#I just think he’d really like this song

[luv-lock]

... # ☆ GOLDEN BOY .ᐟ ֹ ₊ ꒱

☆⁠ 𝘗𝘈𝘐𝘙𝘐𝘕𝘎 : Robin Dick Grayson x Fem Reader

☆⁠ HEADCANON : 𝘞𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘢 𝘱𝘶𝘱𝘱𝘺 𝘤𝘳𝘶𝘴𝘩 (𝘰𝘣𝘴𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯).

☆⁠ NOTES : 𝘛𝘦𝘦𝘯𝘢𝘨𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘪𝘯 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦. 𝘌𝘯𝘨𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘩 𝘪𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘮𝘺 𝘧𝘪𝘳𝘴𝘵 𝘭𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘶𝘢𝘨𝘦. 𝘏𝘰𝘱𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘦𝘯𝘫𝘰𝘺!

It starts off innocently enough—just a little crush. You sit near him in class, maybe one row over, and you’re one of the only people who genuinely sees him, not as Bruce Wayne’s ward, not as the golden boy acrobat, but just Dick. The first time you smile at him? Oh, he’s done for. It’s over. That bright, genuine expression you give him after he cracks a dumb joke sends his heart into overdrive. He’s replaying it in his head for weeks. He starts noticing everything about you. The way you twirl your pen when you’re thinking, the soft hum you let out when you're focused, how your eyes light up when you talk about something you love. He starts making excuses to talk to you. “Hey, do you have the notes from last class?” even though he has a perfect memory. “Do you get the homework? I think I missed something.” He just wants to hear your voice, to make you focus on him.

At first, it’s all sweet, dorky teenage boy vibes. But then it starts getting a little intense. He watches you when you’re not looking—not in a creepy way (okay, maybe a little), but in a memorizing everything about you way. He just wants to understand you. What makes you laugh? What makes you frown? Who do you talk to the most? If you mention liking a certain song, you bet he’s listening to it on repeat that night. If you mention a favorite book, he’s reading it in one night just so he can bring it up casually. He adores hearing you say his name. He swears it sounds different coming from your lips. Whenever you do, he fights the urge to grin like an idiot. He gets jealous so easily, but he doesn’t show it in an obvious way. It’s more of a subtle coldness toward any guy you talk to for too long. If someone flirts with you, he’s immediately analyzing everything about them, thinking, What does she see in him?

He’s Robin before anything else, and that means he’s naturally protective. Gotham’s dangerous, and even if you don’t know his secret, he makes it his job to keep you safe. If you're walking home late? He just so happens to be taking the same route. Coincidence? He’d never admit it. He pays attention to how people treat you. If anyone ever makes you uncomfortable, he remembers. Not that he’d ever do anything drastic (yet), but they might find themselves getting mysteriously unlucky.

He doesn’t mean to know so much about you—it just happens. It’s not weird that he remembers your schedule, right? Or that he noticed when you switched shampoos? Or that he can tell when something’s bothering you before you even say anything? He doesn’t mean to follow you home sometimes. He just… wants to make sure you’re okay. Gotham’s dangerous, and you don’t have training like he does. And he definitely doesn’t mean to get distracted on patrol whenever he sees someone who looks like you. But for a split second, he forgets Gotham’s crime rate and thinks, Is she out this late? He’s self-aware enough to know this isn’t just a normal crush. But it’s harmless, right? He’s just watching out for you. If you ever casually compliment him—“You’re really smart, Dick” or “I like being around you”—he malfunctions. Completely. And if you ever initiate contact? Oh, he’s done. Completely, utterly, hopelessly yours.

Dick is a puppy when it comes to you. The second you walk into the classroom, he perks up. If he’s sitting, he straightens his posture. If he’s standing, he suddenly finds something super interesting about the wall just to avoid looking too eager. He lives for those little moments of eye contact. If you catch him staring, he plays it off like he was lost in thought—but inside? His brain is melting. He starts doodling your name in the margins of his notebooks without even realizing it. One day, he catches himself writing “Mr. and Mrs. Grayson” in the corner of his notes and nearly dies on the spot. If you ever say something nice about his eyes? Oh, you’ve ruined him. He will think about that compliment for weeks. Every time he looks in the mirror, he wonders, Does she like them this way? Does she think they’re pretty?

Whenever the teacher asks a question, he needs to be the one who answers it. Not because he’s a know-it-all, but because he wants you to see how smart he is. If you're struggling with something—anything—he’s immediately offering to help. Bad at math? Boom, he's suddenly your personal tutor (even though he secretly hates math). Need a partner for a project? He's already pulling his desk closer before you can even ask. He randomly picks up new skills just because you mentioned liking them. If you say you love guitar players? Guess who suddenly owns a guitar and is watching hours of tutorials? Gym class becomes his personal Olympics. If you're watching, he's running faster, jumping higher, and doing flips that are completely unnecessary just to get your attention.

If you so much as sigh in class, he notices. “You okay?” His voice is so soft, full of genuine concern, and he will not rest until you tell him what’s wrong. He remembers everything you say. Mentioned craving a certain snack? He’s “randomly” bringing it to school the next day. Said you liked a certain brand of lip balm? He notices every time you put it on. If you’re ever sad, he’s ready to drop everything. The moment you look upset, he leans in, voice low and sweet, “Hey… talk to me.” He’ll listen so intently, nodding at all the right moments, just aching to fix whatever’s wrong. He’s a natural gentleman around you. Holding doors open, pulling out chairs, letting you borrow his jacket when it's cold (even if he’s freezing). It’s second nature to him—he just wants to take care of you.

If you miss a day of school? He’s restless. Checking his phone way too much, tapping his pencil, wondering where you are, if you’re okay, if you miss him too. The day you come back? He’s practically glowing. “Hey! You’re back!” His voice is a little too excited, but he can’t help it. He loves when you talk to him first. The moment you say, “Hey, Dick!” in the hallway, he lights up like a Christmas tree. If you touch his arm while laughing? Oh. He’s not getting over that for at least a month. If you’re ever even slightly affectionate with him—resting your head on his shoulder, holding onto his wrist absentmindedly—he’s gone. He replays that moment forever, sighing like a lovesick fool in his room at night.

He has so many little fantasies about you. Not weird ones—just soft, innocent daydreams. Holding hands. Walking you home. Kissing you under the stars like in the movies. He imagines what it would be like if you were his. If he could just tell you how much you mean to him, if he could wrap his arms around you whenever he wanted, if he could finally call you his. But for now, he’s content just being close to you, memorizing every little thing about you, waiting for the moment when you’ll finally see him the way he sees you. Because to him? You’re already his—you just don’t know it yet.

Dick has been thinking about this for weeks. No—months. He’s built up so many little fantasies about it in his head. He imagines it happening naturally, like in the movies—maybe you’ll both laugh at something at the same time, your eyes will meet, and you’ll just know. But no. That’s not realistic. He needs a plan. So, naturally, he overthinks everything. Should he ask casually? Should he write a note? Should he just confess dramatically in the rain? (That one’s his favorite idea, but Gotham’s weather isn’t cooperating.)

He starts dropping little comments like, “Hey, you ever been to that cute café downtown?” or “Do you like Italian food?” If you mention liking a certain place, guess who suddenly loves that place too? “Oh, you like that diner? No way! I love that diner. We should totally go sometime…” He tests the waters constantly. “Would you ever go out with someone from our class?” (Please say yes, please say yes, please say yes—)

He practices in the mirror. A lot. He even tries different tones—cool and casual (“Hey, wanna grab a bite with me?”), nervous but sweet (“I was, um, wondering if you’d maybe wanna go out?”), and even overly confident (“Obviously, you should go on a date with me.”). But the moment he actually sees you? Oh. His brain malfunctions. “Hey—uh—so—okay—hypothetically, if a guy—like me—were to, um, ask you to hang out—but like, not as friends, more like a date—what would you, uh… think?” The second he says it, he wants to die. That was NOT what he practiced. That was awful. But you laugh. Not at him—just at how adorably flustered he is. And oh, if your laugh wasn’t already his favorite sound, it definitely is now.

