although I've been in the fandom for quite a bit longer than most people writing in, and longer than you, even, I can't remember the last time I felt this welcome and motivated. A TRULY embarrassing amount of my work's just been fueled by "oh Snap's gonna wanna see that," and of course that circle's expanded since then, but it probably wouldn't have had I not met stream chat through you, aaaaaand if I'm honest you're still up there... lol...

It's always, always a highlight of my day to see your your work, your posts, and your responses, whether they're to me or to others, and it's always a highlight of my week to be able to make it to streams! You're a huge inspiration for me, particularly in terms of your work ethic across the board. I always come out of streams energized and feeling like I can actually finish things, and usually this is hubris, but it's gotta count for something.

Not to be dramatic, but you kinda changed my life, no exaggeration. I still really can't see myself the way I was two or three years ago not just calling it quits after some of my Gaiden experiences... lol... but I'm still around, and like always, I wanna be able to write in and interact as much as I used to sometime soon. Thanks for everything! I hope RGGS continues to deliver so we can stay in touch :3

i cant thank YOOOOU enough for the past Xsome months or so. feelins ABSOLUTELY mutual in that i wasnt sure anyone else would really be into talkin bout rgg as you and i have (or would be willing to read my. miles-long scrolls of bullshit LMAO) so it's been real fun gettin to know you an everyone and chattin !!

most bafflin thin to ever to think i have good work ethic, i feel like ive been behind everyone for the past couple weeks and even with the things i do make it's really not up to snuff. it's always nice to hear that's not supposedly exactly the case :) I Suppose :^)

rgg community (like any community lbr) can be. An Experience, esp for someone with a position like yours. so im glad i can make it worth to hang around somewhat LOL

regardless, i always look forward to you next ask or the next time you leave tags on a post i make. if i ever bother making a post again ☠️☠️

[whomturgled]

seeing as december's a day away and that means ~holiday season~- i have a bunch of old binders of various makes & sizes (some idk origin, a few gc2b, anywhere from XS to L?, diff colours/types) that i wld love to give to ppl who need them. i can update this l8r with more details but ig i was wondering if anyone wld be interested or knows anyone in need? id be willing to ship within canada, maybe to the USA for small enough pckg. otherwise i'll just donate to a local binder exchange but i figured this way if anyone is in particular need it's nice to know im directly helping ig!

i also have some rolls of biege kinesiology tape if that's of interest either in itself or in addition.

peace n love on planet earth

[altruistic-meme]

craving some long-ass fic rn, even if it means venturing into rare territory (omegaverse)

[jounce]

taking my copy of pkmn scar that i havent touched in months to work today to trade w my coworker.................... awesome

[xumoonhao]

OH BTW that site i was talking abt uhhhhhh 2? nights ago or w/e i ended up checking out the discord & site and decided to join them out of curiosity and i dont know. how i feel about it.

[eoieopda]

tidal.

but vernon has a point to make, so that’s precisely what he does: “i don’t need a sales pitch. you will never — ever — have to convince me to fuck you.” 

pairing: vernon x afab!reader type: one-shot (fluff n’ smut) au: est. relationship wc: 4.8k rating: 18+ a/n: i didn’t plan this whatsoever, but i felt so weirdly compelled to write it that i avoided eye-contact with all of my wips, and now… here we are, lol. cw: pov switch, reader is afab + on their period, gender identity + pronouns aren’t designated, blood mention (obvi), unprotected p in v penetration (ill-advised!!), wee bit of dry-humping (ig?), a lil massage, pet names (baby, sweetheart), self-indulgent ref to a favorite docu of mine, and lastly — vernon (yes, this is a warning 🧍🏻) 🔞 MINORS WHO INTERACT WITH ME AND/OR MY CONTENT WILL BE BLOCKED, WHETHER OR NOT THE CONTENT IS NSFW. I’M AN ADULT WRITING EXCLUSIVELY FOR OTHER ADULTS.

Vernon isn’t blind. 

He can see you out of the corner of his eye, laying flat on your back, several unexplained centimeters away from his side. With the duvet clenched in your fists, you stare intently up at the ceiling, like you’re waiting for it to move — or trying to move it yourself, telekinetically. You keep your bottom lip pinched between your teeth, as if you expect it to make a run for it.

So, yes, Vernon can see you. 

He just can’t figure out what’s wrong with you.

For a few minutes, he attempts to pay attention to the documentary lighting up the screen on the wall ahead. You were the one that picked it — some wild tale about mother-daughter recluses in New York — and he finds it hard to give a shit about it without your usual commentary. Your hot takes are his favorite part of any movie night, after all.

He’ll be the first to admit that he’s never been good at keeping his eyes off you. Try as he might, he can’t glue his gaze to the television; each glance in your direction sticks longer than the one before it, testing the waters. Minutes slip away just like this until he completely caves, turns his head fully, and stares at you outright. 

You still don’t seem to notice.

His brow scrunches up as he watches you, caught in the middle between concerned, confused, and amused by how absolutely ridiculous you look right now. When he speaks, he tries to sound stern, like he isn’t fighting the urge to laugh.

“Baby?”

“Hmm?” is all he gets in response. 

You don’t even look his way. If anything, you tense harder now that his attention is on you. 

None of it makes sense. Not the weird gap you’ve left between your body and his, your total refusal to look him in the eye, or the fact that there wasn’t an argument to precipitate any of this distance. It’s a symptom with no apparent cause, and it’s totally baffling. Brain-breaking, even.

Frowning, Vernon scoots himself across the bed to get closer to you. 

You don’t reciprocate. 

He tugs gently at the hem of your sweatshirt in a silent plea for your attention and receives radio silence in response; unless he counts the way you swallow thickly.

Which, for the record, he does not.

This close, Vernon can feel the anxious energy pulsing out of your tensed-up body in waves, so he leans away and props himself up on his elbow. Desperate to know what broke you and how to fix it, he mutters, “What is happening right now?”

Ope. 

It comes out harsher than it was supposed to, reading more like annoyance than worry, so he immediately clears his throat. Gently and with a brush of his knuckles against your hip bone, he tries again: “Are you okay? Did I do something to make you mad at me?”

A fly on the wall might get the wrong impression and think he stroked you with a live wire instead.

“Oh, my god. No!” You sputter with a jolt, shifting gears quickly from vaguely on-edge to horrified. You shake your head so frantically that Vernon fears you’ll detach it. “No, you haven’t done anything. I’m fine, I just —”

He interjects with a laugh, “— I don’t necessarily believe that —”

Visibly cringing with every muscle in your body, you cover your face with your hands. Not long after you take a deep breath does a meek voice slip out through your fingers, sounding beyond embarrassed.

“I’m so incomprehensibly horny right now that I can’t even look at you.”

For a second, it’s dead silent because he can’t quite process how much of a weirdo you are, or how completely and hopelessly enamored he is with you. But then the dam breaks. His laugh comes out so forcefully that you pull your hands away from your face, eyes wide.

“Is that so?” He smirks, nodding his head towards the television. “Grey Gardens really gets your motor running, huh?”

Absolutely aghast, you swat at his bicep. Then, you sling your arm over your eyes and groan, “I got my period. It has turned me into a sex-crazed monster, I fear.”

Vernon nods in understanding, even though you can’t see it, and hums, “Ahh.”

And he leaves it at that, only because you seem to have more that you want to say. Something you want to ask, maybe, or a reason you may want to give for not jumping his bones at the first opportunity. He’s down, he thinks without hesitation, so long as you are.

But you don’t say anything.

Maybe you aren’t actually down after all, and that’s why you won’t look at him. Shit, are you embarrassed? Should I say something? Silence falls overtop like a weighted blanket, smothering the two idiots who can’t tell whose turn it is to talk. 

Do you or do you not want this right now?

You mumble something that he can’t catch, so he nudges your side gently with his knuckles to encourage you. Just as nervous, you repeat yourself without looking at him, “Period sex is supposed to help with cramps, I think.”

He thinks he’s read the exact same article you have. More than that, he wishes you’d look over at him and see for yourself how completely unbothered he is by this concept.

“If you think about it, it’s kind of like a natural lubricant,” you add in a voice that’s even smaller than before.

Your shyness really might kill him, so he reaches over to grab your hand and gently pull your arm away from your eyes. It’s the first time you’ve looked at him since you laid down — since you put your self-imposed no-contact order in place — and he feels his stupid heart swell.

For what it’s worth, he feels his dick twitch, too.

