#Sometimes I get into these states where talking becomes tiring and I give small or simple answers

[tabbytiger]

The way I have to deal with this for the rest of my life. Also the fact that this can actually damage your brain.

[uzurakis]

I’m not sure if this is the place to request, but I’ll leave it here. 🥹💪🏻 I hope you’re doing well! I really enjoy your work. Do you think the JJK men will ever be in a romantic relationship with someone? I sometimes feel they won’t find someone because of the dangers they face. Could you write a scenario where they love you so much but don’t want to get you in their life because you can get hurt being in love with them🥺🙏 (Please include Inumaki and Goji; I love the way you write him so much. Thanks!!! ♥️♥️♥️)

I DON’T WANT U GETTING HURT CUZ OF ME!

featuring: nanami kento. fushiguro toji. fushiguro megumi. gojo satoru

n. i’m doing well, i hope u’re too, nonnie. i don’t write for toge as i’ve stated in my rules, but i surely do write for gojo; so here it is ^^

NANAMI KENTO was meticulously grading papers late at night, the soft rustle of pages the only sound in his otherwise silent apartment. his mind, usually focused and disciplined, kept drifting back to you. he clenched his fist, pushing the thought away as he forced himself to concentrate on the assignments in front of him. “i can’t let them become a target,” he told himself repeatedly, jaw tightening with each repetition.

the pile of papers slowly diminished, yet the nagging worry in his heart did not. he knew the dangers of his occupation as a jujutsu sorcerer all too well. allowing you deeper into his life meant exposing you to those same dangers, and that was something he could not bear.

later that evening, he dropped you off at your home. his demeanor was more reserved than usual, his words carefully measured. “always be aware of your surroundings,” he said, his voice steady but lacking its usual warmth.

you looked at him, sensing something was off. “kento are you okay? you seem . . distant.”

he forced a small smile, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “i’m fine. just tired from work.” he glanced around, scanning the area out of habit. “remember to lock your doors and windows. and if you ever feel unsafe, call me immediately.”

though, you nodded, feeling a pang of concern. “i will. but, kento, you can talk to me, you know? if something’s bothering you . .”

the man looked at you. if the situation, if the life he chose had let him, he wanted to tell you everything, to let you in on the turmoil he felt. but then, the reality of his world crashed back in. “i know. thank you.” he reached out and gently squeezed your hand. “just . . take care of yourself, alright?”

you squeezed his hand back, feeling the tension in his grip. “i will. you too, kento.”

FUSHIGURO TOJI loved you more than he could ever express, but his world was dark and filled with danger. knowing this, he made the hardest decision of his life and left you in the dust. watching you from the shadows, his usual smirk was replaced by a look of concern and gloom. he kept his distance, observing you from afar, ensuring you were safe without revealing his presence.

fast forward, as you walked home from work, you sensed someone following you. your heart raced, but you continued walking, pretending not to notice. then, you heard his voice, low and rough, but unmistakable. “stay away from people like me.”

you froze, turning around to find the guy standing a few feet away, partially hidden in the shadows. “toji?” you whispered, heart aching at the sight of him.

he stepped closer, but not close enough to touch. “don’t search for me. my world . . it’s too dangerous for you.”

tears welled up in your eyes as you took a step forward. “why did you leave? you didn’t even give me a chance to understand.”

toji clenched his fists, the pain evident on his face. “i left because i love you, for heaven’s sake! because i know what happens to people who get close to me. they get hurt, or worse.”

“. . i can’t let that happen to you.”

he sighed deeply, his shoulders slumping whilst you were left with zero words. “it’s not that simple. every day i’m in your life, you’re at risk. the best thing i can do for you is to stay away.” he looked back at you, “just promise me you’ll be safe. stay away from people like me.”

FUSHIGURO MEGUMI often debated whether he should distance himself to keep you safe or savor every precious moment he had with you. this internal conflict left him feeling frustrated, and he struggled to reconcile his feelings with the reality of his dangerous life.

to protect you, megumi kept your interactions brief and guarded. he feared that his enemies might use you against him, and the thought of you being dragged into his world was unbearable. he knew you deserved a peaceful life, free from the horrors he faced daily.

later that evening, you approached him, sensing his uneasiness. “megumi . . is everything alright?” you asked gently, concern shown in your eyes.

he looked at you, his expression conflicted. “i, i’m fine,” he replied, though his sentence lacked conviction.

you stepped closer, refusing to be deterred. “fushiguro megumi, how many times i’ve said that you don’t have to hide from me? i can see something’s bothering you. now please, talk to me.”

megumi sighed, running a hand through his hair. “it’s not that simple. being with me . . it’s dangerous. the enemies could use you to get to me. i don’t want to see you get hurt.”

touching his arm, you reached out. “baby, i understand the risks. but i also know that i love you, and i want to be with you, no matter what.”

“but you shouldn’t be dragged into this. you deserve a normal life, without all this danger.”

“i don’t care about a normal life,” you said with all your will. “i care about you. and i want to be by your side, even if it’s not easy.”

“i just . . i don’t want to lose you.”

GOJO SATORU seldom joked and flirted like he used to, his demeanor growing more serious whenever he was around you. he often caught himself staring at you, lost in thoughts of a life where he could protect you without the constant fear of danger.

he was the strongest, after all, wasn't he? sometimes, he felt confident that he could keep you safe, that he could shield you from any harm. but a part of him couldn't ignore the nagging doubt; the countless enemies he had made, the unpredictable nature of the future. he could protect himself, but what about you? could he always make it in time when the clock struck?

currently, you both sat on the balcony, the city lights twinkling below. gojo's gaze was distant, his mind clearly preoccupied. you reached out, placing a hand on his arm. "satoru, what's wrong? you've been so detached lately."

he looked at you, those usually playful blue eyes now seemed duskier. "i've been thinking about us, about your safety."

you frowned, concern etching your features. "my safety? satoru, i know your job is dangerous, but we've talked about this. i want to be with you, no matter what."

"it's never that simple. i have enemies, powerful ones. i can protect myself, but . . what if something happens to you? what if i'm not there in time?"

trying to offer reassurance, you brushed his shoulders. "you're the strongest sorcerer, satoru. if anyone can protect me, it's you. but i also know the risks, and i'm willing to take them because i love you."

his expression softened, but the worry didn't leave his eyes. "i love you too, more than anything. but i can't help but think about the future, about the dangers. i don't want you to get hurt because of me."

"we'll face whatever comes together. i trust you, satoru. and i know you won't let anything happen to me."

he pulled you into an embrace, holding you tightly as if trying to shield you from the world. "i promise i'll do everything i can to keep you safe. but you need to promise me you'll be careful, too."

@uzurakis

[runningfrom2am]

michigan cherry // part five

summary: walking into a saloon in a nowhere town, billy meets a singer who he just can't get off his mind after she slips through his fingers; onto another town, another show- following nothing but the stars in her path. until he sees her again. another nowhere town and equally dusty saloon, but this time, the band of kids who made up her family is nowhere to be found. he's running away from something, and she is storming full speed toward something else, and tangling into each other's lives may just get both of them exactly where they want to be.

pairing: william h. bonney x fem!reader

wc: 2.5k

masterlists / nav / requests

tags/warnings: singer!reader (she’s giving very much lucy gray), probably a little bit ooc billy but hey i tried- anyway he’s a sweetheart, use of guns and violence, murder and violence but i try to keep it non-descript, oh also she’s an orphan sorry (once again, lucy gray vibes), strangers to friends to lovers trope eee. also not thoroughly proofread oops

a/n: okay so now we're getting into the good stuff and i'm so so excited!!

my asks are also open to talk about this series! (i do have emoji anons open now too!)

send me any and all of your thoughts! here!

series masterlist // pinterest board // playlist

"Are you joking? Cheap bastard..." Billy grumbles as you step into the stables of a ranch on the outskirts of Silver City.

You had just played a show at the saloon here, voice a little tired and worn along with the rest of you as you prepare to settle in for the night. You hadn't played here before, but sometimes you just got set up with less than ideal accommodations- it was your trade, and you really didn't mind it.

You and Billy had fallen into a stable routine over the last few weeks, wandering city to city and asking both familiar and unfamiliar bar men if you could play there in exchange for nothing more than tips and a place to stay. Hey, it was a life Billy was familiar with. Despite the legality of your endeavours, you had a decent bit in common.

"Hm?" You hum quietly, digging out the cleaned out jar you'd been using for water, twisting the lid off as you glance up at him, sitting yourself down on a comfortable looking stack of hay.

Billy wasn't one to complain as look as he was sleeping somewhere safe, but you certainly deserved better than a hay stack in a stable. The smell of horses would linger in your hair until the next time you found a creek to bathe in.

"We can't sleep here, darlin'. It ain't comfortable. Hardly even safe." He says, bag slung over his shoulder as he gestures back toward the wide open door to the stables. Hell, he would rob these people of their horses if you weren't with him. They were practically begging the wrong crew to pass by and do it.

The nickname you had now become accustomed to hardly even makes you blush anymore as you take a sip out of the lukewarm water in the jar, letting the liquid sit in your mouth for a few moments as you look around at what he meant. You shrug before swallowing, feeling a bit more refreshed already. "It's just for a night or two. I've slept places worse."

You hold up your hand before he continues complaining, reaching into your bag, falling apart at the seams, and pulling out a small blanket that was in similar shape. You stand up to shake it out after closing and setting down your water, laying the blanket across the hay bale next to where you were sitting.

Billy recognized it, you had been using it as a pillow the entire time he'd been with you- rolling it up under your head regardless of the state of the pillows in the beds you were borrowing in spare bedrooms or vacant spaces at the inns covered kindly by the bar owners for the night.

"That tiny blanket ain't gonna do a thing to keep you warm once the chill sets in." He shakes his head and your expression drops, hardly even noticeable as you look between him and your blanket.

"I... well..." For the first time since he met you, you seem hesitant or almost embarrassed about something. "I just thought you'd rather lay on that then the hay, that's all. It can be kinda pokey."

Oh.

His heart sinks in his chest as he looks at you. You had laid it out for him, in hopes of keeping him a little more comfortable when you thought he clearly didn't like the idea of sleeping out here on the ground. It was the best you could offer, and it wasn't like you had many other options for the night.