If you say yes? Oh. He short-circuits. He’s trying to stay cool, but inside? Explosions. Fireworks. The Bat-Signal shining just for him. “Really? I mean—yeah! Cool! Totally cool. Um, how’s Friday? Or Saturday? Or any day? I’m free. Like, always. For you.”

Once you say yes, he goes into full-on mission mode. He has to make this perfect. This isn’t just a date—it’s your first date together, meaning it has to be something you’ll remember forever. He spends an embarrassing amount of time deciding what to wear. He changes outfits at least five times before realizing, “Oh God, I’m worse than Bruce.” He arrives early. He tells himself not to, but he literally cannot be late. In fact, he’s been there so long that by the time you show up, he’s already memorized the entire menu.

When He Sees You… Oh. He’s gone. The moment he lays eyes on you, it’s like the world just stops. “Wow.” He says it without thinking, and then immediately tries to cover it up with a cough. “I mean—not that you don’t always look great! Because you do. All the time. But tonight? Wow.” (He is so embarrassing. And he does not care.)

He’s lowkey flexing. Not in an arrogant way, but in a please find me impressive way. He talks about his training (“I mean, gymnastics is kinda my thing…”), but downplays it like it’s not incredibly cool.

When you least expect it, he gets weirdly soft. He looks at you when you’re not paying attention, like he’s memorizing you. Like he can’t believe you’re real.

When he walks you home, he wants to hold your hand. He wants to kiss you, but he’s too nervous (what if it’s too soon? What if she doesn’t want that?) “I had fun tonight,” he says, scratching the back of his neck. He really wants to ask if he can kiss you. But instead, he blurts out— “So, um. Can I… take you out again?” (His voice is so hopeful—he looks like a puppy waiting for a treat.) Yes? Oh! Congratulations, you have just made his entire year. He’s smiling so hard all the way home, practically skipping. The second he gets home, he flops onto his bed, staring at the ceiling, sighing like a total fool. She said yes. She had fun. She’s gonna be mine. I just know it.

Oh. You have no idea what you’ve just signed up for. Dick is the most devoted boyfriend on the planet. He’s not just in love—he’s obsessed (in the cutest, puppy-eyed way possible). He still can’t believe you’re actually his. Every time he sees you at school, his heart flutters. He gets this dumb, lovesick smile on his face and can’t even hide it. If you so much as look at him in the hallway? Oh, he’s grinning like an idiot. If you say his name? His entire day is made. He constantly reminds himself, She’s my girlfriend now. I get to love her. I get to take care of her. And that? Oh, he will take that job very seriously.

He always waits for you after class. No matter where you sit, what you’re doing—he’s outside the door, waiting with a big grin. “Hey, babe.” (He’s still getting used to calling you that, but he loves it.) He carries your books without you even asking. If you have a heavy bag? He’s grabbing it before you can protest. “What kind of boyfriend would I be if I let you carry all this, huh?” He starts noticing everything about you. Your little habits, the way you fidget when you’re nervous, the way you tilt your head when you’re thinking. He loves memorizing you.

Oh, he is so clingy, but he tries so hard to play it cool. He wants to be around you all the time. He has zero chill when it comes to other guys. The moment he notices some random dude even looking at you? His entire mood shifts. He doesn’t make a scene, but he gets super touchy. Arm around your shoulder. Hand on your waist. Pulling you closer. Just little things to remind everyone— She’s mine. If a guy gets too bold? Oh. Dick doesn’t get jealous—he gets possessive. He won’t start a fight (unless he has to), but his presence alone is enough to make people back off. “Everything okay, babe?” He asks, voice casual—but his grip on your waist tightens just a little.

He is so cheesy. He will literally text you “Good morning, beautiful ❤️” every single day. If you ever fall asleep on him? Oh. That’s it. That’s his favorite thing in the entire world. He’ll sit there, completely still for hours, just so he doesn’t wake you. He keeps every little thing you give him. If you write him a note? He treasures it. If you give him a silly doodle? He tucks it in his wallet. He gets so excited every time you touch him first. If you hold his hand, kiss his cheek, lean against him? He plays it cool on the outside, but inside? Explosions. “I’m gonna marry her one day,” he definitely tells himself after, staring at the ceiling like a fool.

In his mind? This is it. You and him? You’re meant to be. There is no future where you’re not together. He doesn’t just think about your future together—he fantasizes about it. What your life will be like. How he’ll propose one day. How you’ll be his forever. She loves me. She has to. She’s mine. If you ever mention breaking up? Oh. No. That isn’t an option. He can’t lose you. But he’s not crazy. No, no. He’s rational. If you ever tried to leave him, it would only be because you were confused. You just need to see how perfect you are together. And if that means proving his love over and over again? He’ll gladly do it. Because you are his.

You have officially unlocked the most devoted, lovesick, slightly delusional boyfriend ever. He worships the ground you walk on. He adores you. There is nothing in this world he wouldn’t do for you. In his mind? This isn’t just young love. This is forever.

𝒍𝒖𝒗-𝒍𝒐𝒄𝒌 ☆ 𝒅𝒐𝒏'𝒕 𝒄𝒐𝒑𝒚, 𝒕𝒓𝒂𝒏𝒔𝒍𝒂𝒕𝒆 𝒐𝒓 𝒖𝒔𝒆 𝒂𝒏𝒚 𝒐𝒇 𝒎𝒚 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒌𝒔 𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒐𝒓 𝒂𝒏𝒚 𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒘𝒆𝒃𝒔𝒊𝒕𝒆𝒔.

[clockwayswrites]

The Haunting of Danny Fenton, p4

Masterpost late, tired, still emotional and physically fragile. please no editing <3

“—ir? Sir?”

Danny mumbled something incoherent that was supposed to be a response to that, or befuddlement about being called ‘sir’, or at least something better than ‘wadamehaaftz’. The bite of a tightening blood pressure cuff around his arm helped bring him a little be back to the world. He opened his eyes right into too bright light and winced back in reaction.

“Sir? Do you need us to call an ambulance?” the panicked looking barista asked. She was crouched down next to him where he lay on the floor.

Great, now he could never come back to this coffee shop. That was a damn shame, they had really good bagels.

“No,” Danny managed to make his mouth say. “Seizure. Newish thing for me. I’m fine—will be fine. Sorry.”

“Maybe you should stay laying down for a moment longer?” The barista suggested.

Danny hummed. “Don’t want to be a bother.”

“Dude,” someone said off to Danny’s right. He didn’t think it was worth the effort to turn his head and look, “you just had a seizure. You were screaming. Like, I think we’re all okay if you lay there. We can step around you.”

There were murmurers of agreement.

“Okay, yeah, you know what, great,” Danny said and summoned the willpower to lift his hand and give there room a thumbs up. He let it drop listlessly back down onto his chest.

At least the floor was cool against his back. And he did feel a bit better not trying to get up immediately. When he finally pulled himself back up into his chair, the nice barista brought him a glass of ice water with a straw. Danny drank every drop of the first glass and a refill until the paper of the stupid straw started to turn to mush between his lips.

Knowing that he wouldn’t be up for doing much especially that day, Danny got a bagel sandwich to go, left a generous tip, and fled the cafe with his proverbial tail between his legs.

Penny was was at the apartment. She shoved a still warm load of banana bread at Danny as she bitched about her latest failed relationship. Apparently her girlfriend had been hooking up with the bouncer at their favorite bar. Not that Penny would have minded if they had talked through it before hand and Penny was allowed to join every now and again.

Which, fair, the bouncer did have amazing arms.

When Penny’s phone rang, blaring a dated pop song, Danny was able to make his escape with the added load of his two liter water bottle and bag of little oranges. Or not oranges—clementines? Tangelos? Whatever, little oranges.

He set everything down on the end of his bed before flinging himself onto it.

Another seizure. A worse one.

But a clearer vision of the ghost than he’d ever had before.

Groaning, Danny dragged himself to hang over the edge of his bed so he could pull out one of the storage cubes from under it. After a bit of shuffling, he got the one he wanted out from the back: a long ignored stack of art supplies. Danny rummaged around in it for a pencil and eraser before he pulled the sketchbook out from the bottom. He flipped past old game ides and idle doodles to find a blank page and started to work.

There was so much of the ghost that he still couldn’t define, but the more he worked at the sketch of the ghost’s face, the more he started to narrow it down.

Danny stared down at the page.