You open your mouth to speak again, likely to continue your unnecessary campaigning; Vernon is having none of it. He tugs your wrist just enough to tilt you inward, then he kisses you hard enough to shut you up. A tiny whimper slips out of your lips when he pulls away, and it almost makes him regret his decision to do so. 

But Vernon has a point to make, so that’s precisely what he does: “I don’t need a sales pitch. You will never — ever —  have to convince me to fuck you.” 

Your eyes crinkle at the corners, like this is somehow news to you. It shouldn’t be. He’s told you a thousand times in as many different ways how thoroughly crazy you drive him just by existing so closely to him, but maybe you didn’t take him seriously then.

To emphasize his point, he slips his hand under the hem of your sweatshirt and finds your bare waist with the pad of his thumb. It spirals slowly against your warm skin, making both of you dizzy. Then, sick of the distance, Vernon dips his head down to press a kiss to your temple. 

“Like, ever,” he murmurs, lips following the curve of your jaw. 

Soft, slow kisses trail behind him as he travels down to your lips. Your head tilts further backwards with every single one, providing him with more and more access. 

He states it matter-of-factly because, to him, it is. “I’m down so bad for you that it might be terminal.”

“Oh?” 

You try to laugh but turn to putty when his palm rests fully on the curve of your waist and pulls you flush against him. The surprised gasp you let loose confirms his suspicion: You can feel how serious he is, affirmation throbbing against your abdomen in time with his heartbeat. 

Vernon smirks to himself, relishing your reaction, and bypasses your mouth entirely. A moan escapes from you, soft like an exhale, as his lips move slowly down the length of your neck. Every so often — just to feel you shiver — he flicks the tip of his tongue along the delicate skin he finds there.

“It might be messy…” 

The rest of your needless warning gets lost in a dreamy sigh as he suckles at the spot where your neck meets your shoulder. Shifting even closer, your desperate fingers reach out and cling to his t-shirt.

Vernon licks a stripe over the galaxy blooming on your skin. He hums, hand traveling upwards from your waist, “Don’t care about a mess.”

And he means it. 

Mindful of any soreness, he smooths his hand over your left breast and massages it tenderly, swearing to himself that he’ll throw the whole fucking mattress out if that’s what it comes down to. For you, he’ll race across town on foot to buy another one, and — fuck it — if the store is closed, he might just break in.

You’re growing impatient; your fingers let go of his shirt and tangle themselves in his hair.

“So needy,” he chuckles low in his chest, teasing. “You know, I think you’re lying. I think it is this bat-shit insane documentary that’s driving you wild, and you’re too embarrassed to admit it.”

“Stop,” you whine, dragging out the vowel sound. 

You don’t, though; you throw your left leg over his right thigh and shimmy forward until your cunt grazes his dick. Involuntarily, he groans at the warmth radiating off your core. Every part of you drives him just the slightest bit insane. You seem to know it, he thinks as he watches your pupils dilate in real time.

But he can play games, too, so he rolls his hips forward and grinds against you. He pushes you further, “Don’t get me wrong, baby. I’m not kink-shaming you —”

“Hansol Vernon Chwe!”

Oh, shit. Government name?

“— I’m just a little surprised, I guess.” He sighs with a shrug. “Think you know somebody…”

Your impatience is scribbled all across your scrunched up face. It seeps into your voice when you crash back against the pillows and huff, “Can you please stop fucking with me and start fucking me?”

“Sex-crazed monster, huh?” Leaning over, Vernon punctuates his question with a quick press of his lips to yours.

You whimper, “I’m so serious. I might explode.”

“Then go take care of whatever you need to take care of.” He kisses you again, smiling so fondly that his eyes may even be twinkling. “And I’ll go get a towel.”

You wait until Vernon clears the threshold before launching yourself out of bed at breakneck speed. Stumbling all the while, you race off to the adjoining bathroom and shut the door forcefully behind you. When it clatters against the frame, you finally admit to yourself that you might be a little bit eager.

Maybe.

Opting to keep your baggy, bleach-stained sweatshirt on, you wiggle out of your shorts and — what he refers to as — your crisis diaper. The high-waisted, frumpy, beige panties are utilized exclusively during your period, and to your surprise, they’ve remained spotless. It’s only ever the pretty and expensive pairs that wind up as collateral damage, isn’t it?

As they pool around your ankles, you can’t help but think that Vernon’s nickname for them is pretty spot on. That’s partly why you figured he might need to be talked into this. Unsated arousal aside, you feel as far from sexy as you can possibly get.

You shake your head to clear your thoughts, kick what you’ve discarded into a pile near the hamper, and let your sweatshirt shift down to cover as much of your ass as it’s capable of managing. You grab a square of toilet paper; then, you go to work excavating the wad of cotton that separates you from everything you want in this life. 

It is within the realm of possibility that you’re a little bit eager and a little bit dramatic. 

Perhaps.

After discarding the evidence in the small trash can under the sink, you wash your hands as if you’re about to step into an operating theater and not the bedroom you spend half your life in. When you finally feel sterile, you lift your head and catch your reflection in the mirror. Instantly, you make eye contact with the painful, hormonal pimple on your chin — the one you’ve been waging a retinoid war against for days.

“Bitch,” you mutter, like calling it names will be the one thing that finally gets it to shrink. Of course, your plan doesn’t work, but you feel a little less powerless. That’s good enough, you think. At least, as good as it’s going to get.

Now half-naked and certifiably unobstructed, you tiptoe back to your bedroom much more carefully than you left it. Vernon enters from the opposite doorway at the same time, jumping slightly the second he notices you. You ignore his frightened eyes and glance down at the crisp, white towel he’s clutching.

You open your mouth to suggest anything otherwise, but he beats you to it. His eyebrows shoot up his forehead as his mouth widens outwards, a self-aware rectangle. Otherwise expressionless, he lets go of an atonal, “Aaaaaaah”, that tells you he’s caught on.

He says nothing else before turning around and walking back the way he came. You have to bite down on your lips to keep from cackling.

That one’s mine, you think, still as infatuated as you were at the start. I chose that one.

While he’s gone, you try not to move, not to breathe too heavily. Vernon said he didn’t care about a mess, but when he said it, he was speaking theoretically with his hand on your tit. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d spoken recklessly with your body melting under his touch.

As far as you know, he hasn’t had any experience with this mess in practice. He could wind up finding you about as sexy as you currently feel — to wit: not at all. So, erring on the side of caution, you turn yourself into a statue and wait for the boy and his towel to find you again.

When he comes back, he plants a drive-by kiss on your unsuspecting mouth before skirting right around you. With shocking finesse, he grabs the corners of the — thankfully — black towel, which unfurls in the seconds before he flicks it upwards. It lands perfectly in the center of the bed, flat without needing to be fussed with.

“Wow,” he mutters to himself, taking in his clean work with raised eyebrows.

The impressed look is still on his face when he turns around, but you don’t have time to comment on his feat because he laughs as soon as he sees you.

“Kinda look like Donald Duck with the whole top-on, bottom-off situation.”

I chose this one?

You pout with an indignant gasp, crossing your arms over your chest. “I’m not wearing a sailor hat, so…. bad analogy. Rude, even.”

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs as he snakes his arms around your waist and pulls you in close. You stumble a little on your way into him; the jury’s still out about whether it’s his hushed tone or the sudden movement that trips you up.

Between his thumb and index finger, he gently captures your chin. You follow along with his unspoken direction, tilt your face up to meet his. This close, you can see your own reflection in his pupils, black dilating against the warmest shade of brown you’ve ever seen.

Vernon takes a moment of silence as he takes in your features, and he studies them so intently that his eyebrows crinkle on their own. He sighs, sounding so completely serious. “You might get prettier every time I look at you.”

It’s unclear if you’re melting, or gushing; and if it’s the latter, you can’t say which biological process is at fault. Thankfully, the hand at the small of your back keeps your weak knees from buckling when his lips brush over yours.

“Even if you’re dressed like Winnie the Pooh.” 

You feel him smirk even before you hear him laugh at his own joke. Then, you feel his hand slide down to cup your bare cheek, squeezing affectionately. You want to tell him that this analogy is still inaccurate because you’re not wearing a crop-top; but he gently instructs you to ditch the sweatshirt and get on the bed, and your body moves automatically. No questions asked.

Carefully, you crawl up onto the mattress, then you center yourself on the towel. Still on your knees, you tilt your head curiously and ask, “Where do you want me?”

“Anywhere,” he breezes, pulling his shirt off and tossing it onto the dresser nearby. He amends, “Everywhere. All the time, and then some.”