Weeks ago you wouldn't even let him touch your guitar case; you still weren't very easily accepting of the idea.

"Hey, hey! I ain't gonna run with it, I'm just helpin' you out. Relax." Billy said with a laugh, lifting the case over his head, high up in the air and supporting the other end with his free hand while you jumped to try and grab it from him.

He found that little scowl on your face adorable.

"I can carry it!" You had insisted frustratedly, giving up on jumping for it when you realized that the best you could do is knock your precious guitar from his hands and send it tumbling to the ground.

Needless to say, you were quite possessive of your things, and the significance behind the gesture of you offering your blanket to him was not lost.

Billy shakes his head. "You ain't gotta give that to me. I appreciate it, that's real sweet, but you better save it for yourself..." He hesitates for a moment, eyes drifting to the blanket again. "I know it's special to ya."

You don't say anything in response, sheepishly nodding and grabbing the blanket again, with much less care than you had laid it down with. As if you were in a hurry to hide it away again, to bunch it up as a pillow instead of leave its ratty nature exposed.

"Pack up your stuff. We ain't sleepin' in this pig pen." Billy says, taking on a more cheerful tone and waving his hand for you to follow him to the door. "Come on."

"Huh? You got a better idea of where we can sleep?" You ask, blanket tucked under your arm as your brow mimics its wrinkled material in your confusion.

"I do, actually. Do ya trust me?"

Apparently the answer to that question is yes, and you only regret that decision a handful of times as he leads you and your stolen horses up a muddied, narrow, and undoubtedly dangerous path that leads to god knows where in what feels like the middle of nowhere.

"So... did you pre-dig a shallow grave for me out here or somethin'? I always knew you were planning to kill me." You hum, holding the reins of your horse behind your back as you lead it up the small and rocky trail.

Billy rolls his eyes, scoffing out a laugh that you can just make out from up ahead. "No," he chuckles, "I'm not going to kill you, darlin'."

"I am yet to hear a better explanation for why you're dragging me out to the middle of nowhere, but okay." You snide, but for the most part it was playful. You knew he wouldn't hurt you, well, hopefully. He had had plenty of similar opportunities in the previous weeks, so your guard was down just a little bit.

"Did I ever tell you I used to live here?" He asks, glancing back at you.

"Silver City?" You ask, more curious than teasing or annoyed now. "No, you didn't. I thought you were on the road too much for that."

"Well, yeah, but that was after I lived here for a few years." He explains with a small shrug you can hardly see with the distance of his horse separating you. "With my ma and my kid brother. They had to move here with her worthless fuck of a husband after he kept losing work, and we heard there was some out here."

He'd never spoken of his family before. At least not to you. At least not in the last several weeks in which time you had hardly been apart, and the honesty shocks you. It is very welcome, though.

"Oh... well... are they still here? In Silver City, I mean." You say, knowing that this should be carefully navigated if you wanted to hear more about his life in the future. If you wanted him to trust you.

"I don't know about Antrim, but my brother and my ma passed a long while ago. That's why I left, had nothing to stay here for anymore."

In the moonlight you can just make out his figure a little ways in front of you as he shrugs, as if it wasn't a big deal. As if he hadn't lost everything, lost his family. How could he not have told you before? In all these weeks he had been helping you in order to get back to your own family, he had never once mentioned that he lost his too.

"I'm so sorry," Is the best you can come up with, despite your own insistence those weeks before that apologies only make you feel worse. Make it more real- but what else were you to say? "For what it's worth."

"Hey," He chuckles, surprising you a bit. "It's worth somethin' to me."

It isn't long before you come to a clearing at the top of a hill, a steep cliff overlooking what you assume to be an old mining site picked right dry. But you don't pay much attention to that, quickly distracted by the view above you- the trees having opened up to the beautiful sky again.

Billy tied the reins of his horse to one of the thinner tree limbs, before dusting his hands off on his trousers as he walks back into the clearing fully to join you where you had stopped hard in your tracks. He gestures up to the sky as they spread out in a vast sheet of light and glittering wonder, their beauty unhindered by clouds or the tree line.

"See? I ain't gonna kill you. Ta-da, doll."

You're mesmerized, hardly hearing his words. "Heaven's a touch away." You whisper, and he hardly catches it as the reflection of the stars flicker in your already sparkling bright eyes.

His smile widened as your own did, and he nodded. Heaven's a touch away.

He would have said something else, but he was too busy being hypnotized by the way the moonlight reflected off your skin and made you glow like an angel.

Billy chuckled softly at how awed you were by the display, glancing up at the sky before looking over at you again.

For just a moment, he wanted to take you by the waist and bring you closer, to pull you against his body as you stared above your heads. He wanted to keep you warm and whisper sweet things in your ear as the stars shined down on you both.

But he held back. You weren't his to hold. Not yet.

"It's nice, ain't it?" He asks after a moment, averting his gaze finally from you and up at the stars you were oh so entranced with.

"Sure is." You agree quietly. "Feel's like I could reach out and touch 'em."

You look over at him after a moment, catching him taking his hat off so he could get a better look, sweeping his scruffy hair back away from his eyes. "How'd you find this place?" You ask after a moment.

He shrugs again, familiar. "Like I said, I lived down in town under the same roof as the worst man in the west. Needed somewhere to go."

You nod silently, looking up at the stars again. "Well, I'm glad you did. It's beautiful." You say with a small grin.

Billy hums in agreement. "I figured if we'd be spendin' the night out in the cold anyway, we might as well have some space and a nice view."

"This is why I prefer the west to the city." You say with a nod, placing your guitar case on the ground and sliding your bag off your shoulder to land on top of it. "Even on the highest roof you couldn't get a view like this."

You dig around in your bag for your blanket again, delicately laying it out on the ground for the two of you to lay on while you looked up at the stars until you fell asleep. You can't help imagining how much Max would have loved this. All the kids would have, but at least they could look up and see it again.

If Max were to open his eyes six feet under and look up, he'd be well lucky to see anything other than pure, peaceful darkness.

You lay down, and without a word, Billy does as well. He props up one knee and folds his hands behind his head, and you wonder if he's thinking the same thing about his family.

"Are you a religious man, Billy?" You ask after a few minutes of quiet contemplation, letting your head fall to the side to look at him.

"Used to be." He hums, still gazing up at the stars. "Was how I was raised, but I'll be honest, my beliefs on it are much the same as yours these days." He explains.

What kind of god could take two kids families from them like this?

"I don't blame you." You say quietly. But you do suppose that assuming there was a higher power, it was the very same one that stripped your family from you for a second time in your life, only to present you with a friend in William Bonney. Maybe that isn't the worst thing in the world.

"Or, I mean, they were for a while. I really don't know anymore." He muses. "I try not to think about it."

He didn't really have a lot left to believe in. Same as you. Not the god who killed everyone he had ever loved, not the justice system that's been chasing him down for a long while now, and not in himself to do the right things. You had him beat, in that regard. He could see it in every day spent with you. But is that not a blessing all in its own?

"No one does. I think that's kind of the idea." You reply with a slight laugh, wanting to lighten things up a little bit. "Y'know, tests of faith and all that."

"Fair." He agrees softly, looking over at you again finally and giving you a small grin.

"Although," You tilt your head slightly, looking up at the sparkling sky again. "Day in and day out, folks die and babies are born, there's great pain to be found on both ends of life. But if there's someone around to bring you in, and someone to miss you when you're gone, things couldn't have been too bad along the way." You ramble on a bit, deep in thought as you try to communicate a simplified version of what you were trying to convince yourself.

Billy was a little bit speechless for a moment, weighing the accuracy of your assessment. After a few seconds, he lets out a laugh. "I guess you're right, but I'm not sure I'll have many folks missin' me when I'm gone."

"I'd miss you." You reply quietly, with minimal hesitation. "If we parted ways tomorrow and I never saw you again, I'd remember the last few weeks fondly. It's nice to not be alone."

He isn't sure if it's hunger or what that makes his stomach turn and a tightness form in his chest. He's not positive he won't throw up right there on your blanket over the rush of feelings at the most simplest of words.

"Well, thanks." He says, laugh long faded as he looks up at the deep navy sky that felt so close that you thought you had a chance at touching it. "I'd miss you too."

You smile to yourself in contentment, shifting a bit to get more comfortable for the long night ahead of sleeping in the grass at the top of this hill familiar to only one of you.

Billy spares you another glance in the long silence that follows, unbothered by the chirping of crickets and the occasional shift of your horses hooves in the dirt a few feet away.

The stars were beautiful. This was a known fact.

But you were far more heavenly in his eyes.

no taglist this time around!! my fics usually get over a hundred requests to be added to the taglist so instead i made a library! follow me over on @runningfrom2am-library and turn on notifs to get updates when i post new parts!!

[lazycats-stuff]

Batfamily x male!reader

Okay, part 1 of the Court of Owls reader is here. I enjoyed writing this so much, even though it's short.

Summary: The family wasn't going to allow (Y/N) to stay with the Court anymore. (Y/N), on the other hand, wasn't going to go down without a fight.

Warnings: (Y/N) moving to Metropolis, Harley and Pamela being protective, Harvey being protective.

(Y/N) opened his eyes. It was noon and he only got 5 hours of sleep. He was currently in Metropolis, in a small apartment he managed to rent out.

He told Harvey and others of his plans. He can't stay in Gotham at this point. He can't. The nights have become way too dangerous for him. Bruce knows this city and it's hideouts to well.

Harvey gave him a big duffel bag with money. He refused to say how much was in it. Harley and Pamela gave him a new combat knife and Selina gave him a burner phone.

The place he rented out was small, but enough for him. He paid for 2 months in advance, just in case. He always liked this city. It was calm and crime wasn't so spread out like in Gotham. And it's annoying that Metropolis people are wimps when it came to crimes.

Truly annoying. But... When you say with a resting bitch face, ' I'm from Gotham, ' they retreat really quickly.

(Y/N) had a routine here. The one he didn't think he would have. At nights, when he was supposed to be out, he would walk around Metropolis. The beauty is one of the things he liked about it. There was so much gorgeous things in this city.