Overworked eyes stared back.

Feeling frustrated at how close it was, Danny grabbed a blue marker from the page and filled in the eyes carefully. Then, with almost irritated strokes, Danny roughly messed in the strikingly orange hair.

Now his ghost started back.

“Hello there…"

[solxamber]

Valentines day event woowoowoo (dont burn yourself out aye!!)

Idia, romantic, "absolutely smitten" by Dodie (if i got that right-) :]

Hope it could be a fun one ! Stay safe ayeaye

i love the pining potential in the song!!! hope you like my interpretation of it <3

"I'm absolutely smitten" || Idia Shroud

𝐅𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐲 𝐕𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐞'𝐬 𝐄𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐭

𝐒𝐨𝐧𝐠: Absolutely Smitten by Dodie

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 670

𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐬: Mutual Pining, Friends to Lovers

Idia first sees you during orientation. Not in person, of course—there’s no way he’d willingly subject himself to a room full of loud, unpredictable people—but through his tablet, streaming the event from the safety of his dorm.

It’s routine, really, just scoping out who he’ll inevitably be avoiding for the next few years. But then the camera pans across the crowd, and he sees you.

And something unfamiliar stirs in his chest.

It’s a strange, unquantifiable feeling, something too big for him to handle, too much for his ribs to cage in. His fingers tighten around the tablet as he watches you smile at something someone says, and a thought creeps into his brain before he can stop it.

I wish that were me.

It’s over for him. Absolutely, completely, no-respawn doomed.

And when he actually gets to know you? Oh, he’s done for. Every interaction with you is a critical hit to his heart. You are bright where he is shadowed, warm where he is cold, a force of nature where he is content to be static.

And yet, somehow, you seem to like being around him. You talk to him, seek him out, sit with him even when he fumbles through his words and hides behind his hood.

He doesn’t know what to do with himself.

Idia Shroud, the ghost of Ignihyde, the one who would rather face a boss battle on the highest difficulty than make eye contact with another human being, wants nothing more than to be close to you.

He wants to talk to you about everything that makes his mind race at 3 AM, wants to know what makes you tick, wants to kiss you until he forgets what loneliness feels like.

But he can’t. Because you are you, and he is him, and the idea of ruining what he has with you is a fear greater than any horror game could ever conjure.

So he does nothing. He pines. He wonders.

Are you just being nice?

Would you ever see him that way?

Is he even worth your time?

And yet, he doesn’t know that you are just as smitten.

The day you met him is engraved in your brain like a prophecy fulfilled. You think he’s the one. It sounds ridiculous, impossibly romantic, something straight out of a visual novel, but you can’t shake the feeling that you and Idia are meant to be.

And so, one day, when you’re sitting next to him in his room—shoulders almost touching, his leg bouncing like a loading screen buffering at 99%—you slide a little closer.

“Idia.”

He stiffens. “W-what?”

“I like you.” A pause. “I really like you.”

His brain blue-screens.

You barely have time to process his expression—wide golden eyes, parted lips—before he starts tearing up.

“Wait, wait, are you okay?” You panic, reaching for him, but he shakes his head rapidly, hands clutching his hoodie like it’s the only thing keeping him tethered to reality.

“You—” His voice cracks. “You actually—?”

You nod. “I mean, yeah. Kinda thought it was obvious.”

Obvious? Obvious? He’s been agonizing over this for months, drowning in his feelings, convinced you were nothing more than a dream he was too scared to wake up from. And yet, here you are, looking at him like he’s the greatest thing to ever happen to you.

He doesn’t know what to say. But you do.

So you pull him into a hug, letting him bury his face in your shoulder as he trembles. His hands hover before finally clutching the fabric of your shirt, like he’s afraid you’ll disappear if he holds on too tightly.

And for the first time in a long, long time, Idia feels whole.

He pulls back slightly, and when he looks at your soft smile, something inside him clicks into place. He’s never letting you go.

And when you look at his teary-eyed grin, you think the same thing.

Masterlist ; Valentine's Event

[melioristicbeast]

“Sorry,” Stiles said, unsure of why he was apologizing. “I’ve never heard that song before. Did you write it?”  Derek looked uncomfortable, maybe a touch embarrassed, which was answer enough. “It’s good. I like it. It’s calming.”  The small smile he got in response melted his heart a little bit. Fucking hell, he was so gone for this asshole. Stiles didn’t know what he was going to do. He wished he’d never realized how much he loved him. Wished he’d just continued to think they were best friends and nothing more. It was slowly going to kill him being so close, and yet so fucking far. Clearing his throat, he brought the book back up to continue reading, muttering that Derek should keep playing. He did, his fingers plucking gently at the strings, filling the loft with soft music. It really was calming, and soothing. Stiles really liked it. He liked it even more when he realized Derek could honestly express himself with the guitar. It still wasn’t a voice, but it was something, at least. 

Actions Speak Louder than Words (ch18) by @isthatbloodonhisshirt

This fic is what spurred me to start doing sterek fanart back in the beginning of december - magic!stiles, cursed!derek, stiles/jackson terrifying everyone else as friends - an incredible 430K story with a completely endearing slow-burn and slowly unfolding exploration of the characters and their relationship, made complete with the perfect bow of cursed-mute-Derek because 'Derek's eyebrows have a language of their own but only Stiles is fluent' is my favorite and this author does it SO well. And gives Derek a guitar. Derek plays a guitar!!

Ella, consider this my loveletter to your works - they all, this one in particular, buoyed me through a tough time in my life and brought me back to a love of drawing that I haven't had in years and a fandom that has been so generous in their support of my silly art. Thank you for sharing your works!

And a huge thank you to everyone's support so far - the sweet comments in replies, the unhinged all-caps tags, yes-and'ing my silly ideas and headcanons, i'm just over here kicking my feet and giggling and definitely not getting teary-eyed over it no siree no lacrimal action happening here

[bcmbiquinn]

Boyfriend!Eddie Munson Headcanons

‧˚ʚɞ˚‧ He’d always make mixtapes/playlists for you for any occasion, “songs that remind me of us” “we should make out to this rhythm” type of thing.

‧˚ʚɞ˚‧ He’d drag you to every underground metal concert he can find but he would also go to any concert you want.

‧˚ʚɞ˚‧ Following the above, he would do anything to get you tickets for your favourite artist, like anything! Camping the night before to be early in line -modern Eddie would have a laptop, 3 phones and a tablet to get you tickets-

‧˚ʚɞ˚‧ Late night drives with your boy, yup! Blasting music, windows down and taking random turns until you end up in a secluded spot and make out for hours. (Maybe more)

‧˚ʚɞ˚‧ Eddie is definitely a total romantic, he would write you cheesy love notes on scraps of paper, make poems for you, showing up late at night outside your window with a flower he stole from your neighbour yard.

‧˚ʚɞ˚‧ He would try on making breakfast for you, but it’s mostly just burnt toast and half cooked scrambled eggs, he tried tho!

‧˚ʚɞ˚‧ Touchy touchy, this man can’t take his hands off of you, pinching your cheeks, hand on your lower back, on your knees, caressing your arm, kisses on your forehead and neck and so on.

‧˚ʚɞ˚‧ Eddie definitely needs a lot of reassurance, deep inside he always feels like people would eventually leave him, he desperately wants you to reassure him but struggles to ask for it, but once you do it and tell him there’s no one else you’d rather be, he melts instantly!

‧˚ʚɞ˚‧ He’s really into matching tattoos and would love to get one with you but if you’re hesitant about, he’d just draw one on you with a sharpie.

‧˚ʚɞ˚‧ ridiculously overprotective, you stub your toe, he’s like “Who did this to you?” Then proceeds to flip of the chair or hit the couch with his foot and ends up hurting himself too!

‧˚ʚɞ˚‧He’s sooo dramatic when he gets a cold, acts like he’s dying, all tucked acting like he’s on his deathbed holding your hand dramatically “my love…i don’t think I’d make it this time”

‧˚ʚɞ˚‧ He can’t lie and definitely can’t keep secrets from you, if he has planned a surprise for you, he’s going to mess up immediately “Okay but when we get to the… I mean the totally normal thing we're doing! Forget what i said that!”