“Better be careful,” you tease. “Talking like that might have consequences. You may never be able to get rid of me.”

His joggers are the next to go. Your sanity follows shortly thereafter, hungry eyes lingering on the imprint of his cock underneath his boxer briefs. You have to clamp your mouth shut to keep from drooling.

Brown eyes sparkling, he steps closer to you, kicking his pants aside as he goes. “Be careful,” he echoes, not a hint of cockiness to be found — just softness. “Saying it like a threat doesn’t make me wish it’s not a promise.”

I choose this one.

Crossing all the way to you, Vernon reaches the bed and climbs up with significantly more grace than you did. The mattress dips under his weight as he kneels right in front of you, mirroring your posture and causing your stomach to flip with anticipation.

You can’t help yourself; you lick your lips and look up at him with half-lidded eyes. “Naked, please. Like, right now.”

“Damn, I gotta do this myself?” Incredulous, he holds his hands up while glancing pointedly down at his underwear, then back at you. 

You arch an eyebrow, unfazed. 

“Depends.” You shrug. “Do you want to keep them? Because I really will rip them off of you.”

He concedes quickly; he always does. Sighing, he shakes his head and tuts, “Sex-crazed monster,” before pushing his briefs down his thighs. His length hangs heavy between you, but you swear you can feel its perfect ache inside you already.

You have a one-track mind, so you don’t hesitate to reach out and wrap your hand around him. A groan crawls up from the bottom of your chest when you feel the weighted warmth of his cock in your palm. You don’t hold that back, either.

“Fuck,” he sighs, head tilting as far backwards as it’ll go. Unexpectedly, he laughs. He doesn’t catch the quizzical look you shoot him, though he explains himself anyway, “Your hands are so fucking cold, but it feels so good.”

Swiping your thumb over his tip, you spread the pre-cum you find there down his shaft and stroke him slowly. He grows harder with every gentle squeeze, every pass of your fist. 

“We’re learning a lot of new shit about each other today.” You lean forward to pepper kisses across his collarbones. The hum of your mouth against his skin when you talk makes his cock twitch in your hand. “You might have a temperature kink and a thing for Winnie the Pooh.”

He snorts, nowhere near serious, “Shut the fuck up.”

“Make me,” you counter smugly, and you do mean it.

Vernon tilts his head forward to stare back at you. You’re already turning into a puddle, but if the look he gives you says anything, it’s that your melting isn’t enough for him. His voice is low and velvet-lined when he responds, “How about I just make you cum instead?”

“That could work, yeah.” You shrug.

He runs the pads of his fingers down each side of your waist to your hips, then back again; and each time he does it, you shiver. Reflexively, your back arches, chest pressing against his.

At this, he smirks, “It could? Maybe?”

“We can workshop it.”

“Or,” Vernon so generously offers, “You can turn around and lay down on your stomach. You know, if that’s sufficient.”

It’s not until you whip around and flop down onto the towel that you realize you never responded with words. Oh well. You figure he gets the point, judging by the quiet laughter you hear as he settles with his knees on either side of your upper thighs.

You don’t know what his next move will be — you don’t care, either, as long as he moves in your direction — so you don’t anticipate his palms flattening against your bare back, applying perfect pressure with his thumbs while he rubs away the soreness at the very base of your torso.

“Oh, shit,” you moan, eyes fluttering shut as the heels of his hands work out the tension in your muscles. “Have you always been good at this?”

You feel his chest brush against your shoulder blades when he hovers over you. Against the nape of your neck, he murmurs, “Nope.”

He kisses down your spine, mouth trailing after his hands as they work their way back down your body.

“Lemme guess — you read an article? Studied up?”

You get a snicker, then an affirmative hum, then another kiss. This time, it’s at the curve of your spine, just above your ass. Seconds later, he’s kneading the doughy flesh of your cheeks until your whole fucking body tingles.

That’s when it hits you:

Under normal circumstances, Vernon would be face-first in your pussy by now. Devouring you in earnest, like he’s starving. He can’t do that now — and you don’t blame him — so he’s making up for what you both view as a loss.

God, you want him.

One hand disappears from you, but you don’t have to guess where it went. You can hear the barely-there hiss of breath through his teeth when he takes his cock in that hand; as well as the very faint shift of his palm while he pumps himself.

“You’re gonna have to navigate, baby. I dunno how sensitive you are like this, what’s too much — any of that, so you need to tell me how you want me to move.”

Suddenly dizzy over how badly you need him, all you can muster is a nod. Vernon must want a verbal acknowledgment, though, because he leans back over you with one hand bearing his weight beside your head.

He kisses your shoulder and urges you, “Please say so if you need to stop or switch it up. Don’t wanna hurt you, sweetheart.”

“I will,” you breathe. “But I can’t even articulate how much I need you inside of me right now, so please — pretty please — fuck me.”

The tip of his nose bumps your temple affectionately. Right beside your ear, he teases, “With a cherry on top?” And it vibrates down your whole goddamn spine.

“Vernon!” You whine, burying your face in the comforter. It’s muffled, but you warn him nonetheless, “Don’t make me come back there.”

“Aish. Calm down, sex monster.”

The instinct to twist around and glare at him over your shoulder is strong, but every feral urge you feel is stronger. So, when he tells you to spread yourself open for him and tilt your hips back, you do so without even a hint of complaining.

With the crown of his cock slipping through your folds, inching towards your entrance, you hear him curse under his breath. Suddenly self-conscious, you finally crane your neck to the side and glance back at him. 

“We don’t have to,” you whisper. “If it’s gross and you don’t want to anymore, I get it —”

He balks at your suggestion without letting so much as a beat pass. “None of that, sweetheart; no spiraling. I’m just trying to figure out the logistics of, like… how to survive how good this already feels.”

Struck dumb, all you can muster is a peep, “Oh?”

“Shit, yeah.” His response comes in a low groan. “Can you take a deep breath for me?”

It’s a good call on his part, a suggestion you’re glad to have taken, because the pressure of him entering you is intense enough to knock the wind out of you. Empty lungs likely would’ve led to your untimely demise.

You whimper, already overwhelmed with the combination of pain and pleasure; the best kind of ache. The little, breathy moans must freak him out, however, because his fingertips caress your waist as he checks in: “This okay?”

Your limp arm lifts off the mattress, which you’ve melted fully into, and you form a circle with your index finger and thumb to indicate that you’re okay. The light is bright fucking green; you’ve just maxed out your capacity for speech.

Vernon continues his slow thrust forward, giving you ample time to adjust to his size.

“Oh my god,” he grunts, “This is — shit, I can’t believe we haven’t done this before. If I knew how good you’d feel like this, I wouldn’t have waited around for you to ask me.”

That hits like a truck.

He was waiting on you. 

You spent months convincing yourself that he’d need to be convinced, and chickening out before you could raise the idea. Months, and months, and months, of craving him during your werewolf transformation; wasting away over a shitty assumption that Vernon is anything like the people you’ve been with before. 

Christ. 

His credit for putting up with you is long overdue.

Too tongue-tied to speak any of that out loud, you settle for a summary that you hope conveys the message: “I love you so fucking much.”

Mindful of how deep it will push him into your cunt, he leans down over you carefully. Weight balanced on his knees and forearms, he envelopes you in his body heat, trails kisses across your shoulder, and echoes your words back at you between each one.

“Is this too much?” He whispers, rolling his hips slowly.

You feel him everywhere, with every drag of his cock along your walls; and you can’t tell where that throbbing sensation is coming from, him or you. 

You shake your head and sigh, “‘s perfect. You’re perfect.”

Like he knows it’ll unravel you, his large hand comes to rest over the back of yours. His fingers slip through the spaces between and squeeze you much more gently than the vice grip you hold on the bedding below you. He keeps holding you — just like this — through every movement.

The sensation of being this surrounded, this loved, this whole crashes over you like a wave and knocks you off balance.

“I’m so close,” you pant, voice as ragged as your breathing. There’s nothing that he isn’t already giving you with every deep, deliberate thrust into your heat; but you beg nonetheless, “Please, please, please —”

His speed doesn’t increase, but the intensity does. The smack of his hips colliding with your ass does, too, and you feel it reverberating in your bones. Buried as far inside of you as he can be, cock tip kissing your cervix with every high tide, length rolling across your g-spot with every low.

You cum so hard — so completely, invoking every single muscle you have — that you forget how to breathe. With a choked-out gasp, you squeeze your eyes shut and let your orgasm devastate you. 

“Fuck!”