Usually he would go to the parks and sit on the bench. Or he would just go to a small diner to get some coffee. There was one that served killer cheesecake, just around the corner to where he lived.

Wasn't he lucky?

While (Y/N) was in Metropolis, enjoying the peace and quiet, Bruce and the rest of the family was searching for him. They were getting angrier and angrier as the days passed by. Where is he?!

" Okay, when I see him, I will beat his ass. " Jason mumbled.

Damian didn't say anything. Where was his brother? He thought about it. (Y/N) always made some allies, wherever he was. So they need to find the allies.

" What are you thinking about? " Bruce asked his youngest.

" We need to look for allies. I'm sure he made them here. They will know where he went. "

" Why would he have allies? No offense, but you guys are loners. "

" Sometimes Todd you have to have people to trust. But always be prepared for betrayal. You never know. "

Bruce just sighed. Why (Y/N), why? Why are you doing this?

" I think the bigger problem is where to start, if we do chose to go by that theory. This city is a criminal hub. We need a starting point. " Tim stated, trying to figure out a plan.

" Masters, I think I have something. " Alfred interrupted the session.

" According to the GCPD records I went through right now, there was a person who visited Two Face. According to informants, there was some sort of bond between them. And the description matches (Y/N)'s. " Alfred said.

" Alfred, why were you going trough GCPD files? " Bruce asked the man, there were no open cases relating back to Two Face.

" I heard about the master Damian's theory and who are better allies then Gotham rouges? "

The vigilantes stood quiet at Alfred's statement. There was their starting point. Bruce was going to relinquish his title and give it to Alfred.

" Okay, thank you Alfred. Come on, lets go talk to Harvey. " Bruce said. Time to find his son.

(Y/N) sighed as he laid in the bed. He couldn't sleep, but he also couldn't go out. He simply didn't want to. He was too tired. He would have gone and bought some furniture, but then again, if he needs to run again...

He clicked his tongue in annoyance. He looked at the burner phone that started ringing. He looked at the number displayed on the screen. It was Harvey. (Y/N) allowed himself to smile. He accepted the call and put the phone next to his ear.

" Hey Harvey. "

" Hello son. "

(Y/N) eyes widened and he nearly dropped the phone in the process. This is not Harvey's voice. It was Bruce's. How?

" Speechless? So was I when I heard about your bond with these rouges. Harvey is apparently your father figure. Did you really forget about me and your brother? "

" You and Damian can go to hell. I'm not going back with you. "

Bruce just hummed into the phone.

" Do you really think so? Do you think I'm going to allow you to destroy yourself even more by staying with them and the Court? No... I know you are in Metropolis and we are coming to get you. I have to be honest, he refused to talk about you. See you soon son. "

(Y/N) dropped the phone and immediately stood up. Oh no. Shit. Okay. He looked for his knife. There. Now a gun he bought. He checked the magazine to see if he had ammo in it. And it was a nervous tick of his.

He tucked the gun in, hiding it beneath his jacket. He looked at the phone and left it there.

No time. Nope.

He quickly ran out of the apartment, going downstairs quickly. He put the hood on, making sure to cover his face. He has enough money to go somewhere far from here.

He can make it. He just needs to stay calm. He took a shortcut through the alley, but a certain figure stopped him.

" Robin. " (Y/N) said, just putting his hand on the gun.

" Hello brother. "

(Y/N) ducked a punch before grabbing him and slamming him into the wall. Then he climbed up the fire escape up to the roof. He checked the hook strapped to his wrist. He used it to swing on the next roof. If only he noticed Jason coming from the side. They fell down from the air onto the roof.

(Y/N) rolled with Jason, ending up in the position where Jason straddled him.

" Alright, time to wrap this up. "

(Y/N) wasn't having it. He wrapped his hands around his neck. He forced Jason back with that and punched him. He ran across the roof and jumped once more. Now he saw Red Robin and Nightwing. He slid down, making them crash into one another. He jumped down into an another alleyway.

He froze when he Batman landed in front of him.

" No... " (Y/N) whispered. There was no way out.

" I don't want to hurt you son. Why are you running from us? "

(Y/N) felt his breath hitching. Was he going to have a panic attack?

" Now, you can come peacefully. Or I can bring you back forcefully. The choice is yours. "

(Y/N) can't go back. He didn't have to turn to know that Robin was behind him.

Well, he won't go down without a fight. He took his knife and threw it a Bruce. Damian brought him into a headlock, making sure that he wouldn't be able to move. Then he felt a prick at the side of his neck. It was a sedative.

(Y/N)'s eyes were closing, his body dropping down. Damian still held onto him, refusing to let him fall. Bruce gently scooped (Y/N) up in his arms.

Time to bring him home.

[idv-sunsxin3]

Click // Dating Headcanons

Note// I also love this boy here - ever since day 1 and before I even got him. It was even funny the fact that he was a 5 star who came home before Sweetheart and Bkornblume and after Balloon Party,,, his lore put me in tears like;;; <//3

___

Click is always that one figure looking and observing the crowd from the background. Even seeing often as the one who records every memory in a sanctuary like the suitcase, through his trusty camera.

He is a quiet ghost, but one with guts of a true man...

He is the one who has no single fear cell on stepping landmines and explosions during a ruthless war... despite his role as the photographer, he doesn't guarantee his life from being taken away by the battlefield.

Yet...

Why was he paralyzed whenever he tries to talk to you..?

Is it because of the way you talk? The way you try to console others when they argue at one another? The way you smile...?

No, it couldn't be... he is always like this even when you get mentioned - as if your name is what keeps a bell ringing on his head.

...There is no point holding back, however. He would be the person who may often be less verbal, yet whenever he speaks, it is always something straightforward. There is no need for explanations.

You can remember the time you first saw him. It was quite unexpected in your opinion - encountering a ghost somewhere inside the suitcase after you got recruited by Vertin...

It doesn't mean it was a bad experience, of course.

"Hi."

You softly say, your eyes not looking away as you admire the sight of the celestial looking figure. Despite his torn and ripped edges of his garment.

"...."

The spirit doesn't respond... Instead, he prepares his camera to angle it towards you before taking a picture. The sound of flashing can be heard from the tool as you couldn't get the chance to react what he just did -

"... Your surprised look is.. pleasant..

please wear it often." The transparent figure finally says something, despite not exactly answering to your greeting.

It sounded strange... but you didn't get weirded out by it somehow. It's probably by how pretty he looks you just couldn't bring yourself judge so soon... You're quite understanding.

Little by little, you sometimes find the silent ghost looking in your direction through the crowds. Even when you both are in a room yet in a decent distance from one another. His eyes are droopy and looking tired, yet always have this gaze of longing when your eyes meet.

He doesn't seem to intent in approaching you at times after the last time he spoke to you, which is when he asked if he can take pictures of you.

Camera shy or not, you didn't seem fazed by his question and allowed him so as if it was just some kind of way to pass the time for him...

He is a ghost. What else can he do besides floating around?

That question made yourself feel sorry for him... even sad that he doesn't get to be... human ever again at such a young age. Yet, you wonder what does he usually feels while in such a current state.

After a few days of knowing him, he is never likely to take pictures as blackmail nor the type to just share pictures of people to others..

So mostly if he wants to, he would just watch you from afar and sometimes sneak some shots whenever you laugh, smile, blabbering about other things that seem to make you happy... All those little things managed to get into his memory to the point that he slowly got to know you from afar.

There are times you catch him organizing portfolios, even admiring his work silently and sometimes giving compliments about his skills in his takes.

The point where you once gave him constructive criticism intrigued him - that he even seems to become a bit inspired and to try to ask you more about your opinions in the takes next time.

He would randomly appear beside you after a small sounds of wood being penetrated can be heard as a warning... you barely got used to it in the first time, but quickly catch on the cues and look forward to his silent visits.

"...I was wondering if you could share some thoughts about this portfolio I made." He once says calmly as he lowers his camera to search the folder from his bag. I'm looking at you for any answers with a hint of curiosity.

When you come back to the suitcase, he just happens to be straight away and floating beside you. Or when you're at the same party setup, he would often be behind you to look after you. Even when you're not around, he doesn't seem to do anything else but put maintenance on his camera, checking out the photos he recently took, and floating around wanderlessly until he can sense you coming back from exploration.

He probably admitted his feelings for you without exactly confessing(?) He just happened to be in a small talk with you. Often being beside or appearing out of thin air whenever you have to depart to a different location.

When it seems like it is the right moment, he would be quick to act and appear beside you to ask for some of your time to speak with him.

"I have to say this before I forget..." He says as he faces you with that same look yet in such a gentle voice, "You're a company I didn't know I would need it the most... Thank you."

It wasn't exactly a real confession in his eyes but more like a simple, honest statement from him. Having this friendship slowly blooming, he doesn't seem to mind keeping it that way, until you asked if you can both be something more than just pookies... He would still be happy nonetheless, even if he doesn't seem to show it.

Throughout the relationship, there is never enough with Click taking pictures of you. He could have made a shrine out of it if he can, yet he doesn't. He honestly doesn't desire for others to see your pictures... they're special for his eyes... His pride and joy. Anything else can be shown to the world, but he won't exchange anything if it means to show those little cameos of yours... it's an unspoken rule for him.

Click's way of affection is definitely far from touch... since he sadly can't do that. But whenever you feel down, he is silently willing to give you quality time and some words of affirmation...

He may not be often good in expressing himself.... but when he cant find the words, his willingness to give you soft whispers, gazing longingly into your eyes, while trying to make his transparent hand seem to trembly hover over yours can tell many things that he wish to express them to you.

[eddiemunsonsmiddlefingers]

I was looking through my fic notes because I'm poking around at my long fic again (how has it been almost a year? oh my God) when I found this fix-it snippet that I will never finish, but personally like too much to let rot in a folder unseen. The assumption is that instead of going to the Creel house, the Party is trying to go directly to the Upside Down to fight Vecna there.

Enjoy?

---

Robin often questions her life choices.

Joining band? Good choice. 

Trying to kiss Jenny McNeil in 8th grade? Bad choice.

Getting a job at Scoops Ahoy? Really bad choice, because that’s what led to a long list of terrible events she would prefer to selectively forget. Not that she can do that, really, but you know. She can daydream sometimes.