‧˚ʚɞ˚‧ He would stole your snacks and leftovers, his logic? “What’s yours is mine, love. That’s how love works”

‧˚ʚɞ˚‧ He takes fake offence to everything, if you say you don’t like a band he loves he would act as if you just stabbed him.

‧˚ʚɞ˚‧ He’s genuinely protective of you, if someone upset you he goes full beast mode, “do I need to kick someone’s ass?” He doesn’t play about you or your safety.

‧˚ʚɞ˚‧ if he’s ever mad at you, he would never be mean, he may cross his arms and grumble but the moment you give him puppy eyes he melts “you’re so lucky I love you, you little gremlin”

‧˚ʚɞ˚‧ Our boy is a crybaby but he never had someone to rely on until he found you, he would try to hold his tears but the moment you hug him and whisper “I got you, Eds” it’s over, he buries his face on your shoulder shaking as he sobs.

‧˚ʚɞ˚‧ He loves making gifts for you, he thinks it’s way more romantic, he would spent hours making the perfect necklace, ring for you, love letters, a scrapbook with all the memories you’ve made together, concert tickets, Polaroids.

‧˚ʚɞ˚‧He totally loves your quirks, if you’re into collecting rocks, you better believe he would get you the prettiest rocks!

‧˚ʚɞ˚‧He would give you one of his rings and if it doesn’t fit on your finger because it’s too big he would turn it into a necklace.

‧˚ʚɞ˚‧he would give the most out of place birthday cards “congratulations on your promotion” “yaaaaaaaaay”

‧˚ʚɞ˚‧He gives you his stuff to you for no reason, his jacket? Take it, his favourite band pin? Take it. If you ever mention liking something he has, straight right into your hands “No, really take it, I don’t even need it” he probably does need it.

We’re close to valetine’s day baddies!

Divider: @adornedwithlight

[lucygraysboy]

“my ma had once attempted to teach me when i was little, but i was too rambunctious to be able to focus on knitting for more than fifteen minutes. promise i’m a lot more patient now,” the cowboy laughs, pale blue eyes taking in the look on lucy gray’s face, hypnotized. these doe-like hues will be the death of him. all the kindness that’s buried deep inside her chest seems to be shining right through, making him feel so mushy and warm on the inside. she truly deserves the world, and he’ll do everything in his power to give it to her. “speakin’ of songs… was you singin’ a song when i first saw you? i was so exhausted and dehydrated, it’s all so blurry now but i thought i was at the gates of heaven and an angel was welcomin’ me with a song. what were you singin’ ‘bout?” he wonders out loud, just now reminded of the moment he first laid eyes on her. he was so out of it, and now he can barely tell what really happened and what’s only a figment of his imagination. “thanks for thinkin’ so. i didn’t want ‘im to be no outlaw. i wanted ‘im to have an honest job an’ a good life.” but now that joe’s gone, billy can’t help but wonder if maybe he was a little too hard on the boy, expected too much of him. “always. well, except for the time i went and beat up her husband ‘cause he kept makin’ her cry, bringin’ no money home, stealin’ hers… spendin’ it all in brothels and saloons. she told me to leave ‘im be, but i couldn’t.” his pride and honor and the love he had for her wouldn’t let him. 

“yeah? good ‘cause i would never.” boss her around. he thinks that’s how it should be — men should listen to women more often, they’d benefit from that. “i’m mr. sugar bucket sweet potato, and you’re miss birdie boo little carrot,” he laughs, not caring the names make little to no sense. it’s the thought and affection that counts. “i mean, i kind of understand. if i was a goat, i wouldn’t let no strange cowboy near my udders either. i’d kick ‘im in the head.” expression softening as she touches his cheek, his heart melting into a puddle, making it difficult for him to focus on anything but the way her hand feels so nice and somehow soothes the sunburn on his skin. “i’m hungry, too. it’s ‘cause of that lake. water always makes you hungry, is what i’ve noticed.” he follows her back outside, where the last rays of the setting sun have painted the porch a warm, golden hue. it’s a little more humid now, but the wind remains pleasant, lacking its bite. he lays the potatoes down on the table and takes a seat opposite to her, just so that he can admire her beautiful features in this light. if he only could paint, he’d paint her like this. “this is real nice. this table, i mean. beautiful carpentry.” he praises, but what he actually means is this, the two of them doing something so mundane together after a long, fun day, is nice. he wouldn’t mind spending every afternoon for the rest of his life doing this. “i don’t know if i’ve ever told you this, but i’m a very experienced potato-peeler. it was always my job to peel ‘em when i was little,” he brags with a smile, his hands, rough and calloused moving with practiced ease, as if peeling potatoes was as natural as roping a steer to him. 

"that's exactly why i was thinkin' it'd be good to teach you." he already read her mind, she was thinking it could be useful when he sets out on his own. a shy smile spills over kind visage at being called sweet, of course she remembered. and of course each time he says another sweet thing, it flushes her in a warm sensation of love. fills that void and all the hurt that being talked down to by the preacher that has carved a hole in her chest with, a little at each time. "course i think so. poem's are beautiful. poem's are a lot like songs... and i do love writin' songs." speaking fondly, smiling affectionately. "well, for some reason i think that's cute," lucy gray laughs, the part about bossing his brother around because he wanted to take good care of him. "and at least you listened to your mother." so safe to say, she finds that cute too. putting a cute grin on her face because it's adorable he was stubborn but still so respectful to his mama. "i'm just playin' with you, billy. i don't think you would." a gentle expression softens her features as she peers up at him, after handing him his armful of vegetables. "you're a sweet potato." since they're holding potatoes, small laugh emitting.

hand reaches up to gently pat his cheek, he's so cute, he's gotta stop being that cute in personality and his eyes are too big and pure for her heart to handle. "it's best i do that, anyway. she really is picky with that. she might really try to bite you if you grab on her udders." the brunette laughs, but genuinely feels bad for shamus for being scarred by men. "i'm hungry." amusingly replying, scooping out an armful of carrots next before shutting the lid back. "alright, let's go." grabbing a pan, she leads them back out of the house and off the porch and climbs onto the picnic table's seat before dumping her vegetables on the table top and sitting the pan down. she's got a knife sitting in the middle, she goes ahead and grabs that and starts cutting.

[felassan]

Thread: Sylvia Feketekuty on the influences of Emmrich and the Mourn Watch

The rest of this post is under a cut due to length and possible spoilers.

Sylvia Feketekuty: "I think I've gotten to most people’s questions, and I promised I'd talk about influences on Emmrich and the Mourn Watch before wrapping this up. So here we go! It took me while to figure out Emmrich's character voice. I'm happy with where I landed, but he was a tough one. A few books helped me out. MR James' Collected Ghost Stories (1890-1930) My favourite ghost stories of all time. James excels at building dread, at writing people finding strange things in books, or around the corner, or in the old lane at night."

"He was also an antiquarian and a scholar at Cambridge. I wanted Emmrich and the Watchers to feel formal, but not like they were from another epoch. James’ language, polished by a rich academic career, was an excellent benchmark for 'older, but not ancient'. E.g.: if using contractions was appropriate for James' time, it was appropriate for Emmrich. It freed me up, mentally speaking, to deploy them whenever they improved cadence or flow. Thomas Ligotti's Songs of a Dead Dreamer Fellow Ligotti fans may already be thinking Emmrich doesn't really share the philosophy underpinning Ligotti's work, and they’re right. However!"

"Songs of a Dead Dreamer is filled with fantastical imagery that’s a bit lusher than that found in Ligotti's later works. It was really good at bringing to mind the kind of moody, expansive dreamscapes I think our necromancer mentally occupies. It’s from a different book (Noctuary), but Ligotti’s “The Spectral Estate” also merits a mention. If you plunked it down in front of Emmrich to read, he’d know exactly what it was on about. The Romantic poets (or any poetry on similar themes: overpowering swells of emotion, the grandeur and awe of nature, love and loss and grief.) Palgrave's Golden Treasury was usually in reach."

"If I was in a jam, or psyching myself up for a scene, sometimes I’d read a few poems to get into the proper head space. Or just for the pleasure of it. Poems are great! Please take a link to Shelley's "A Dream of the Unknown", one of my favourites. [link] I also read a few books by morticians and funerary directors. A friend lent me Smoke Gets in your Eyes and From Here to Eternity by Caitlin Doughty (probably the most famous mortician on the internet?) I also checked out Nine Years Under: Coming of Age in an Inner-city Funeral Home by Sheri Booker."