Vernon gets caught up in the current, too, grinding desperately against you until he’s swept up in your wake. You feel him twitch inside you as his release floods, leaving you so lost in his warmth that you feel boneless underneath him.

His face winds up hidden in the crook of your neck, somewhere amidst the baby hairs that cling to the sheen of your sweat. You feel his lips fluttering against your skin when he laughs, “Oh…my god.”

“Mmphf.” You nod weakly in agreement. Beyond blissed, your body still tingles too much to move.

Slurring, you add, “‘s good. ‘s really…”

The rest of that thought dissolves into something between a moan and a yawn.

Just as tired, Vernon pats your ass cheek affectionately and mumbles, “Well said. No notes.”

You tilt your head far enough to free your face from the sheets. When you do, you find your boyfriend fighting a losing battle to keep his eyes open. In the rare seconds he can, he looks back at you in a daze that seems even more adoring than it does fuck-drunk.

“I think I need to hibernate now,” you announce. “Think you just fucked me so well that I need to take a sabbatical.”

He counter-offers, “Shower first, then sabbatical?”

You wiggle so that you can pull your joint hands to your mouth. You can’t kiss him properly while he’s laid out on top of you, but you can press your lips to the back of his hand and hope he feels how much of you that you pour into it.

“Okay, but, like…. who’s carrying who?”

[littlestpetgoth]

Tell us more about your little homestucks?

ok.. ill only go over my descendent ocs because they're the ones ive been posting about recently, i have too many homestuck ocs to cover lol..

mayosi pyrope is the first descendent oc i made back when there was a brief trend on twitter to make, fan descendants of the trolls. i think i was inspired by ko's descendent acarid, and terezi being one of my favorite trolls i ended up making a bootleg pyrope. (and i draw them together all the time bc they rot my brain)

they're a radical transmasc weeaboo skater "vigilante" who grew up being raised by humans in a very normal average household where they got basically anything they wanted with no issues. their interests include; dishing out justice, watching animes, playing videogames, and doing sick tricks on their board. they wield a katana that resembles terezi's dragon cane.. they're my simplest designed character, and though they look a lot like terezi with a skirt and long hair their design was heavily influenced by dirk because i imagined that dirk has influenced some kind of anime character that mayosi obsesses over and has based their look on..

they aren't at all interested in, being a lawyer or anything like that and would like to take care of bad guys samurai batman style in their ideal world.. unfortunately the loving gently parenting of their human family didn't toughen them up enough so they're mostly a baby who doesn't do well when faced with conflict. mayosi's easily bossed around by anyone who firmly tells them to do something because they're too scared to step up and stand up for themself and others, they have a lot of shame for not being as strong and cool as terezi or red glare. real wet blanket.

uuuh like terezi, they weren't always blind. they were lured in by their ex best friend now super complex hate not boyfriend acarid and he poured acid into their eyes, ruining their vision and giving them crazy chem burn scars.. i think around this time they were also given their super rad pointy shades so they can look more like their hero, but it was a major blow to their confidence since not only are they a weak coward they're now a weak coward who can't see. they eventually learn to navigate the world via sound waves, its not as effective as terezi's sniff and taste vision but mayosi isnt as interested as smelling and licking everything in their presence.

example of what i think it's like for them here..

theyyy are convinced by acarid to join him in his perfect sburb sesh, where they eventually grow a pair and cut off his arm and gouge his eyes before being shot in the brain and killed dead without ever waking on their moon. (sad) mayosi's feelings about acarid, who essentially abuses and manipulates them constantly, are very complicated because they feel an obligation to take on the brunt of his crazy in order to protect everyone but also because they cling to the nostalgic memories they have of him and are hoping he'll one day go back to that.

kokesi megido is based on kokeshi dolls, i think she sees ghosts and is really scared of them so she's super skittish and is always finding ways to shoo them away.. she probably knows how to speak japanese ig, i dont have a lot to say about her unfortunately.. i like how her design turned out though.

grimir maryam and romato vantas are brothers adopted into a rich human family, they're both spoiled brats and are constantly bickering with each other when they aren't pretending the other exists. grimir is mute and likes to garden (sooo original, i know) and romato speaks a lot and is a hopeless romantic writer. shrug.

i don't have as much to talk about. for any of my descendents other than mayosi because i have a really hard time developing ocs when i dont have people to bounce ideas off of. i mean most of mayosi was formed around acarid's existence and from ko's influence, otherwise they also wouldn't be developed . sorry .

[intoapuddle]

Tell us your dnp opinions 🎤

Am I boring if I say I don't feel like I've seen enough of them to have a fully formed opinion? The honest truth would be something like that, but I do have stray ideas and concepts. Don't take this as me not watching though. I watch everything they post, every video, every tweet, every ig story, the works (even if I'm not as active on here as I've been in the past). They just aren't giving us a lot recently. And in the small things they have given us, they haven't really told us their plans.

BUT if there's one thing about phannies it's that we are LOOKING, we are analysing, and we are relentless LMAO. So despite not having a lot to go on, after thinking for a bit I've come up with a theory:

Ever since covid hit, Dan and Phil have been *waiting*. Waiting to be able to perform again, waiting to move house, and now waiting for the house to be fully finished. Not that they haven't done things, but I honestly think this is one of the reasons for why they've delayed some youtube things? This could be just a shot in the dark but I feel like I can see this pretty clearly as being "a thing". Having things need to get done at home and being around workers a lot I think honestly affects their youtube stuff, and as we already know about them they love to wait until "the time is right". Which, obviously, is for better or for worse sometimes.

I think they want to do a joint project together again when they feel they can, and I think it's gonna be sooo much fun (like everything they do together is!!). I don't know if it's going to be a podcast, or a video series, or gaming channel/talky youtube videos or anything, but I do have this inkling that Phil is giving us tiny hints. And we know they love to give us tiny hints.

I think Dan's projects, the book and the tour, were because he's been so tired of waiting. He's told us as much, just maybe not in exactly those words. And Phil has done what he always does: going along for the ride and trying to keep his youtube channel alive through the means he has under the circumstances he's in (illness, anxiety, big move).

So in conclusion, my opinion is I think things are on the horizon for the lads and we aren't all just here for nothing. Something will happen! And that's gonna be great!! \o/ xoxo dapg delulu lifer since 2018

[howl-fantasies]

I have a request for headcanons of the Gotham rogues having met the Y/N when they were ig sane aka. not evil and then awhile after just seeing them at Arkham, now knowing they went down the same pit they had.

At least they can be a new rogue!

( I'm thinking of them liking each other romantically beforehand and then Y/N poof is now not sane- like oops but you can still date 🤷‍♀️ )

Hi dear, thank you for your request! And so sorry for the delay! I like the concept, it's a really plausible one. The idea of them meeting each other again in Arkham and bonding because of their common misfortune and spiralling to hell is a very good one! *Barbara vibes here*😂

I made scenarios with the reader being friend or sort of with the villains first, since I thought it would be fitting, I hope it's ok for you dear. I went with: Ed, Oswald, Victor and Jonathan. Tell me if you want to read more headcanons with other villains.

So here it is:

Warning: violence, blood, mental illness, suicidal thoughts, suicide attempt, Arkham (hey, it can be traumatising, ask Oswald and Ed), English is not my first language I'm working on it.

Word Count: 3.685

GOTHAM VILLAINS HAVING MET THE READER WHEN THEY WERE SANE

EDWARD NYGMA / THE RIDDLER

You were Kringle's coworker and met Eddy at the GCPD.

Even if you worked with the other woman you were never really close, mostly because of the awful way she treated Ed at first.

Even if he was a dork, you used to find him endearing and always gave his riddles a shot, succeeding or not to answer correctly.

If you were good at riddles, Ed would immediately become your partner in riddle-crime, always searching for a good one able to stump you.

If riddles weren't your forte, he appreciated your effort and gentleness. You really were trying and he really loved the spark of comprehension in your eyes when he would give you the correct answer and how you would facepalm and curse at how obvious it was when you were thinking about it.

Your closeness would earn you a lot of teasing from Jim, Harvey and the other cops, most of the times it would be mean remarks targeting Ed, though.

But you both knew the truth: Nygma was still obsess with Kringle. You, on the other hand, always had a soft spot for him. You didn't need to be a genius, though, to know your attraction for dear Ed was only a one side one. So you never told him anything about it.

When Ed started to lose it, you truly were horrified. Why? How? What was happening to him? You did your best to team up with Jim in order to bring your lovely co-worker back to you.