The thing is, she’s currently sitting in a stolen Winnebago with Steve Harrington in the driver’s seat. That would be fine, given that becoming his best friend was one of her better decisions, except he’s hauling ass in reverse, his body painfully twisted around so he can see out the back window. He’s chanting “shit, shit, shit,” but as frantic as the words are, his hands are confident and his face has settled into a sort of calm determination that Robin knows all too well. She’s seen it before and knows what it means.

He thinks we’re going to die. She wishes she didn’t know Steve quite that well, but then again there are a lot of things she wishes she didn’t know right about now. That includes the fact that she, too, thinks they’re going to die. She could do without that thought for sure.

“Could you get us the hell out of here sometime this year, Steve?” Dustin is clinging to his seat opposite Robin, his eyes fixed on the strobing lights and angry mob visible through the windshield. He’s scared and angry all at once; Robin can practically feel him revving up to start yelling. 

“Can it Henderson,” Eddie says. He’s crouched behind the driver’s seat, his entire body folded in on itself to stay out of Steve’s way. He reminds Robin of a gargoyle with his dark clothes, tightly-coiled muscle, and ringed fingers clutching at his knees. “Stevie needs to concentrate or there won’t be enough of our remains left for the cops to care about.”

“That’s a bit—” Lucas loses what he’s about to say as they swerve around a corner and come to a screeching stop, “—morbid.” He looks behind them, at the concrete wall literally inches from his face, then turns back looking a little green. “Got it.”

“Hang on,” Steve says as he falls back in his seat and wrenches the wheel to the left. 

A moment later everyone is tumbling over each other as gravity shifts from front to back and they barrel forward. There are people running after them at first; Robin is pretty sure she sees Ms. O’Donnell carrying an actual pitchfork next to a kid named Lenny who used to talk her ear off about Star Wars every other day at Family Video. He has a hunting knife in one hand and a torch in the other tonight, and he’s yelling something she can’t hear. Monsters from an alternate dimension have nothing on the surreal impact of seeing her neighbors armed to the teeth and roving the streets like bloodthirsty lunatics. At least Robin isn’t the only one making terrible choices these days. It’s a small comfort, but it will have to do.

“There is no way we’re getting to my place through that crap.”

Eddie’s stating the obvious, as far as Robin’s concerned. They’ve tried every possible approach and been blocked at every one. Their options are give up or give in, and the latter isn’t truly an option at all. She’s relieved to see Lucas and Nancy nodding agreement. Dustin looks conflicted, but after a moment his chin jerks up as well. 

“Okay, so we’ll go to the lake,” Steve says.

“Can’t do that,” Erica calls from the very back where she’s sitting by Lucas.

“What, why?” Robin catches Steve’s eyes in the rearview mirror as he speaks; he looks tired and harassed, maybe ten seconds from a complete meltdown. “It’s massive; they can’t guard every inch of it.”

“The water would ruin our gear,” Nancy says. “No firepower, no fight.” Her lower lip is chewed pink and puffy and her eyes are somehow even bigger than usual, but she has her hands wrapped around her shotgun with confident ease.

“No music, no protection,” Lucas adds. He and Max aren’t going to the Upside Down, but he has a point. What if Vecna grabs one of them like he grabbed Max and Nancy? The Walkman tucked inside Robin’s vest suddenly feels much heavier. 

“That about covers it,” Erica acknowledges in a magnanimous tone.

“God damn it.” Steve drums his hands on the wheel as he guides them around a corner and into relative darkness. 

Dustin sits up suddenly. “We’re forgetting something.” Everyone looks at him and he rolls his eyes. “The reporter guy Nancy mentioned, remember? Frank.”

“Fred.”

“Right, Fred. Vecna took him, so there would be a gate where he died.”

“That’s practically on top of Forest Hills,” Steve says. “Crawling with angry locals and cops, remember? Not exactly accessible.”

Nancy straightens, her lips pursed in a way that indicates thinking cap on. “If we can find it fast enough, we might be okay. The police are more interested in catching a perverted mass-murderer—”

“Harsh,” Steve interjects, dry as old popcorn.

“—Than in guarding a cold crime scene, so—”

“—So let them have me and use the distraction to get to the gate.” Eddie starts out confident, but his voice breaks mid-sentence and then he’s burying his face in his hands with an odd strangled noise. “Jesus.”

“What? No!” Steve yelps. The RV lurches to the side as his head whips around. 

Robin lands on her knees next to Eddie before she even realizes she got up. “Hey,” she says, awkwardly patting at his arms, his shoulders, his hair and back. She doesn’t know what she’s doing, has no idea what to say, but Steve needs to drive and Dustin’s yelling at Nancy, and no one else is moving, so she’ll have to figure it out. “We’ve been over this, dingus. We’re not giving you up.”

“If you don’t, I will,” he whispers, looking up at her from behind the fingers caging his face. His cheeks are streaked with tears, and damn, Robin is really out of her depth here. “Chrissy’s family deserves justice and admit it, won’t you? My future’s looking pretty bleak.”

Nancy and Dustin’s voices clash in the background.

“Take a number and have a seat. Everyone’s future is looking pretty bleak right now,” Robin says. She hears Steve huff a pained sort of laugh. “We aren’t going to turn you in, and we won’t let you do it on your own, either. We kick Henry-Vecna-One’s slimy ass. Together. Then we sort out the rest. Also together.” 

She keeps talking, the words washing over one another. She wishes Eddie would stop crying. She wishes they were literally anywhere but hurtling toward certain death in a Winnebago that smells like stale smoke and armpits. She wishes she’d never even heard of the Upside Down, because maybe then she’d be hiding under her bed instead of talking down a guy who used to scare the living shit out of her. She sort of wishes Eddie still did—scare her that is—because at least that would make sense.

“If Hawkins can buy Will Byers coming back from the grave, it can deal with Eddie Munson being significantly less freaky than they thought he was. Jury’s out on whether your ego will survive, but you’re going to be fine. We’re all going to be fine,” she finds herself saying and yup, it’s time to stop talking because she’s officially hit the babbling phase.

Eddie unfolds without warning, arms spreading wide. The next thing Robin knows, she’s toppling into a hug that is somehow aggressively tight and shockingly gentle at the same time. She braces herself for an awkward come on, the sort of gratitude-driven romantic garbage that Harrington of yore once tried to pull, but all she gets is Eddie’s voice in her ear, husky and sincere as he whispers, “thanks, Buckley.” 

He squeezes her shoulders, then helps Robin settle against the opposite wall with a small smile and oddly business-like hands. He doesn’t like me like that, Robin thinks with bewildered certainty. It’s strange to feel such profound relief when every other part of her life is an active shit show, but she isn’t about to question it.

“Okay buttheads, show’s over,” Eddie declares as he shoves himself upright, visibly collecting the fraying edges of his dignity about him. He makes a show of pushing his hair back and adjusting his bandana; when he looks up, the only sign he’d been crying is the red rimming his eyes. “If any of you brats say a word about this, I’m burning your character sheets and confiscating your dice,” he adds, extending a threatening finger at Dustin, Lucas, and Erica.

The boys tumble over each other reassuring him, but Erica puts her hands on her hips and tilts her head to one side. “What makes you think I care?”

“You wound me,” Eddie says, eyes going comically wide. “What is our party without Lady Applejack the Nimble?”

“I want better gear.” 

“As you wish, my lady.” Eddie flourishes one arm in an awkward seated bow. “When our battle is won, we shall discuss your arms for the next campaign.”

“It better be damn good…jackass.” 

“Language!” Steve exclaims, sounding exactly like a middle-aged mother about to turn this car around, damn it.

Erica flips him off with a wide grin, and chaos ensues.

“What’s next?” Dustin asks as things begin to quiet down. When everyone looks at him, he heaves an exaggerated sigh and starts ticking points off on his fingers. “We can’t go to Eddie’s place. We can’t go to Lover’s Lake. We aren’t sacrificing Eddie to find the other gate.” He glares first at Nancy, then at Eddie. “By now the police also know this thing is stolen, they know Eddie’s in it, and they know Steve is driving. They may even know we have weapons if someone at the War Zone bothered to tell them.”

“Looks like Steve’s a felon after all,” Max comments out of nowhere, a sly smile dancing across her face. “How are you getting out of this one, jailbird?” Lucas snort-laughs, and Max’s smile grows until her teeth are showing and her eyes are scrunched up in glee. 

“Hide,” Steve says decisively. His body shifts and the RV skids to a stop. It’s dark outside, but Robin’s pretty sure she can see trees.

“Hate to break it to you Harrington, but the police can find this piece of shit far easier on the side of the road than they can while it’s moving,” Eddie drawls around the cigarette he just put between his lips. He lights it, inhales, then blows the smoke toward the front seat as he tucks his lighter away. “And they can definitely catch us faster.”

Steve rounds on them, running a hand through his hair with the same energy a starving man might attack a burger and fries. “We aren’t staying here, dumbass. This is Murkywood, or whatever it’s called. The Byers’ old place is about twenty minutes away if we cut through the forest.” 

“Isn’t that a bit, well, obvious?” Nancy asks, frowning. “Will is their friend and I mean…Jonathan…” She does an odd gesture at her chest rather than finishing the sentence.

Steve reaches down and plucks the cigarette from Eddie’s hand, takes a drag, then passes it back as he looks from one kid to the next. “Have any of you dickheads been playing at the Byers house since they left?”

Robin is too preoccupied with the front row seat she has to whatever the hell is going on with Eddie’s face to hear their response. Eddie is staring at his cigarette like it sprouted horns or something, brows drawn together as he rolls it back and forth between his thumb and forefinger. When he realizes she’s watching, he jams the filter in his mouth and looks away. 

Huh. 

Steve’s voice penetrates Robin’s churning thoughts. “Get it together kids, we’re going for a walk.”

[blocksruinedme]

the arc of the moral universe is long but it bends toward justice

I'm not saying terrible things don't happen, won't happen. I can't say I know the future, can't say things might not fall apart in ways that shock me. But, fam, I was thinking about US ballot initiatives today, and remembered gay marriage will never be slowly creeping across the us state by state again. (Now it's pot!)