"These books were full of lessons about how people react to death, how different cultures treat it, how anger and grieving express differently but come from the same wellspring. Very humane looks at how we deal with loss and other people. Moving on to non-books: My First Cadaver, a podcast of stories from medical students and medical professionals."

"I listened to a few episodes My First Cadaver, and there were some incredible tales in there. Gross (I could never be a doctor) but incredible. And I was struck by was how much students working on donated cadavers got attached to them. I can’t remember if it was in MFC or not, but there was one story about a medical student introducing his date to the cadaver he was working on like she was a beloved aunt. It was very sweet! Peter Cushing in Horror of Dracula (1958) and The Curse of Frankenstein (1957) These films are filled with handsome costumes, ominous sets, and the oversized passions I associate with gothic melodrama. Cushing's perfect in them."

"His portrayals of Van Helsing and Baron Frankenstein are brisk, determined, obsessive, and brimming with energy; they’re scholars who are experts in their field, yet still men of action. They felt like natural touchstones for a professor suddenly called to grand adventure. I also ended up reading Cushing's memoirs. In a bit of strange synchronicity, there were similarities between his life and traits I'd already decided to give Emmrich. Cushing came from a working-class family, had an intense phobia (his was of the dark), was vegetarian, and so on. I'd had no idea."

"(Humans tend to pattern-match, but it was a little eerie.) A side note: I've seen people speculate Emmrich was based off of Vincent Price. There’s a bit of the good Mr. Price in there, but Cushing got to play more heroic roles than he did. He felt more right to me. A second side note: did you know Vincent Price was a gourmand who loved to entertain? He and his wife Mary put out a beautiful cooking book, A Treasury of Great Recipes, filled with warm and charming commentary. If you're interested in that kind thing, highly recommended!"

"One influence when I was pitching the Memorial Gardens to the rest of the team was Swan Point cemetery in Rhode Island. It's where Lovecraft was buried, and like many a Weird Tales nerd before me, I was curious and wanted to see it."

"I wasn't prepared for was how lush the plants and flowers were, and how beautifully landscaped everything there is. Swan Point is a historical burial place, and also a carefully tended garden and arboretum. It stunned me. I'd never been in a cemetery like it. Emmrich complains about Hezenkoss making him play complicated wargames when they were students, and that one in particular had three separate rulebooks."

"I've seen people guess whether I was referencing D&D or Warhammer 40K. D&D was formative, and I know a frankly embarrassing amount about WH40K at this point (No regrets. Necrons and Admech 4-ever.*) But the origin is even sillier. *Why yes, Mechanicus 2 IS my most anticipated upcoming game. I used to own the first edition of a board game called Mansions of Madness, and was supposed to learn the rules so I could lead my friends through it. But come the day, I’d procrastinated, and was running short on time."

"Fantasy Flight's previous game in the same vein was Arkham Horror, and AH is not a simple game. But I remember being hopeful, as I peeled the shrinkwrap off, that maybe MoM would be easier to learn than AH. Have streamlined rules, or fewer things to remember. Then the top popped off, and three separate rulebooks fell out and slithered to the floor. (The DAV game’s not meant to be MoM, but the absurdity of that moment stuck with me.) (It's not the game's fault, by any means, that I was unprepared, and the session went as well as it could have with me flipping through the books going "Okay wait...hold on...I think that was here...no, wait.") The Nevarran hazelnut torte recipe is actually a family recipe from my grandmother, on my father's side. I’m beyond delighted people have actually made it. (Our recipe uses metric measurements, but the DA style guide uses imperial, so I was worried about the conversion. Looks like it went okay.)"

"On my mother's side of the family: my grandmother cooked and cleaned for a living, and my grandfather was a butcher. He passed away before I was born, and my grandmother when I was very young. So I gave Emmrich’s parents those professions as a little nod to the grandmother I only knew very little, and the grandfather I never met at all. I would’ve liked time with them both. And to end on a lighter note, "Ever thought of becoming a hat person?" is an extremely oblique reference to a line spoken to one of gaming's greatest characters: Murray, the demon skull from Curse of Monkey Island. (Curse is the first Monkey Island game I ever played, and therefore my favourite.)"

"Small bonus: here’s the music I listened to most while working on Emmrich and the Watchers. Some of it probably only makes sense to me, some of it seems thematically obvious. (I don’t have Spotify so best I can do is an itunes screenshot.)"

"Not on the screenshot because I changed PCs halfway through, but I also listened to a lot of music from Cryo Chamber, a great dark ambient label. [link] And their sister label, Cryo Crypt, which does "Dark Fantasy Dungeon Synth." [link] And also Allicorn IS on the screenshot but I think I've listened to his stuff on every game I've worked on by now. [link]"

[thread source link]

---

Bonus: follow-up comments and exchanges -

User: "I KNEW the torte was somebody’s family recipe!!" // Sylvia: "My only regret is that the icing was originally a stove-boiled icing made with eggs and chocolate and butter emulsified together. I couldn't get it working, however, these past few years. I think we lost some crucial part of the steps when trying to write out a clean copy. So I went with ganache for the game, because I didn't want to print something that didn't work, and I've used ganache myself. It's good! But I'm going to try to replicate the original again one day." [source, two] // User: "I noticed that sometimes, ingredients doesn't react the way they used to and part of that is probably due to some "industrial" changes in the recipe for ingredients like chocolate or butter to cut the cost of making them, imho. It's sad because it means we lost a very specific way to do things..." // Sylvia: "Yeah, that was the first thing a friend who bakes a lot suggested. I wonder if I was a victim of "Buttergate" when Canadian cows were being fed so much palm oil butter was harder to spread as a result. After a long search, I found a local place that makes butter that actually tastes good, which is an incredibly sad sentence to have to type out." [source, two]

Sylvia, re: Vincent Price being a gourmand and his cooking book: "It's extremely cool. My library had a copy and I remember it being pretty big, too." [source]

User: "I was following this thread and I'm delighted about all of these facts and information. Thank you for sharing!" // Sylvia: "Aw thank you! And thanks for reading, it was nice to unpack all the stuff kicking around my mental attic." [source]

User, re: MFC: "Sorry to post again but this one got me- my mom is a doc, and i remember her telling me stories of the cadaver she worked on (evidence of different surgeries she had, the cancer she had, etc), and mom always ended her stories saying how thankful she was to her. It really does stick around." // Sylvia: "No need to apologize, I liked hearing about your mom's reaction! It's exactly what I kept hearing and reading about, a sense of reverence for the gift." [source]

Sylvia: ""The irony that I had to convert the measurements back to metric" Haha. I tried to get as close as I could. Here's the written down metric version of the cake batter. It's an older recipe so I had to try to guess what a "knife tip" ended up as." [source]

A user on the torte being a family recipe: "Oh my gosh 🥹 that makes it all even lovelier!" // Sylvia: "Thanks! I was really excited to share the family recipe, it's a bit of work but it's one of my favorites." [source]

A user under the post about MR James' Collected Ghost Stories: "So you're probably the one behind the mysterious bronze whistle, I take it?" // Sylvia: "Haha, guilty. Cameron Harris, our editor, helped me figure out a phonetic guide to the latin. (If it fails anywhere it's very likely my fault.)" [source]

User: "As an avid Emmrich lover & someone trying to write some Emmrich POVs in my Emrook fanfictions, I can not thank you ENOUGH for this wealth of info / music inspo to go off of" // Sylvia: "Thank you! (Seriously though some of those songs probably only make sense to me, they're not all thematically on point, but some are. Hope you enjoy!)" [source]

User: "As another "needs a million hours of droning ambient music to write" writer I appreciate these greatly" // Sylvia: "We both have good taste! 🎶" [source]

User: "Thank you for writing out this list!! Peter Cushing makes so much sense as an influence. I love the variety of media here, it gives me so much new stuff to check out!" // Sylvia: "Thank you for reading! If you do check out some of this stuff, hope you enjoy!" [source]

Sylvia: "thanks so much, and for reading the thread! It was fun to write." [source]