You already know the result: it will be an epic fail. For Jim, you and finally Ed who will be send to Arkham.

Then, your own little descent into hell happened.

Without Ed, you were now the new GCPD's scapegoat. Those guys never learn anything, right?

Hell at work and in your personal life: losing a close relative, meeting someone who hurt you badly, money issues, illness... choose your weapon and be ready to see your uneventful life burst into flames for the worse...or maybe the better?

You would wreak absolute havoc in Gotham, so much, Gordon himself had to go after you and managed to arrest you.

"What happened to you Y/N?! Ed wasn't enough? Why did you have to follow his path?!" He asked-yelled, the deep hurt visible in his eyes.

Goodbye Gotham, hello Arkham. Guess who you met again here?

“No waaay ∼ Look at you my dear, you are positively stunning!” His taunting voice would call you from the other side of the refectory. “Did you missed me so much you decided to pursue me here? My, oh my, I’m honoured!” *Yes, you can hit his pompous ass, please do it*

Riddler had to stop his mocking, though. When he saw you so numb, his felt his heart clench painfully. He appreciated you a lot back then. And seeing you so hollow made him drop his cocky act. 

“Are you ok dear?” He would ask, joining you at your table and cautiously seating in front of you with his brows furrowed. “What happened?”

And you would tell him. How your life became a living hell when he was gone. How everything crumbled around you until your mind didn’t have any other choice than snap. 

Goodness. He empathized. He truly did. His own snapping was relatively fresh after all. 

He would make his own little mission to protect you from Strange and his little human experiments, he would try his best to lift your spirit and even create special riddles only for you. Don’t worry about answering wrong, you wouldn’t die for it, he swore. 

Now that Kringle was out of the picture, Ed would finally see you. See how you were always kind with his dork him, how you tried to save him when everything went south for him, how you would discreetly wrinkle your cute nose when something was bothering you but you were too polite to point it out loud. God what was he thinking while running after his previous doomed love when you, who never tried to change anything with him, was just under his nose. He would feel like the biggest fool into the whole city let me tell you. 

He wouldn’t mind you being now judged as insane. He wouldn’t mind your illness. He would only mind how a blushing mess he was gradually becoming when you were near him. And he would only mind about ensuring your security: inside of Arkham, outside of it when he would convince Oswald to get you out too. 

Be ready to be the one receiving muffins with a bullet in it, flowers, poems, and any romantic gift you can think about. 

Bonus: he will always keep a picture of the two of you inside of his wallet. You both were in Arkham’s uniform at the cafeteria while he was teaching you how to play chess with a paper handmade one he created just for you. He would never admit it to anyone but he thought you were the cutest thing in your uniform. 

--

OSWALD COBBLEPOT / THE PENGUIN

You fist met Oswald when he entered the little tailor shop you owned.

He needed a new suit for his grand debuts in the mafia’s world, when he started to work for Fish. 

He wouldn’t be very kind during his first visits. But he came back every times, finding your sense of fashion and sewing technique terrific. 

He finally decided to compliment them once, bringing you to talk about a lot of things: suits, buttons, and more dangerous subjects like his mother and his growing criminal career. Nothing too touchy, though. Oswald is a cautious little thing and he also didn’t want you to sell any information or, if you really were as kind as you looked, make you a target if anyone wanted to hurt him. 

Soon, you would become his little secret. His breath of fresh air. He would even try to hide your friendship to his dear mother, too afraid she insults you or demand him to stop seeing you. 

But Gertrude is perceptive in her own way and would suspect something. Because of Oswald’s stupid happy smile whenever he was putting one of your creation, she would stay silent and let him think he was so good at keeping secrets. She swore to tore you apart if you ever dare to break his lovely son’s heart, though. 

Your relationship reached an important point when he would met you just after Fish defeat and flee, thanks to Victor. His clothes and face were a total mess. 

So you patched his suit and him, without asking questions you knew he wouldn’t answer. 

But he decided to speak. Well, not really speak, he vented. His nerves cracking and his temper starting to get the best of him. He always tried to keep it tamed near you, too afraid about your possible reaction. 

You didn’t run away. You let him yell, smash his hands and fists against your furniture, and offered him some tea, fruits and biscuits. 

“Poof” angry Oswald was now tamed. You’re a wizard/witch reader, be ready to receive a letter from Hogwarts in the following days.

After this, Cobblepot’s fondness for you will know no limit. As his dear friend, he would always make sure your shop and you were ok, even when everything around him was burning. 

But Gotham is Gotham, you know. Trouble, misery, and disasters always find their way to you. 

It started with an arson. Your shop was burned to the very ground. By who? Oswald swore to investigate and help you build it back, even better than before. 

But he wasn’t that rich at this time, so you did what any citizen would have done: you called the insurance, you went to the illustrious Gotham Central Bank and ask for their help to lend you the funds you needed. 

Condensed, their answer was pretty much a: “LMAO no fucking way, please go die somewhere in the dark alone.” Pretty much. With prettier and complex words, but the meaning was the same. 

Oswald was livid. You too. But you’ll eventually find a way to back up on your feet. Right? *Spoiler: no*

Your chance definitely left you when a few weeks later, Oswald get caught and sent to Arkham, letting you all alone to deal with your problem and Cobblepot’s foes who somehow had heard about you. 

Domino effect. It would always be your answer to the “What happened to you?” inevitable question. You lost it. You snapped. Nobody, except Oswald, was keen on helping you in this hell hole. Nobody would care if you were to die alone in a dark and shady alley. 

Why would you care about robbing the bank then? And other banks, galleries, rich people in town? Money was the key. You needed money. In fact, it became your obsession. Money will guarantee you a home, you will never lose yours ever again. Money will guarantee you security, power, and quick solutions whenever you may be in need for one. 

You get caught too. Your total obsession for money making you the perfect new candidate to the only asylum in town. Not like you cared. Your precious money was safe, you made sure of it. But from Arkham, it would be a little bit difficult to reach. 

Life decided to stop being a bitch when you saw your dear friend again. 

“Y/N?!” You heard him yell when you were escorted to the cell next to his own. “Oh my god my dear, I am so sorry I wasn’t here for you! But what are you doing here! It must be a mistake! Guards! Let us go this instant, we aren’t mentally ill for heaven’s sake!” 

Like Ed, Oswald will make sure no harm was done to you in Arkham. Yes, he would even protect you from Jerome. He would never let the freak touch a single hair of your head. You were too precious. 

Oswald would also make sure to get you out. Even after Strange little mind game on him. He would never forget you or judge you a bad influence for him. 

Of course he’ll notice your newfound obsession for money. But he understands. Better, he will make sure to help you make and steal a lot of it. 

He asked you to move in with him during his mayor campaign, implored you to stay during his Gotham’s throne conquest - for your own security. In fact, he will want you with him at all times. You, his dearest friend. The only one who, he knew, would never turn their back on him. 

Be ready to catch him facing empty chairs a few times when you come back home. “Don’t panic, he’s practicing his confession,” Olga told you in her language that you obviously don’t understand a word about. 

Gifts. Gifts everywhere. Everyday. For no reason. He likes to spoil you rotten. “Can’t you see this boy fell head over heels for you, idiot?” Would sigh Olga every time. Of course, both of you will miss it every time, demanding her to speak in freaking ENGLISH... Poor you guys... It will take ages. 

--

VICTOR ZSASZ

Victor met you for the first time at the Lady's illegal casino.

You weren't an assassin yourself, by no means. Just here to work as an accountant. You knew about the Lady's business and ensure she never had any issue with her money, writing her contracts for her and it was all.

When the most famous assassin in town showed his bald head in the casino and the Lady wasn't here, he pretexted he was "just passing by" and got lost here. Dude... I mean...

You had to facepalm. Which made him laugh like an idiot. You knew who he was, but also were accustomed to assassins at this point so it wasn't like you were going to pee in your pants while being in front of him. He liked it.

You introduced yourself properly and explained you worked for the Lady and was aware he was supposed to come to see her.

You offered him a drink on the house and humor him with small talk while waiting for your boss.

When she finally showed up, the three of you moved in a seclude area to talk business. Something about a contract the Lady wanted to make with Victor, with the benediction of Carmine Falcone.

He was amazed by how composed and organized you were. Clinical. Like any good assassin should be, even if you weren't one. He absolutely loved your quick wit and the dark jokes you would offer from time to time to help lightening the mood when tension was getting too intense. Damn, you were good!

Victor being Victor, he quickly became fascinated by you, following you everywhere in town with or without you knowing.

