#thank you for sending though this was fun !!

[kazuhaiku]

ᡣ𐭩 unpredicted date

-> synopsis: in which mualani sets up an unpredicted date between you and kinich which leads to silly moments between the two of you.

-> warnings: mildly inspired by that one kimi ni todoke episode, fluff, gender neutral reader, silly kinich, modern!au + tags @ryescapades @lunaritex

You swear you’re going to kill (not literally) Mualani when you see her again.

When she asked you to go out on a girl's night out today, you didn’t expect to see Kinich be the one waiting in front of the aquarium instead of Kachina and Mualani.

Mualani… You sigh, then your phone beeps, signaling a message.

Speak of the devil, Mualani is the one who messaged you, simply sending you a 

mualani have fun with kinich today! you’ll thank me later, promise :3

“Y/N,” Kinich calls out your name, snapping you out of your daze. You manage to give him a small smile as you walk towards him. “Mualani told me that you guys were hanging out today and she invited me to come along but it has been fifteen minutes and she hasn’t arrived yet.”

“I wonder why…” you grit your teeth, and before you can say anything else, Kinich’s phone rings. “Is that her?” you ask, but you already know the answer anyway.

Kinich nods. “Should I put it on speaker mode?” you agree and he clicks the speaker button. “Hello?”

“KInich! I am terribly sorry but I can’t make it to today’s hangout,” Mualani fakes a cough (which sounds too fake, mind you). “Me and Kachina caught a sudden cold-” you can hear Kachina protest in the background before her voice muffles, probably Mualani covering her mouth. “Have fun with Y/N today, yeah? And take lots of pictures.” Mualani ends the call before Kinich can get another word in. He stares at his phone before putting it back into his pocket.

“Well…” Kinich reaches into his other pocket and fishes out two tickets. “Guess that’s why she asked me to hold on to these yesterday.”

“Yesterday?!” you choke on your spit. “Well she’s prepared for the worse…”

“That’s Mualani for you,” Kinich replies. “Let’s go then. We might be lucky and grab the limited edition items in the story.”

You gasp. “How’d you know they are available today?! That’s why I suggested to Mualani that we go early yesterday!”

“I searched them up,” Kinich says. “I thought you would have liked it and I was right.”

You freeze in your tracks. He was thinking about me? The limited items remind him of me? Holy shit-

“Y/N?” Kinich waves a hand in front of your face. “You okay?”

“Yeah, yeah!” you shake your head. “Let’s go inside.” 

The aquarium itself is beautiful, filled with different kinds of fish some of which you recognize and some you don’t. You and Kinich don’t talk to each other up until you find a small fish that piques your interest.

“Kinich!” you grab his arm and pull him in the direction of where the fishes are located. You gasp in awe, seeing their beautiful colors. “Look! Look how pretty they are.”

Kinich sees the sign next to the aquarium. “Betta fish.”

“Oh, is that what it’s called?” you ask, eyes still trained on the fishes swimming around. “They’re beautiful…”

Your eyes sparkle as you stare at the fish. Unbeknownst to you, Kinich wasn’t even looking at the fish. He is looking at you. You, who is completely fascinated by the small fish swimming around the small aquarium. You, who has the brightest smile he has ever seen. A smile appears on Kinich’s face before he clears his throat and looks away, a tint of red appearing on his cheeks.

“Sorry, Kinich!” you apologize, though he doesn’t know what you’re apologizing for. “Are there any other things you want to look at?” you turn to look at him only to see him staring at an empty corner. “Kinich..? You okay?”

“Yeah,” Kinich murmurs. “Wanna go get the limited items?”

“You’re right!” you exclaim and once again take his hand in yours. “Come on! We have to hurry!”

The merchandise store is empty when you arrive, which means that the limited items aren’t sold out yet.

“Excuse me! We’re here for the limited items you guys sell!” you exclaim, almost out of breath.

“You’re just in time! This is the first time we’re releasing a limited item for couples!” the employee responds, bringing up two small octopus plushies. “Here we are. Two octopus plushies for the lovely couple.”

You choke on your spit. “W-Wait we’re not-”

“Thank you.” Kinich takes the plushies from the employee without denying their words. “Here.” Kinich hands you the cuter-looking one, and you accept it almost hesitantly. The employee bows as you leave the store.

You keep quiet as soon as you reach the exit and Kinich notices. “You okay? Why are you being so quiet?”

“Um… You heard what the employee said before, right?” you ask and Kinich nods. “Weren’t you going to deny her words..?”

“Was it uncomfortable for you?” Kinich asks.

“No, no! It was just unexpected. I thought you were going to deny it immediately.” you hold the octopus closer to you. “It just shocked me a bit. But on a serious note, thank you for hanging out with me today, Kinich.”

“It’s my pleasure. I like going out with you and um,” Kinich looks away. “We can do this again if you want to… Just the two of us.”

Your eyes brightened. “Really?” he nods. “Okay! I promise I’ll come ask you to go out with me some other time.”

“Okay,” Kinich replies. “Let me walk you home?”

Knowing Kinich’s slightly stubborn attitude, you accept his proposal. The walk back home is filled with silence, but you can’t ask for anything better.

(Mualani later sent a picture she took of you and Kinich in the aquarium. Kinich was looking at you with the cutest smile on his face as you are focused on the Betta fishes).

[requiemforthepoets]

hii do you write for franco? if yes can i request a fic where reader is short and insecure about her height so she’s afraid their relationship won’t survive his “f1 career” cause of the lifestyle and all the girls he’s going to meet so despite really loving him she tries to breakup with him but he won’t let her?

tell me that you’re still mine, tell me that we’ll be just fine 𖦹 FC43

PAIRINGS: franco colapinto x female!reader

SUMMARY: when you found out that franco will be racing for williams racing, you were so proud of him. though at the back of your mind, you can’t help but overthink about your relationship with him now that he’s finally in f1.

AUTHOR’S NOTE: hi! thank you so much for sending your request. it’s my first time writing for franco, but i really had fun. i hope you’ll like this one and it’s up to what you were expecting. enjoy! :)

REMINDERS: this is purely fiction, the way how the character is portrayed in my story does not reflect the person that is portraying my character in real life. always separate fiction from reality, and do not repost or copy my work in any way.

WORD COUNT: 1.6k

WARNINGS: not proofread, typos, insecurities (mostly comparing self to others), cursing, low self esteem, overthinking, anxiety, and no use of y/n

As you stand in the Williams garage, you can clearly hear the hum of the whole circuit buzzing all around, and you can’t help but feel so proud. Franco had just achieved what he had been dreaming of since childhood—his first official race in Formula 1. It should have been one of the happiest moments of your life, watching him stand there, helmet in hand, chatting animatedly with the engineers, that wide grin plastered on his face. You knew how hard he worked for this, how many nights you spent listening to his dreams, encouraging him through the frustrations of karting, and celebrating every win, every milestone. You were there through it all, and here he was now—your Franco, living his dream.

However, alongside the pride that you were feeling, a bitter feeling also crept in. It had been lurking at the back of your mind for days now, only growing stronger with each passing moment. It was not about Franco’s career, but more about where you fit into his new world. The glitz and glamor, cameras that seemed to follow every move, the polished and perfect people that surrounded him—people you had never imagined yourself fitting in with.

Lily, Alex’s girlfriend, had been nothing but sweet to you all weekend. You bonded with her quickly, her kind words and warmth is a welcoming comfort amidst the chaos. Yet, as much as you liked her, being around someone so gorgeous and effortlessly poised had only made you feel even smaller. You weren’t tall or glamorous like her or the other WAGs, nor were you used to the attention, and you barely have a successful career. You were just…you. A university student trying to get by through her classes, someone who barely knew what to do when a camera pointed your way, and someone who couldn’t help but wonder if you were truly cut out for this kind of life.

When Franco finally made his way back to you, you could hardly breathe. He greeted you with that same wide smile and a soft tender kiss on the lips, his eyes still sparkling from the thrill of the race.

“Can you believe it?” He laughed, pulling you into a hug. “I can’t believe I just raced in F1. This is really insane.”

You smiled weakly, arms wrapped around him. Trying to steady your racing heart. “I’m so proud of you,” you murmured against his chest. But the words felt heavy, there was something you needed to say, something you dreaded.

After the media frenzy died down and the team began to clear out, you knew it was time. You asked Franco if the two of you can go to his driver’s room, away from the lights, cameras, and the noise. He nodded and led you towards his driver’s room, completely oblivious to the storm brewing inside of you.

When you reached his driver’s room, he locked the room to give you two some privacy. Franco quickly sensed that something was off with you, immediately frowning.

“What’s wrong?” He asked, as your hands shook as you fumbled with the words. “Franco…I don’t know if I can do this.”

“Do what?” His voice is gentle but confused.

“This. All of this.” You gestured around vaguely. “I don’t belong in this kind of world. I don’t look like the other girls in this kind environment, I don’t act like them. I just feel like…I’m not cut out for this, you know. For you.”

He blinked at you, and then—he laughed. A soft incredulous sound that only made your chest tighten. “You’re joking, right?” But you just shook your head, throat tightening painfully. “I’m serious, Franco.”

His smile faltered, eyes searching your face, and then he grew serious. “You’re breaking up with me?” He sounded like he couldn’t believe what he was hearing at all.

You bit your lip, feeling your resolve crack under the weight of his words. “I think I have to.”

Franco stepped closer, shaking his head in disbelief. “No. No way. Hell no. You’re not doing this.” He grabbed your hands, holding them tightly. “Tell me why. What’s really going on?”

You stared at the ground, unable to meet his eyes. How could you even tell him? How could you put into words the overwhelming insecurities that you had been drowning in.

“I’m not enough for this life, for your life,” you whispered, voice barely audible. “I’m just…me. You deserve someone who can handle all of this, someone who doesn’t feel like they are drowning every time the cameras turn their way. I’m scared that this will change us, that it will change you.”

Franco squeezed your hands tighter, forcing you to look at him. “You’re scared?” He asked softly. “Of what exactly? That I’ll stop loving you because I’m in F1 now?”

You nodded, chest tightening as tears began to fill your eyes. “I’m not like them, Franco. I don’t belong here.”

He pulled you into his arms, resting his chin on top of your head. “Listen to me, and you listen well,” he whispered. “You’ve been with me through everything, literally everything. Since my karting days. You’re the one I want with me, not some random model, not someone from this kind of environment. You.” He gently cupped your face, making sure that you were looking directly into his eyes. “I’m not breaking up with you. Not because of this, not because of anything. I love you so much. If this life makes you uncomfortable, we’ll figure it out. Together.”

You shook your head, still overwhelmed with doubts. “But I don’t know how to—”

“I don’t care,” he interrupted softly. “I don’t really care about any of that. All I care about is you. I’m not losing you just because you think that you’re not enough. You’ve always been more than enough for me.”

Tears finally spilled over, and Franco wiped them away with his thumb. “You’re not getting rid of me that easily, okay?” He added.

You let out a choked laugh, burying your face in his chest. “Okay,” you whispered, feeling the weight of your fears slowly start to lift.

Franco kissed the top of your head as he kept you close, his voice soft but firm. “Look at me,” he said, lifting your chin so your eyes met his. “There’s no one else I see in my future but you. No one else who matters like you do. I don’t care about the noise or what other people say. Let them talk all they want, I don’t give a shit. You’re the most important person in my life.”

His words wrapped around you like a warm blanket chasing away the chill of insecurity. You couldn’t help the way your heart fluttered, how much you wanted to believe him. “But people will judge, Franco. They already are.”

Franco shook his head, brushing a strand of hair away from your face. “I don’t care about them. They don’t know you like I do. I’ve seen you at your best and your worst, and I’ve loved you through it all. That’s what matters, not their opinions.”

You bit your lip, trying to push away the lingering doubts. “It’s just I don’t want to hold you back. You deserve someone who—”

“I already have someone I deserve,” he cut you off, voice unwavering. “You’ve been there for me through everything, you believed in me when no one else did, even when I wasn’t sure I believed in myself. I’m not letting you go because of some stupid insecurities about fitting in with this world. I don’t need someone from this world. All I need is you.”

Tears welled in your eyes again, but this time they weren’t from doubt or fear. They were from the overwhelming love you felt at that moment. “You’re sure?” You whispered, voice trembling. “You’re really sure?”

Franco smiled, the kind of smile that made everything else melt away. “I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life. You’re my future, not them. Not anything else. Just you.”

As you stood there in his arms, you let yourself believe it. Because the way he looked at you, the way he spoke, it left no room for any doubts. You were the one he wanted, and that was enough.

After a long moment of silence, just feeling the comfort of being in his arms, you finally pulled back, wiping the last of your tears and giving him a small and sweet smile. The tension that had been weighing on you had lifted, already been replaced by the familiar warmth you always felt around Franco.

You wrinkled your nose playfully, trying to lighten the mood. “Okay, as sweet as this moment is, you really need to freshen up. You stink.” You teased, giving him a playful nudge.

Franco let out a laugh, the sound light and easy. “What? No way, I smell like pure victory,” he grinned, pulling you back into his arms, purposely trying to rub his post-race sweat on you.

“Franco!” You squealed, trying to push him away. “Ew, Franco! You’re all sweaty!”

He laughed harder, his arms tightening around you for a second before he finally let you go, raising his hands in surrender. “Alright, alright, I’ll go and freshen up,” he said, his grin still wide. “But don’t think I didn’t notice how you were crying on me. If anything, you owe me for that.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help smiling. “Fine, fine. I’ll owe you. Just go clean up before I regret taking you back,” you teased, earning an exaggerated gasp from him.

Franco winked at you before heading off to freshen up, not forgetting to steal a kiss from you. “Don’t go anywhere, I’ve got plans for us to celebrate.” He threw a playful look over his shoulder.

You shook your head with a laugh, feeling lighter than you had in days. The doubts that once felt overwhelming now seemed small in comparison to the love you shared. Franco was right—together, you could figure out everything, just like how you both always do.

[sheyfu]

yappologist degree holder ༊*·˚

𝗧𝗛𝗘𝗜𝗥 𝗩𝗢𝗜𝗖𝗘𝗟𝗜𝗡𝗘𝗦 about you.

feat. dan heng, aventurine, luocha, jing yuan, gepard, jiaoqiu, argenti and moze (gn!reader)

cw. ooc (very); jiaoqiu talks a lot; [slight] sexual innuendos

note. TRYING SOMETHING NEW GRAHHHHHH i dont think i captured their personalities correctly but 🙏🙏 WE BALL LAMSDOASDI i hope you guys enjoy it >:DD reader is identified as [name] and uses they/them prns (GANG I TRIED MY BEST LAMSDOAMSD) if you see me use fem prns in this piece please tell me <3 lmk if you'd like a pt. 2 w other chars (WOMEN ASHDUASHDUH)

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ DAN HENG

about [name] [name]? what about them?

chat: significant other  [name] is my significant other. aside from the express, they’re one of the only ones keeping me grounded whenever i become… “emo”. their words, not mine.

chat: sleep sleep is something i found hard to come by; everytime i closed my eyes, visions of my past appeared. but now that [name] is by my side, it has become easier to fall to a peaceful rest.

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ AVENTURINE

about [name] through a game of life or death is how [name] and i met. hm? unconventional you say? well, it’s one of the reasons why i fell for them.

chat: bet betting has become an integral part of [name] and i’s life. while it’s not a common way of expressing your love for someone, it’s how we do things. whether those bets entail having to have the other run errands or even give your own life up, it sends spikes of adrenaline up our bones resulting in a very fun game of cat and mouse.

chat: loss there are seldom games i lose — and most of the time, i still somehow come out as, partially, a winner. but for some reason, whenever i offer a game of chance against [name], i seem to lose every game we have. i can’t lie, i get somewhat annoyed at how i can’t seem to win a game against them. but then again, life would be dull if it were just an unending series of wins.

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ LUOCHA

about [name] [name] is a travelling merchant i’ve come to know over the past years of my journeys as one myself. if i didn't have anyone to rely on before, i've got my dearest to thank now. 

chat: bargain as a merchant, it is important for me to know how to bargain, especially when deals presented to me are severely unfair for me. i must admit, i wasn’t very good at striking fair deals when i was starting off my path as a travelling merchant. but over the years, [name] has taught me a lot about this art. by observing their ways of negotiating, i am now able to attain very fair and valuable trades. 

chat: aromatherapy with [name]’s upbringing as an herb specialist, i get to experience their family’s aromatherapy service. with every scent i am presented with, i am able to clear my mind and slip in the embrace of solitude and calm. 

˚ ���♡ ⋆｡˚ JING YUAN

about [name] [name] is someone who can ease my troubled mind with an embrace; the calm in my storm, the light of my life, and the heart of my soul.

chat: birds when little birds flock to my head, my spouse wonders if im this character called… snow white… *sigh* i am not sure as to who that is due to my upbringing as a military leader — i had no time for these trivial tales. but whenever they tell tales about this... gizney? no.. bizney? not quite right either.. ah yes, disney princess, the intent of me being dressed with robes of royalty are reflected in their eyes.

chat: mimi what was once a kitten, has now grown into a ferocious little lion. i remember when i first got her, [name] was all over the poor thing — smothering it with their love and words of praise — mimi didn’t complain though, she let herself get spoiled. and even up until now, she’s still that same, little spoiled lion she is. 

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ GEPARD

about [name] [name] is my significant other – how i was able to catch their eye? i don’t know. sometimes, i doubt my ability to love, especially with my role as the captain of the silvermane guards. but whenever those thoughts appear in my mind, [name] is there to quell my uneasy mind.

chat: family the way [name] treats lynx makes me feel… funny. i can’t really describe it but my heart beats whenever they entertain my little sister. oh, and don’t even get me started with how serval treats them. *sigh* what should i do to ease this beating heart of mine?

chat: de-stress ways on how to de-stress? well, after a long day i am usually greeted with the embrace of my beloved once i step into our abode… then after that i’m littered with- o-oh.. apologies. i was supposed to give advice. let’s start over again, shall we?

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ JIAOQIU

about [name] [name]? you want to now about them? well you see, as general feixiao’s doctor, it is important for me to have assistants whenever patients visit the clinic in a time when i am tending to duties involving her – this is where my dear [name] comes in. they’ve been with me from the start; us being classmates in the medicinal school we attended and all that. they’re easily one of the very dearest people in my life. most people only know them as my assistant due to their preference of upholding a “low-profile”; of course, i am very much alright with it. but when time comes and they’re ready to reveal our bond to the world, i’ll be the happiest man in the whole entire cosmos.

chat: sweets  oh? you liked the sweets i gave you? well, you have my dear [name] to thank. they’re quite the connoisseur when it comes to making them. speaking of sweets, i forgot to mention we have a pastry shop in aurum alley. if you’re able to drop by, i’ll consider giving you a bundle of sweets, and probably other pastries, free of charge.

chat: coriander whatever you do, please do not hand me a bunch of coriander. i will absolutely lose my mind having to deal with a coriander-obsessed lover. 

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ARGENTI

about [name] my love for [name] transcends even the distant stars of the cosmos. my heart, my soul, and my own being belong to them. 

chat: roses roses are my beloved’s favourite flowers, as they are mine. every morning, i wake from my peaceful slumber to see my dear tending to the beds of flowers with a gentle smile on their face that makes me fall in love all over again. *sigh* i miss them so much, trailblazer.. please bring me back to my ship. i would like to sink into my lover’s embrace at this moment. 

chat: baking my beloved takes time to make my preference for thick baguettes each and every morning. while it warms me to receive such a valuable gift, i am not sure if i am deserving of their unconditional love for i am just a mere knight of beauty, idiotically searching for the goddess i’ve devoted myself to.

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ MOZE

about [name] i am [name]’s lover. i am bound to them by fate and affection which is why you shouldn’t come close to them — unless you’d like to request an audience with the weapon in my hand.

chat: shadow [name] gets frightened whenever i appear randomly — jiaoqiu tells me it’s a normal reaction as he too, gets startled whenever i show my face to him. although.. im not quite sure how my sudden appearance has them stunned...

chat: cleaning [name] and i share the same hobby of cleaning. whenever i am relieved of my duties assigned by the general, i watch them- no. they tell me of the rather… unconventional ways of cleaning our abode.

tagging: @ayrastv, @whatisnerotypical, @lia-loves

🐈‍⬛: thank you for reading! reblogs, comments, and likes are very much appreciated!

if you'd like to be part of my taglist, please access the gform below! thank you and hope to see you <3

© sheyfu on tumblr

[steviebbboi]

Stevie BB 200 Followers Celebration Writing Challenge!

Howdy lads~ exciting news to share:

I just reached a 200 follower count on Tumblr 🎉🎉🎉

I kinda can't believe it? Writing is indeed good for my soul. Interacting with y'all on here has helped me with my mental and emotional wellness due to just finding such great community on here. Thank you for giving me the space to write and for following along/supporting in my writing journey 💖

With that spiel spoken, I wanted to host a writing challenge in celebration of this milestone! *squealing because i'm so excited to host*

You could participate by sending in either:

✨ writing request via my Asks (💙)

and/or

✨ writing submissions (💥).

General Rules:

the challenge will start October 1st until the end of November (flexible on late entries for submissions only💥; let's say till mid-December or so).

I'll read/write for Chris Evans characters, Henry Cavill Characters, and Charlie Hunnam characters [and Bucky Barnes specifically lol] (these are my preferences but if there are other characters that you'd like to bring in, just ask me)!

for writing requests 💙, i will only be accepting requests (2 max/person; pls do not send more than 2 asks!) until the end of November.

for writing submissions 💥, go wild! submit as many as you like!

you can do both (send in a writing request 💙 AND send in a writing submission(s)💥) if you want to; rules still apply for the requests though.

use at least one prompt within your request 💙/submissions💥 from the lists below (but def. go crazy if you wanna use more than one! you don't have to claim any prompts).

works can be inclusive! poc, gender neutral, neurodivergencies, mid size/plus size/curvy readers are encouraged!

No word limits but please use a 'read more' after 200 words

Works can be part of an existing series but must be able to stand on their own

tag me @steviebbboi and use the tags #bbboi200celebration and #steviebbboiwritingchallenge in your entry so i can read/reblog your work! (If I somehow lose sight of your submission, please remind me and I'll take a look at it right away ☺️)

Most important one: Have fun!

How To Play:

✨ You must be 18+ to participate in this challenge!

✨ Choose one (or multiple 😏) BB's:

Chris Evans Characters

Steve Rogers/Captain America

Ransom Drysdale

Ari Levinson

Frank Adler

Curtis Everett

Andy Barber

Hayden/Harvard Hottie

Nick Gant

Jake Jensen

Johnny Storm

Lloyd Hansen

Henry Cavill Characters

Clark Kent

Napoleon Solo

Geralt of Rivia

August Walker

Charlie Hunnam Characters

Jax Teller

Raymond Smith *extra brownie pts if you write about him omg*

King Arthur

Sebastian Stan

Bucky Barnes [he's all by himself im so sorry lmfao 🥹]

✨ Choose one (or more) of the following prompts:

*if you don't want to write smut, you don't have to choose anything from the kinks prompt! feel free to only use the following two prompts :)

soft dom!BB

clothes/naked ratio

size kink

slow and deep 👀

breeding kink (non-pregnancy version)

somnophilia

free use

cockwarming

belly bulge

Squirting

consensual non-con

consensual dub-con

cumeating

creampie

anal/or dp

possessive/or protective manhandling!BB

oral sex

orgasm delay

dumbification

daddy/princess kink

overstimulation

sex pollen

prone bone

cockdrunk

threesome (BB/Reader/BB)

ass/pussy spanking

mild degradation

body worshipping

quickie/don't get caught (public sex, threats of exhibitionism, etc.) 😏

Grouchybb! who is only soft with you

Married and loyal!spouse

A/B/O

lumberjack!bb who is a teddy bear on the inside tho

mob AU

biker AU

soulmate AU

mutual pining/idiots in love

childhood besties to lovers

reformed playboy

professor AU

supernatural/mythical (gods, sirens, werewolves, witches, vampires, ghosts, oh my!)

frenemies to lovers

fwb to lovers

locked in AU/forced proximity

medieval AU

fake dating/relationship

sharing one bed

polar opposites attract

break up and make up

spy AU

meet cute

cowboy AU

gentle recluse!BB

brothers best friend!BB

"Are you fucking kidding me?"

"Yes, take it, slut"

"It's not that big of a deal."

"God, why do you always do this"

"You're impossible."

"Then I guess we gotta be quiet, huh?"

"We're trapped."

"Shh, you wouldn't want anyone to hear, or do you?"

"You're taking me so well, baby"

"Good girl" *for fem readers; adjust accordingly!*

"Tsk, uh-uh, c'mere, honey"

"You always feel so good around me, baby"

"What do you think you're doing?"

"Here, let me help you."

"Yeah, are you a cockhungry slut, now?"

"I hardly think that that's necessary."

"Don't be a brat, baby."

"Aw, does it feel good right there?"

"I'm sorry!"

"What do you want from me?!"

"I didn't mean to!"

"What do you think you're doing here?"

"Nope. Again."

"Don't worry, I got you."

"Just stay still, there you go."

"Just one more, I promise."

"C'mon, don't you wanna be good?"

"Stay over there!"

"You better hurry up, baby."

"Thaaaat's it, you're doing so well, honey."

"Uhm, I'm not sure that's going to work."

"Please, I'll beg, please!"

"Be honest."

"Be careful there, darlin'."

"Are you okay?"

"Are you sure you wanna go there?"

Scenarios? Any! Go. Wild.

✨ I love reading/writing angst w/HEA, soft dark (nothing too dark though), fluff and SMUT (as you can see w/the many many kinks).

no incest (stepcest is ok if tasteful lol), no infidelity, no watersports, no murder, no gore. if you're unsure if a trope is appropriate, ask me!

if im ever uncomfy with writing something, i will lyk and we can talk more about it to see if we could work with it!

feel free to ask any questions!

i think i got everything!

Have the best time, laddies~ thanks for celebrating with me!

All are welcome to join in the fun! ❣️

Tagging a few mutuals who may be interested but no pressure bbs:

@bigtreefest @mercurial-chuckles @stargazingfangirl18 @yenzys-lucky-charm

@sweater-daddiesdumbdork @buckets-and-trees @hotdamnhunnam @laurfilijames

@autumnrose40 @eloquentlytired @misscherry-26 @stellar-solar-flare

@darsynia @navybrat817

[icycoldninja]

Dating Gojo headcannons

A/N: I was watching jjk at 2 am as I tend to do and was hit with inspiration. Naturally, I wrote it down.