User: "Thank you for sharing these books!I was looking for a good ghost book" // Sylvia: "Thanks! Hope you enjoy James. "Oh, Whistle, and I'll Come to You, My Lad" was the first story of his I read and I'll never forget that experience." [source] // Sylvia: "I just love the mood James could create, so much." [source]

User: "ELECTRIC SIX MENTION" // Sylvia: "My greatest favorites, now and forever." [source]

Sylvia: "Please archive away, I am intent on deleting the account eventually but it'd be nice to know people could look this stuff up later if they're curious. (Future generations need to know which Atrium Carceri tracks I listened to!)" [source]

User: "Amongst many things, not the least of which is the gratitude and delight of having your fantastic insight into the writing process of Emmrich, my grandmother’s hazelnut torte is fantastically close to the Nevarran version which was a delightful discovery." // Sylvia: "Ah now nice. I assume she was also central/eastern European then? I suspect it was a popular recipe at a certain time." [source]

User: "As an ex-mortician turned game writer, this was a FASCINATING read!" // Sylvia: "Haha, I definitely took inspiration from morticians! (Thank you for checking it out, that thread got long)" [source]

User: "ATRIUM CARCERI - Such a perfect band for the Mourn Watch!" // Sylvia: "I stumbled on Atrium Carceri when I was a student, and there's happily so much dark ambient available now, but Simon Heath's particular vibe can't be beat." [source]

User: "Rockefeller Street is just like that, man. It's sticky." // Sylvia: "Yes! It's so good, it just hits a certain mood dead center." [source]

Sylvia: "Ginkys of BlueSky has created a Spotify list of the music I listened to when writing Emmrich and the Watchers! Almost everything's on there. Thank you Ginkys. (FYI: Not everything I listened to matches the MW vibe, sometimes it was just a song that got stuck in my head for a few weeks.) - [link]" [source]

Sylvia, about the torte recipe: "If it's useful, here's the full thing in metric. WARNING: Last two times I tried this cooked icing, it failed. I'm not sure whether I miscopy a crucial step, or if changes to local butter were the culprit. Either way, proceed with caution. A ganache is way safer, and very similar." [source]

[thread source link]

[viagracex]

Hellooooooo I was wondering if you can write a George fan fic about the song wildest dreams by Taylor swift I also really love your writing keep up the great work

Holding Onto Smoke

george clarkey x fem!reader

summary: say you'll see me again even if it's just in your wildest dreams. based on the song wildest dreams by taylor swift

warnings: no major content warnings

1.6k words

Masterlist

₊ ˚ ˚ ₊ ‧ 。☆ 。‧₊ ˚ ˚ ₊ ‧ 。☆ 。‧₊ ˚ ˚ ₊ ‧ 。☆ 。‧₊ ˚ ˚ ₊

The first time you met George Clarkey, the city lights were too bright, and the air hummed with late-night possibilities.

It was a rooftop party, the kind that smelled like cheap champagne and cigarettes, where laughter echoed between high-rises, and strangers became stories you’d tell years from now. You weren’t supposed to be there. Neither was he.

He found you leaning against the railing, watching the city sprawl below like you were trying to memorize it.

“You look like you’ve got a secret,” he said, his voice a low tease.

You turned to find him watching you, the skyline casting a glow across his face, messy curls brushing against his forehead. His gaze flicked to your lips, then back to your eyes. 

“Maybe I do.”

He grinned. “Want to tell me?”

You should have walked away then. Should have never let him take your hand, never let him lead you into the kind of love that leaves bruises on your heart. But you didn’t.

For weeks, it was stolen moments and promises that never felt real. He’d show up at your apartment late at night, breathless, like he had been running just to see you. You’d press your fingers against his pulse, feeling the way it raced beneath your touch, and wonder if he knew you were already falling.

George became your wildest dream come true, a whirlwind romance that swept you off your feet. Late-night drives through the city, his hand resting on your thigh as streetlights blurred past. Stolen kisses in hidden corners of bookshops, the scent of old pages mingling with his cologne. Lazy Sunday mornings tangled in sheets, sunlight painting patterns across his freckled shoulders as you traced constellations on his skin.

You fell hard and fast, drunk on the dizzy rush of new love. George's eyes lit up when he looked at you, like you were the most fascinating person he'd ever met. His laugh was infectious, head thrown back with abandon. You found yourself doing things you never imagined - singing karaoke in dive bars, skinny dipping under a full moon, dancing in the rain on empty streets, whispering secrets into the crook of his neck. 

"What are you thinking?" he'd ask, catching you staring.

"That I want to remember this forever," you'd reply. He'd pull you close, kissing you slow and deep, like he was trying to etch the memory into your skin. You'd run your fingers through his hair, marvelling at how someone so vibrant could be real.

But even as you fell deeper, a nagging voice whispered that this couldn't last. George was like a shooting star - brilliant, beautiful, and destined to burn out.

You saw it in the way his eyes sometimes drifted to the horizon, searching for something just out of reach. In the restless tapping of his fingers against your skin, a morse code of unspoken goodbyes. In the way he smiled when you talked about the future soft, bittersweet, like he already knew how the story would end.

“This doesn’t feel real,” you admitted one night, curled up in the dim glow of your bedroom, his hoodie swallowing your frame.

George’s fingers skimmed over your wrist, thoughtful, lingering. "Maybe that’s the point, maybe it's real enough for now."

You didn’t answer. You just pressed your forehead against his chest, eyes squeezed shut, hoping that if you held on tight enough, the world would forget to take him away.

But you both knew better.

He wasn’t yours to keep.

You tried not to think about it—about the way time was slipping through your fingers. But every touch felt like a goodbye, every kiss tasted like a memory.

And still, you stayed.

Because some people are worth breaking for.

The week before he left, you stood together on that same rooftop where you first met. The city stretched out before you, a glittering tapestry of lights and promises. You wore that red dress he loved, the one that made you feel invincible. His arm was around your waist, warm and steady, anchoring you to the moment.

"I wish we could freeze time," you whispered, your voice catching. "Just stay here forever."

George's fingers tightened on your hip. "We'll always have this," he murmured, his lips brushing your temple. "No matter what happens, no one can take these memories from us."

You turned to face him, memorizing every detail - the curve of his jaw,  his clear blue eyes, the way his hair curled at the nape of his neck. Your heart ached with the weight of everything unsaid.

"Promise me something," you said, your fingers tracing the line of his collarbone. "Promise you'll remember me like this. Standing here, in this dress, watching the sunset with you. Remember how much I love you, even when I'm just a distant memory."

George's eyes shimmered with unshed tears. He cupped your face in his hands, his touch infinitely gentle. "I could never forget you," he whispered fiercely. "You're etched into my soul. Even if we never see each other again, you'll always be with me. In my thoughts, in my dreams."

You kissed him then, pouring every ounce of love and longing into that embrace. The city faded away, leaving only the two of you suspended in time. When you finally broke apart, both breathless, you rested your forehead against his.

"I love you," you whispered, your voice barely audible over the distant hum of traffic below. "I'll always love you."

George's arms tightened around you as if to shield you from the truth. ”I—” His throat bobbed. He stopped, swallowing hard, the words trapped behind his teeth. 

And that—

That was worse than if he had said nothing at all.

George's silence hung heavy between you, filled with everything left unsaid. You could feel his heartbeat, rapid and uneven, echoing your own. The city stretched out before you, a glittering constellation of lights and possibilities, now tinged with the bittersweet ache of farewell.

You pulled back slightly, searching his face. His eyes were dark pools of emotion, reflecting the fading sunlight and the weight of your shared memories. Still, you clung to every moment. You memorized the curve of his smile, the sound of his laugh, the way he said your name like a prayer. You traced the curve of his cheek with trembling fingers, committing every detail to memory.

The last time you saw him, the city smelled like rain.

The neon signs flickered in the puddles at your feet, the world a blur of color and noise. His suitcase sat by his side, damp with drizzle, the taxi idling at the curb.

You wanted to tell him not to go. Wanted to scream, to beg, to tell him that you had memorized everything—his laugh, the way his eyes crinkled when he smiled, the way he looked at you like you were the only thing in the world.

But you didn’t. Because you knew better.