I remember before gay marriage. I protested and phone banked, I fought in my small way, and we got it. Like we got voting rights across race and gender, like we got every thing we've fought for, and eventually no politician is going to talk shit about interracial marriage. Sometimes things go backwards for a bit, and it fucking sucks, but almost everything with our rights is better than it was a hundred years ago.

I'm not saying you can't be scared, I shouldn't ever tell you how to feel, but as someone who became aware of the world in the last century... some of the progress we've made is fucking amazing. Federal gay marriage? I didn't know if I'd live to see it.

I'm not religious at all, but I think this is true because, damn it, people as a whole do get better. I'll let Dr. King take it from here (full transcript below the cut.)

Let this affirmation be our ringing cry. It will give us the courage to face the uncertainties of the future. It will give our tired feet new strength as we continue our forward stride toward the city of freedom. When our days become dreary with low hovering clouds of despair, and when our nights become darker than a thousand midnights, let us remember that there is a creative force in this universe, working to pull down the gigantic mountains of evil, a power that is able to make a way out of no way and transform dark yesterdays into bright tomorrows. Let us realize the arc of the moral universe is long but it bends toward justice.

A selection portion of Dr. King's "Where Do We Go From Here" speech, delivered August 16, 1967 to the Southern Christian Leadership Conference in Atlanta. Text heard in clip: I must confess, my friends, the road ahead will not always be smooth. There will still be rocky places of frustration and meandering points of bewilderment. There will be inevitable setbacks here and there. There will be those moments when the buoyancy of hope will be transformed into the fatigue of despair. Our dreams will sometimes be shattered and our ethereal hopes blasted. We may again with tear-drenched eyes have to stand before the bier of some courageous civil-rights worker whose life will be snuffed out by the dastardly acts of bloodthirsty mobs. Difficult and painful as it is, we must walk on in the days ahead with an audacious faith in the future. And as we continue our charted course, we may gain consolation in the words so nobly left by that great black bard who was also a great freedom fighter of yesterday, James Weldon Johnson:

Stony the road we trod,

Bitter the chastening rod

Felt in the days

When hope unborn had died.

Yet with a steady beat,

Have not our weary feet

Come to the place

For which our fathers sighed?

We have come over the way

That with tears hath been watered.

We have come treading our paths

Through the blood of the slaughtered,

Out from the gloomy past,

Till now we stand at last

Where the bright gleam

Of our bright star is cast.

Let this affirmation be our ringing cry. It will give us the courage to face the uncertainties of the future. It will give our tired feet new strength as we continue our forward stride toward the city of freedom. When our days become dreary with low hovering clouds of despair, and when our nights become darker than a thousand midnights, let us remember that there is a creative force in this universe, working to pull down the gigantic mountains of evil, a power that is able to make a way out of no way and transform dark yesterdays into bright tomorrows. Let us realize the arc of the moral universe is long but it bends toward justice.

Let us realize that William Cullen Bryant is right: "Truth crushed to earth will rise again." Let us go out realizing that the Bible is right: "Be not deceived, God is not mocked. Whatsoever a man soweth, that shall he also reap." This is our hope for the future, and with this faith we will be able to sing in some not too distant tomorrow with a cosmic past tense, "We have overcome, we have overcome, deep in my heart, I did believe we would overcome."

[problems-with-botsandcons]

Finally gonna say my piece on how feel about a certain character from IDW 1, mainly for MTMTE and TLL.

It’s not okay the treatment of Getaway and how his character is now treated by the whole fandom/fanon to the point where it becomes uncomfortable for me to share that I like them.

This may be a long post so all my thoughts will be down below.

Warning for mentions of NSFW content and mentions of abuse/trauma

So right off the bat, the fandom’s treatment honestly makes me mad and so fucking uncomfortable that it has made me question if I should even bring this all up. How Getaway went from an MTO, which is basically a cybertronian's version of a child soldier, who struggled with the fact that the person responsible for his creation and trauma was not only NOT punished for their crimes, aka Megatron the genocidal warlord who nearly wiped out his whole race, with a slap on the wrist. A mech who was angry, a mech who was hurting, and not everyone on the ship agreed on giving Megatron a chance. Some of the mechs fought against Megatron’s army, most likely losing people they cared about or just the fact they may also have trauma but nothing as serious because they’re much older then Getaway.

But then his character was turned into a one-note, blood crazy, villain because of two things:

- shipping (tailgate/getaway and cyclonus/tailgate)

- because people agreed that Getawat was right about Megatron, with not only a majority of The Lost Light agreeing but the audience as well

The shipping is obviously a major point of how people view Getaway for manipulating Tailgate into trying to get Megs to nearly kill him. I can protest that it was indeed wrong but giving him small slide, a very tiny one, he might have thought that Tailgate could survive but even then he would’ve been in trouble. I get it, Tailgate is a sweet but naive character that people can't see him with an abusive character like Getaway.

Now to state, I came late into MTMTE and haven't read issues 40 and onwards.

But I can state wholeheartedly that what Getaway got as a punishment was fucking extreme that one would think he was a war criminal. He had his arms, legs, jaw, and voice box removed and was put into a device similar to what Overlord was placed in earlier in the comic’s run.

Sure, he nearly got Tailgate killed but one has to think that MAYBE the punishment was a bit too far.

Now then the shipping can sometimes be the toxic part of a fandom, I get it. I want to state I have no problems with the fandoms’ shipping of Cyclonus/Tailgate since it’s one of the popular ships. Shipping is usually one of the main forces for drama and this is one of them.

But now comes the part that makes my blood boil:

Getaway has his character assassinated then has said character reanimated into a zombie for their creator to control.

Now his character is portrayed as an abuser, a manipulator, or a straight up the most evilest being in IDW, and now Transformers in general, when there are more characters that are deserving of that. Can’t even look towards ao3 for him because it always one or more of these things below:

- abusive and manipulative partner

- rapist

- just pure evil

Getaway had depth to him just like every other character but as soon as it was hinted that Tailgate, whose a fan favorite during MTMTE and TLL, was in danger people were unsure how to feel about Getaway.

I’m also aware that the deal with IDW and Hasbro was slowly ending so the stories had to be wrapped up. So they just had to make him one note. They didn’t have enough time but they could have tired.

I’m gonna end this all off here.

I just want to see content that isn’t just ‘GeTaWaY iS pUrE eViL’ or ‘GeTaWaY tHe AbUsIvE PaRtNeR’ or some other crap.

Because people avoid talking about Getaway after his character was assassinated. People who are fans of him I don’t see speak about him or if they do it can rarely find them.

But I’ve been aware that a of lot people are starting to speak out about Getaway’s mistreatment in the fandom. Which is better than having to stay quiet.

[dyad-tmesis]

going feral over your fusion au its so unique! do you have any little funfacts/random info bits about the au? id love to hear them!!

Oh why thank you! I love when people froth at the mouth over my stuff 💕 y’all are too sweet

Ohohohoh boy alright here’s some little bits of ideas I had for the fused au

So as said before Jekyll and Hyde are still separate people, they have aspects that resemble a system with perma co-fronting to it (I’m not a system myself but I always try to double check with my partner who is part of one to make sure I’m not doing anything dumb with this. If there’s anything at all that seems inaccurate or anything like that feel free to let me know. I just included it because I feel it’s the best way to explain how they function in this state)

Again as mentioned before they have their own separate voices and are fully capable of taking turns speaking with said voices, however if they become stressed or can’t decide the right words to say right away they’ll just start talking over eachother as seen in the comic with Jasper. When they get tired or unfocused they have a habit of mumbling to themselves.

They upgraded pronouns lol, he/him and they/them

Early on when they were still freshly fused Hj7 would leak every now and again from their face, hence the stains you see on their shirt in the comic (“mom I frew up :(“)

Taking the Hj7 does pretty much nothing now apart from a small boost in their stamina, boost in strength, and some leaking from the face, splitting the human soul involved tapping into the bodies hidden strengths after all

Both Jekyll and Hyde have equal control over their body, so sometimes there are moments where Hyde will use one hand to reach for something shiny to steal observe and Jekyll uses the other hand to swat it away

Their current height is somewhere between the two of them, so their clothes are either just a smidge too big or a smidge too small. Hyde likes to look like a Christmas themed disaster while Jekyll tries to give their now mixed wardrobe some cohesion (with Rachel’s help)

Since they’re both technically in a new body and both are experiencing things at once they can sometimes get sensory overload

Once things calm down it’s more or less a “this is our get along shirt” sort of deal and are forced to confront how unfairly they’ve both been treating eachother, this was all caused by Jekyll trying to permanently get rid of Hyde after all.

While Hyde is still technically a part of Jekyll they’ve spent a whole two years growing in different directions as people, they have the same roots but their branches are entirely different and can’t assimilate back together seamlessly (which is something that I always disagreed with when looking at other fused aus, they’re still all cool and valid tho)

They develop a habit of biting their lip in order to prevent themselves from unintentionally speaking with both voices, they can now also have proper internal dialogue together but sometimes that’s hard to keep quiet.

I already like the ASD hcs (may or may not be projecting) people give the two of them so…they like to stim

I think that wraps it up for now! If you have any specific questions about some of this stuff ask away

[nancypullen]

Geez

It's the 19th of May and I haven't posted since late April. That's a sad state of affairs on this ol' blog. Since my last post we have celebrated Jamie's birthday and Mother's Day, two noteworthy occasions. In the near future we have Tyler's birthday, Father's Day, and Matt's upcoming trip to Ireland. Plenty to look forward to and celebrate, June should be a delight. On Saturday the library hosted a celebration of our renovations and re-opening (even though they been open since January). There was a ribbon cutting, food and drink, and a good crowd. I spent five hours in the children's area applying glitter tattoos to lots of small hands and arms.

This little guy was thrilled with his glittery blue Batman emblem. He stole my heart.

I actually put lots of books into those little hands as well, so mission accomplished. After working all week and then surviving enjoying a busy Saturday I didn't do much of anything on Sunday. We browsed the auction house. Do I need this globe?

Probably not. I'll bet the countries are outdated and if it doesn't open up and become a James Bond style liquor cabinet, what good is it? I'm 100% sure that I don't need this gal around giving me body issues.