-------------------

-First of all, do not let your delulu nature consume you. Gojo is not going to be the perfect boyfriend.

-He's hardly ever at home thanks to those goddamn curses, and when he is, he's busy showering, taking his daily 3 hour nap, or just trying to relax. You might not even see him, since it'll be so late.

-Sometimes he'll bully you by stealing your stuff and never returning it, eating all your food, and literally kicking you out of your own bed at night.

-He'll let you come with him on missions because he knows he's the strongest and can protect you from any danger, though he does want you to have a little training first, just in case.

-Will bring you back souvenirs, but never snacks. Why? Cause he ends up eating them all while travelling home.

-Bothers you day and night over the stupidest things ever. For example, he will send you a text message at 3 AM alongside picture of two frogs just chilling together with the caption "This is us", then 15 minutes later, call you so you can hear him pee in this one public bathroom he found that has "great acoustics".

-You guys are prank buddies for sure. Megumi will have an aneurysm followed by a nervous breakdown one of these days.

-He will love you forever if you can make him mochi (or desserts in general) whenever he wants some.

-Will use Infinity against you in an argument by monopolizing cuddles. 5 minutes of shouting at him equals 5 hours without a single hug. It sounds easy to handle, but after you get used to being bombarded with his annoying attempts to get your attention and all of sudden it's ripped away, you're left in shock.

-Still, there are some upsides to dating him. Having a human Barbie doll to dress up is one of them.

-He'll wear whatever you want him to, whenever you want him to, experiencing no shame whatsoever. Want to go to a party in matching dresses? Done and done. Do you desire to see him in your lingerie? He can do that too.

-Sometimes makes you carry him around bridal style because...well...no one really knows why. He just seems to like it.

-If you listen carefully at the door while he's showering, you might hear one of two things: singing or sobbing.

-He loves to dance with you, and if you are the type who doesn't know how to dance or doesn't want to dance in front of others, good luck.

-Talks to you nonstop because he's an uncontrollable chatterbox, even worse than he is in public. He'll talk with you, at you, about you, and around you--there's no way to get him to shut up, don't even try.

-Sometimes these chats get dark, really dark, especially if he's been rambling for a while.

-All in all, Gojo can be a lot of fun at times, and at others, a huge pain in the ass, whereas on rare occasions he will be a sad little marshmallow that you need to pamper and cuddle. Just make sure you take good care of him, and he will repay the favor tenfold.

[vampemoqueen]

WoD Hallozine - a mini-Zine!

Introducing WoD HalloZine, a mini-Zine project for the Month of October!

WoD HalloZine is a short, one month project celebrating community and fanworks based on the World of Darkness. This zine will be free and distributed digital-only on socials. The theme of the zine is Haunting. Whether it be wraiths roaming the halls of an abandoned mansion, demons bound to their hosts, vampires lamenting on the nature of their immortal existence, or Garou communing with spirits in the Umbra, tell us your tales of dread, longing, and sorrow featuring your original characters. What sordid secrets are hiding in the dark? What Haunts You? How to Participate This is a time-sensitive event that's accepting submissions from September 24 - October 31, 2024. You can submit any art or written work based on original characters in any of the World of Darkness properties. You are welcome to submit existing work that hasn't been featured in a zine or create a new piece based on the theme. To sign up and be eligible to participate, please submit a form here: https://forms.gle/nnrShH3LDhbBtvip9 You will be contacted at least two times during the event: first to confirm your participation, second to check in and collect your final submission. You can always message more for questions and inquiries. Submit your piece through email or via DM on Discord. My Discord Art Server Gallery Noir will have an event specific channel for up-to-date news and a space to socialize. Joining is optional and not required for the zine. There are no limits on number of participants or submissions for this project. After October 31, all submitted pieces will be compiled into the zine and distributed via PDF format on my socials. No submissions will be accepted starting November 1st. Along with being in the Zine, you are welcome to post your pieces to your own socials and use as you see fit. If you do, I would appreciate if you tag me and use the tag #wodhallozine , though it's totally optional to do so! Submission Guidelines

This is a low pressure event where there are no hard standards on quality or content. I want everyone at all levels and mediums to express themselves however they see fit. There are no editing or draft phases and I will do my best to showcase the biggest variety of work across the community. That being said, to keep the project manageable and social media-friendly, there is a small list of guidelines for all work. General Content Guidelines

16+ or Rated-R at most

NO NSFW or sexual content

NO Gore or Extreme Violence

Light Blood and implied violence allowed

NO Offensive content like slurs or hate speech

NO AI generated or assisted work

If you have questions on what these mean, send me a DM.

Art Guidelines

You can choose to submit the following categories:

Single illustration/Image file

Short Comic (1-2 pages)

Any Size, 300 DPI, CMYK, PNG or TIFF format

Subject to formatting and placement choices

Writing Guidelines

You can choose to submit the following categories:

Short Story (3k words max)

Poetry/Prose (2 pages max including formatting)

English only, DOC, PDF, or ODT format

Subject to formatting and placement choices (please note if you'd like me to keep specific font and formatting choices)

You are open to submit as many pieces as you like. I reserve the right to include, exclude, resize, and rearrange pieces at my discretion for the sake of the zine's final composition. If a piece requires edits, I will touch base with you on the specifics. For any questions or concerns, email me at vampy269@gmail or message me on Discord at vampy8020. Thank you for your interest and have fun!

[shirefantasies]

Marti it is Moss *does small dance* sending in a Hobbit imagine should it strike your fancy to answer. If not feel free to delete you come first and foremost! Your blog is always a delight and i read everything you post like its the morning newspaper.

Im wondering if you would write a hobbit headcanon for a reader who uses a mobility aid like forearm crutches!

I myself use forearm crutches (named Catcher and Holder a la Dwalin) for dizziness and weakness due to neurological issues, but there are many reasons for their use from joint pain to hypermobility. Sometimes people use them all the time and other times they are only used when they have flare ups (some have to have them available all the time in case of The Return tm)

Sometimes you use one and sometimes you use two. All depends on condition severity, needs,what youre doing, and preference

Even when you have a flare up you may not prefer to use them for short distances ie in your house some people choose not to. I use mine on the steps unless im doing something hazardous and dont want to risk a fall (and be able to walk in general)which ive become prone to over the last two years.

You still live your life and do what you do sometimes its a bit different other times its not. Sometimes you have a stick or two.

You can make a lot of fun decorations and functional tools like cupholders and pouches for your crutches and stickers make them unique and customizable. Honestly the biggest challenge for me is mugs and stairs+ other two handed tasks 😩 let me see someone smack a warg protecting their bestie and then lament not planning their cuppa retrieval rofl.

Im wondering how our lads would have a time with this- not acceptance wise as i know Dwarves are very accepting. More along lines of shenanigans wholesome fun bonding the good daily stuff that you write so beautifully and capture each one of them so well!

Thank you so much and if you have any questions please feel free to reach out

🌿🏹moss🏹🌿

Hello Moss 🥰💚 OMG Catcher and Holder that's perfectttt! Sorry this post is so fuckin long in the making but hopefully you enjoy it and this captures it well! I confess I don't personally use a mobility aid at this time so I may not have the greatest frame of reference 😅 but yeah I hope you like these little moments! *does small exit dance in return*

Warnings: canon typical violence in some

Thorin's Company + Reader With Mobility Aids

Balin

“Might I ask who built that?” Polite as ever, Balin motioned to the chair upon which you had affixed a pair of wheels. “I did,” you answered, “I was the only person in my little village who needed something like this.” “Well, you are quite the craftsman. Would that you had no ties to your hometown and the Lonely Mountain could snap you up! You could see those skills built up tenfold.” “R-really? I came here to Laketown for something just like that! But I’ll confess I think you will be a far better teacher.” Winking, you gave Balin a smile he mirrored. “You’re resilient. Smart as a whip, too! It would be my honor.” “And after all,” you added, “If anyone would know how to mount a crossbow on the arms, it would be dwarves!” At that, even as polite a dwarf as Balin could hardly help bursting into a wicked grin.

Dwalin

“Nice axes.” “Forged them myself,” Dwalin answered with a nod, “Grasper and Keeper. One grasps your soul, the other keeps it.” “How funny,” you remarked, raising your forearm crutches, “I call these Catcher and Holder. Same idea only with the body. Suppose that isn’t nearly as impressive, though.” “Impressive?” Dwalin burst out. “We’ve all got our battle scars. Our wounds. Never be ashamed of that. The fact that you’re still up ‘n’ going? Be proud. I can show you plenty o’ scars myself!” At that last bit, Dwalin began lifting up his tunic to reveal toned skin paled in some places and darkened in others by all manner of scars and at that, you couldn’t help shyly laughing. Proud indeed.

Thorin

Yes, the king had not denied you entry into his company when Gandalf had recommended you, but he had raised and furrowed his regal brow in the skeptical look all but branded into your mind. He’d asked Gandalf if he was certain, and from then on the fire in your heart blazed. Certainly Thorin treated you as an equal, giving you the tasks he gave all others, but he had been yet to see you in battle and you knew that was where your proof would solidify. In fact, the first time wargs closed in upon you, you were one of the first to run back at them. Hearing the way Thorin called your name, but thoroughly ignoring it in favor of landing a solid crack upon the nearest adversary's skull. Luckily your body was having a better day anyway despite all the walking, because you spun and smashed your way through the orc pack, especially once you saw the way one bowled Bofur and Dori over. Fire took over your heart and eyes as you swung your mace until you could swing no more, all but deaf to the cracking of heads and the clattering of your allies’ blades through that pounding adrenaline. At the end of it all, Thorin approached you, his expression surprisingly mild. Then it broke into a smile. “The wizard was right about you,” he told you, clapping a hand to your shoulder, “Invaluable in all respects indeed.”

Oin

“Oh, that’s clever, that is!” “My eyes are up here,” you quipped, crossing your arms and smiling sardonically down at the dwarf bent over peering at your wheels. At that, Oin tilted his head up to look back at you, giving a raucous heh heh heh of laughter. “Never seen anything like this lot before,” he commented, shaking his head and running a hand over the frame of your chair, “You’d think dwarves’d be the first to make ‘em! ‘S beautiful.” Your lips parted wordlessly for a few moments before you spoke, head still slightly tilted. “Beautiful?” “Course!” Oin replied, smiling widely as he rose to his feet again. “A real beauty for sure. A marvel, actually. It is quite the privilege to get to see it in action!” “No one has ever told me that before,” you replied quietly, a smile spreading across your lips.

Gloin

Orcs rushed you from every side, sending you scrambling as fast as your crutches could support you. Carrying a sword aside it all was about as unwieldy as one imagined, but you knew no different. In fact, your best strike that fight had nearly taken a whole arm off. Catching sight of you, though, the nearest of your blood-spattered adversaries grinned and gave a savage kick, sending your crutches flying from beneath you. Teetering, you pitched forward, trying to catch yourself with one arm and steady your sword with the other as the shout rang out. “You think you’re so clever, you great filthy buzzard? I don’t think so!” With a savage growl of his own, Gloin flew into the fray, and with a violent swing of his axe the orc’s head was sent unceremoniously tumbling to the dirt. “Serves ‘m right, eh?” Gloin asked with a smug look as he extended a hand, helping you up, handing you your crutches, and even gently dusting you off.

Bifur

You had seen the way he glanced your way. How his eyes traced the lines of the crutches extending from your forearms, the extensions of steel that made walking less painless. And running more painless if you were a charging warg on the receiving end of a bash to the face. Bifur had seen the way you slid your arms free to motion and sign to him, indicating the interesting things seen along the road. If you had a tendency to go nonverbal, he would aid you in removing your crutches when you needed to sign. Such things had been floating in your mind when you sat by his side, asked him if he understood in a way. You certainly felt understood in his presence, after all. Bifur glanced away with haste, but still you caught notice of tears in his dark eyes, just for a moment. A moment before the smile spread across his face and he leaned in, gently resting his forehead against yours- carefully, of course, so you barely felt the brush of the axe against your joined skin.

Bofur

“Bofur!” Uncaring how earsplitting your scream may have been, you charged forward, heaving one leg before the other as fast as you could while still keeping a hand on your walker. Which was faster than even you realized, sped by adrenaline and rage and urgency all pounding through your ears. Loading your crossbow again and again, you fired three successive shots into the assailant’s side, shoulder, and finally with the last you struck his ugly head and knocked him down onto his ass. For good. Sighing heavily, you leaned for just a moment on your walker frame before making your way to Bofur’s side, this time at a less painful pace, and turned it around to take a seat. Leaning down, you reached for his hand. “Bofur, are you alright?” “I am thanks to you,” he chuckled, his hazel eyes fixed upon you fondly, “Maybe I need to get myself one of those. Seems to aid the aim, having something to lean on.” Grinning and blinking back tears, you procured a cloth and a strip of bandage and started to dab away the blood on his shoulder.