You caught him stalking you once when you stopped by a pizza truck, asking for a calzone.

"Add one pepperoni please. Oh! And a milkshake too." Came his voice from behind you, making you jump out of your skin and curse him like a sailor.

"What the hell?! Are you following me? I mean, for real?! DUDE!" You yelled in pure outrage.

He wouldn't even try to hide it. Simply offering you his irritating "Uh-uh".

"What for? Plan to kill me or something?" You asked.

His long silence wasn't mean to threaten you, no. He was admiring your nerves of steel. Also questioning your sanity a bit, truth be told. But since you made him a really good impression so far, he decided you were impressive.

"Not today", he just said with a shrug. Ok, so he wanted to play friends or something so stupidly mondain like this. Again, you decided to humor him.

Guess what, after a few times of totally not planned encounters, you started to really get close to each other. Even exchange numbers at some point.

He would always find the time to pay you a little visit at the casino at the end of your shift and appreciate the strange normalcy it gave him.

Everything was fine until one day, the Lady's illegal casino was under attack, getting nearly everyone killed brutally.

You survived somehow. You weren't an assassin but it didn't mean they didn't taught you a thing or two, like surviving *the irony* or using weapons.

When the GCPD FINALLY arrived, they caught you, covered in blood and utterly shocked. You were still processing everything happening and your world falling apart.

Your distressed attitude and shock were the main reasons why you were send to Arkham, in hope they would help you to get through it and release you after it.

They didn't plan the bloodbath would have turned one very dangerous switch inside of you. The blood, the thrill, the smell of powder, the pure rush of adrenaline. God you wanted more.

A month later maybe, guess who also found his ass in the same facility? But yes of course: Victor Zsasz.

His goofy grin threatened to split his jaw in half when he saw you: "Hey Sweets! Knew you survived!"

It wouldn't need much for him to understand what switch was activated inside of you. And he was positively thrilled by it!

He offered to train you, respected when you declined joining the Zsaszettes and came with another idea: introduce you to Falcone/Oswald (depending on where you want to stand in the timeline) and make you their brand new accountant-assassin.

Be ready to find him glued to you at anytime, you were his little secret crush back then, you're now his new God/Goddess and nothing will stop him to worship you properly, not even you. You'll see you were made for each other, eventually.

--

JONATHAN CRANE / SCARECROW

You were Jonathan's classmate and friend.

You weren't as easy spook as him so you often where his emotional support and bodyguard, especially at school with bullies. No need to be a total badass, your fondness for him was enough to give you the courage to shut up the boys or girls making fun of him and you, or give them a proper beating if you feel like so.

His sensibility always touched you deeply, and you were always here whenever he needed to vent about something or talk about his fears.

This is how you learned about the arson taking the life of his mother. The gradual shutting of his father and his obsession with fear and how to tame it.

When it was only researches, you found yourself really interested in Jonathan's father discoveries, as much as Jonathan himself. He was always a little genius in science and physics. Share it with him or not, your interest for the fear field wasn't feigned.

He gladly explained whatever you didn't understand and even suggested a few theories, sharing them with you.

It could have stayed this way, a passion, a subject of research. But it had to escalate when Jon's father started to look for unwilling test subjects.

You weren't aware of it at first. Unsuspecting, until you found Jonathan doubled in half on the floor of the school's bathroom one day, crying like a river and mumbling nonsense about him being a monster and going straight to hell.

You rushed to him, crouching at his level and tried to shake him out of his shock. "Jon'! Hey! Look at me! What are you talking about, you're no monster! Something happened? Please talk to me."

Poor boy was an absolute mess but managed to hear you and let you help him to sit. And he spoke. Oh good lord, he spoke for an hour or so, telling you everything about his father and what he was doing to poor gothamites. How he was forced into this total craziness and how he started to fear his father will ask him to use you as a test subject one day.

Horrified. That's how you felt, frankly. You had to stay silent for a good five minutes to process everything your friend just told you.

But you liked Jonathan, and he wasn't responsible of his father madness, right?

You comforted him, swearing it was not his fault and he wasn't a monster.

When he finally stopped crying, you swore to him that you'll never tell it to anyone, not even the police *You were teens. Teens do stupid things like this. Well, adults too when you think about it...*

He would come to you every time his father would terrify some innocent in town, crying for hours on your shoulders.

When his dad used the toxin on him, he was on phone with you, making you yell bloody murder on the other side of the line and dropping everything you were doing to run to his house.

You crumbled when you saw your best friend on the ground under his phobia: a huge scarecrow, yelling, crying and spasming like he was having a heart attack. You rushed to him and pushed Harvey away, "He's my friend! Oh my god! Please do something!" You pleaded in tears, having to be manhandled by Jim to allow emergency services to reach him.

You were at the hospital everyday, hating you for not having call the GCPD sooner. Maybe it would have saved Jon. The guilt was eating you alive. When the docteur told you he was a lost cause, you felt like going into a tailspin. Then, came the numbness.

When Jonathan was transferred into an asylum where visits weren't allowed, you made a new friend: depression.

Nothing could help you, you wanted to die. Die for being responsible of your friend distress, die because all you were able to feel was pain.

You went to his house one day, when the guilt and pain were too much to bear. You found yourself inside his father's old office and started to rummage around his things. There, a syringe. With some shady yellow liquid floating inside of it.

You didn't had any idea about what was inside. But at this point, you didn't care any more. You took it in your hands, looked at it just a second before plunging it directly on your upper arm, emptying it in it.

Your yells of absolute terror were what made neighbors call the police, thinking a murder was happening in Crane's old house. When Gordon and Bullock found you, they felt ice in their veins. You were Jonathan's friend. The one who found him with them that night. The one who always was by his side at the hospital before his transfer. Jim felt he failed you. Harvey too.

You went through the exact same hell as Jonathan. First the delirium, the nightmares... When you finally managed to wake up, your diagnosis was the same as him: a lost cause. Arkham was your new stop. They didn't want to send you to the same facility's Jonathan was in, too afraid it would be too much of a shock for both of you guys.

Oh but fate has its own ways. And you finally saw each other again, years later. When he was now incarcerated as Scarecrow.

He recognized you immediately. Not believing what he was seeing. What happened to you? He tried to find you when he started his criminal career but it was like your very existence vanished from earth.

He was always perceptive. A minute was enough for him to understand: you were exposed to his toxin. Well, to his father's toxin.

He was as sorry for you as he was impress when you explained him you took the same dose of toxin he took a few years back and was still living to tell the tale.

Since you were his friend *cough* and also school sweetheart *cough*, and now totally immune to his fear toxin, he decided it was time for him to take care of you and make sure you were always safe.

Be ready for a clingy best friend-lover, for cuddles every times you two are alone, to weird scary gifts, halloween chocolates, dead flowers and basically any weird thing he would find romantic or cute.

A/N - I hope you liked it! Have a beautiful day/night my dear, take care!

[akystaracer22]

The Exception to the Rule

Synopsis: How far do you bend your morals for someone you love?

Notes:

This is definitely a turning point to the story and is a little jump ahead of everything so far.

From here on out, there will be two different types of oneshot, flashback oneshots which happen either in Heaven or in Eden, and present day oneshots which are primarily in Hell.

This also adds a new epithet to Adams repertoire! Technically.

There are OC’s in this one, I can’t avoid it.

Heaven politics! Theres a lot going on in heaven I can’t talk about because nobody in hell knows about it, but I can finally start talking!

I listened to More than Anything, Connor’s Main Theme, and Gladiator while writing this.

In exchange for starting the extermination early, the one after would take 18 months as opposed to 12.

I have named over 60 exorcists. If you see a reference no you don’t.

Vaggie wasn’t the first angel to show mercy to a sinner.

I drop so much fucking lore in this jesus fuck.

This one shot was supposed to come so much later.

Shit

SO, MICHAEL’S INVOLVED NOW!

Hey uh, you know how I said I can’t write stupid characters? Yeah… Adam can act and think like a damn general now ig.

Adams over 6,000 years old he knows how to move quickly.

... I really like my BAMF characters huh.

Word Count: 1862

Fic under cut!

“Adam?”

“Over here Luci,” The first man replied easily, looking towards where the angel had entered the wastelands.

Well… wastelands was a bit of a stretch now.

Once he was able to improve the soil, grass was able to finally start growing and…

The oak tree Adam was taking a break under was a testament to his labour. It was still growing and would probably take another year or so with the help of Lucifer’s magic before it’d resemble the mighty trees most people knew.

It didn’t make Adam any less proud of it.

The fallen angel got up and stretched his wings as Lucifer rounded a crag and came into view.

One of Adams wings hiked up before he could shove the instinct down, it was just Lucifer.

“Charlie wanted to know if you wanted to come up for lunch or if you’re fine down here,” The devil started, “She and Maggie are making pastries from the pear’s you dropped off yesterday.”

“Vaggies baking? Better hope your daughters good then, Vaggie’s got a tendency to burn whatever she touches.”

Regardless, Adam started making his way towards the hotel, completely disregarding the unspoken offer to just teleport there.

Lucifer just laughed and unfurled his wings as Adam began the trek up the stairs, flying up beside the man.

“I doubt you have room to talk about when it comes to cooking.”

“I helped Eve cook you know,” Adam scoffed, “I had a few specialties of my own.”

“And yet Maggie can’t cook.”

“Oh, shut the fuck up, plenty of my daughters can cook! Lux is extremely good at dessert foods and Needle can make some great fucking lunches.”

“Oh really?”

“Yes really! It’s Mari you have to look out for. The presentation of her food? Stunning, beautiful, gourmet even. The taste? I thought I was going to die a second time over the toilet.”

Lucifer cackled and a light chuckle escaped Adams lips as the angel almost fell out of the sky at the mental image.

“Shut up! I’m serious I thought I caught some sort of illness! They don’t even have illnesses in heaven!”

“I would pay to see that!”

“I bet you would be you sick fuck.”

“Hey! I-”

Lucifer went dead silent, and Adam almost asked what was wrong before he heard it too.

Shouting.

He didn’t even glance at his friend as they were both caught in Lucifer’s magic, bringing them both to the hotel lobby.

“I’ll stop the fight.”

“I’ll grab my fucking axe,” Adam headed down the hallways until he found the gym, carefully taking his axe off the wall and slinging it over his back before booking it to the hotel exit.

“If you’d just give me a minute-!”

“Your majesty-”

“Alastor.”

“Mom!”

“Oh for fucks sake!”

Adam slammed open the doors and jumped the stairs, “What the fuck is going on-!”

Adams brain short circuited immediately after taking in the situation.

Lucifer was frozen stiff with his wings spread wide, his head whipping around to stare open mouthed at Adam. Alastor and Lilith’s glaring contest was broken as they also stared at the first man. The princess and Vaggie were holding hands and Charlies demonic traits receded at Adams arrival.

The other residents were also still at the first mans arrival, nervousness and surprise evident in everyone expressions, even Nifty stopped moving. Under normal circumstances Adam’s gut would have twisted from all the attention.

That usual knee jerk response was completely crushed under the weight of the other three present.

Adam was barely aware of the fact that he’d dropped his axe as he took in the maskless faces of three of his exorcists.

Echo almost dropped her scimitars; her hair was undone from it’s usual bun to brush against her shoulders. She almost stepped back from him before a wing from her sisters steadied her.

Delta was much more graceful, sheathing her rapier and swallowing thickly; Adam understood how she felt. She’d recently had a haircut, her undercut looking crisper than the last time he saw her.

Nina’s war pick clattered to the ground as she brought her hands to her mouth, tears cropping up in the corners of her eyes as she took in his ruined form. In contrast to Delta, her hair had grown out; the normal buzz cut fading.

Adam stood in the silence, wings slowly folding in from where he had mantled them prior. He didn’t know what to do. These were his girls, and they were here and fuck, they were outnumbered. But… shit they were here to kill him weren’t they.

“…Sir?”

Fuck it.

The first man sprinted forward; wings spread wide as he reached out for the three of them. Weapons hit the ground as he pulled his kids into a hug.

If he was going to die, he’d like to die hugging his girls.

Adam didn’t expect the three of them to hug back. His shoulder grew wet as Nina’s tears started to fall; Echo made a soft noise as she buried her head in the feathers of his good wing. Delta’s wings were touching the tips of his own as she all but collapsed into the huddle.

Huh, seems like they were all mad here.

Adam didn’t give a fuck; he was hugging his exorcists and that was enough for him at the moment.

“So… we’re good?”

Moment over.

Adam pulled away to glare at Lucifer, “Do you fucking mind?”

“Sorry sorry! I’ll shut up now!”

“No, you’ve ruined it. Moments gone and done thanks to you,” Adam huffed, regretfully stepping away from his girls even as he kept his good wing extended to the three exorcists, guiding them by the wing towards the hotel.

“Come on, I have a feeling you three aren’t here just for show.”

- - ┈┈∘┈˃̶༒˂̶┈∘┈┈ - -

Adam blew lightly on his tea before sipping it, leaning forward to pour the exorcists some tea as he worked to calm his still slightly frayed nerves.

He’d managed to move the girls into a private room before unceremoniously kicking everyone else out, if anything happened Lucifer would break into the room in a flash, so it wasn’t like he was in any real danger.

Besides, they were his girls, it’d be fine.

“So,” Adam swallowed, before  “What brings you three to this side of the pentagram? The hunts not on for another eight months.”

Echo swallowed thickly and Nina bowed her head, it was Delta who answered.

“I- Netto discovered that heaven knew you were alive, sir. Lute wanted to come down immediately but the rest of us were able to convince her otherwise.”

“She’s too far in the eyes of the high seraphim, if she disappeared they’d know.”

“So, we decided to go instead,” Nina finished for her sisters.

Adam stared at the three of them, horrified, “What?”

“What Nina’s saying is… we’re staying here.”

“Why the fuck would you three do that!” Adam hissed, feathers bristling at the implications, “You all have so much to lose-”

“We don’t,” Delta asserted, scowling at the window, “You know damn well what hells denizens took from us.”

Adam froze as the image flashed into the forefront of his mind.

Charlie. Echo and Delta’s missing piece to their trio. They were best friends even beyond the bonds of sisterhood. Where one was the other two were close by. Charlie was the sunshine to their storm, always taking time out of her own day to brighten up the other exorcists. She preferred to use a crossbow to keep away from sinners, something Adam was always grateful for.

Charlie’s body was missing several ribs and most of her organs, looking every part like it had been ravaged by monsters. It took effort Adam didn’t have every day to not go to cannibal town and raze it to the ground. For Charlie, for Zirco, for Steel, for Feather and Annie and every exorcist he failed.

Even-

A scream, a plea as Adam struggled against divine magic nononono please stOP PLEASE-

Wasp

Adam whole body tensed up. Fuck, Wasp. He hadn’t- shit he’d almost managed to convince himself that that had never-

Fuck.

The girls were looking at him now, Nina reaching out a hand to him.

“And you?”

The hand pulled away, “What?”

“Nina, why did you decide to come down here,” Adam rasped, “You- fuck you were planning on proposing to your girlfriend why-”

“Because your our leader,” Nina answered quietly, like she wasn’t taking Adams breath away with a single sentence, “And Regina understood, she agreed with me.”

Nina held up her phone with a sad smile, “Besides, at least this way it’s easier for me to watch out for her dad.”

Adam wanted to send the three of them back to heaven immediately, this was no place for angels. Vaggie was lucky she found Charlie immediately.

But Delta and Echo had backbones of steel, and once Nina set her mind to something there was no stopping her.

Shit, Netto and Lute were smart to send them.

Wait-

“What did you mean when you said heaven knew I fell Delta,” Adam whispered, “I should have fucking died. How did Netto find out I fell.”

Delta sighed and gazed tiredly at him, “Same way she always finds things out, she got it straight from Michaels lips.”

Adams blood froze before his mind caught up with him. Michael was involved with this. Fuck of course he was it was Michael, and if he was involved… then it stands to reason the rest of the ancient archangels had something to do with all of this too.

The first man stood up before pausing, if his gut was right, this wasn’t just about his fall. For the ancient archangels to be aware of his fall and do nothing for ten months… there was something he was missing.

He’d need to wait, maybe even bring Lucifer and the others in on this. But first…

“I’m in room 2101, Lucifer’s wing. 2100 is taken by the king of hell himself and his wife but the rest of the floor is empty,” the three exorcists perked up at Adams commanding tone, “Get set up and get settled in. Echo, send a message to the others and tell them I’m okay.”

“Already done.”

“Love that, Delta how is training looking?”

“Lute’s leading the effort sir, we’ve been working hard to fix our holes.”

“Great, get back in contact with Lute. I have a few techniques that can help. And for fucks sake tell her to use whatever prosthetic she has to her advantage; I fucking know she’s not.”

“Yes sir!”

“Nina, keep an ear out. Both for anything Netto has for us and for anything in hell. Carmilla Carmine, and the Vees are important. Especially Carmine, she’s the one with the angelic steel. Do not engage.”

“Go it sir.”

“Good, I’ll get you three for dinner. Remember, stay sharp, stay armed, and whatever you do. Don’t fucking trust the Radio Demon. He’ll kill everyone in this hotel the moment he’s off his fucking leash.”

The leader of the exorcists watched the three of them head down the hallway towards the front desk before turning and heading for the stairwell.

He had a lot to think about, and from the looks of things he still had an extermination to plan.

[mikalame]

tom kaulitz x flight attendant

“i cant believe your actually making me do this" i groan bill is making us go into the air again, last time i got so air sick i threw up in my hat cause the flight attendant couldn't get there quick enough. I think ill die of embarrassment if i see her again she was way to pretty to be doing that she should have been a model or something not someone rushing to get a bucket cause i couldn't hold my food down. “TOM!” bill shouts in my ear “ i smack him in the shoulder “quick screaming in my ear that shit hurts ugh”  “you thinking bout that girl again it would be so funny if she was the one to serve us again” georg snickers they all know that shes been on my mind for ages now i just hoped me meet somewhere better and not like how it did.

Well fuck me after getting pushed from behind by some lady for 5 minutes we finally sit down i thank bill for getting me an aisle seat so it would be quick for me to get up and run to the bathroom. “After 30 minutes the food should come out wake me up then mmk” georg says before putting on his eye mask and falling asleep we pass time by seeing how many skittles we can through into his mouth.

I dont hear the rattle of the cart getting pushed through the row of people as i have my head phones when it finally comes up to us i see that gustav has woken georg up and both of them are quitely laughing to themselves i look up and see its that girl agian i feel heat rise to my cheeks my vision becomes blurry and feel the breakfast coming up. I try and hold it in until shes gone but as soon as she left i shot up and bolted down the aisle. Around five minutes later i unlock the door i see her standing there holding a bottle water “um thought you might need this to um yk was down the vomit taste or something” she laughs akwardly handing me the bottle “Omg look im so sorry for last time like i was and still am so embarrased bout like throwing up and stuff and like right now ig aswell” i blush hiding my face after i drink the water “Oh no its okay i didnt mind really air sickness is more common than you think” she jokes i laugh a bit aswell. “um do you think maybe we could hangout or something like when your free oh well ig youd have to fly back after this but um...” i trail off thinking my idea was stupid and silly “no i would love to you seem real nice and sweet um do you have a phone on you i can give you my number” she says. I whip out my phone as she types the number in “well thanks umm...” “oh ___ and what your name Mr. Air sickness” “Tom, tom kaulitz i look forward to our date ___” i say while walking away feeling ten time better 

Hope yall like thanks for the love on the first post!!!! <3 plz if you have request please tell me them im dieing for it lol

[ad-hawkeye]

wanted to know if you ever got to read artem’s pool/8 ball card i thought the event story was cute but i was a wee bit curious on your thoughts on the card

I JUST FINISHED IT!!!!!!!!! AS WE SPEAK!!! i have a whole list of my thoughts HAHA SORRY FOR THE RAMBLING IN ADVANCE

"artem had to join a pool club for work" is one of the better excuses to give him a new hobby, ill begrudgingly give them that

im glad artem still has the alcohol tolerance of a squirrel. do NOT let this man go off by himself he will accidentally take a sip of alcohol and then need a time out in the corner.

"is it that obvious?" yes, artem.

mc making sure artem eats a fucking meal is rly cute LMFAO

mc ordering artem a non-alcoholic drink is also sweet. i remember i wrote a fic (all the way back in like 2021 after reading atmospherics) where i wrote abt artem going out of his way to drink mocktails after all of that. genuinely really happy to see that's canon.

i've noticed newer ssrs are just. shorter? first year ssrs tended to be like, over an hour long when put on auto. but newer ones are only 40 mins on auto. laaaame. but then again with the overall writing quality, maybe they're just putting us out of our misery.

ah yes. artem getting surprised by mc kissing his cheek in public. what a sly sex chad. did they get the only good artem writer left at hoyoverse on this card or something

artem being exhausted from socializing is a mood. girl same.

the way these two talk about alcohol sends me. dear god artem we can let you have a sip oh god. OH JESUS CHRIST ARTEM NO --

this story is cute enough to make me sad. godddd. it's really nice to see artem more casual and open, esp since this story is more in character.

THE IRISH GOODBYE?? ARTEM LMFAO.

mutuals meet me in the secret passage of the pool place

sneaking out by running is giving the same energy as his revisiting youth ssr where they decided to sneak to the school's roof and hide from the security guards lmfao. ah. the nostalgia.

AND this ssr acknowledges artem's love of movies?? YES

STOP KISSING IN THE STORAGE ROOM GUYS THE CINEMA STAFF IS GOING TO FIND YOU!!!!!!!!!!!! DEAR GOD

"this should be filmed in slow motion" LMFAO

JUMPSCARE. JUMPSACRE. NEW ARTEM EXPRESSION. JUMPSCARE. HOLY FUCK

i sincerely think a full on artem smile is all i ever wanted back in the day i cant believe i fucking got it in the POOL CARD OF ALL CARDS

"was something set up incorrectly?" "[artem pout] probably."

mc taking a pic of his stupid distracted expression is amazing and him getting blushy about it is even funnier

"was it too sour?" "yeah...."

thank god pathetic artem is back

nevermind he is licking her arm like a dog. tot's fascination with licking will never fail to amuse me. this is like when my dog licks my leg in the middle of the night

if one sip of alcohol fucks him up this bad i'd hate to see what happens when he's a few shots in. mr wing breaking it down sloppy style on the floor (not clickbait)

STOP LICKING EACH OTHER YOU FREAKS

i think artem should trip a few more times it's funny

this is the closest we've gotten to artem fessing up about atmospherics i can fucking taste it

NOOOO THEY FUMBLED IT. NO ATMOSPHERICS MENTION. ENDING IT ALL. GOD DAMN IT

i can forgive this bc the running joke of them missing scenes in a movie is back

all in all as far as post second anniversary cards go, this one wasn't bad at all and had a lot of cute moments. a few weird ones (which is to be expected at this point ig), but mostly cute!! it made me miss my fav artem cards but in a good way. siiigh ;_;;;

[sorryimananti-romantic]

its quite strange. im seeing you in my dreams. and i dont know whether to dread falling asleep and waking up in a fantasy where we're together or look forward to it. i quite enjoy spending time with you in the land of dreams, where youre just as infatuated with me as i am with you. part of me says the pang of sadness once i wake up and realise its all a trick of my mind, that you'd never feel the same, that ill never be the one you look at with that love gaze, that ill never be her, is worth those small moments of interaction. but it isnt real. itll never be real. why do i hold onto the hope of you and i, when i know perfectly well it will never come true? but... cant a girl dream? but why do i dream of something that is bound to make me yearn and cry and wish for more when i wake? let me have my moments. let me dream... but im hurting myself with these hopes.

aaand the bell rang so i couldnt continue 😞

okok but srsly i dreamt of him last night and idk if i need to get over him b4 this crush of mine goes too far or enjoy the dreams ☹

(for a hot moment this clown (me) thought you were talking about me and i was like:

ignore that ^

assuming you're that green flag dude anon?? or talking about a real dude (if you're not and you're talking about some kpop idol pls take your anti-delulu pills you're welcome) he's appearing in your dreams omgg 😭 (that's bc you're thinking about him too much esp when you're about to sleep)

(also i'm stuggling a lot here the T in me is saying talk to him and you'll hate him bc real non-fictional men ew problem solved) BUT i hope you're interacting with him? it's no use crushing on someone and not doing anything about it that's just making yourself miserable. just talk to him, if you continue to find him attractive after you get to know him a little maybe shoot your shot? if he likes you back, yay! if not, then that's your cue to let it be i guess (or fight for it but this isn't the fanfic world it's different here 😭 whatever feels right ig)

or you could continue to enjoy the dreams as long as you don't forget your anti-delulu pills-- crushing on someone from far away is far less disappointing ig but maybe that's just me and my weird ass self-defence mechanism that doesn't even allow me to crush on someone in peace 😭😭

but i'm here if you want to talk about it more! warning tho i only give realistic practical advice, i don't feed delulus😔

[telurvision]

hello!! i dont really know how tumblr works and im much more active on ig but ill give here a shot too (:

heres some nyo rus art!