Is it just me, or does she kind of look like Caitlin Jenner? I talked the mister into cruising into the Starbucks drive-thru while we were out. I'd had a headache for two days, and darned if an iced caramel macchiato didn't cure it. I guess there's something to be said for caffeine and sugar. I enjoyed every drop. Once home, Mickey went to his office to work on photos and I puttered. I checked out the gardens and gave everything a pep talk. The mister has been murdering moles so I have high hopes that the grass will fill in and flourish. At this point I'm willing to spray paint the dirt green. I ended up on the porch, which is looking so pretty. I'll have to snap some pics and share them. I don't know why a pretty porch makes me so happy, but it does. For dinner I cut up some chicken thighs and made bourbon chicken in a skillet - no actual bourbon involved. It's basically that yummy food court chicken. The recipe is apple juice, apple cider vinegar, low sodium soy sauce, ginger, garlic, pepper, and brown sugar. After the chicken cooked I thickened the sauce with a little cornstarch slurry and served it over rice. I topped it with a little diced green onion and sesame seeds to make it pretty. Normally I'd have tossed in some broccoli florets but I didn't have any. There was a crunchy cucumber in the frig so I sliced that up for our veggie. I probably should have made a salad, but I'm just so dang tired. I've started questioning my Oregon Trail viability. That was always how I judged my health/fitness - whether or not I'd survive walking beside a wagon for four or five months. I knew I could do it, even enjoy some of it. Now I know I'd be jumping off at the first trading post. I'd be selling maps in Missouri at the jumping off point. I don't feel good, I don't look good, and I'd just be dead weight in the wagon. Leave me, save yourselves. All of that to say that I've become a bit of a bore. I work most days and get home after six (sometimes eight) and my routine is the same - eat dinner, watch Jeopardy, take a hot bath, read in bed. Ho hum. Where's the fun? I've lost my magic. I really need to find my way back to playing with words and paint and paper. I miss it. I feel like a hypocrite saying that. Before taking the position at the library, I was lonely, isolated, longing for friends, and looking for a purpose in this dull town. Now I get to talk and laugh with nice people at work, I certainly have a lot to do, there aren't enough hours in the work day to finish everything (I have a deadline hanging over my head right now that is stressing me out!), and I actually do feel a little appreciated. The paycheck is a nice bonus. So I suppose I got what I wished for, I just didn't want it nine hours a day. I don't have a life. Right now the library is very short staffed, and I think everyone is stretched thin. Most people have no idea of how much work is involved in keeping a public library not just open, but relevant. The programs that we offer, the community outreach, the technology that we have to stay on top of, the daily tasks of keeping track of a large inventory, fielding reference questions from patrons and finding the resources and answers they need, processing materials that come and go in large tubs, the list goes on and on and that doesn't even include just the regular check-ins and outs. My calendar also includes a lot of children's programs - tomorrow I'm working with Petite Picassos, another day I'll be making bee hotels with a group of twenty, don't even ask about Bubblepalooza (guaranteed bad hair day). I've actually managed to get a month ahead in gathering materials and planning for displays. I have some birds to paint, but otherwise I'm ready. Getting ahead on some things means putting others at a lower priority - which is why I have an online training class for Beanstack, the software we'll use for all of our summer reading programs, still on my to-do list. I'm supposed to have it completed by the 22nd. Maybe if I don't get it done they'll fire me.

I just want my life back. Not even all of it, maybe just half. I wanted to be a volunteer. Help.

Okay, I've whined enough. It's past time to get my clothes ready for the morning, pack a little lunch, and pray that the building burns down overnight. Just kidding. Kind of. Sorry for this mess of a post, I just wanted to keep this blog alive. It tells the story of my life since 2007 and I'd hate to let it fade away now. I suppose everything runs its course, but I'm not ready yet. Thanks for staying this long and reading this far. Sending out lots of love tonight. I hope it finds you. I also hope that joy finds you - we can all use a healthy dose of that. It's most often homemade. I'll be back during the weekend. Until then, stay safe, stay well, stay hopeful. XOXO, Nancy

[belovedcorvidarchive2024]

Another thing I've talked about a fair bit in passing in threads but never written out proper is C.ora's stupid boat (affectionate).

In verses where he lives and inevitably leaves / is removed from the Marines, he becomes a drifter of sorts and uses nearly all of the last of his money to buy an old and tired boat. It gives him frequent grief, especially initially as he gets back into the practise of sailing all the time post injury, but the two do learn to respect each other and work together - it always gets him to where he needs to go eventually. He talks to it, sometimes: usually a challenge, an argument, or an insult but in an affectionate sort of way.

Sometimes he struggles with feeling directionless because he's very used to living in an environment where you're always given an order, but he mostly enjoys the freedom of living on his own terms and the quiet that goes along with often travelling by oneself. He travels and helps people at random in small ways, because the time he spent travelling with L.aw and helping him learn to hate the whole world less was one of the only points in his life where he felt he was having a net positive impact on something, despite his background and all of the things he'd previously messed up. He does go to look for L.aw in a lot of these verses, but the fear that the kid may not want to see him again after being gone / presumed dead makes this process a slow one, usually.

It's a 40 ft fishing trawler with a single centre mast and a handful of sails. It sleeps 3-4, is frequently in a state of questionable but loving and well-meant repair, and is called the Skua. Maybe at some point when I get a bit of time I'll draw it.

[atlas-affogato]

Hi! Firstly, I want to say that I really like your fanfics and headcanons. I mean, they're so profound and detailed, and your writing style is just awesome

I sent you an ask some time ago but I had some problems with Tumblr and it didn't reach you😩 btw the ghost who liked your posts, which you once made a post about, is me (I hope I don't sound like a creep)

So, I'd like to share some hcs of mine, too:

1. I see Ratso as a person who, despite looking childish outside, can be pretty serious. I imagine him wearing glasses while reading (I also think that he likes reading hard and scientific stuff). He looks like a university professor with the glasses on sitting in the armchair with a huge book about theoretical physics

2. He also may resemble a professor or a teacher sometimes. He likes helping enforcers' nephews with school assignments and homework, but he tends to explain things and wait for the boys to solve everything by themselves like a real teacher.

3. Chow definitely wore glasses when he was young. He was told to wear them by doctors when he was about 8 - 10 years old and it made him really upset. At first Chow even refused to wear them but he couldn't see anything from the blackboard at school and distinguish people around him. He didn't like glasses as he looked like a nerd with them on. Chow also got bullied for being puny and weak — so he started working out, but it didn't really help, unfortunately.

4. Finn and Ratso are extroverts while Chow is introverted. It took him some time to make their acquaintance and then become friends. Chow doesn't really communicate with other people from the Dark Hand while Finn knows everyone there. He likes small talks. Ratso is keen on chatting as well, but he's a bit shy so sometimes he feels awkward among new people. He just has an experience of people being rude towards him as they think he's acting like a child

5. It's totally not in canon, but I think Chow might have a tattoo on his upper arm. He got a tattoo right after finishing school to look cooler and have an "independent and giving no shit guy" vibe. Also he was a little bit into punk style back then, so he pierced an ear, maybe even two (I hc this not because I love punk guys, absolutely...)

Hi!! Oh my god thank you so much you have no idea what that means to me that you read and enjoy my fics 😭😭😭 thank you so so much

Yeah I only now got that other ask, which I can answer if you would still be interested! Are those numbers for the same list I answered with Finn? I can go digging for that post. Its nice to meet you little ghost 👻😉 (and you don't sound like a creep)

1. Yes yes yes 1000% agree. Ratso can be childish at heart but he's definitely capable of serious discussions, I see him as someone who enjoys the simple things in life and doesn't want to be embarrassed about liking cartoons or action figures. I think he's a total optomist, thinks the best of people and the world. And he definitely will sit and read complicated science and math books and theories and magazines and try to explain them to Finn and Chow, with little success

2. Oh yeah he's the guy to go to to get help with school work, he'll sit with his nieces and nephews and explain everything, spend hours with them to make sure they understand everything

3. Oh 1000% yeah Chow definitely got bullied for looking like a nerd and being a scrawny kid definitely did not help. He probably stated martial arts in high school with the hopes that it would help him with the bullying, which it did not, but it all worked out in the end right? 😅

4. Oh yeah, Finn is such an extrovert and Ratso definitely likes talking with and meeting new people but he can get tired of being around people too much. Chow is a total introvert, has no friends besides Finn and Ratso, and that's the way he likes it. I think Chow could go either way of either being a home body, or going out to clubs/bars pretty regularly. Anywhere where he doesn't have to make small talk. Ratso's definitely had people give him weird looks for being happy or excited about literally anything so he can be a bit more reserved about his hobbies and interests

5. Lmao I accept this headcanon 😆 he so would, wouldn't he? He would totally do that (I definitely don't want to draw him in 2000s emo get up, no definitely not)

Thank you so so much for the ask, I LOVE talking about Enforcer headcanons, I never stop thinking about them. But seriously, I can't thank you enough for reading my fics, it means so much to me that you think they're good 😭😭😭

[midnightscxre]

Rules

MUN is 27 years old (she/her), so this blog will not interact with people younger than 21. 21+ ONLY, minors do not interact.

 This blog is selective and mutuals only.

I am friendly, always open to gush over our characters however due to the past experience I want to state that any form of inappropriate behavior such as: being flirty toward the MUN, getting too personal with asking the information about my private life and comparing me with any of my muses will result in INSTAT BLOCK. This is fiction, muse does not equal mun, and I have no intention to make anything but role play partners and friends here. I am a taken woman and will not tolerate anything that makes me feel uncomfortable. 

Starters are open to mutuals only if not stated otherwise.

DO NOT use me as a ' resource blog ' for new followers, meaning: if we became mutuals and didn't establish no interaction, don't scroll through my blog adding everyone you see on sight. I welcome my followers becoming mutuals, however, if you plan to make me a 'springboard' for new followers, I will block you on sight.

Using me for my male characters will not slide. It will lead to me losing interest and  dropping the tread. It happened a few times and I am just tired of it. This includes 'half-assing' the threads while giving the best for the females, focusing just on the ship where I play the male and obviously neglecting the ship where you play the male. I have twice as many male characters than female, but I love my girls just as much. Fair play is something I highly appreciate.

I will not interact with blogs that have all female characters nor single female muse blogs.