Bombur

“Hope this isn’t rude…” You were surprised by the sound of Bombur's soft voice coming from your side, turning from the journal you wrote in and setting your implements aside. A part of you wanted to roll your eyes, well aware of all the 'not rude' inquiries you'd received over the years as to why you carried crutches, especially if some days you did not. However, knowing this one came from sweet Bombur softened you. He actually meant it. "...But what's the hardest part of having those?" You couldn't resist a snicker at the thought that immediately rose to your mind. "You'd really like to know?" "Yes," he nodded, "If I may." With another little snort, you smiled and told him, "Mugs." "Mugs?" "Mugs and stairs. Can't tell you the number of times I've spilled on my way up. Anything that takes two hands, really." "I see!" The conversation ended with Bombur's eyes lighting up. At least you thought it had ended... Several days later, he came shuffling up to you with that same sweetly eager glint and his hands behind his back. "I've made you something," he told you, pulling out an open cylinder of steel and unfolding another little piece from it, "Hope it works. It's a little mug holder. Go on, let's see if it fits." Snapping the little unfolding piece to your crutch, Bombur watched your face break into a grin as it remained in place. "This is the sweetest thing anyone has done for me, Bombur. Thank you." "You deserve it," he replied, smiling fondly at you.

Dori

“I wouldn’t exactly mind having one of those.” “A cane?” You arched a brow. “I’ve always thought it made you look distinguished,” he admitted with a smile. “Now that is a new one,” you commented wryly, “All for use of my leg.” “Nothing wrong with it,” Dori shrugged, “We all do what we must. Seems a shame you’ve such a plain one, though.” At that, your proverbial ears perked up. “As opposed to what?” “Well,” he shrugged, “I don’t know. Haven’t you seen all the nice silver tips and things they put on canes?” “Ah,” you nodded, “I see what you mean! It is a bit of a shame I haven’t anything to decorate mine with, isn’t it?” “Haven’t anything? What do you call this?” With that emphasized last word, Dori reached behind into his pack and procured a little silver charm, one carved richly with dwarven runes and even centered with a little green stone. Fiddling at his back more, the dwarf also found a section of string and hastily tied it to your cane’s handle. “Now what do you call that?” He asked, waving a hand over the charm. “I have a bit of luster dust if you’d like something more.” Needless to say, it was the most fun night you’d had in those endless weeks of trekking.

Nori

Raising one eyebrow at Nori, you stared in skepticism as he held a hand out and repeated his request. “Your cane, please?” “How do I know you won’t just run off with it?” You shot back. “You’re sitting,” he pointed out, “Not like you really need it. Besides, do you really think I’d be so incorrigible a scoundrel as to make off with someone’s means of walkin’ for no reason?” Nori’s gaze slid upward from your carven wood cane back to your eyes, which remained as they were. “Second thought, don’t answer that. Just trust me, hm? You won’t regret it. Dwarf’s honor.” At the invoking of honor, an action infrequently taken by Nori, your brow lowered to form a more neutral, though inquisitive, expression as you handed your cane over. You were quickly distracted by conversation from Dori as you sat, folding your hands in both complacency and content and shivering a bit in the snow. The conversation continued for some time until an ‘A-ha!’ rang out and Nori came running back up, triumphantly hoisting your cane, to which he had crudely affixed one of his many knives. “And what,” you asked, “Is this?” Nodding beyond your night’s campground, Nori indicated the ice extending across the ground. “Aid in your trek! Can’t have you slipping, can you? Not that I won’t catch ya.” He winked.

Ori

“Your sticks!” Ori gasped, brown eyes wide with horror. “Where are they?” “My crutches?” Eyebrows sliding upward in amusement, you made your way toward the young dwarf, who was stitching a sock a handful of feet away. At that, he simply nodded, repairs completely abandoned upon his lap. "Oh, I simply had no need for them today," you answered with a small shrug of your shoulders. At that, Ori gave a curious little frown. “So you can walk some days?” “It isn’t only a matter of walking,” you chuckled, “Moreso that some days my pain and balance are worse.” “Like when Gloin’s leg bothers him?” Ori asked, face turning to childlike eagerness. “Or how Bifur doesn't talk some days?" A little smile spread across your face and your chest expanded with warmth. "Yes," you agreed, "Just like that, Ori."

Fili

Mind drifting off in tandem with the pulsing ache of your limbs, you gazed at the flicker of the fire, faintly drifting smoke curling into the air from pipes and the kindling itself. Your hands idly wrung your cane until the sensation of warmth brushing your leg drew you from your empty focus spiral. Shifting your gaze, you were met with the sight of Fili sitting at your side. "Think I might need one of those after today." Following his gaze, your eyes fell back down to your hands, more specifically the cane held there. "Your own mobility aid or the other?" At your last words, Fili quirked up a golden brow. "The other?" He repeated. Smirking proudly, you slid the end off your cane, revealing a sword hidden within. “The other,” you repeated once more with emphasis, “Guess you weren’t paying attention to how I heaved so many goblins off that bridge.” “You’re right,” Fili agreed, blue eyes lighting up in the fireglow, “I do want that. How long has that been there?” “Whole time.” “Just waiting for the right moment, eh?” “Of course,” you bantered back, “Gotta make a show.”

Kili

“Can I try?” Kili smiled up at you as you blinked at him, face blank with thought. Reaching down, he pantomimed using your crutches for a step, swinging his arms back and forth. "You want to give my crutches a go?" Your eyebrows shot up, a smile building upon your face. Memories flooded your mind, deep knowledge of the struggle that nearly always comes with those first steps and even far beyond. Loosening the grip you had upon your aids, you handed them off to Kili as you took Oin's hand and allowed him to help walk and lower you onto a makeshift camp seat. Hooking his arms in, Kili stood up, adjusting his posture after several moments. He took a step, then swung them. "Wait, that doesn't make sense. Hold on." You giggled from your seat at Oin's side as Kili raised one leg, thought, brought the crutches down again and wobbled such that you were tempted to extend hands that could catch him.

Bilbo

“I was scared first, but trust me: you’ll be grateful in the end once you get on these fellows,” Bilbo told you, looking down at you as he patted the pony he sat upon. “It isn’t that,” you answered, gaze dropping from the hobbit’s, “It’s…well, it is a bit embarrassing, to be honest.” The dwarves had been sweet enough to fortify the feet of your forearm crutches, though they still could not understand why you didn’t ride. The answer, quite frankly, rose a bit of a flush to your cheeks. Bilbo must have caught this. “You shouldn’t be ashamed. Nothing of it is your fault. You can tell me. Probably better me than all those dwarves, right? I won’t tell a soul.” His voice dropped to a playful whisper for that last sentence, which though it didn’t help the heat radiating beneath your skin did open your heart and your mouth. “If I were to get lightheaded or a shock of pain riding a pony I could fall off. And...And I would need someone to hold onto me.” “Ah,” the hobbit replied, this time taking his turn to shyly gaze away, “Well, if you ever change your mind, I would be more than happy to hold you.”

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[rainforestakiie]

Sinner Adam is a trope that i love and I know you would handle it AMAZING, so what do You thing???

hi!

i struggled a lot with this because i didn't know what to write! ahhh! i also wanted to try something new that hasn't been done before, though i did use one known trope. but i hope it's not too bad!

i tried to write something different with sinner adam.

i really hope you like it, and thank you so much for the wonderful request! it was so fun to write!

also, for the full experience, please listen to 'the ballad of the witches' road' from agatha all along! i was listening to this while writing, and it made it so chilling!

The Acedia of Hell

The first thing Adam heard as he drifted toward consciousness was a faint crackling, like a thousand whispered secrets swirling just above his head. He flinched, instinctively recoiling from the sound, but it only grew louder, wrapping itself around him until it became a relentless drumming in his ears.

An ache began to creep along his back, first a subtle tingle, then swelling into a searing, acid-like burn. It started between his shoulder blades, coiling down his spine in a twisted agony that made his entire body tremble. His chest constricted, as though his heart had been crushed and was now struggling to inflate, each beat an effort, each breath a torment. His skin twitched, and a chill raced through him, sharp enough to raise every hair on his body, as if some unseen force was raking icy fingers across his flesh.

Inside him, something stirred—an eerie, swelling pressure, like a bubble forming deep within his chest. It started small, like the delicate bubbles children blow in the wind, then grew, expanding into the size of a birthday balloon, then larger still, as though a hot air balloon were inflating inside him, until it became a blimp of overwhelming pressure, straining to escape. And finally, with a violent eruption, his throat opened, and Adam gasped sharply, his eyes, swollen and raw, wrenching open. A torrent of hacking coughs tore from his chest, each one sending fresh pain rippling through him.

His body convulsed, and with a grimace, Adam spat out thick, blue liquid. He collapsed onto his elbows, his back blazing with even fiercer agony, as though his spine were splitting apart. He wheezed, vision blurring, trembling hands pressing against the slick, waxy surface of the red stones beneath him. His lips parted in a desperate attempt to scream, but instead, a sudden gush of the brilliant blue fluid burst forth, staining the crimson ground beneath him in striking shades of despair—a beautiful, sorrowful blue, spreading like an ethereal bloom.

More of the thick, otherworldly liquid streamed down his face as Adam continued to cough and choke, his chest aflame. The golden essence of his blood, once radiant and divine, began to glow with an unnatural hue, shifting to match the eerie, silver-blue shade he was vomiting. It pulsed beneath his skin, transforming, until the ethereal silver - blue coursed through his veins, as if his very soul had been overtaken by the same haunting colour he was now expelling.

Adam sucked in a ragged breath, the crackling still weaving through the thick, oppressive air, a relentless whisper just beyond his senses. His mind teetered on the edge of darkness, desperate for the release of unconsciousness, but each time it began to drift, the sharp stab of pain wrenched him back into this torturous reality.

He squinted through the haze, trying and failing to clear his vision, his hands trembling uncontrollably. His back arched, and with a gasp of agony, he could feel it—his spine, as if it were trying to tear free from his skin. His mouth opened in a desperate cry, but his body was already curling in on itself, shaking violently as he pressed his forehead to the slick, waxy ground beneath him. The crackling grew louder, and behind him, a new sound emerged—horrific snapping and tearing—but Adam couldn’t bring himself to look. Fear rooted him in place, afraid of what he might find if he dared to turn his head.

With a trembling breath, Adam stretched out a weak, shaking arm, fingers barely able to grasp at the air as his vision swam, the world blurring with blinding streaks of silver and blue. “H-help…” he tried to call out, but his voice was broken, twisted into something unrecognizable. He wasn’t even sure if he had spoken at all.

Through the haze, a faint glimmer of golden light caught his eye—a figure, bathed in white, stepping toward him, with another taller, draped in deep crimson, following close behind. Adam’s heart leaped in fragile hope—someone had heard him. Someone was coming to help. But even that thought was quickly drowned out by the relentless cracking that now roared in his ears, and exhaustion crushed down upon him like a tidal wave.

It wasn’t fair.

A soft whimper escaped his lips as he began to let his arm fall, surrendering to the pull of oblivion. But before it could hit the ground, warm hands wrapped around his trembling fingers, catching him. The touch burned, searing against his skin, yet Adam couldn’t summon the strength to pull away. It stung, this connection—more than he could bear—but his body refused to obey his silent cries to escape.

Voices murmured above him, too distant, too distorted to comprehend. He thought he heard his name, thought someone was calling for him, but the pain, the exhaustion, drowned out everything else. He sobbed weakly, shaking his head as if to dislodge the agony, before sinking toward the ground again, surrendering to the waxy surface beneath him, craving nothing but the embrace of sleep.

"Why..." he whispered, or at least he thought he did. His voice was so faint, so lost. "I wish I were dead. I don’t want this anymore... I’m so tired..."

Suddenly, arms wrapped around him, strong and unyielding, lifting him before he could collapse back down. His face was pressed against a chest, and the sting of their touch flared through his nerves. He tried to resist, weakly pushing against them, but their hold was too tight, too firm. There was no escape.

And yet, as the warmth of their embrace held him fast, Adam felt something strange—an unspoken promise, a tether keeping him from falling into the darkness. But even in that moment, all he could think of was the unbearable weight of it all.

The pain. The exhaustion. And the whispered wish that it would just... end.

“I want to be dead.”

~#~

The next time Adam drifted into consciousness, the world around him felt strange, unfamiliar—like something from a dream that still clung to the edges of his mind. He was so tired, so utterly exhausted, and his entire body was wrapped in a deep, aching soreness that refused to fade. Every muscle, every inch of skin felt foreign to him, as though it didn’t quite belong.

Slowly, he forced his heavy eyes open, blinking as he stared up at the draped curtains hanging above him. He didn’t move, feeling as if he were both too heavy and too light at once, trapped in a body that no longer obeyed him. The soft, purple folds of fabric gathered between the four towering posts of a massive bed.

A bed. He was lying in a bed—one so vast, it made him feel small, which shouldn’t have been possible. Adam was over ten feet tall, yet here, he felt dwarfed.

His eyes fluttered closed again as he took a shaky breath, his chest trembling with the effort. It hurt, a searing pain that ran through his lungs as though he wasn’t meant to breathe like this anymore. He focused on the rhythm of his breathing, hoping the sensation would pass, but instead, it worsened. A sharp throb flared at the top of his skull, a maddening itch that grew with every beat of his heart. Panic flickered through him like a match struck in the darkness.

What was happening to him? Why was everything wrong? Where was he? Why did everything burn with such unbearable intensity?

His thoughts spiraled, and flashes of memory crashed over him like waves. The war. He had led an army—against Hell. No, not just Hell, but the Princess of Hell herself. The spoiled, naive fool who had no idea of the devastation she was courting. He had wanted to stop her, to make her see the consequences of what she was about to unleash on Heaven, on the Winners. The survivors.

Adam’s pulse quickened. Did no one truly understand what the Winners of Heaven were? They weren't just the righteous, the pure, the souls who followed God’s plan. No, the Winners were the survivors of unspeakable torment—humans who had endured hell on Earth and deserved peace. That was the essence of Heaven, the sanctuary for those who had suffered beyond reason. And the Princess of Hell, in her misguided quest for redemption, was threatening to undo it all. If she succeeded in redeeming a Sinner, what would happen? How would the Winners react?

Adam shuddered at the thought. The Winners weren’t just passive souls—they were warriors, survivors of the darkest trials. They had a power unlike anything even Heaven fully understood. And if they unleashed that power, it wouldn’t just be Hell that suffered. Heaven itself would be torn apart.

Lucifer.

Adam’s jaw clenched at the thought of that arrogant demon. The Morningstar had no idea what was truly at stake, what Heaven truly represented. He had humiliated Adam, beaten him, all because Adam had dared to protect the survivors—those who had suffered at the hands of their abusers. If the Princess succeeded, her reckless actions would incite a chaos neither Hell nor Heaven was prepared for.

And yet... Adam had failed. He had been defeated. During battle, someone—he couldn’t remember who—had snuck up behind him and struck the final blow. But it wasn’t just that. Lucifer had already broken him, leaving him weakened, humiliated. His death, when it came, had been almost a relief.

He had welcomed it.

Adam’s eyes snapped open. His vision was blurry, the world around him swimming in shades of red and purple. He blinked hard, trying to make sense of the shapes and shadows, but his heart sank as realization dawned. Those colours—those curtains—he knew where he was. And the truth was unbearable.

No... no, this can’t be.  He couldn’t accept it.

Panic surged through him, and with a desperate grunt, Adam began to wriggle beneath the heavy quilts that pinned him down like chains. Every movement sent searing pain through his body, his muscles protesting as if they had been stripped raw. His chest heaved with the effort, and it felt like he was dragging something impossibly heavy along with him, a weight that wasn’t his but clung to his very soul.

With trembling arms, he forced himself up, biting back a scream as his body burned with every inch he moved. It felt like a monumental struggle just to sit upright, the heavy air pressing down on him as though the room itself conspired to keep him immobile. His hands clutched at the silken sheets, knuckles white as the realization clawed at his mind.

He was back in Hell.

And it was only the beginning of something far worse.

Dragging himself to the edge of the colossal bed, Adam twisted awkwardly, his body giving out before he could brace himself, collapsing heavily onto the cold floor. A sickening crack echoed through the room, and something inside him wrenched, unfamiliar and raw. Panic flooded his chest. He had to move—now. He had to escape before someone found him, before they came to see if he was still broken, still helpless.

How long had he been unconscious?

It didn’t matter. He had to get away before something else was taken from him, before he was humiliated again. The shame was already too much, a suffocating weight on his soul. He couldn’t bear it. Not again. It was always him—always Adam who crumbled under the boots of others. Always the one who was stepped on, laughed at, torn apart.

But not this time.

Not yet. Not so soon after... his death. Why was he still here? Why was he still trapped in this existence when he should have been freed? It wasn’t fair.

Adam’s limbs trembled violently as he struggled to move, but his body refused to obey. His arms and legs felt distant, alien—completely unresponsive. His feet wouldn’t lift him; his hands collapsed beneath his weight. The dark mist crept at the corners of his vision, curling like smoke around his consciousness.

Why?

His body had betrayed him. His strength had deserted him, leaving him defenseless, pathetic, like prey waiting for the predator’s strike. He couldn’t be here—not like this, not when he was so weak. The moment they found him, they would break him again, humiliate him, tear him apart.

Why? Why? Why?

"Adam!" A voice, frantic and sharp, called out from behind him, cutting through the fog clouding his mind. It came from the other side of the bed, filled with panic.

Adam’s chest felt as though it was about to shatter. His head spun wildly as he turned toward the voice, his blurred vision struggling to focus on the figure rushing toward him. His eyes widened in shock, his jaw slack. His arms shook violently as they tried to hold him upright, but he must have looked pathetic—a trembling, broken creature hunched awkwardly on the floor, freezing and disoriented.

The figure in white drew closer, their movements rapid and purposeful, but Adam barely registered them. All he could feel was the cold consuming him, seeping into his bones. Another figure lingered at the doorway, and a third stood on the other side of the bed, watching him intently.

His mouth opened, but the scream that ripped from his throat didn’t sound like his own. It was a raw, primal sound, something more beast than man—an unearthly shriek that echoed through the room, leaving Adam stunned. The others recoiled, their hands flying to their ears as the sound shattered the stillness. The figure in white froze mid-step, shocked by the inhuman scream.

But Adam wasn’t finished. Something was unfurling behind him, stretching out on either side of his trembling body. He didn’t know what it was, didn’t care. All he could see was the familiar shimmer of silver and blue, lightning-bright streaks zipping through the air as the energy expanded from him. It spread from his knees, seeping into the ground beneath him, forming a perfect, glowing pentagram.

"Adam!" the one in white yelled again, reaching out desperately. "Stop!"

But Adam could barely hear them over the roar in his mind, his own voice breaking through the madness as another scream tore from his throat.

"Why am I still alive?!"

The words echoed in the room, a question as desperate as it was furious, and then the world around him erupted in a blinding storm of silver and blue. Light filled every corner, obliterating the darkness, until finally, everything collapsed.

Silence descended.

Adam crumpled to the ground outside, his body curling tightly as the last of his strength drained away. His mind drifted toward the edges of consciousness, a peaceful emptiness overtaking the pain.

At least it was quiet here, in the stillness of oblivion.

Maybe now, at last... he could die.

~#~

Waking once more, Adam’s eyes bled silver and blue, the ethereal liquid streaking down his face like tears from another realm. Death had eluded him again, cruel and mocking, leaving him tethered to the world he so desperately wished to leave behind. He was alive—still breathing, still suffering. His soul ached for release, for the finality that would never come. Exhaustion clung to him like a shroud, each heartbeat a reminder of the torment he could not escape. All he wanted was for it to be over. To step off the ride, to finally find peace.

With a sharp, burning gasp, Adam stirred. His body shifted, finding itself curled tightly between the gnarled roots of an ancient tree, its pulse faintly humming beneath him. His skin prickled with unease as he tilted his head back, gazing upward through bleary, stinging eyes. Above, the branches stretched high, their once vibrant leaves now brittle and decaying, drifting down in slow spirals as if mourning their own demise. The bark, though alien to him—unlike any tree from Heaven or Earth—had a strange, almost alive texture. He squirmed, dislodging himself from the roots’ tight embrace, crawling slowly from his resting place.

As he glanced back, he saw the imprint his body had left on the bark, as though he had tried to meld with the tree itself. The bark appeared to have absorbed part of him, as if it had become a part of his essence. An impulse to reach out, to touch it again, gripped him, but he resisted. Something was terribly wrong. His instincts screamed in warning, a whisper of dread curling around his thoughts.

Slowly, Adam’s gaze drifted across the grass beneath him, noticing the withering of the once-lush greenery. The vibrant blades had become dry and brittle, curling in on themselves, as though the life had been drained from them. They crumbled at his touch, turning to dust between his fingers. A creeping sense of decay hung in the air, growing heavier with every breath he took.

Groaning as his knees cracked and snapped, Adam ignored the sharp sounds of his bones as they protested the movement. He crawled forward slightly and sat amidst the ruin, surveying the place he found himself in—a place that felt like a park, with trees and grass, but distorted. Wrong. He was still in Hell; he could feel it. The telltale red mist swirled through the air, thick and heavy, and the sky above held the familiar sinful hue of dusty crimson, broken only by the stark white orb of Heaven shining faintly in the distance.

But something was terribly amiss. The garden around him, once filled with life, was decaying before his eyes. Colours drained from the world, turning to muted browns and greys, the vibrancy crumbling into lifeless ash. It was as if something was devouring the very essence of this place, siphoning its vitality away.

Adam’s chest tightened with dread. What was happening?

Adam dragged himself through Hell's garden, the once lush and vibrant world wilting under his very touch. His fingers dug into the crumbling earth, pulling his exhausted body forward as he felt something—something heavy—attached to his back, dragging along the ground behind him. He didn’t dare look at it, too weak to confront whatever grotesque thing clung to him. Instead, he kept his gaze ahead, watching the grass around him slowly die, the green blades blackening and withering to ash.

Above, the trees groaned as their branches trembled, fruit falling from their limbs. Adam’s eyes caught a flash of orange as one tumbled to the earth. He paused, staring at it as it rolled to a stop just within reach. It was an orange—once bright and plump—but even as he watched, it shrivelled, darkening as mold crept across its surface, turning it black and rotten. The putrid smell hit him like a wave, but still, he couldn’t tear his eyes away. Life here was slipping into death, drained of its essence before his very eyes.

He kept crawling, his hands the only means to move his broken body. His fingers sank into the brittle grass, which disintegrated beneath his touch. With each pull, it felt as though he was dragging the weight of a thousand souls behind him, an unseen burden shackled to his spine. His feet wouldn’t support him—he knew that much. They were useless, numb. All he had were his hands, and they were trembling.

At last, he reached the edge of a pond—a small, still body of water framed by red roses and carnations that lined its banks. Adam paused, staring. The scene was hauntingly familiar. He had seen this place before. He had been here. He recognized the way the water shimmered, the way the flowers bloomed, the pair of ducks that glided across the surface without a care. He could almost hear the memory whispering to him, as if from a life long forgotten.

But even here, in this last vestige of beauty, death was encroaching. He watched as the roses began to droop, their petals browning, curling inward before falling away into dust. The carnations followed suit, their vibrant hues turning a dull, lifeless grey as they crumbled into the earth. Adam’s breath hitched, the garden around him collapsing into decay, the blackened grass creeping ever closer to the pond.

Panic seized him as he turned his gaze back to the ducks, still swimming, unaware of the dying world around them. He tried to cry out, to warn them, but his voice failed him—nothing but a strangled whine escaped his throat. Desperate, he reached out a trembling hand, as if he could stop the inevitable, but it was too late.

The ducks froze. Their feathers darkened and their forms withered, collapsing in on themselves as though time had cruelly fast-forwarded their lives. In mere moments, they had turned to skeletal remains, their bones sinking beneath the murky surface of the pond. The water rippled briefly, then stilled, as if nothing had ever lived there at all.

A horrified cry escaped Adam’s lips, his chest tightening in anguish. His tears—those strange silver and blue droplets—fell freely now, sliding down his cheeks and staining the ground below him. He wheezed, his breath coming in sharp, ragged gasps as panic gripped his chest. The world around him was unravelling, and he couldn’t stop it. He didn’t understand what was happening, why everything he touched seemed to rot and die.

His vision blurred, the edges of his mind fraying, until something caught his eye. The pond. Even in its stillness, the water remained reflective, its surface like a dark mirror. For a moment, Adam hesitated, but the pull was too strong to resist. Slowly, with shaking hands, he dragged himself to the edge of the pond, his long fingers curling around the damp earth at its banks.

Leaning forward, he gazed into the water.

There, in the blackened reflection, was a face he barely recognized.

It was him—but not him. His eyes glowed faintly with silver and blue, the same colours that bled from his tears.

Adam gazed into the still surface of the pond, his breath catching in his throat as the reflection staring back at him took form. He blinked, refusing to believe the grotesque figure he saw was him, but no amount of denial could erase the haunting image. What looked back was a twisted mockery of what he once had been—a shadow of the Archangel he was.

Two small horns jutted out from the sides of his head, emerging through his thick, dark hair. Between them floated small fragments of bones, like a fractured halo suspended in a macabre orbit around his head. His face was part flesh, part bone, his eyes deeply sunken into skeletal sockets. But it was the colors of his eyes that truly chilled him: light blue sclera encased piercing green pupils, a reversed and unnatural reflection of the angelic light he once knew. His hair was a deep, ink-black cascade streaked with pale blue, as if frost had kissed the darkest night, the strands shimmering with faint highlights, both ethereal and eerie.

Adam’s arms stretched before him, thin and skeletal, his fingers bruised and pale, almost translucent as they hovered above the pond. They weren’t claws, nor did he have sharp teeth or monstrous fangs—no, what unnerved him was the hollow, fragile appearance of his limbs. He looked as though he had been drained of life, a mere shell of the vibrant creature he once was.

But what truly paralyzed him—what left him trembling, breathless—were the things attached to his back. His gaze, hesitant and terrified, shifted slowly, his heart pounding in a ghostly echo that seemed to drop into the pit of his stomach. His body shook as, ever so slowly, six enormous wings rose and stretched on either side of him. They were not the radiant, feathered wings of an angel. They were made entirely of bone, skeletal, devoid of life or warmth. They stretched wide, casting shadows over the withered garden as if they themselves consumed the light.

He swallowed hard as the truth struck him like a blade to the heart—he was the one draining the life from the garden. It was his presence that withered the trees, sucked the life from the grass, and rotted the fruit. His very existence seemed to poison everything around him. He froze in place, trembling, unable to tear his eyes away from the devastation spreading across the landscape. The vibrant flowers wilted, crumbling into brittle, lifeless husks, the trees withered and bore no more fruit, and the air itself seemed to grow colder and darker in his wake.

With this horrifying revelation, Adam found himself able to stand. His legs were shaky, barely able to support his weight, but he forced himself up. He was dressed in nothing but an oversized black t-shirt that hung down to his mid-thigh, loose and ill-fitting as if mocking the frailty of his new form. His breath came in shallow, panicked gasps as he took a step forward, his feet shuffling through the dying grass. Each step he took seemed to leech the life from the earth beneath him. The trees bowed, their branches heavy with rot, and the air grew thick with decay as he unconsciously fed off the energy around him.

Adam’s gaze fell upon the ducks—the innocent creatures that had once swum peacefully in the pond. Now, their skeletal remains rested on the water's surface, sunken and lifeless. His heart clenched painfully in his chest as the weight of his existence pressed down on him.

What had he become?

What kind of monster was he now? Why had he been twisted into this grotesque parody of an Archangel?

Suddenly, his chest burned. A sharp pain shot through him, and he winced, glancing down. The star-shaped scar on his chest—the wound that was supposed to have killed him—began to glow, flickering with an eerie blend of silver and blue light. It pulsed in time with his breathing, as though the very scar itself was alive, tethered to whatever dark magic had transformed him.

Stumbling backward, Adam tripped over a root and fell to the ground with a thud. He scrambled to his feet, turning sharply—only to find himself facing a looming pillar. A shrine. It stood tall and imposing, bathed in a strange, pulsing glow. And resting atop the shrine, shining with an ethereal golden light, was a single apple.

The moment his eyes fell upon it, Adam knew what it was. The Apple of Knowledge. The very fruit that had torn apart his life, had brought the first sin into the world. Two distinct bite marks marred its surface—the marks of Lilith and Eve. A shiver ran down his spine, colder than anything he had ever felt before. The magic radiating from the apple was intoxicating, vibrant, filled with life and light. It pulsed with an energy that was the antithesis of everything he had become.

Adam reached out, his hand trembling as it hovered closer to the cursed fruit. He could feel the warmth of its magic, the life it offered, but something inside him—deep, dark, and instinctive—reached back toward it. His hand extended, fingers trembling as he stretched toward the apple, drawn by some unseen force.

The thing that had ruined him, the thing that had caused everything to spiral into chaos, was now within his reach. Yet as his fingers neared the glowing apple, the darkness inside him stirred, awakening something ancient and hungry.

Adam’s breath quickened. He hesitated, the weight of eternity bearing down on his fragile soul as his hand hovered inches from the fruit of knowledge.

"Adam!" a familiar voice tore through the air, sharp and desperate, snapping him from his trance as if yanking him back from the edge of oblivion.

Adam flinched, his skeletal feet trembling as he stumbled away from the pillar. His wide eyes, dark and hollow, were unfocused, as if his mind wasn’t fully present. Slowly, his gaze drifted toward the figure standing before him—the one responsible for all his ruin, the one who had torn him apart and left him shattered time and again.

Lucifer.

He stood there, flustered and breathless, his usually composed face flushed with a rosy hue, his striking red pupils wide with fear and disbelief. His skin, pale and immaculate, glowed with the warmth of life, his cheeks tinted a delicate shade of pink. His hair, golden blonde with soft coral streaks woven through the pale strands, cascaded down his shoulders like sunlight caught in a gentle breeze. Dressed in a pristine white suit, Lucifer looked every bit the angel he once was, but his expression betrayed him—too many emotions flickered across his face in rapid succession, as though he couldn’t quite grasp what he was witnessing.

Lucifer’s enormous wings, a breathtaking blend of white feathers tinged with red, stretched out behind him, trembling slightly as if mirroring the chaos in his soul. He looked upon Adam, not with anger, but with a raw, anxious desperation, his heart visibly torn. He couldn't believe it—couldn’t fathom that it was Adam wreaking such havoc.

“Adam, you have to stop!” Lucifer’s voice broke with urgency, his words almost pleading. “You need to stop before it’s too late!”

But Adam just stared at him, unblinking, as if Lucifer’s words were an alien language he could no longer understand. A hollow laugh bubbled up inside him, though it never left his lips. Instead, all he felt was emptiness—an overwhelming void that left him cold, shivering, and numb.

“Please, Adam,” Lucifer’s voice softened, cracking at the edges. “You’ll kill everyone... you’ll hurt Charlie if you don’t stop.”

Golden sparks of magic began to shimmer around Lucifer, swirling in the air like embers of light, but Adam was blind to it. His body trembled, not from fear, but from something far deeper—a profound emptiness that gnawed at his soul, threatening to consume him whole.

And then, almost as if a dam had broken inside him, Adam’s voice tore through the air, his scream ragged and inhuman.

“Why...” His voice was barely a whisper at first, choked and broken. “Why didn’t you kill me?!”

The words erupted from him with such force that it felt like his very soul had split open. His throat burned as the screech reverberated through the air, twisted and raw, sending shockwaves of agony through his body. The darkness inside him, the festering void that had grown and coiled in his chest, flared violently, crashing against his ribcage like a beast seeking to break free.

And then, with a sudden roar, silver and blue magic exploded from him, crackling like furious lightning. It surged outward, chaotic and destructive, colliding with Lucifer’s golden-red magic that spiralled toward him in a desperate attempt to contain the storm. Their powers met with a deafening clash, sending shockwaves ripping through the garden like a hurricane unleashed from the very depths of Hell.

The once-beautiful garden, Lucifer’s sanctuary, was torn apart in seconds. Trees that had stood for centuries were uprooted and thrown across the desolate landscape. Flowers, once vibrant and fragrant, withered instantly, their petals crumbling to dust in the raging wind. The earth itself seemed to split open, groaning beneath the weight of their combined magic.

Everything Lucifer had spent years creating…gone.

Lucifer, for all his strength and grace, struggled to keep his footing. His boots skidded across the soil—the same soil he had lovingly tended to for countless hours, the soil of his sanctuary that now lay in ruin. But he had no time to grieve the loss of his beloved garden. His wings flared out behind him, struggling to shield him from the brutal force of Adam’s magic. His arms rose instinctively to cover his face, but even that seemed barely enough to hold back the searing heat of the silver and blue flames that crackled before him.

“Adam!” he screamed again, his voice raw with desperation, but the storm between them swallowed his cry.

The chaotic swirl of magic grew hotter, more violent, each pulse of energy warping the very air around them. It was as if the magic was feeding off the destruction, growing wilder, hungrier with every passing second.

The world around them blurred, torn apart by the force of their powers clashing together. Lucifer’s heart ached as he fought against the tide of devastation, his soul pleading for Adam to stop, to see reason, but all he could feel was the suffocating weight of Adam’s sorrow and rage.

And beneath it all, the same question echoed in his mind, over and over—Why didn’t I kill him?

Why didn’t I kill him when I found him alive again?

But no answer came. Only the howling wind and the crackling of their deadly magic filled the air as the remnants of the garden continued to fall apart around them.

Horror clawed its way into Adam's very soul as the full weight of the truth settled in like a stone in his chest. He was the opposite of Lucifer in every imaginable way. Lucifer, with his golden magic that breathed life and creation into the world, stood as a beacon of beauty and celestial grace. Adam’s magic, by contrast, was a force of destruction—silver, corrosive, and cold. Where Lucifer’s halo shone with light, Adam’s was a ghastly ring of darkness, fragments of bone that hovered in a grotesque parody of divinity. Lucifer embodied radiance, but Adam... Adam was a twisted figure of decay, a living effigy of death.

And then, in a heartbeat, everything stopped. The chaos that had spiraled around them moments before stilled, as if the world itself had drawn a sharp breath and held it. Silence fell, heavy and oppressive.

Adam staggered backward, horror flooding his veins like ice. His mismatched eyes—green and blue, so wide they hurt—were clouded with disbelief. He felt as though he were drowning in the weight of his own being. A dizzying pulse throbbed at his temples, his head swimming as he arched his back, his skeletal wings trembling on either side of him, quivering under the weight of his agony.

And then he saw it—his shadow, misshapen and grotesque, stretching out beneath him like a harrowing specter. A sob tore from his throat at the sight, a raw, anguished sound.

His hands shot up before him, his fingers bruised and skeletal, trembling with the weight of his disgust.

“What am I?” he gasped, voice cracking as tears of silver and blue welled in his sunken eyes. “What have I become?”

Lucifer, mere feet away, was barely able to stand. His breath came in ragged gasps, his body screaming for rest. His own magic, golden and warm, had shrunken inward, drained and depleted from the effort of containing the chaos of Adam’s power. It had been too much—too young, too volatile. If Lucifer had faltered for even a moment, Adam’s destructive magic could have consumed Hell and Heaven alike. The weight of this realization pressed heavily on Lucifer’s chest, his heart pounding in the aftermath of the storm. His claws dug into his knees as he fought for breath, his whole body aching as though it had been torn apart and hastily stitched back together.

He blinked through the haze of exhaustion, lifting his gaze to where Adam had collapsed onto his skeletal knees, the wings of bone and dark feathers draped limply around him. Adam’s figure was so broken, so full of anguish, that Lucifer’s heart ached in a way it hadn’t for millennia.

“Adam...” Lucifer began, his voice barely more than a whisper, soft and deliberate, as though he were approaching a wounded, dangerous creature. Each step he took was cautious, his limbs heavy with exhaustion, but he pressed forward.

Adam’s head snapped up, his eyes wild and frantic as they locked onto Lucifer’s. And before Lucifer could react, Adam lunged forward. His skeletal fingers latched onto Lucifer’s pristine white jacket, clutching it with a desperation so raw it sent a tremor through Lucifer’s core.

“Kill me!” Adam’s voice broke, the words tumbling from his lips in ragged sobs. “Please, kill me!”

The tears flowed freely now silver and blue streaks painting his gaunt cheeks. His voice trembled, each word a struggle as his throat throbbed with the strain of his pleading. His hands tightened their grip on Lucifer’s jacket, tugging helplessly as he begged for release.

“You need to kill me! I can’t live like this!” Adam’s voice cracked again; each word laced with despair. “I want to die! Please... kill me.”

Lucifer’s eyes widened in shock, his body jolting as Adam’s weight tugged on him, pulling him forward and backward with each desperate plea. His hands instinctively rose, hovering in the air, unsure whether to push Adam away or hold him closer. His lips parted, but the words caught in his throat, tangled in the raw emotion that had suddenly consumed them both.

“A-Adam, I...” Lucifer stammered, his voice thick with uncertainty, his chest aching as he struggled to find words. But what could he say to this broken, haunted creature before him? He, too, was lost in the swirling chaos of their shared past—of wounds too deep to heal, of choices that had led them to this desolate place.

But Adam’s trembling form clinging to him, begging for death... Lucifer had no words for this. No way to undo the pain. And yet, he couldn’t bring himself to let go.

“Kill me, Luci! You need to kill me!” Adam’s sobs tore through the quiet, his voice breaking as blue and silver tears spilled down his gaunt cheeks. His skeletal wings drooped lifelessly to the ground, the bones scraping softly against the cracked earth on either side of him. His whole body trembled with the weight of his anguish, his hollow cries echoing like the lament of a lost soul.

“I was supposed to die, Luci. I shouldn’t be here! I don’t want to be here!”

At the sound of that name—Luci—a shudder ran through Lucifer’s entire body, freezing him in place. Adam hadn’t called him that since Eden, since before the fall, before he had left with Lilith and turned his back on Heaven. It was a name laced with the memory of something far simpler, far more innocent. Lucifer's chest constricted painfully, a burn spreading through him that hadn’t surfaced in centuries. The name clawed at old wounds, ripping them open in ways Lucifer hadn’t expected.

His hands shook uncontrollably as he struggled to catch his breath, his heart hammering in his chest as though it might shatter beneath the weight of Adam's plea. Slowly, almost reluctantly, Lucifer raised his trembling hands, jerking slightly before finally resting them on Adam’s shoulders. The touch was tentative, unsure. His voice, when he finally spoke, was soft and almost broken.

“I can’t...” The words barely made it past his lips, fragile and uncertain.

Adam’s response was immediate, shaking his head as he cried harder, his body wracked with sobs that tore from the depths of his soul.

“Why not?!” His voice was laced with desperation, the agony of someone who had already lost everything.

“I-I just can’t, Adam…” Lucifer stammered, his own wings beginning to mirror Adam’s, drooping low and heavy as if they shared the same unbearable weight. The once-majestic feathers, streaked with white and red, now seemed dulled in the shadow of his anguish.

“I can’t kill you. I-I... I won’t.”

Lucifer’s voice trembled as he spoke, his chest tightening with every word, with every refusal to grant Adam the one thing he begged for. It wasn’t defiance. It wasn’t cruelty. It was something else—something Lucifer didn’t have the strength to name. His hands tightened their hold on Adam’s shoulders, as if grounding himself in the fragile moment between them, unwilling to let go. His breath hitched again, the agony of their shared past and broken present pressing down on him like a weight he could no longer carry.

Adam’s cries continued, his body collapsing beneath the weight of his despair, but Lucifer stood frozen, his heart torn between an impossible decision. How could he grant Adam’s wish? How could he be the one to end it all, when every piece of him screamed to protect what little remained?

“Please, please, kill me. I don’t want to be here anymore.” He hiccupped pitifully.

“I-I just can’t, Adam…” Lucifer gasped, shaking himself.  “I can’t kill you. I-I… I won’t.”

At those words, something inside Adam snapped. His sobbing morphed into a cry of rage, his blue and silver magic crackling violently in the air around them.

“I hate you!” he screamed, the words ripping from his throat like a curse. “You ruined my life! You took everything from me!”

His fists clenched, and he pounded them weakly against Lucifer’s chest, though it wasn’t the physical blows that hurt—it was the weight of Adam’s words. “I have never asked you for anything, Luci! Not once! But this… I ask you for this, and you can’t even do it!”

Lucifer stood still, his expression softening, though his heart broke with every word. He didn’t flinch as Adam’s magic lashed out, the chaotic tendrils of blue and silver sparking in the air. He simply listened, his heart aching, guilt weighing heavy in his chest.

“You were my Archangel! My best friend!” Adam continued, his voice cracking under the strain of emotion. “I adored you more than anyone. But you—you betrayed me in the worst possible way! You left me… you hurt me… and I’ve never recovered from that. The pain is still there, festering inside me! And it wasn’t because Lilith left me, that she chose someone else. I could’ve survived that. But what destroyed me was that it was you!”

Adam’s voice broke as he cried out in anguish. “You, Lucifer! The person I trusted more than anyone else. The one I cared about the most! And you—you took her from me. I could never heal from that betrayal! It tore me apart, and it’s never stopped hurting.”

Lucifer’s eyes glistened, his face still, but the pain of Adam’s words cut deeper than any wound. He stood in silence, absorbing every accusation, every ounce of hatred. He deserved it all.

Adam’s magic flared again, wild and uncontrollable.

“You took everything!” he screamed, the rage and sorrow blending into something raw, primal. “You took Lilith! Fine, I could live with that. But then you took Eve! What the hell was I supposed to do?! Did you want me to be alone for my entire life? You took them both! Both! All I ever wanted was to be loved! To belong! But you—you cast me aside, left me in the cold, just like everyone else!”

Adam’s tears streamed down, his voice cracking as he screamed, “I hate you, Lucifer! You’ve always hurt me!”

Lucifer’s knees buckled under the weight of Adam’s words, and slowly, he sank to the ground. Adam weakly hit him on the chest, fists thudding against the fabric of his white suit, but the blows quickly gave way to broken sobs. Without hesitation, Lucifer wrapped his arms around Adam, pulling him close, hugging him tightly. His voice was soft, trembling with regret.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I am a terrible Archangel. A terrible friend. I never wanted to hurt you… I never meant for any of this…”

“But you did!” Adam sobbed. “You’re always hurting me! Every choice you make, every decision—it always ends with me suffering!”

Lucifer squeezed him tighter, his voice thick with emotion. “I thought… I thought you’d come around eventually, that—”

“Come around to what?!” Adam interrupted, his voice hollow with disbelief. “You took my only friends! Left me all alone! If Eve hadn’t bitten that apple, I would’ve been in Eden for centuries, alone, because I couldn’t handle someone leaving me again. Is that what you wanted? Is that what you thought would happen?”

“No…” Lucifer whispered, shaking his head, but the words faltered on his tongue. “No, Adam, I wasn’t thinking like that. I just… I wanted everyone to be free. To make their own choices.”

“You were being selfish!” Adam screamed, his voice rising with the chaos of his magic, silver and blue lightning sparking and crackling around them. “You’ve always been selfish, Luci! Every decision you’ve ever made has led to me suffering!”

Lucifer flinched, the truth of Adam’s words hitting him hard. “I’m sorry… I’m so sorry…”

But Adam wasn’t finished. His eyes blazed with fury, his magic lashing out in uncontrolled arcs. “You’re still selfish! You don’t even know why Heaven does what it does, why it’s so important to protect the Winners! Do you even understand what it would mean if Charlie managed to redeem a Sinner? Why the Exterminations are so critical?”

Lucifer’s eyes widened in shock, confusion clouding his features.

Adam scoffed, shaking his head. “Of course, you don’t know. You don’t know anything! Hell is filled with abusers, Lucifer! Every Sinner is someone who hurt another soul—who enjoyed hurting them. Every Sinner committed a crime, and every one of them has a victim in Heaven! The Winners are the ones who survived their sins, and now Charlie’s trying to paradise their abusers!”

Lucifer opened his mouth to speak but no words came. He was utterly stunned, caught in the truth of Adam’s words.

Adam’s voice trembled with anger as he continued, “It’s not about second chances. It’s about whether the survivors can live in a paradise knowing their abusers are there too. Every decision Heaven made was to protect the survivors from Hell’s rotten souls.”

Lucifer could only listen in stunned silence as Adam revealed the harsh truth.

“Lilith isn’t trapped in Heaven,” Adam said, his voice quiet but filled with bitter sorrow. “She chose to stay. She saw the survivors, saw what those humans did to them. She’s up there helping them, not because Heaven forced her, but because she wanted to.”

Lucifer's head spun, the world crumbling beneath the weight of this revelation. Everything he had believed, everything he had fought for—it all felt meaningless now. He had been so wrong. So blind.

But the realization brought no comfort to Adam. Seeing Lucifer’s defeated expression didn’t ease his pain. It only made it worse. Adam sobbed harder; his broken heart laid bare.

“Please,” he whispered, the tears choking him. “Just… kill me.”

But once again, Lucifer’s answer was the same.

“No.”

Adam sagged backward, the weight of everything crushing down on him, his head hanging hopelessly, defeat rippling through every inch of his frame. His wings, those macabre skeletal structures draped with trembling blue feathers, drooped even lower, dragging against the ashen ground.

“I hate you so much,” he whispered, his voice hollow and ragged, as if the very words drained the last of his strength.

“I know,” Lucifer responded quietly, his voice thick with a sorrow that mirrored Adam’s despair. He tightened his arms around Adam, pulling him closer as if trying to meld their broken pieces together.

“I hate myself too.”

Neither of them spoke after that. In the silence, the ruins of Lucifer’s Eden replica stretched out around them, the once beautiful imitation of paradise now little more than a graveyard of dreams long dead. Their breaths mingled in the stillness, both clinging to each other, neither wanting to let go, yet neither knowing how to move forward. It was a quiet, desperate embrace, filled with all the things they had never been able to say.

Finally, Adam, voice low and hesitant, broke the silence. “What do you want from me?”

Lucifer didn’t answer right away. His grip tightened slightly, as though afraid that letting go would shatter what fragile connection remained between them. When he finally spoke, he pulled back just enough to meet Adam’s eyes, his gaze filled with a tenderness that was almost painful to behold. His hand reached up to touch the blue circle that was now imprinted on Adam’s cheek, a dark and sad reflection of what once might have been divine grace.

“I loved you,” Lucifer whispered, his fingers tracing the edge of the mark gently. The circle glowed faintly, like a dying ember. “I loved you so much, but my affection—it was too much for you. And for that… for that, I am deeply sorry.”

Adam blinked, confusion crossing his face as he furrowed his brow. He didn’t understand what Lucifer was trying to say, and it only made the ache in his chest throb harder. “What are you talking about?”

Lucifer leaned in closer, his voice a soft breath against Adam’s skin. “I want to make a deal with you.”

The moment the words left Lucifer’s mouth, Adam recoiled violently, yanking himself out of Lucifer’s arms with a sudden surge of anger. He stumbled backward, struggling to his feet, his wings flaring wide in frustration.

“A deal?” he spat, eyes flashing with fury. “You think I’m stupid? You want to bind me to a contract where you own my soul, don’t you? Just like you do with everyone else in Hell!”

His voice was sharp, every syllable dripping with bitter resentment. “I’ll never give you that! You’ve already taken everything from me, Lucifer! The last thing I have is my soul, and I’ll be damned if I ever give that to you.”

Lucifer’s eyes widened, his hand shooting out to grab Adam by the wrist before he could storm off. “Wait, please—just listen to me.”

Adam growled; his voice dangerously low.

“You’re such a hypocrite,” he hissed, his blue and silver magic beginning to spark dangerously around them again. “For someone who claims to care so much about freedom, about letting humans choose for themselves, you’re awfully eager to take that freedom away. You’re no better than Heaven, Lucifer.”

Lucifer flinched, Adam’s words cutting deep. His grip on Adam’s wrist tightened, but there was no force behind it, only desperation. “I don’t make deals to trap souls, not anymore. That’s not what this is. It’s different. This is different.”

Adam scoffed, pulling his wrist out of Lucifer’s grasp as he glared at him.

“How is it different?” he demanded, the fury in his voice only barely concealing the hurt that still lingered beneath.

Lucifer slowly stood, stepping toward Adam with deliberate caution. He moved close, too close, and looped an arm around Adam’s middle, pulling him back against his chest. His other hand rose once more to touch the sad blue mark on Adam’s cheek.

“Because this time,” Lucifer said, his voice a quiet murmur against the top of Adam’s head, “You’ll own my soul too.”

Adam frowned, the anger giving way to confusion.

“What?” he asked, his voice laced with suspicion. “Why would you do that?”

Lucifer’s expression softened; his gaze filled with a rare sincerity that Adam had almost forgotten he was capable of. “Your new power… it’s unstable, dangerous. If what you said is true, that Heaven wants to protect the Winners—if they see you as a threat—they’ll come after you.”

Lucifer’s face darkened at the thought. “And I won’t let that happen.”

Adam scoffed quietly, the bitterness returning as he shook his head. “Why would you stop them? If they kill me, that’s exactly what I want.”

Lucifer growled softly, tightening his hold around Adam, pulling him even closer until their bodies pressed together.

“I’m not letting that happen,” he said firmly, his voice low and warning. “How am I supposed to make up for what I did if I let you die?”

Adam laughed bitterly, a harsh, broken sound. “You seriously think you can make up for all the pain you’ve caused?”

He shook his head, disbelieving. “You’re delusional, Lucifer. I’ll never agree to this.”

Lucifer shrugged, a wide, face splitting grin pulled at the corner of his lips. “Every beginning is born from a bit of insanity.”

Adam rolled his eyes, biting his bottom lip anxiously as he mulled over Lucifer’s words. The weight of the offer hung heavy between them, and the truth of it—the sheer absurdity of it—began to settle in.

“Why would you offer up your own soul?” Adam asked after a long pause, his voice quieter, more hesitant now. “What do you get out of this?”

Lucifer’s grin widened, but it was softer this time, more genuine.

“Because if you own my soul too,” he said, brushing his thumb gently against Adam’s cheek, “You’ll know that I’m not just playing with you. You’ll have power over me, just like I would over you. It wouldn’t be one-sided.”

Adam’s frown deepened, but he couldn’t hide the way his heart raced, the way the offer twisted something inside him. It was tempting. Too tempting.

Lucifer’s eyes never left Adam’s as he whispered, “This way, you’ll never have to doubt my intentions again.”

For the first time in what felt like an eternity, Adam was silent, the weight of Lucifer’s words sinking deep into his soul. He didn’t know what to say. He didn’t know what to feel.

Adam stood there, frozen, his heart a mess of conflict and confusion. This wasn't what he wanted. He didn’t want Lucifer to make amends or try to fix the past. He was tired. Bone-deep exhaustion pulled at every part of him. After centuries of existence—living through Eden, Earth, and Heaven—there was nothing left to strive for, no new desires to chase. He had lived a full life, endured countless betrayals, heartbreaks, and wars. Now, all he wanted was rest. He wanted the release of death. Finally. After so long.

As if sensing Adam's inner turmoil, Lucifer leaned in closer, his breath warm against Adam’s lips. It sent a shock through Adam's body, making him stiffen, his eyes widening in confusion.

Lucifer’s voice was a low, intimate whisper, his words caressing the air between them. "You haven’t experienced everything yet, Adam."

Adam’s brow furrowed in confusion. "What do you mean?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

Lucifer’s lips curled into a teasing grin, and he ran his claws through Adam’s hair, sending shivers down Adam’s spine. “You once said that I wanted you to be alone, that I took everyone from you. And you’re right. I was selfish. I hurt you, more than I could ever make up for.”

His tone softened, becoming almost mournful. “But that doesn’t mean I never wanted you.”

Adam eyed him suspiciously, the old wounds of betrayal still too raw, too deep.

“Are you only saying that because you want the full set?” he asked bitterly, his voice dripping with resentment.

Lucifer chuckled softly, shrugging as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “Yes... and no. I loved all three of you back in Eden—Lilith, Eve... and you. But I was blinded by my own pride. I lost sight of you, Adam. I won’t make that mistake again.”

Adam frowned deeply, his arms crossing over his chest defensively. “I’m not into poly,” he muttered.

Lucifer's grin softened, a knowing look in his eyes. “Neither am I. If you’re willing, it would just be the two of us. No one else.”

Adam blinked, the weight of Lucifer’s words sinking in. “In this contract?”

Lucifer shook his head, correcting gently, “No. In a relationship.”

The word sent a sharp pang through Adam’s chest, his breath catching. He couldn’t stop the doubt from creeping into his voice as he asked, “Are you only doing this out of pity? Out of guilt?”

Lucifer didn’t flinch, his gaze unwavering as he met Adam’s eyes. “I won’t lie. Maybe guilt plays a part, but my love for you is real. It always has been. Just as much as I loved Lilith and Eve... maybe even more.”

His voice was a tender confession, raw and honest. “My greatest sin wasn’t falling or rebelling. It was not finding you after Eden. I should have come back for you.���

Adam wanted to scoff, to brush Lucifer’s words aside as manipulative lies, but there was something in Lucifer’s eyes—a vulnerability he hadn’t seen in ages.

“I don’t believe you,” Adam whispered, shaking his head in disbelief.

Lucifer, not missing a beat, reached for Adam’s hand, pressing it firmly against his own chest. Beneath Adam’s palm, Lucifer’s heart pounded erratically, the rapid rhythm betraying the King of Hell’s own unease.

“Feel that?” Lucifer whispered; his voice almost desperate. “I want you, Adam. I want to be with you.”

Adam swallowed thickly, a lump forming in his throat.

“If I agree to this,” he whispered, his voice harsh with emotion, “And you fail—if you hurt me again—you have to kill me.”

Lucifer's face tightened, a frown forming as he instinctively began to protest. “Adam, I—”

But Adam cut him off, covering Lucifer’s mouth with his hand. “That’s the only way I’ll agree to this contract, Lucifer. You have to kill me if you fail.”

Lucifer’s golden eyes darkened with displeasure, his jaw tightening beneath Adam’s palm. He wanted to snarl, to refuse, but Adam was right—he was the King of Lies, the Father of Deception. A sly smirk crept onto Lucifer’s lips, and after a tense moment, he nodded, his eyes gleaming with that familiar wickedness.

“Of course,” he purred, his voice dripping with false sincerity. “If I fail to make you love me in return, I’ll do as you ask.”

But even as he agreed, Lucifer’s fingers crossed behind his back. He had no intention of fulfilling that end of the bargain. After all, failure wasn’t an option. He wouldn’t let it be.

Adam, too weary and conflicted to see through Lucifer’s subtle lie, let his guard down. He sighed, the exhaustion in his soul weighing him down.

“Fine,” he muttered reluctantly. “I agree.”

Lucifer’s eyes gleamed with triumph, but his expression softened as he leaned in, his lips brushing against Adam’s in a kiss that was both gentle and filled with an undercurrent of something far more dangerous. As their lips met, golden and red magic shimmered around them like flames, dancing in the air, while Adam’s silver and blue magic crackled in response, sharp like lightning. Their powers intertwined, a storm of fire and lightning swirling around them as the contract was sealed.

A golden chain appeared around Adam’s throat, gleaming like a collar, while a silver chain coiled around Lucifer’s neck, binding them together, locking them into this shared fate. For a moment, time seemed to still. Their lips remained pressed together, the raw intensity of the magic burning between them, sealing their souls inextricably to one another for all eternity.

When they finally pulled apart, Adam’s eyes were glazed with a mixture of emotions—rage, sorrow, and a flicker of something else he wasn’t ready to name.

Lucifer, his gaze locked on Adam’s, whispered softly, “We’re bound now. For the rest of eternity.”

Adam swallowed hard; his throat tight as he struggled to breathe. The weight of the chains, both literal and metaphorical, settled around him. He was trapped. Bound. But somewhere, in the deepest, darkest part of his heart, a spark of hope flickered, hope that maybe, just maybe, Lucifer wouldn’t fail this time.

But Adam wasn’t naive. He had learned the hard way that love, especially the kind of love Lucifer offered, always came with a price.

“You’ll fail. You’ll kill me.” Adam grumbled.

Lucifer leant in for another kiss, brushing his lips against Adam’s. “I don’t think I will.”

[jessamine-rose]

Hi. I don't know if you answered this but what happened to Kitty's family? and did they find out what Pantalone did?

Read my Yandere! Pantalone fics first <3

Ohh thank you for asking this!! It was fun to revisit the story of Yandere! Pantalone x Kitty! Darling, and I hope you enjoy the additional lore on Kitty’s family (((o(*ﾟ▽ﾟ*)o)))

Note:: yandere, fic spoilers under the cut

The Lai family is never able to recover their wealth nor their social status.

Her parents and sister are the most affected. To keep afloat, they had to sell their estate and switch to a humbler lifestyle. Alas, it will take years for them to pay off their debt to the Northland Bank, especially since Pantalone charges interest.

On the other hand, Kitty’s brother is actually living his best life in Sumeru. Similar to Kitty, Gege grew up stifled by their family and high society; the difference is that he wanted to distance himself from the two. During his time at the Akademiya, he became more independent and made friends from different backgrounds. Secretly, he did not look forward to returning to Liyue.

Thanks to Pantalone’s scheme, Gege was freed from his own cage. After attending their wedding, he returns to Sumeru and builds a new life for himself. It’s just that he prefers to stay silent about his family, lest he reveal his brother-in-law’s connections to the Fatui.

⬩◈⬩

At one point, Kitty’s family does learn about her surrendered Vision.

One day, Pantalone allows Kitty to accompany him to Liyue. During the mission, they pay a short visit to her parents and Jiejie, who are too nervous to ask about her missing Vision. How can they, when Pantalone is asking for an update on their repayments?

Gege is the only one concerned about Kitty. Months after the wedding, he noticed that she’d stopped responding to his letters. So he sends a letter addressed to her and Pantalone, asking if he could visit them in Snezhnaya. On the same day he receives their response, however, he has to postpone the trip due to back-to-back commissions.

⬩◈⬩

Over a year later, Gege finally has the time to visit his little sister and brother-in-law. Pantalone assigns a Fatuus to fetch Gege and escort him to their manor in Snezhnaya. As soon as Gege meets Kitty, he notices her dim gaze and missing Vision. But before he can comment on it, Pantalone wraps his arm around Kitty’s waist and warmly welcomes him.

After a casual conversation, Pantalone tells Kitty to leave the living room so he can talk to Gege in private. That is when he, in a mournful tone, tells Gege about the “accident” that led to his darling’s Vision loss. He is very convincing, but Gege remains doubtful.

Later that day, Gege asks Kitty to tell him the truth, to let him know if she is truly all right. But Kitty only responds with a small smile and tells him that she is fine. That she is loved. That she has never felt happier by her husband’s side.

What would her brother know, anyway, as the one who was absent from her life for nine years? And even if her husband is lying, does he dare to challenge a Fatui Harbinger?

In the end, he chooses to believe in Pantalone’s story. If the “accident” really happened, then it makes sense that Kitty would willingly give up her Vision. And it is true that she seems happier as the Regrator’s wife.

If there is one thing that Gege recognizes in this shell of his little sister, it is the genuineness in her smiles directed at her husband.

⬩◈⬩

A week later, Gege returns to Sumeru.

By then, Pantalone has won him over with his charming facade. During their final goodbyes, Gege thanks him for his hospitality and for being there for Kitty.

Once he is back in Sumeru, he resumes his work. Now that he knows his little sister is in good hands, there is less to worry about.

It’s a shame, though, that he can’t visit them as often as he’d like. According to Pantalone, the couple will be “preoccupied with numerous missions and events” in the near future.

[certifiedsexed]

Whats up? Im a trans guy who’s been struggling recently with the way I present myself.

I always loved wearing traditionally “feminine” clothes (skirts, dresses, crop tops, bows) but I feel like no one sees me as a guy when I wear these things.

I know I don’t need to “pass” to be valid but sometimes I get scared that no one actually sees me as a real guy, even though I feel that way.

Anyway, I think I’m going to get a binder and more “masculine” clothes (Not just because of how I think people perceive me also because I want to lol)

Any advice? Words of affirmation? thanks :))

Hi. Anon, here's the thing; it sounds like you're struggling less with how you present yourself and more with how other people view you.

[I say that not because I'm trying to tell you how to feel, but because you say that as if you've caused people to possibly be thinking transphobic things about you by the way you dress instead of the truth, which is that transphobic people will generally find any excuse to claim trans people aren't their gender regardless of what clothes we wear.]

I'm not going to tell you other people's opinions don't matter because I know that's not true; it clearly matters to you. But I am going to tell you that there are many non-transphobic people who will see you as the guy you are, regardless of how you dress and those are the people who you should care the most about.

Even if the only person you know who sees you as a guy is you when you look in the mirror, that just means you should care about your own perception most.

Luckily, you already seem to be on the right path, specifically buying different clothes for yourself not because you "need" to "look masculine" but because you want them. Just keep that in mind; value what you want above what other people may think of you.

Let yourself be fucking excited about your clothes and presentation. Prioritize your enjoyment over your anxiety and have some fucking fun, Anon.

I hope something in this helps! Feel free to send more asks if it doesn't/you have more questions. <3

[nqueso-emergency]

Not necessarily a question so much as 2 observations because today's anons have been... a lot.

The whole Buck as another parent to Chris and that tsunami being proof of that is just ridiculous. Obviously Buck was going to save Chris. Even if it wasn't his best friend's kid, he literally saves people for a living. More than that though, it's his best friend's kid. Maybe the bestie boos don't have friends with kids (because they are kids), but I can remember the visceral terror I have felt every time some friend of mine plopped their baby in my arms because they had to do something in another room for a bit (like go to the bathroom or get food). Being responsible for another person's wellbeing is huge. For that person to be literally the most important person in your friend's life makes it even more daunting. That doesn't make you a co-parent and no adult in their right mind watching scenes between Buck and Chris are interpreting their relationship that way.

Unrelated observation (rant) number 2, no one is paying them to be here blowing up your inbox. Can't speak for everyone who sticks to the BT tags, but me personally, when I see a blog I don't like, I block it. If I see tags that ick me out (added Ryliver to the list today), I filter them. Anyone with a lick of sense knows you can't change someone's mind on the internet. We are just trying to have fun and share theories. Sending you messages about how wrong you are and that Buddie is the best and soon to be canon is just harassment. Why is it so hard for them to just play in their own dang sandbox? There are plenty of pixels for everybody.

Anyway, thank you for your service. Your blog is awesome.

This ask is a few days old I believe... but thank you so much for your observations!! I agree with both

[babyblueetbaemonster]

Thank you for saving me, with your fists, punch the necromancers to death.

[intotheelliwoods]

Seeming as I dont think that poll is swaying anytime soon- keychains have been ordered! And if you can afford the shipping, I can ship outside the USA! :)

[pushing500]

Where did mechi get his mechlink?

In my idea for his background, Mechi applied for a mechlink on his homeworld (one of the more developed urbworlds) and, after what probably felt like an achingly long period of review, was approved for it!

Probably the only person more excited about it than Mechi was his baby sister Yamka.

Also, the description of mechlinks on the RimWorld wiki made me grimace at how uncomfortable it sounded. I bet Yamka had a ball teasing Mechi about it, and I'm sure he had one hell of a headache for a few days after it was first installed.

[flamesignite]

//Alright so I really noticed that a lot of people don't have anon on but I'll send it here. I think all of you are amazing and I enjoy you all on my dash and you all brighten up my day! I appreciate every single one of you guys. Even if I don't follow you I appreciate you still being here. Thank you from the bottom of my heart for making it fun for me here.💖

[radicalrascals]

@etxrnaleclipse for the Anger/Betrayal RP Starters meme

"Wait until the boss finds out." (Danny to Colmilho)

Eyes as cold as ice, a perpetual storm brewing beneath their steely surface. Ever since Delegado Paulo Almeida had lost his wife to a senseless act of violence, empathy had drained from him, leaving a hardened shell in its place. His life had become a relentless pursuit of justice, or perhaps it was just vengeance running rampant. And tonight, his focus was on the Baltimore Brat; Paulo shoved Danny into the backseat of his rented car, the metallic clink of handcuffs behind the young man's back punctuating the dark silence. Colmilho didn't bother with a seatbelt; as safety was the least of his concerns.

"Oh, he will find out. But that's in the future. So far in the future. Where's your precious boss now, hm? That's right; not here to help you." A scoff. Then Paulo tossed a tote bag over Danny's head, obscuring his vision and disorienting him. "Don't worry. We're not heading to the station," the delegado informed him then, his voice a low, dangerous growl. As he slid into the driver's seat, he could feel the anticipation thrumming in his veins, a twisted symphony of adrenaline and grim satisfaction. He turned the key in the ignition, the engine roaring to life with a menacing purr. Colmilho slammed the accelerator, sending the car lurching forward. He manoeuvred through the desolate streets with reckless abandon, accelerating then braking abruptly, weaving through the maze of urban decay with no discernible pattern. The car's erratic movements transformed Danny into a ragdoll, his body slamming against the interior with sickening thuds that were almost musical in their irregularity.

The young man's yelps of pain were drowned out by the smooth, incongruous strains of Bossa Nova that Paulo blasted from the speakers. The cheerful melodies provided a grotesque counterpoint to the chaos inside the car. His knuckles turned white as Colmilho gripped the steering wheel tighter, muscles straining against the centrifugal forces. Each sharp turn, each abrupt stop was a calculated move, designed to break Danny's spirit. And when he finally had enough, Paulo brought the car to an abrupt halt. The sudden stillness was jarring, a stark contrast to the violent motion that preceded it. The delegado stepped out, his boots crunching against the gravel as he yanked the car door open and dragged his victim out.

When he lifted the tote bag from Danny's head, his face was revealed a bloody mess, a testament to the brutality of their little joyride. There was the littlest hint of a fleeting smirk playing around the delegado's lips, not out of joy, but because he knew he had broken through the brat's bravado. The smirk vanished as quickly as it appeared, replaced by a look of grim determination. "Hope you feel a little more chatty now," Paulo said, his voice dripping with menace. In that moment, Colmilho was not a delegado of the Polícia Federal but an avenger, his humanity eroded by the relentless pursuit of a justice that had long since lost its righteousness. "Or we can embark on another fun little joyride. Believe me. I can do this all. night. long."