Instead, you reached for him one last time, your fingertips brushing against the stubble on his jaw, rough against your skin, before tangling in his curls. You needed to remember how he felt. Every last detail before he became nothing more than a memory you could never quite hold onto. He kissed you like he was trying to burn the memory into his bones, like maybe if he kissed you hard enough, you’d still be there when he turned around.

The silence stretched between you, his breathe hitched, and for the first time you saw it, his lips parting his throat bobbing, the smallest tramble in his fingers as he reached for you. His arms wrapping around you. You tightened your grip, but it felt like holding onto smoke, weightless. No matter how hard you tried, he had already slipped through your fingers vanishing before you ever had the chance to keep it. The city lights cast harsh shadows across his face, making him look like someone you once knew. The lights blurred as tears filled your eyes.

"I should go," George murmured, his voice rough with emotion. But he made no move to leave, his fingers tracing patterns on your back as if trying to memorize the feeling.

You nodded against his chest, unable to form words past the lump in your throat. The night air felt suddenly cold, and you shivered, pressing closer to his warmth.

"Just... a few more minutes," you whispered.

George tightened his embrace, resting his chin on top of your head. You breathed in his familiar scent - sandalwood and coffee and something uniquely him - committing it to memory.

The city hummed around you, oblivious to your private heartbreak. A siren wailed in the distance, and a gust of wind ruffled your hair. You thought about all the moments that had led to this one - the late-night conversations, the shared dreams, the quiet intimacy of simply existing in the same space.

“I’ll see you around?” His voice was hoarse, like he didn’t believe it either.

You swallowed down the ache, the words cutting your throat like glass. “In your wildest dreams.”

And then he was gone.

Just like that.

Just like he was always meant to be.

The city swallowed you whole, and you let it.

And in the quiet of your room that night, as you pressed your face into the pillow that still smelled like him, you whispered a prayer to the universe.

You hoped he remembered you.

You prayed that, even years from now, when he closed his eyes, he’d still see you—standing beneath the city lights, red dress glowing, lips parted, whispering I love you. 

Always. 

Only In his wildest dreams.

[ossiethegreat]

Hii!! Idk if someone asked before, but what kind of music genre or artists do u think the chromatic crew would listen to?

I don’t know the names of like any genres because I listen to the most random crap but I can attempt to explain my ideas ☝️

For Color, I think he’d listen to stuff like folklore and acoustic rock, maybe like AJJ, The Front Bottoms, Alex G, Jeffery Lewis, Kimya Dawson, etc etc… though that’s probably me projecting cause all of those artists are in my color playlist

I also think he’d occasionally just listen to really loud music to keep himself grounded, or possibly the opposite with white noise or just slower music

Also he secretly enjoys Taylor swift

For Killer, I think it’d take him time to develop an actual music taste, so he listens to so much random stuff when he feels like it… he’d probably stick to things that tickle his brain or whatever, maybe even just listen to instrumentals instead of songs with words. He listens to whatever other people listen to, and it also heavily depends on what stage he’s in and I don’t feel like getting into that 😭

In general I think he’d like breakcore, maybe Machine Girl, hell even the Yume Nikki soundtrack or other weird music like Nero’s Day at Disneyland

But also punk rock, metal, freaking Will Wood or something . Nightcore

Don’t ask why but I feel like Delta would have the most millennial ass playlist ever . I’m talking like AJR, Twenty One Pilots, Lady Gaga. No hate no any of those artists obviously

I think he’d also enjoy punk rock and numetal like Killer, honestly I see him listening to phonk too. He plays like fuckass car edits on repeat because he likes the music and cars

Cross would listen to Get Scared, Set it Off, Pierce the Veil, literally any emo band that I can’t remember the names of. He’d listen to playlists like “POV: You’re an alpha wolf” or something . Honestly I don’t know enough about Cross to think of much. I see him listening to workout stuff with Delta (whatever that means)

And finally Epic, I’d say nightcore/daycore, vocaloid, literally any anime intro. Probably general pop music as well, Taylor Swift. A whole lot of internet pop culture and memes I feel like.

Of course he’d also listen to emo bands with Cross, they probably know every word to Wolf in Sheep’s Clothing. He also feels like a phonk type of person. Don’t kill me

[pastlivesxpastlie]

::taps mic:: ok I’m back

🤭👔Coworker!Vessel trained you and kind of took you under his wing, but not without some light ribbing. He’ll hijack a question just to get a rise out of you.

📝 But you trained Intern!Vessel. He’s not your intern, you’re just the most trustworthy person there. He comes to you with every question he has but isn’t codependent. You did so well training him and he looks up to you 🥹 Maybe you’ll write him a letter of recommendation.

👔Coworker!Vessel is a certified yapper, although other coworkers will say they had never heard him laugh and talk so much until you came along. Vessel denies this and says “they just never paid attention.”

📝Intern!Vessel only talks about work things at work for fear of appearing too familiar or unprofessional. When he finally warms up to you, though, he starts asking you to meet him away from people so he can “talk to you about something.” You’re like “oh shit what did I do,” but then he’s like “last week I found this really cool band 🥺 can I send you some songs?” You’d be annoyed if he weren’t so cute.

👔Coworker!Vessel makes the shift fun and you’re normally happy to see him. He’s a part of the team that makes you think “ok, the vibes are going to rule tonight” when you look at the schedule.

📝Intern!Vessel becomes your work bestie. If you aren’t in that day, he’s sending you gossip on Microsoft Teams so you can catch up later. Turns out he can be very snarky. He also will surprise you with coffee sometimes when you’re having a bad day.

🎀But there is something they both have in common…they both can’t help but notice your little pen chewing habit. How you mindlessly tap it at your lips before chewing the top. Kind of a nasty habit. He wants to tell you that. But not out loud in front of everyone. No. That would be humiliating. He’d rather do it somewhere quiet. In some dark stairwell or the elevator. Tell you how naughty and dirty that is…all while slipping his finger past your pretty lips.🎀

[slcmml]

charlie & gn! reader — as long as i’m with you.

“i’d like to see the sharks.”

☆ this one is very self indulgent, because i adore sea life, but i like to imagine your first date with charlie was at an aquarium.

☆ he LOVES the touch tanks; he thinks they’re so fucking cool (and they are, by the way).

☆ walking through the underwater tunnel with him.. “are they fucking?” “..i think so.” “us?” “sure.”

☆ FEEDING THE ANIMALS WITH CHARLIE AUGGHHH!! he named each and every single animal he fed (despite them already having a name). “can i call you glub? you seem like a glub with the way you eat that fish.” “what does that even mean, charlie?”

☆ if you’re anything like me, then you definitely brought a polaroid camera with you. TAKING THE SILLIEST PHOTOS WITH CHARLIE AUGGHH.. kill me now.

☆ also buying the stupidest shit in the gift shop before you leave (shark gun shark gun shark gun)

“hey, that statue kind of looks like you!”

★ would it be horrible of me to say this is also self indulgent because i also adore museums?

★ now. i do not physically believe this museum date would be one of those cute ones where you hold hands and enjoy the silence together. because this is charlie we’re talking about.

★ he’s probably giggling at the paintings of naked people. “oh wow, he’s got a small cock.” “charlie, you said that so loud.”

★ physically cannot stand there and look at a painting for more than thirty seconds. he NEEDS to be in the kids section with all the interactive stuff.

“i fucking hate being an adult. why do stinky children get the cool shit?”

★ as always, will take the goofiest photos in front of anything he finds even slightly silly.

★ you both probably spend nothing more than an hour and a half in there before leaving to get something to eat, but that’s okay, the ice cream you shared was a banger.

“you spent fifty dollars trying to win me that?”

☆ arcade dates.. aughhh they’re so cute.. AND WITH CHARLIE??

☆ i think we all know the claw machines are rigged. but i’m not one to lay there and take it in the ass so i WILL spend as long as it takes trying to get a toy from it if charlie even SLIGHTLY mentions thinking it’s cute.

“babe, it’s fine, you don’t have to—” “i’m not letting this fucking machine dictate whether or not my boyfriend can have this goddamn octopus plush.”

☆ also i just KNOW that charlie would suck ass at dance dance revolution but he’d still spend at least half an hour going through songs and trying to win.