I am a detailed role player:  lit. / advanced lit. / novella style . (The choice between short replies and novella depends on my role play partner’s style and my time)

Font: small + GIFs (medium)

My  OCs are not tied to a specific universe, so they are open for cross-overs,  various settings and interaction with OC and CANON characters.

I try to respond on daily bases but as we all , I have obligations so please be patient. Some days some muses are high and others low, and I do write based on my inspiration. Please know that if I responded to someone and not you, that does not mean I am ignoring you, it just means I am either busy or the muse is low. I despise writing bad responses, so know I am just trying to give you a quality response, so that is why it might be longer sometimes.

No controlling my characters. You write yours, I'll write mine.

I  am flexible, always open to ideas, after all, I see role playing as something both parties should enjoy, so do not hesitate to DM me and we  can figure something out :)

I role play through threads / reblogs and Discord.

Playlists, memes, mood boards, or casual ‘thirsting’ over our characters? YES PLEASE AND THANK YOU! I love OOC talks about our muses and generally commenting on them and  their situations, so never hesitate to jump right into my DM and let the  fun begin!

Triggers: I only have one trigger - animal abuse. Any type of mistreating animals is NOT acceptable here.

Will NOT tolerate : Ince*t. R*pe, Underage, scat..and similar things!

When it comes to SMUT, writing some heated moments leading to the ‘main course’ is fine, but I would prefer to ‘fade to black’ once the ‘fireworks’ starts. There might be some exceptions, depending on the thread.

Warning: This blog will contain heavy topics such as mental abuse, manipulation, trauma, gore…etc. Please proceed with caution.

[legends-of-time]

Amelia’s Story (BBC Merlin Story)

Chapter 3: Becoming Too Real

Masterlist

Just one week after Amelia had met Ygraine and Uther, disaster happens. She's laying on her blanket outside while Helen relaxes in a chair when a messenger on a horse arrives at the house. At first, she does not realise anything is wrong until she hears shocked gasps coming from Helen.

"George! George!" Cries Helen. "You will never believe what happened!"

"What is it, Helen?" George says confusedly as he steps out of their home as he hears his wife's cries.

"It is the Queen! She went into labour too early and has passed!" Helen sobs. This makes Amelia confused as she swears Ygraine had another month at least.

George clearly shares a her confusion, "but she was not due for another month! She said so herself!"

"It was shock that caused her to go into giving birth prematurely," Helen explains. "She had just gotten a letter that her sister had died."

"Vivienne? But she was so well." George comments still sounding very confused.

"They found her in the woods. She had a servant to hand her sister a letter she had written and then ran off." Helen exclaims. What happened in the woods?

"Poor Morgana and Gorlois!" George cries. "Uther as well. Did the baby survive?"

"Yes, a healthy baby boy. An heir."

This whole situation is overwhelming. George and Helen obviously believe that as Amelia is only a month old baby and she won't understand what they are talking about. The show never really explained what happened to Morgana and Morgause's mother. It does sound very dodgy though. Vivienne simply rode into the woods after telling someone to send a letter to her sister before being found dead. What happened in the woods and what was in that letter that caused Ygraine's early labour?

Amelia knows that the Great Purge is going to begin now. Uther likely used magic to impregnate his wife as he did in the show and now he is going to punish thousands of innocent people for something they cannot control to lessen his guilt. It is also going to make a lot of people angry and vengeful and this causes her mind to drift towards Morgause. She is likely with the High Priestesses at the Isle of the Blessed by now. Though Amelia knows she does not need to worry about Morgause for a while.

——

Amelia does not meet Morgana or Arthur, however, until she is 3 years old. It is another trip to the Castle. She has not returned since Ygraine's death and Arthur's birth but George has and sometimes Helen too. This means that Amelia has not had the opportunity to meet Arthur or Morgana. To be honest she is getting tired of waiting.

When they arrive in the Council Chambers, the Court seems more sombre than Amelia remembers and that partly might be due to the fact that Uther is not as joyful himself as he was when she first met him. She straightens herself uncomfortably and tries not to start tugging at her long brown hair that's been half pinned up.

They are announced once again by the herald, which still makes Amelia jump, and then all three of them begin walking towards where Uther sits at the other end of the Hall.

"Helen, George, it is good to see you," Uther utters. "You do not come often enough." He gives them a small smile.

"We apologise, Sire," George answers respectfully. "I hope you remember our daughter Amelia?" At the sound of her name, Amelia steps from Helen's side and curtsies like Helen and her Nanny had taught her. Uther simply looks at her with a sad glance.

"My my you've grown haven't you?" This unnerves Amelia slightly and she does not respond until she feels Helen nudge her side with a leg.

"Thank you, Your Majesty," Amelia says quietly.

Uther then beckons a woman that Amelia had noticed over to them and when she did a small mop of blonde hair pops from behind her and a pair of blue eyes like hers watching Amelia. After analysing him for a minute, Amelia realises that this must be Arthur.

"This is my son Arthur," Uther states proudly. "I am sure the two of you are going to be the best of friends." This causes Arthur to turn his stare toward her and shyly give her a smile while Amelia returns it.

"Nanny why don't you take the two of them to the Nursery," Uther orders. "I am sure that Gorlois's daughter is already there with her own Nanny."

"Yes, Sire," the Nanny murmurs before taking Arthur's hand as well as Amelia's. She looks toward Helen, who gives her an encouraging smile.

The Nanny then begins to lead Arthur and Amelia down the hall away from the Council Chambers. They walk down many halls not speaking a word to each other until they arrive at another door. Arthur's Nanny knocks and the door opens to reveal another woman.

"Your Highness," the woman utters curtsying. "Nanny Grey, My Lady." She opens the door.

The three of them step into a room of considerable size even though this is a room for one child. Royals. The room must be inside one of the Castle's turrets as it is of a round nature. There is the obvious cot in the corner with expensive white silks hanging over it and opposite the cot, on the other side of the room is a large window with the same type of silk as the cot framing it. There is also a door on one side that Amelia doesn't know where it leads.

After analysing this, she then notices a young girl with dark hair that might as well of been cut from the same cloth as the silk on the cot and curtains and skin that makes it obvious that she dinot see the sun often in the middle of the room playing. Morgana.

"My Lady? Arthur is back and he's brought a new friend for all of you to play with." The woman, who opened the door, speaks in a clear calm voice. This causes Morgana to glance up and run up to them with a doll in her hands.

She looked at Amelia and bluntly asks, "Who are you?"

"Lady Morgana!" Her Nanny immediately scolds. Amelia does not really mind and instead, she grabs Arthur's and Morgana's hands and pulls them towards the toys.

"I am Amelia by the way. We can be friends." Amelia says hoping that this will work because she genuinely does want to be friends with Morgana and get to know her.

"Alright then." She sniffs trying to act like she does not care when she does actually look interested. "Let us all play."

As they begin to play Arthur then pipes up, "Can I be friends with you too?"

"Of course," Amelia says warmly thinking how adorable Arthur looks at this age, it makes her want to squash his cheeks.

——

Just as Amelia hopes, they all grow up close from that point on, of course, she and Morgana are not always in Camelot as Gorlois is still alive and Amelia has her own home with George and Helen. However, they visit often especially on special events, birthdays for example. Wanting to be good friends with the two of them on one hand stems from her obsession with the show and wanting to get to know the characters and on the other hand, it comes from her want to full fill Ygraine's wish that they would be close.

Of course, it is not always fun and games. During this time since Arthur's birth, Uther has been executing anyone with some type of magic. Due to the fact that Amelia is to everyone a very small child, she is mostly kept away from the brutality of the Great Purge. Though whenever he can, Uther will bring up his view, what he sees as the correct view, that magic is evil.

When she and Arthur are old enough to have lessons, Helen, George and Amelia move to the Castle, as Morgana had a year earlier, so that she can join Morgana with her Governess while Arthur is having his own separate lessons to prepare him for being King. The only lesson they all share is being taught to sword fight, which Helen is not happy with as she does not see this as very ladylike but George and Gorlois feel that it is important for Amelia and Morgana to learn some type of self-defence.

Science is an interesting one due to the fact that it is not developed as it is in the 21st century, not that Amelia remembers all that she was taught but she remembers the odd thing, which completely contradicts what she is being taught in Camelot.

One obvious topic that all three of them are taught is the evilness of magic, which annoys Amelia cause this is Uther's attempt to brainwash all of them. She often openly disagrees with her Governess over this and of course, this is reported back to Uther. He often lectures her on how she is only young and does not truly understand the world. Amelia still argues back and from seeing her do this, Morgana often backs her up, which Amelia is grateful for as she is still only small and Uther is very imposing.

However, one day when Amelia is six, Uther has enough and decides to show what happens to people who practise magic and those that help them. Her first execution. Amelia has never seen anyone die in her life ever, especially witnessing someone lose their head. People like Gaius, who she has gotten to know well whenever she needs medical help, George and Helen try to persuade Uther from doing this but he argues that she needs to be taught what happens to those who are 'evil' Sorcerers. He seems the type of parent to give tough treatment, to show children the harsh reality.

It is not a day that you would forget. Amelia remembers being led to the Balcony by a servant that she does not recognise, she is kept near the back though while Uther stands at the front for all to see. Then the drumbeat begins, Amelia sees two Guards begin to lead the young woman towards the execution block that is in the middle of the Square, surrounded by a large enough crowd. Uther begins his speech about the 'justice' that is going to happen and the 'evilness' of this person as Guards lead the woman up the steps of the stand the block sits on. Amelia admires this woman for her strength as while looking like she is about to cry, she is able to control her emotions and be calm despite the fact that she is going to die.

As the woman begins to kneel down and place her head on the block, Amelia begins to feel her blood gushing in her ears, she feels like her heart is beating so loud that everyone can hear it and she half expects Uther to turn around and scold her but he does not. Amelia watches the executioner lift up the axe and begin to lower it when Uther gives him the signal.

(A/N: this next chapter is a bit descriptive so if you don't like that skip this next paragraph)

The axe seems to be moving in slow motion and even though Amelia knows that she should turn her eyes away from the scene so she will not see the woman lose her head, she cannot turn her eyes away from it. It gets nearer and nearer until there is a thump. The woman's head falls to the floor, blood pouring from where the head used to be making Amelia feel sick, but the worst bit is seeing how her body carries on twitching for a few moments before going still.

Her heart is beating so loud that Amelia does not hear the gasps of the crowd nor Uther calling her name, she can only see the woman's body and the Guards putting her head into a basket.

"Amelia, Amelia," Uther cries, but in concern, before grabbing her small shoulders so that Amelia would look at him tearing her gaze from the horrific sight in front of her. "Do you understand Amelia? Do you understand that I do this to protect you from the evil magic causes?"

Amelia only stares at him before fleeing from the Balcony towards Gaius's Chambers where she hopes to find him leaving Uther yelling her name.

——

A/N: Please leave comments on how you're enjoying this story and what you think.

[moss-covered-thoughts]

Whooaa I mean the whole psychological manipulation thing goes hard, that's terrifying. It's also differently terrifying to imagine him, essentially in a kind of low-key sedated state? Cuz...yeah it makes sense why he would never have tried to get back to his friends, get back to his family if he's on good terms with them, but yeah his "check-ins" consisting of them reading over his bio signs, growth developments (it's so w e i r d ghosts are dead, they shouldn't grow), they def keep him as a live subject as a halfa, they make him go thru exercises where he uses his powers, transforms, they measure it mid-transition like how Vlad wanted to do that one time. And at the end of each check in, they give him a small dose, maybe oral or just needle, give him some praise (they've learned it responds well to positive reinforcement).

Danny feels a little more light headed than usual the day they give it to him, but it's okay, he knows it's important, it helps him sleep. The next day he's back to normal, his anxiety has almost completely disappeared since they started their study, and the rest of the time he's encouraged to engage in his usual activities. So he goes to school, studies, still goes out as a ghost at night, and the only thing he has to do is keep a little device around his neck (it's not a collar of course, it's loose enough he could comfortably remove it) and a wrist bracelet (again, not tight, it's okay), it tracks what he does, what elevates his energy levels (signatures go up same as hear rate, theyve found, how fascinating). Danny feels a bit weird about it, since he had the idea for so long to always keep his vigilantism a secret. It's also weird because he knows he's never really alone, never has time for himself. Every once in a while, he thinks about just wandering, looking up at the stars and just wanting to go visit. He tried it once, just to get a nasty shock that he wasn't expecting. He had cried, moreso because he didn't understand why it had happened, and he went home. They were waiting for him. Calmly explained that his flying was restricted to the area needed for his patrols, but he couldn't go too far away. They had given him another dose and he didn't cry about it again, just kept relatively close by.

Just an interesting set of mental dynamics there that are super sad:((( also makes me wonder if Tim and the bats got him out, however that is, or at least get to him, and they're trying to help, would he refuse. would he insist he's fine??

Now let's say they totally get him out, away from the cameras and they remove/negate the tracker and other devices on him. Let's say a few weeks passes as he's trying to adjust, but they can tell somethings off. He's sometimes unresponsive, he spooks easily, he seems uncertain how they're treating him. They're being kind of course, and gentle, but it's like he's waiting for them to snap at him. He feels like something is wrong. And then after a couple weeks, he starts getting unexplainably sick. Becomes lethargic, tired all day, and then gets cold symptoms and eventually a fever that lasts a few days. They realize the sedative the GIW had been giving him was also having withdrawal effects, having been on it so consistently for long. When it clears up after a nasty week where Danny really.onpy talked to Tim, and shied away from everyone else, he comes out one day, looking around like he's confused where he is. Tim and the others maybe are sitting at the breakfast table, Bruce is carefully watching his face, and he looks at all of them like "how long have I been here?" And Bruce slowly answers, knowing the number of days off the top of his head, and Danny is looking slightly panicked now. Tim stands up and goes to him like, you alright there?? And Danny, a hand on his chest where his anxiety is raging, looks scared. He looks so scared, it puts a pit in Bruce's gut, and danny responds "I think something's wrong with me, i-i don't know.... I don't know why I'm here-- it's like, it's like I can't remember--" and Bruce interjects like "you dont have any memory how you got here?'" and Danny shakes his head like "I remember, I just don't understand"

"Date? Me?'

Tim nods, milkshake in hand, sitting outside of McDonald's with his study buddy, Danny.

The other teen looked flabbergasted with a firm blush building up.

Tim found him utterly adorable.

"I can't date anyone? I'm property of.the goverment."

Tim Drake-Wayne, aka Red Robin, has various questions to that statement.

[roseyange]

sleeping with mammon

♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧

♡ reader is referred to by you/yours !

◇ fluff !

♡ there is a chapter 20 spoiler, and it is very slightly angst, but it is marked where it starts and stops!

◇ I don't think there is anything else, so please enjoy!!

♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧

Mammon loves you so much. he is constantly with you, an arm around your shoulder, hand interlocked with yours, a hand laying on your leg. legit anytime you are in reach of him, he is touching you. if you can't be together, then he is texting you. sending you pictures of what he's doing, sending screenshots from funny posts he sees on Devitter or links to songs he listening to that he thinks you would like. to put it simply, this demon LOVES loves you.

one other thing he loves about as much as he loves you? sleeping with you. while he enjoys taking you out on dates and showing you off, and the more intimate moments between you two. he would do anything to have you in his arms, peacefully sleeping, enjoying the calm moments with your lover. he can't lie, the first time you fell asleep together, he woke up in the middle of the night to get a drink, but ended up watching you sleep. the peaceful look on your face, your soft breathing, and the small smile that tugged at the side of your lips every once in a while. he wanted to know what you were dreaming about, to wake you from your slumber and ask you what was making you smile like that in a dream, where anything was possible. he would never admit it at the time, but he so badly wanted it to be about him. making you smile in your waking state was one thing ( that he loved and strived to do every waking hour ) but to be the reason you were smiling in your dream land? it made his heart flutter at the thought.

the longer your relationship goes on, the more of a habit sleeping together becomes. when you first started dating, it was somewhat common for Mammon to come to your room in the dead of night when he couldn't sleep. he'd crawl into bed next to you and fall asleep almost instantly. he insisted he only did it because there was something about your human world laundry detergent you used that made him fall asleep so easly. you didn't have the heart to tell him that you stopped using human world detergent when you last ran out a month prior. but now, like clock work, one of you find the other crawling into each other's bed every night. it was never talked about, it was just something that started happing, a mutual agreement of sorts.

he of course, has a few favorite places to fall asleep with you

your room

you have the comfiest bed Mammon has ever felt. your bed is comfortable, your pillows are fluffy, your sheets are soft, and your blankets are warm. when he sleeps in your room, you practically have to drag him out of bed the next morning. he refuses to get out just because how dream like your bed feels.

the love he feels waking up in your arms while in your bed is enough to kill him sometimes. to know how loved he is, how his presence is wanted in your bed, how you hold onto him and fit next to him so perfectly even in a sleeping state. it makes him feel so unbelievably loved.

always on your bed. no matter what, he is on your bed.

( chapter 20 spoiler )

once you left, he wouldn't leave your room. he would lay in your bed all day, hands resting where your body used to lay next to him. he would hug your pillow and cry, missing the way you would had cupped his face and asked him what was wrong. holding him while he cried. he tried to imagine you there with him, but it only made it so much worse. ( end of spoilers )

when he gets tired and you are working on homework or just not right next to him, he will call your name and pull up the covers for you. the warm bed and your sleepy boyfriend beckoning you to go lay down.

you always give in

his room

his heart will always skip a beat when you knock on his door and peak your head in, letting him know it's you.

he likes his bed, and he rarely has issues sleeping in it, but when you are next to him sleeping, he will always be out like a light.

he bought a blanket for you because you complained about how cold he kept his room. he will always have it sitting on the back of his couch incase you need it.

he loves watching movies with you on the couch. him laying on his back with you in between his legs, head resting on his chest while you both watch your favorite movies. you can't even begin to count the amount of times you two have fallen asleep like that.

when Mammon sleeps in his room, he always has music playing softly. he will never admit it, but classical music is one of his favorites to fall asleep to. the music once seeped into his dream, and he dreamed that he was dancing with you at some sort of royal ball. he will never forget how stunning you looked in that dream, and anytime he hears the song his heart skips a beat.

his car

this has only ever happened a few times, but he thinks about it alot.

one warm summer night, Mammon took you on a drive around the Devildom. you ended up on some long forgotten road that overlooked the ocean, forest surrounding the rest of you.

you two snuggled up in the back seat, looking up at the stars, pointing out constilations and telling each other stories.

the warm night and the comforting atmosphere slowly lulled both of you into sleep. holding onto each other lovingly as the world slowed around you.

it had only been an hour and a half before you woke up, realizing the situation before waking Mammon.

having enjoyed the peace and quiet away from HOL, you both made sure to go out on your little star gazing date more after that.

a hotel

this one may seem a little weird, but hear me out.

Mammon loves to spoil you. anything you want ( if his wallet allows ) he gets you. he loves taking you on road trips and lavish dates.

one date he took you for a night out on the town, then staying in the penthouse suite of the top rated hotel in the Devildom.

that night in the suite, he would crawl into the bed behind you, wrapping a arm around your middle while he planted soft kisses on the crown of your head. you both looking out the giant windows facing out to the skyline of the Devildom. He would point at places he recognized, like one of the RAD dorms and one of his favorite casinos.

Mammon looked at you lovingly while you looked out the window, talking about an experience you and Asmo had had at a night club just around the corner. his arms would tighten around you, pulling you closer into him as his eyes started getting heavy. your honey like voice pulling him into a deep sleep.

you almost instantly realized your boyfriend had fallen asleep. by his chest slowly rising and falling, to the way his grip loosened around you.

you gently turned around, making sure not to wake him. you couldn't help but watch him. his face soft and peaceful, being able to see the small smile lines he had on his cheeks. his hair fell lazily into his face, and you had to resist the urge to brush it away. you noticed the citrine necklace you had gifted him was tucked protectively into his tank top so it wouldn't move around while he slept.

you placed a gentle kiss on his nose before snuggling into his chest, making yourself comfortable as you also slowly drifted off to sleep.

a smile pulled on Mammons lips in his sleep, him dreaming about your lives together in the future.