☆ spending SO fucking long going through the arcade games, trying to beat the high score on at least ONE of them (you never end up getting the high score).

“i’m tired, can we start heading back, please?”

★ i.. also enjoy hiking. another self indulgent one. but whatever.

★ you two probably take the silliest photos (like always). you laying on the ground, playing dead, in one photo while charlie has a shocked expression in the next.

★ collecting rocks and leafs. placing said rocks on the ground once you both decide to go off trail because it seemed fun. losing track of said rocks and getting lost.

“where the fuck are we?” “i think we’re in hell.”

★ watching as charlie tries to climb literally ANYTHING, and being slightly worried that he’ll fall.

★ getting SO fucking bored as you’re walking, trying to find the trail again, that you both just start playing i-spy.

“oh shit, oh fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck! help me, i’m fucking falling!”

☆ roller skating dates.. mmmm.. has anyone seen that clip of charlie spinning around and then pointing to the camera? because of that clip, i don’t think he’s a HORRIBLE skater.. but definitely not a pro.

☆ he sure acts like it, though! tries to do these cool ass tricks and lands directly on his ass before whining about it.

“if i can jump and spin, can you please buy me nachos?”

☆ his ass does NOT land. you buy him nachos anyway.

☆ teehee.. i really like the idea of holding hands and skating around and just being silly little goobers.. charlie please save me, charlie if you can hear me, please save me charlie..

☆ takes your hand and dramatically dips you, “so, uh.. you come here often?” and then you both get off balance and fall.

© slcmml

[nulli-bug]

Answering this for Laios

Dog/wolf obviously

Probably a figure of like a dragon or maybe a lego set (he looks like he likes legos)

Playing video games or watching movies

Does cooking count? I think he’d like cooking

Like 50/50. He’s not the best but he’s not going way over the speed limit if you understand what I mean

I feel like he likes the song “who let the dogs out” I feel like that’s his ringtone

He wouldn’t fight but he’d info dump if they’re talking about monsters

No not really. I don’t see him as a hopeless romantic

Probably and they’d be like “yeah this checks out”

Watching speculative biology videos together

Freak x freak

Yellow, gray, and red

I feel like they’d also be like “yeah that checks out” (I need someone as weird as I am)

He’d pick something very specific like a Thylacine (he’d probably just pick a monster but animal works too)

I think he’d also get me a Lego set or maybe cook me something nice

I feel like he’d call me something super weird but off the top of my head I can’t think of anything

Probably talking about monsters or just hanging out in general

I think he just likes spending time with the people he loves or doing stuff with them

Eyes maybe???

He likes that I’m actually passionate about things

He’d draw me as a furry he cannot draw humans

Yes! I see him doing that even though he eats like a lot I feel like he’d randomly gives me bits of his food

He’d associate me with teal and red

Bonus pictures of laios

Laios drawing

Laios eating

F/O Ask Game!!

A list of questions to answer about your f/o!! You guys can just go down the list and answer them all (I'd love to see it!!!) in a reblog, orrr you can reblog and have others ask you these questions in your inbox! Have fun!! PR.OSHI.P, NOT FOR YOU!

What animal does your f/o remind you of?

If you got your f/o a gift, what would you get them? 

What is your favorite hobby to think about doing with your f/o?

What chores would your f/o do around the house? Are there any they REALLY dislike?

Would you trust your f/o to drive a car?

What kind of ringtone or notification sound would you have for your f/o?

Would your f/o fight someone online? 

Does your f/o believe in soulmates?

How would you introduce your f/o to your friends? How do you think that would go? 

What's the first scenario that comes to your head when you think of being with your f/o?

What dynamic would you use to describe you and your f/o? 

What color do you associate with your f/o? 

How would your f/o introduce you to those they care about? How do you think that would go?

What animal do you remind your f/o of?

What would your f/o get you for Valentine's day, if anything? 

What does your f/o call you in their head? What do they call you aloud/to others?

What does your f/o like doing with you the most? 

How does your f/o show their love best? 

What's your f/o's favorite feature of yours?

What're your f/o's favorite personality traits of yours?

If your f/o drew you, how would you describe the art piece?

Does your f/o share food with you?

What color would your f/o associate you with?

What?? Who's tagging their friends again?- not me... I just really wanna see yalls answers. Formal invitation lest you become worried I don't wanna see it. @jpeg-indulgence @starshakez @moxanji-real @frankys-wife @katsenbergs-soulmate @katanahusband @fl0ralsxgar @one-winged-dreams AND LITERALLY ANYONE WHO SEES THIS.

[fandoms-in-law]

Still Here 1

Rejected Date

Story Summary: There's a lot of people with expectations of Steve and he's reached the point where he'll call out when they're wrong

Chapter Summary: Steve cuts off a girl asking him on a date when she calls him King Steve.

This is part one. When written I will link the rest here: Part 2, 3, 4, 5

Author's Note: I was listening to I'm Still Here the other week and had a few thoughts for how that song matches Steve, so when I was planning fics to write this month, I ran with it.

~

“And I mean I always had a crush on King Steve so I was wondering-” Steve held up his hand, frowning at the girl.

Sure, he’d just been talking with Robin about wanting to go on a date and this seemed to be his chance to do so but that nickname made him cold. “That wasn’t me. It was a facade for school.” He said first, trying to see if she’d actually accept it.

“Course, everyone thinks that, but that’s what makes it real.” She nodded eagerly. “Like you were untouchable but so real because of it.”

“Nope, Whatever justification you’ve made for whoever you’ve decided to see me as isn’t me. You don’t know me.” Steve stated, turning to carry on with tidying the shelves from where some kids had moved horror films into the romance section.

She followed him, “But I could. I know you like dancing and could tell me about your basketball team and-”

“Do you think you’d understand any of what I actually want to talk about when those are two things that aren’t that important any more?” He scoffed, “I’ve got my friends and my job and a life I’m living and you’re- you seem to want me to be something I’m not. I couldn’t see myself feeling like I belong if this is how you’re starting, by comparing me to a past you didn’t know me in.”

Robin whistled from the counter, “Don’t be so harsh, Stevie, not everyone can accept the major changes you’ve done.”

“It’s you, isn’t it?” The girl rounded on Robin with a glare. “I’ve heard from friends that Steve never accepts second dates now, that they think he’s got a girlfriend who insists on keeping it secret. That’s you.”

Steve laughed tugging her arm down and shaking his head judgementally. “No, I just know that where you’re treating me as an answer to something, I’m not and you don’t give a damn to find out who I am. When you grow up a bit, learn life isn’t as simple as you want it to be, I’ll still be here, carrying on, wondering if you or any of your friends will ever change cause from here, you’re the ones that stayed the same. I’ve rejected you, so unless you need a film to cry over after the rejection, you should leave now.”

The girl glared at him one last time before storming out. “You need to change yourself, Harrington.”

He watched the door shut before sighing, “You know, one date might’ve been fun.” He remarked.

“Except she mentioned that stupid nickname.” Robin commiserated, before asking, “Was it really because of keg stands that you got it?”

“Don’t remind me.” He groaned. “High-schoolers are dumb.”

Robin playfully scowled at him, “I’m telling Dustin you said that. All your friends are high-schoolers.”

He chuckled at her, coming to nudge her out of the counter. “I’ll take over rewinding if you don’t.”

“Deal.”

[thecowboykatsuki-anon]

Until he starts dating you, Bakugou’s alarm plays Break Stuff by Limp Bizkit to wake him up.

He only changes it because the first time you spend the night it wakes you up in such a panic that you shove the whole damn alarm clock off his bedside table when you try to turn it off, the chord dragging his phone off with it.

He shoots up so fast at the noise that he doesn’t register that you’re leaning over him and he slams his face nose first into your elbow, cursing as he clutches it and throws you so off balance that you start to slide off the bed. It only gets worse when you scramble to catch yourself and end up taking him with you as you both land in a pile on the floor, the alarm still going off near your heads.

It did in fact end up being one of those days where everything is fucked.

[scarymonsters-andsupercreeps]

My entry for @scary-monsters’s DTIYS! 💕 congratulations on the milestone :D

[blood-injections]

Kobra Kid… thinking about Kobra Kid..

Kobr……. Oaugh… specifically: