#i was just trying to play some background music while i read my little bedtime stories and this started playing

[she-atti-on-my-lyus]

need someone to make a gut wrenching edit of joel and ellie to emily, i’m sorry by boygenius asap

[darkshelbyfiction]

The Nanny Diaries (Part One)

Pairing: Cillian Murphy x Innocent Reader

Warning: Dark Cillian has an innocence kink...Smut...Infidelity...Dub Con

It had been three months since you started working for Cillian and Lorna Murphy, looking after their two young children Sienna and Mitch.

You had recently turned eighteen and left your small town in America, eager to see the world beyond your front door so, moving to Dublin, was the perfect opportunity for you.

Through a family friend, who was an actor as well, you were given the chance to work as an Au Pair for the famous Irish actor who, with his wife and children, lived in a beautiful country estate just outside Dublin city, surrounded by vast gardens filled with flowers and trees.

Their home was like a sanctuary where nature merged seamlessly into luxury - wooden floors, high ceilings adorned with original works of art and large bay windows which looked out onto acres of greenery.

Their children were absolutely adorable.

Little Sienna was full of energy, running all over the place, whilst little Mitch would be curled up watching cartoons quietly. At first, it seemed strange, but gradually you found yourself enjoying every moment spent playing games, reading bedtime stories and preparing meals for them.

The only person whose company made you feel slightly nervous, however, was Cillian himself. You felt a strange and somewhat forbidden attraction towards this 45 year old man, something no one could quite understand considering how close he was to your father’s age.

However, being strictly catholic and engaged to young man back home, you brushed this off as simply being star struck and though Cillian wasn't exactly flirtatious, there was something undeniably captivating about him.

Cillian soon noticed the way you looked at him, the subtle flush of excitement that crossed your face when he walked into the room, and despite his own marriage status, he began making excuses to get closer to you. His constant praise made you blush, while the lingering glances gave you butterflies in your stomach.

One evening after Lorna had gone to bed, Cillian invited you to listen to some music with him in the dimly lit living room.

There was a comforting familiarity in the scent of leather, polished wood and roaring embers in the fireplace as you sat down beside him on the plump sofa. For some reason, your heart skipped a beat as you sank deeper into the soft upholstery and Cillian silently handed you a glass of wine and smiled.  

"You did well today. Thanks for looking after them so diligently," Cillian acknowledged just as you traced the contours of his strong jaw line with your eyes.

"They are good kids. Despite, looking after them, is my job," you stammered in response. You couldn't help feeling nervous around this man, even more now since it was just the two of you.

"Still, it's nice not having to worry. So, thank you," Cillian said while leaning back into the couch, crossing one leg over another. "It can be quite draining sometimes looking after them."

"It can be," you smiled while your cheeks reddened as you tried not to stare at him openly. For a moment silence enveloped the space before you continued speaking softly, barely audible enough for him to hear properly.

"So you like Portishead, huh?" you asked, changing the topic to music as their album "Glorybox" was playing in the background. His face shifted to curiosity briefly, then turned serious again as he reached out slowly to brush his hand over your knee. 

"I do. How about you? he asked, turning his head towards you.  "Do you like their music?" he then asked and you felt a mix of fear and excitement surging through your body upon the sudden contact - your heart raced faster, and a warmth seemed to rise up inside you as his fingers caressed gently along your thigh. Trying hard to maintain composure, you responded casually yet uneasily.

"I do," you managed to utter softly as his fingers traced higher along your inner thigh. As his hand lingered there uninvited, your breath quickened involuntarily – a mixture of panic and arousal coursing through your veins. It wasn't right, what he was doing, but still, deep within you, a primal urge took hold.

"How is your boyfriend? Are things good between you?" Cillian prodded, leaning closer as he spoke. You could feel his breath tickling your ear as he whispered these words, sending chills down your spine despite yourself. Your hands trembled lightly, unsure whether to push him away or surrender to his advances, caught somewhere between terror and thrilling anticipation.

"He...uhm...yes... he is good," you stammered as his fingers dipped deeper beneath your skirt, brushing against your underwear teasingly, causing a wave of heat to ripple throughout your core.

Aware of the danger you were in, a part of you wanted to resist, while another desperately desired to succumb to his touch, craving the sensuality he offered with such intensity. 

"Do you miss him?" Cillian asked quietly, almost tenderly while his fingers ran circles over your moistening panties.

Unable to think clearly due to the intensity of his advances, you struggled to find your voice. Involuntarily, your mouth hung open, dazed by the sensations that flowed through your body.

"I do miss him, yes," you finally murmured, unable to meet his eyes, as you fought to quell the desire rising up inside you. This was wrong, terribly wrong, but why did it feel so right?

"Do you miss him touching you like this?" Cillian asked huskily as, finally, he pushed aside the wet fabric of your knickers, allowing his finger to slide tantalisingly over your wet slit.

"He never..." you mumbled hesitantly, trying to regain control of both your mind and body, struggling to ignore the growing sense of guilt mixed with exhilaration that consumed you. 

"He never what?" Cillian challenged, his tone darkening as his finger continued to explore the sensitive folds between your legs. One of his fingers began to push its way inside you, penetrating your tight entrance gently yet firmly, eliciting gasps and whimpers from you as pleasure ricocheted through your body. 

"He never touched me down there before," you admitted reluctantly, knowing it wouldn't matter anyway because you knew deep down that this went far beyond mere physical exploration.

"Really?" Cillian queried with disbelief, pulling his fingers free from your quivering passage before pushing it in again, harder this time, his thumb pressing rhythmically against your clitoris. You let out a strangled cry, lost in the throes of ecstasy as your entire body writhed in pleasure.

"Have you ever touched yourself like this?" Cillian questioned deeply, his tone laced with raw passion, drawing a sharp intake of air from you. You didn't answer immediately, too absorbed in the exquisite sensations consuming your body. But eventually, the truth emerged haltingly from your lips.

"No. It's not allowed," you confessed seeing that you were strictly catholic, ashamed of admitting the fact aloud, wishing to sink into the floor beneath you.

"Do you want me to stop?" Cillian asked softly, lifting his hand away from your drenched crotch to rest it once more on the armrest of the couch. Your mind reeled as the erotic spell broke, leaving you feeling bewildered and confused.

Despite the intensity of the encounter, you shook your head defiantly, determined not to allow yourself to be further enticed.

"Alright. Can you take off your panties for me then?" Cillian commanded authoritatively, breaking the momentary awkwardness. His eyes bore into yours, demanding obedience. Reluctantly, you nodded, sliding your skirt lower until your knickers slipped off easily, exposing your naked thighs and pussy. The bold act sent shockwaves through your system, filling you with a potent cocktail of shame and arousal. Cillian observed you hungrily, appreciating the sight of your supple curves and smooth skin.

With determination in his eyes, he reached for your exposed thighs, rubbing his palms alluringly up and down them until his fingers found your wet labia. Gently cupping your sex, he teased you playfully, watching closely as your breath caught in your throat and your pupils widened with desire. 

His erection strained against his jeans, making your nipples perk up in response.

He then inserted not one but two of his thick digits into your dripping core gently, feeling the resistance of your virginity as he thrust them in and out as small streak of blood trickled onto his fingers.

There was some discomfort in your expression, partly due to the pain caused by your first sexual experience but also fueled by anxiety and confusion regarding the situation.

Inside you, your mind wavered between feelings of remorse and yearning satisfaction as his powerful hands controlled your movements, taking command of your pleasure.

As he moved inside you, his touch became firmer, his pace picking up speed, creating a sensation unlike anything you had ever known before. Your whole body ached, your muscles twitching with the force of the waves crashing through you.

"You are incredibly tight," Cillian remarked approvingly, withdrawing his fingers momentarily only to plunge them back in again with greater fervor. His rough hands expertly navigated your insides, working you mercilessly, ignoring the protest of your uninitiated flesh. Each penetration drove a fresh wave of pleasure through your body, your nerves firing rapidly, setting every inch of your skin ablaze until, suddenly, you couldn't hold back any longer.

With a loud moan escaping your lips, you eventually came undone and Cillian covered your mouth with the palm of his free hand as your body  began convulsing violently in orgasm.

"Sssh, we don't want to wake up Lorna," he chuckled quietly as your vision swam as your world turned upside down, your entire focus narrowed down to the sensations washing over you. Aftershocks radiated through your limbs, causing tiny tremors to run up and down your body as if electric currents surged through your very soul.

Breathless and flushed, you collapsed back into the embrace of the couch, exhausted and invigorated simultaneously as Cillian carefully withdrew his fingers from inside your body. 

Wetness and a tiny amount of blood tickled down onto the leather fabric on which you were sitting as your heart hammered wildly in your chest.

Cillian smiled devilishly at you, amused by how quickly he had brought you to climax, and you felt both grateful and somewhat shocked.

Your stomach squirmed with a strange mix of emotions: gratitude, humiliation, and embarrassment battled furiously amongst themselves. Your cheeks reddened with a combination of both physical stimulation and shame.

"I shouldn't have done that," you muttered, attempting to make sense of your own behaviour. You had committed a sin against God and your morals, and now, here you were - wanting more of it.

The thought scared you, but something stirred deep within you, telling you it would be foolish to dismiss it entirely. There was a power to this darkness that held an addictive quality, like the forbidden fruit you had just sampled.

"You seemed to have enjoyed it though," Cillian smirked. His statement carried undertones that left no doubt as to what he meant just as you both were startled by Lorna who came walking down the stairs to fetch herself a drink from the fridge.

Quickly, you adjusted your skirt to cover your slightly bruised and still wet entrance before hastily grabbing your discarded knickers. Cillian, without missing a beat, made himself appear nonchalant, leaning casually against the armrest beside you.

Lorna looked curiously at the both of you, remarking "It seems quite late. You should come to bed Cillian", unaware of the recent events transpiring.

"I will be up in just a minute love". Cillian lied, hoping to prolong the interaction with you for just a little bit longer but, unfortunately for him, you decided to head to your room instead, claiming tiredness.

After you closed the door behind you, the tension dissolved slightly and Cillian sighed audibly, running his hand through his messy locks, visibly conflicted, pondering on about what happened. 

Even as he prepared for sleep later that evening, right next to his wife, he couldn't help but dwell upon the enchanting image of you submitting to his touch, succumbing under his influence. Something about your innocence intrigued him even more than other women had. Perhaps it was the challenge you presented—the thrill of dominance over someone who belonged to another man.

Or maybe it was the sweet, lingering aftertaste of guilt you left on his tongue whenever he took liberties with your pure body. Whatever the reason, he simply could not resist pursuing you further despite the danger it posed to his marriage.

Meanwhile, you too, were laying in bed, thinking about what had transpired. 

Your mind raced through memories of your earlier interactions with Cillian – his confidence, his touch, his mannerisms. There was that secret part of you that craved more contact, regardless of where it might lead. This newfound curiosity frightened you almost as much as it excited you. 

You wondered what it would be like to touch him the way he had touched you, whether his experienced body would respond to you as you did to him. For so long, the idea of intimacy had been taboo for you, yet somehow, those strict boundaries seemed to shift when it came to Cillian. 

Your core ached from the intrusion, and your cheeks burned with indignation, but there was a spark of excitement that lit up deep within you as well. 

You wanted him to do this again and you knew that this was wrong and so did he. 

[asher-agere]

BSD agere headcanons (Part 3)

I’m back now with part 3 of my BSD agere headcanons! I’m on such a roll! Part 3 is as promised… The Guild! I struggled with some of these since I don’t understand all their characters the best, but I still did my best! And I hope you’re able to enjoy my thoughts!

⭒༺♰༻⭒Guild⭒༺♰༻⭒

Fitzgerald is definitely a caregiver. He loves getting to spend his money on his little! He’ll buy them everything they could ever possibly want and then some. Outfits, pacifiers, toys, teethers, cute dishes. Literally anything and everything. He’s also super fun to play with! If his little one is playing pretend sometimes he’ll get confused, a little lost in the story, but he’ll pretend he knows what’s going on! He loves being in a father role. If his little one calls him any kind of father like nickname he might start crying, but they’re happy tears!

Melville is also a caregiver I feel. He’d like to tell his baby plenty of stories and he’d have the Moby Dick fly around them in its tiny form! He loves making everything ocean themed. Ocean themed pacifiers, sippy cups, stuffed animals, onesies. All of it! He’ll play ocean noises in the background, perhaps even some sailor tunes quietly! He likes to rock his little one a lot. He’ll even invest in a rocking chair for that purpose. He encourages drawing over coloring! He wants to fuel their creativity!

Louisa is definitely a regressor. She’s just a little baby! I mean look at her. I think she’d regress from like 1-3. She’s always very nervous! She gets scared and cries easily. Almost always non-verbal and wants a pacifier. Most of the time she regresses involuntarily and just wants to be held, but if her caregiver calms her down enough she does like to color! She loves having stories read to her. Also loves picnics! If her or her caregiver have a garden that’s where she wants to be! Blocked off from the big scary world, but still outside! A perfect balance

Poe I can see either way. As a little he’d regress pretty tiny, 1-4. He likes listening to classical music in the background while his caregiver reads him a story. Maybe he’ll look out a window and color. He loves playing with Karl! Makes the baby giggle so much. As a caregiver he’d spoil his little one rotten in every possible way. He’d buy them so much stuff, and shower them in praise and affection. He’ll even teach himself new stuff just for his baby! If his little one has long hair he’ll learn how to style it, he’d be willing to learn how to sew clothes, he’ll also write them bedtime stories! Sometimes even interactive ones using his ability

Lovecraft I can see as a regressor! He’d regress to a toddler age I think, like 4-7. But he’d be completely non-verbal. He’s perfectly capable of talking, he just won’t. He doesn’t cry either, he’s not the most expressive. He will laugh though! He likes collecting “weird” stuffed animals. Fantasy creatures mainly, things that aren’t usually considered normal. I think at first he wouldn’t understand he’s regressing, he’d need someone to explain it to him. He’d try being independent, if he can he should right? He’d need a caregiver that would step in saying things like “Let me do that for you little one”

I think Steinbeck would be a caregiver! He loved his family, a little one is just an addition to that! He loves making them little bowls of fruit for snacks, especially grapes of course. He’d like taking his little one to his farm and showing them around, letting them help in the tiny ways they can. He’d also do matching outfits! They could match overalls and he’d buy them a hat! If it falls off that’s ok, he’ll pick it up and hold onto it for them. I think he’d be pretty good at reading stories too! He’d try to do a bunch of funny accents, and usually not do great- Which would make his baby laugh!

Lucy is definitely a regressor! Poor baby girl just wants friends. I think she’d regress from like 2-5. If she’s in a younger headspace she struggles to talk, but she’ll still happily babble! In a bigger headspace she can be sassy, better watch out with this one! She LOVES stuffed animals. She wants to fill Anne’s room with them, she’ll mainly regress in Anne’s room because she feels safe in there and it’s easy to access. She loves stories! If her caregiver is reading her a story she’ll constantly interrupt with her own ideas! Sometimes that just means baby babbles, but her caregiver is still expected to listen!

I think I see Margaret as a caregiver? She’s been shown to have a caring and protective side. I think her little would grow very attached to her voice due to how defined her accent is making her voice stand out. Therefore stories and lullabies become consistent. I think she’d make light use of her ability to have things fly around to entertain her little, being careful of course nothing truly weathers away. She’d love dressing up her baby! Lots of pretty outfits. She’d also like being outside with her little one! She likes feeling the wind

Mark would be a little! He’s more in the toddler age range, 3-7. He loves going exploring on adventures! He always makes Huck Finn and Tom Sawyer play with him too! He can be a fussy baby though. He doesn’t want to take a bath! Or stop to eat! Isn’t it obvious he’s having so much fun playing? But with a lottt of praise he’ll be willing! He always wants to feel like he made the choice though, never wants to be ordered around. Being ordered around isn’t very adventurous. Bath time can also be made more fun with bath toys! He just wants all the toys to play with

I definitely see Hawthorne as more of a caregiver. He’d be very doting, setting up a bedtime and all of that stuff! He’ll make home cooked meals and set up a cozy atmosphere with some candles and maybe even a fire in the fireplace while he watches a movie with his little one! He’d like rocking his little one to sleep while he reads them a bedtime story. He doesn’t buy anything excessively, he’s very responsible, however he always makes sure he has enough of everything. At least 3 of everything, always has rewards hidden away to reward good behavior, anything he could possibly need!

I hope you enjoyed my thoughts on these characters! I had fun examining the characters to understand them well enough to write this! Next up will be the Decay of Angels in honor of my Nikolai cosplay I finished for a Comic Con the other day!

[perksofbeingamaineiac]

January 29, 2024

I have been continuing to have the weirdest dreams that I am fully aware I am having. Murderers, robbery, weird ass shit. I really want to smoke some weed and see if it goes away. Maybe I need to play some music in the background while I sleep. I should try breathing before/until I fall asleep too.

My alarm went off at the same time I was waking up from one of those dreams, so instead of closing my eyes I decided to take advantage of the natural awakening and get up. Having some lemon water, which takes me forever to drink and will make me pee like a racehorse all morning. I also have my coffee lined up and ready to go.

I don't know what to expect from work this week. I am hoping today is the only day I need to be in the office. Tuesday, Wednesday, and Friday I am in the studio working longer days and Thursday would be nice to work from home since I have an appointment at 3:30 and will spend more time working if I don't need to travel. People don't get that though or care quite frankly. If you aren't working in the office, the mentality is you aren't working. Somehow not being in the office means you are unreachable, even if we have laptops and phones.

Braeden really wanted me to go watch him play hockey last night, so I did. We ended up getting home early enough that I could take a shower and do some research. I don't feel like I had a good enough bedtime, but I know he was happy that I went and I got some reading in. I won't be going to his Wednesday game this week and since I can't really come here the rest of the week, he's going to come to mine on Tuesday night. Which honestly makes me really happy that he's willing to put in that effort. Not that he hasn't in the past, I just continue to appreciate it. It takes a little bit of stress off of me to figure it out.

We had a really good weekend. We went skating on Friday, on Saturday we went to see Russel Peters, and yesterday we drove back and spent a lot of the day together. We weren't very productive but yesterday I think the recovery was needed. My period also showed up and has taken a toll on me.

Next weekend we are going to the cottage which I know is going to be a very relaxed weekend, besides all the travelling. I am looking forward to it though. Going to bring a book and my yarn and hopefully make a dent in this blanket.

Time to get ready for work.

Need to set February goals...

[nerdyfangirl67]

Home for Christmas - Criminal Minds Reader Insert (12 Days of Christmas)

Pairing: Hotch x fem!reader, Jack Hotchner x reader (maternal relationship

Warnings: angsty at the beginning, lots of Jack x reader moments, fluff ending!

Word count: 2431

A/N: Y/F/C/M stands for your favorite Christmas Movie and Y/N/N stands for your nickname. I also believe that Aaron is the kind of person who texts with correct grammar, although he may use sentence fragments if he is short on time, so that is incorporated into this one-shot. This one came to me while listening to a Christmas song, called “Home” by Blake Shelton and Michael Bublé (linked below). I really enjoyed the idea of this one (it may have gotten away from me a bit!)

Home by Blake Shelton ft. Michael Bublé

So here it is, hope y’all enjoy it! If you’re looking for another Christmas fic to read, check out my Mini-Series masterlist, where the rest of my Christmas one-shots are. 

I know there aren’t any Aaron x Jack moments in the story but this was the GIF I thought fit best :)

“Y/N, it 's Aaron. I, uh, I won’t be making it home in time for Christmas. We have yet to get a break in the case, so it could be another week before I’m home. I know you had a lot planned for Christmas, and I’m sorry I won’t be able to celebrate with you. I’ll try to call, but I can’t promise anything. I love you. Tell Jack I love him.” Aaron’s voice crackles in your ear as you listen to the voicemail he’d left you earlier, as in 3 am, that morning for the eighth time.

It had been the first time you had heard his voice in almost a week and part of you was overjoyed. The other part of you was exasperated. You knew he was dedicated to his work, you had known it since the two of you had started dating, but it still hurt. Every time he worked late and didn’t let you know hurt. Every time a case went longer than expected, it hurt. Every time you went to bed alone, his side of the bed untouched and cold, hurt. And it didn’t hurt any less now, despite your suspicions upon hearing the team had taken another case, so close to Christmas, that he would miss the holiday altogether. 

You let out a sigh as you stand up from where you had been sitting on the couch, wrapped in a Christmas throw blanket. You take your empty glass, which had been filled with your favorite holiday drink, into the kitchen and place it in the sink. You double-check the apartment door, making sure it was both deadbolted and locked (something Aaron had ingrained in you to do while he was away), before making your way towards the master bedroom. You stop at the door to Jack’s bedroom, cracking it open and using the light of the hallway to look at him. 

Jack was sprawled out in his bed, fast asleep. Tiptoeing into the room so as not to wake him, you reach his bed and pull the discarded comforter up off the floor, placing it on top of Jack and gently tucking him in. “Your daddy loves you Jack, and so do I.” You say softly, pressing a kiss to his forehead, giving him a long look, before making your way back out of his room. 

Upon reaching your bedroom, you head to Aaron’s dresser. You find one of his sweatshirts, well-worn and baggy, grab it from the drawer, and pull it on as you climb into bed. You didn’t typically wear his sweatshirts while he was home, but whenever he was away, it helped ease the ache created by his absence. After getting settled underneath the covers with your nose pressed into Aaron’s pillow, you soon fall asleep.

---

You are up early the next morning, quickly climbing out of bed before you realize that you have the next few days off, the 23rd (today) through the 26th for Christmas. You had used a few vacation days to extend your Christmas ‘vacation’, as you and Aaron (who had thought he would have had Christmas case-free) had wanted to spend time with Jack, as a family.

You couldn’t bring yourself to climb back into bed so you head downstairs, the idea of making breakfast for Jack coming to mind. Even though Aaron wouldn’t be home for Christmas, you still wished to make this Christmas special for Jack, just as you had planned to with Aaron. After going through your email and having a cup of your favorite morning beverage, you head into the kitchen. A few minutes of looking and you find your recipe for gingerbread waffles, a favorite from your childhood, and start gathering the ingredients.

Fifteen minutes later and you have your first batch of waffles made, bacon sizzling in a pan on the stove, and orange juice in glasses on the table. Christmas music is playing softly in the background when a small voice has you whipping around.

Jack is standing in the middle of the kitchen, his hair standing up at different angles on his head, and one of his hands sleepily rubbing his eyes. “Good mornin’ mama.” Despite not being his birth mother, Jack had been calling you mama since you had moved in with him and Aaron, over a year ago now. And every time you heard it, you were still overcome by joy.

You pull the boy into your arms, giving him a tight hug and a kiss on the cheek. “Hi bud. How’d you sleep?”

“I slept good mama. What are you making?” He asks curiously, peering around you to look at the stove. 

You stand and briskly stride back to the stove to flip the bacon and check on the waffle you had cooking before you turn back to Jack. “Gingerbread waffles and bacon.” You answer, plating one of the waffles and some bacon before bringing it to the table. “Here buddy. Eat up.” You said, placing the plate next to the glass of orange juice. Jack bounces to the table, sitting down and quickly digging in.

---

After breakfast, and a few games of twenty questions, you decide to take Jack to the ice skating rink not too far from the apartment. The two of you bundle up and hail a cab to the rink. You spend the five minute ride to the ice plex with Jack in your arms as the two of you play a game of “I Spy.” 

The cab reaches the ice rink, and after paying the driver you and Jack venture inside. You let out a laugh as he exclaims in excitement at all the trophies, fancy ice skates, and photos of skaters in the lobby. You rent a pair of skates for the two of you, before leading jack out to the seating around the rink. It takes you a few minutes to get skates on, and to help Jack with his but a few short minutes later the two of you are out on the ice. 

It is apparent that you are out of practice and try as you might, you fall several times. Jack is actually skating better than you and soon he is ‘teaching you’. 

“Mama, make sure you aren’t leaning backwards. That might be why you’re falling.” The nine, almost ten, year-old’s advice was helping you to stay on your feet for longer than thirty seconds. You had even started to move cautiously along the edge of the rink, with Jack skating confidently in front of you. The two of you stay out on the ice until Jack tells you he is cold. Admittedly, you were starting to get cold yourself, but you didn’t want to end Jack’s fun early. 

After ice skating, the two of you go to Jack’s favorite pizza place, a little Italian place (the boy had developed sophisticated taste buds, thanks to a certain David Rossi), within walking distance from the apartment. The two of you have a lunch filled with cheesy pizza, endless breadsticks (which both you and Jack enjoyed thoroughly), and lots of laughs.

Then, upon returning to the apartment, the two of you cuddle up on the couch and watch Christmas classics. You share with Jack some of the movies you had grown up watching (Y/F/C/M and Y/F/C/M) and he shares some his favorites with you (The Grinch and Santa Buddies).Your movie marathon only stops when you whip up a quick dinner, which the two of you eat in about ten minutes at the table, and when you get up and pop some popcorn for one of the movies. Jack stays up way past his bedtime, but knowing that neither of you have to get up early the next morning has you being more lenient with his bedtime. 

The next day passes in much of the same fashion. You and Jack take a walk, intent on finding the best Christmas decorations within walking distance. Although you had found some pretty cool decorations, Jack definitely won when he spotted the house decked out with a 12 Days of Christmas theme. Then the two of you stopped for lunch at one of the sidewalk vendors, something that Aaron probably would frown upon. 

After lunch, you and Jack went to a Christmas pop-up village, where you watched the ‘elves’ wrap presents and people take pictures with Santa. The two of you ordered deluxe hot chocolates and sat on a bench, listening to a choir sing Christmas carols. Jack sang along to the ones he knew and he even convinced you to sing along with some too. 

You two return to the apartment in late afternoon, shortly after which, the two of you start making Christmas cookies. You roll out the dough, while Jack stamps the cookie cutters into it, creating a variety of Christmas themed cookies. As the several batches of cookies bake, Jack reads to you from the kitchen’s small island as you follow the recipe for a sugar cookie frosting. When the cookies, and the frosting, are finished, you and Jack set to decorating the cookies. 

Three hours and an order of takeout later, and you have four dozen frosted cookies scattered across the kitchen counter tops, three bags of mostly eaten takeout, two empty mugs, and one frosting and crumb covered boy fast asleep on the couch.

You can’t help but smile as you look at the plate of cookies Jack decorated, not for Santa, but for Aaron when he returned from the case he was working on.There were several Santas, a Rudolph reindeer, a present, and a Christmas tree. As you cover the plate in plastic wrap, you can’t help but think that you would give just about anything to talk to Aaron for a while. It had been two days since he had left the voicemail, and since then all you had gotten were a few short texts. 

“Case progressing. Miss you and Jack.”

“Finally developed a profile. Love you Y/N/N.”

“Thought we had an unsub, but looks like we were wrong.”

“I love you and Jack. Wish I could be holding you both in my arms.”

You heave out a sigh and get to work doing the dishes from dinner and your baking escapade with Jack. The dishes, and tidying up of the kitchen, takes far longer than you want and it’s close to ten before you are gently waking Jack from the couch. You tenderly guide him down the hallway, making a pit stop in the bathroom to help wash some of the frosting off of Jack’s hands and face. After Jack is frosting free, with freshly brushed teeth and clean pajamas, you get him settled in bed. You read him “‘Twas the Night Before Christmas” and listen to him sleepily tell you about the gifts he thought might be under the tree, after which you tuck him in and give him a kiss good night. 

You take your time getting ready for bed, wishing the entire time that you would be crawling into bed with Aaron, where you would spend the rest of the night in his arms. But, alas, you are greeted with a cold, empty bed, which you reluctantly climb into as you shoot Aaron a quick text, wishing him a happy Christmas Eve and adding a short ‘I love you.’ You try to read a few pages in your latest book, but your mind isn’t into it. Instead you stare at the softly blinking Christmas lights shining in from the hallway, through the small crack between the door and the door jam, letting the rhythmic changing of the lights lull you to sleep.

---

You wake up to what sounds like the heavy apartment door swinging shut and the floorboards creaking, followed by a low thud and a muttering voice, which you can’t quite make out. Your heart is thudding wildly in your chest as you anxiously climb from the bed and tiptoe to the door of the bedroom. You can’t see any figures in the hallway, so you creep across the hall, placing a hand on the doorknob to Jack’s bedroom and noiselessly start to turn it open. You are so focused on opening the door and getting to Jack that you don’t notice the figure coming down the hallway towards you. A soft hand on your shoulder has you whipping around, landing a heavy hit with the heel of your hand to the intruder’s face. 

“Son of a-” You immediately recognize the voice as Aaron’s, which makes you gasp in shock.

“Aaron. I didn’t know it was you. I’m so sorry.” You say, as you start to fuss over him. You try to guide him to the bathroom, in hopes that you might be able to help him there, but his hands stop you. 

“Y/N, I’ll be alright. All I need is you in my arms.” His words, albeit a bit slurred (probably from the present throbbing in his face) bring a warm, fuzzy feeling into your chest and a cheesy grin to your face. You start to move towards the bedroom, but he pulls you close, scooping you up and easily carrying you back to the bed. The heat created by his body only leaves for a moment as you watch him, in the dull light, strip off his suit jacket and tie, before returning to your side. He pulls you incredibly close, his face in the crook of your neck breathing you in.

You don’t say anything, rather you just take comfort in his presence as you play with the small hairs at the back of his neck. “Gosh, I missed you.” He whispers, pressing a kiss to your collarbone before looking up into your eyes. One of his hands comes to rest on your cheek, his thumb tracing soft circles on your cheekbone. 

“Merry Christmas Y/N.” He says, giving you another kiss, this time on the lips. His kiss is slow and tender, as if he wanted to savor the moment and make it last as long as possible. 

Once you pull back, and catch your breath, you whisper, “Merry Christmas Aaron.”

He smiles at you, pressing another, much shorter, kiss to your lips. “I think I’ll wait for later in the morning to let Jack know I’m home; let it be a Christmas surprise for him.” He says, tightening his hold on you.

You smile back at him. “I think that’s a wonderful idea. For now, let me just appreciate my Christmas surprise.”

[ikeromantic]

7+ Sinful Snuggles

Obey Me minis with the 7 brothers plus - approx. 4k words of fluffiness and spice.

I’m Not Asleep

It was supposed to be a cram session, but barely an hour in, Belphie is nestled against your shoulder with his eyes closed. 

“I’m still listening,” he sighs when you poke him. “Just keep reading to me.” He snuggles closer as you continue reviewing the chapter on 11th century Demon Accords - which honestly, is boring enough that your own eyes keep sliding shut. Belphie’s head slips from your shoulder to your chest. He sighs happily. 

Determined to press on, you keep reading. Or you try to. His hands slip under your shirt to draw slow, lazy lines across your skin, working their way down to your hip. 

“B-Belphegor?” 

He doesn’t respond, but his face is set in a blissful smile. You could try to wake him, but why fight it? His touch feels good, so good you lean back into the pillows with your own sigh of happiness.

Snacking in Bed

Beel shows up to your room with popcorn and snacks to watch reruns of Iron Chef with you. You both reach for the choco-crickets at the same time, bumping hands. 

“You can have the last one,” he says, blushing. 

“Ok.” You grin playfully and pick it up, noting the ways his eyes track the candy. It’s too cute and you’d honestly feel bad eating it, so you hold it out, touching his lips. 

Surprised, his mouth opens, taking your fingers and the chocolate. He licks the candy from between your fingers as you pull back. 

You can’t help but shiver a little at the sensation. It was . . . nice. 

“That last one was especially good,” he smiles. 

“Was it?” 

He nods, scooping up your hand. 

“W-what are you doing? I’m not holding anymore candy,” you tell him. 

He presses your fingers to his lips, kissing them from tip to palm. 

“Beel?” 

“Mmmm, you’re sweet,” he tells you, words muffled as his mouth works its way to your wrist and up your inner arm. You think your shirt will give him pause, but he nibbles right past it, up your shoulder, to your neck. His mouth is hot, and the way he suckles and nips your skin makes you feel faint -and pretty warm yourself. 

“I think I understand why demons eat human,” he whispers into your neck. “But don’t worry, I just want to taste.” 

You’d like to reply, but your brain is short circuited by his lips, tongue, and teeth working their way down your chest. In the background, Chairman Kaga takes a bite of his pepper. He looks almost as smugly satisfied as Beel does with your nipple in his mouth.

Too Slick

Asmodeus invites you to his room for a hot oil treatment. He swears it will add softness and shine to your hair. You agree - afterall, his spa treatments are always fun, even if they don’t seem to do much. 

When you get there, he hands you a robe. “You don’t want to get oil on your clothes, right?” He, of course, is already wearing one, seductively half tied to reveal his smooth chest and just a bit of his thigh. 

You slip into the bathroom to change. Asmodeus follows a few minutes later, just enough time for you to get the robe on. As the oil warms, he chats with you about new fashions and compliments your eyes, your skin, and the way you blush when he’s ‘just telling you the truth.’ 

When the oil is warmed, Asmo uses a ladle to trickle it over your hair and scalp. You feel it running down your skin, warm and slick. It’s a nice feeling, relaxing and *maybe* a little arousing. Then Asmodeus starts to massage the oil in. His smooth hands feel so good on your scalp, your neck, your shoulders . . . 

In your haze of happiness, you realize he’s pushed the robe down quite a bit. But you don’t mind it really. He’s still chattering away and the massage is nice. But when his hands slip past your lower back, you sit up straight. “Ok! I think you got my hair and then some!” 

Asmodeus laughs softly. “Still shy? Alright. It’s my turn then.” He takes the ladle and pours some oil over his head. “Ooooh that feels nice!” 

“Yeah, it really does,” you reply. Then you try to stand so he can have the chair while you rub the oil into his hair. Only . . . the floor is slick with drops of oil and you almost fall. 

Asmodeus catches you, but he slides too. You both end up slipping and sliding across the floor, clinging to each other, until Asmo manages to grab the edge of the door. 

You realize then that your robe’s come undone, and Asmodeus’ is hanging open too. Not that either of you can see anything, pressed up close as you are. It’s not about seeing . . . it’s feeling that skin-to-skin contact. 

Asmo realizes it the same moment you do and smiles. He wriggles slightly, rubbing his oiled self against you. “Mmmm, now that is perfect. And good for your skin.” You have to agree, which you do, in a vocal little half moan. 

Bedtime Story

Satan invites you to a hotel grand opening in the southeast demon forest - one of his contacts is hosting a huge party there, with rooms for the guests to try out. It sounds like fun, and you’ve never gotten to see the dark forest, so why not? The trip does not disappoint. 

The forest is exactly what you’d expect to see in a demon’s woods, with flesh eating trees and deadly poisons. Even the squirrels look dangerous. The party is great too. Good music, dancing, and conversation. 

You are pretty sure some of the demons in attendance would see you as an appetizer if Satan wasn’t at your side, hand on your back. He is the perfect companion, making sure you have something good to drink and that you’re enjoying yourself. As it happens, you enjoy yourself a little too much. 

“I didn’t think about how strongly the Spiritus Punch would affect a human. I shouldn’t have let you drink that third glass,” he sighs. 

You giggle. His slight frown is so funny. And attractive. You grab his shoulders and give him a quick, surprise kiss. You meant to get his cheek - but your lips find his. 

Satan freezes for a moment, but your lips don’t mind the happy accident. And he can’t help but react to your warm, hungry kiss. He finally breaks it, his breath almost as heavy as yours. 

“You’ve had too much to drink. Let’s get you to our room and in bed.” 

You smile in a way you hope is seductive. “I’d like to get you in bed.” 

His eyes narrow and you can’t tell if that reaction is good or bad. He puts his arm around you and helps you to the elevator. You lean on him, holding tight as the movement up makes you feel dizzy. Of course your shared room is on the top floor. Penthouse suite with a view. He opens the door. 

Your eyes go to the windows, where outside the forest sparkles with a thousand tiny lights. 

“Oh my . . .” Satan sighs. Your gaze follows his to the center of the room. Where . . . there . . . was only one bed! 

UnConvention

Levi scores two tickets to the TSL Convention, which is, of course, the most popular fan convention in all of Devildom. And he could have invited anybody (or sold the tickets, as Mammon won’t stop going on about), but he invited you. And he even put together a Henry cosplay outfit, just for you. 

Levi is going as The Lord of Shadows, and it is going to be so much fun. The convention takes up two whole city blocks, full of panels from the film actors, several music shows inspired by or featured in TSL, and then aisles and aisles of merch. But before you get started, Levi wants to get some pictures. 

You could take them with your DDD, but there’s a photobooth and the face Leviathan makes when he sees it . . . you can’t say no. 

“I’ve never taken pictures with a f-friend in a photobooth,” he tells you. His cheeks are bright red and his eyes shine. 

The booth bench is really narrow, and the two of you struggle to fit. “I - I think we’ll fit if I sit on your lap,” you tell him. 

The scarlet spreads to his ears and down to his neck. “M-my lap? You want to sit on my lap?!” 

You can’t help the wicked, playful smile his reaction elicits. And you don’t wait for him to say more. With a little wicked wiggle you put yourself right in his lap, turning to wrap an arm around his shoulder. 

“H-hey! That’s not - why are you still moving?” His eyes are so wide. 

You lean close, lips brushing his ear. “You don’t like it? I thought you loved Henry . . .” Not that you’re really asking. You can *cough* feel how much he loves ‘Henry’ from your perch on his lap. 

“Oh!” His eyebrows go up as one of your hands slides down his side. He is too much fun to tease. “This is just like the scene in I Was A High School Succubus Teacher Season Seven! I know what to do!” 

You are about to ask what he’s talking about when he grabs you and pulls you even closer. His lips find yours, and his hands are all over you. Under your costume, grabbing your hair, unbuttoning your Henry outfit . . . 

When the two of you slide out of the booth, breathless, red-cheeked, and disheveled, you are greeted by a cheering crowd of fans with ‘shipper signs and offers to buy your NSFW photos. 

Greedy Bastard

You didn’t have plans this weekend, which is how most of your misadventures with Mammon start. This time, he lost a bet in a private card game. The price was his service for a weekend, but they’ll cut it down to one night if he brings a friend. Which is where you come in. 

You almost tell him no when you see the outfits for this night of hosting. Tiny little hotpants and a top made of black ribbons . . . but then you see the way Mammon looks at you wearing it and, well, it’s worth it just for that. Of course, he’s not the only one that appreciates you in those clothes. 

The demons playing cards keep looking your way hungrily and more than one tries to smack your ass or give you a pinch in passing. You’re too quick for them, but the more often it happens, the more annoyed Mammon gets. 

“They have no business touching what’s not theirs,” he fumes at the bar.

 “They haven’t touched me yet,” you laugh. “Besides, work is up in another hour. I can last that long.” You snag the latest round of drinks, ready to take them out, but Mammon gets between you and the door.

 “Let’s sneak off early,” he suggests. He takes the tray out of your hands and sets it down.

“They’ll notice when they run out of booze,” you point out. 

“Don’t care.” Mammon steps closer to you. You can see the effect you have on him in those ridiculously tiny shorts. “I’m the only one that should get to see you dressed like this.” He brushes a hand down your side, tugging lightly at the ribbons. “The only one that gets to touch you.”

And then his lips are on yours, his body pressing you back against the wall. His skin is hot against the cool satin ribbons that criss-cross your chest. His hands caress you like treasure and his kiss is possessive. There might be an hour left on shift, but this greedy bastard is going to keep you all to himself anyway.

Overtime

Helping Lucifer sort student records is not what one might consider fun. But someone has to do it and you offered to help so here you are. Sitting on the floor, surrounded by piles of folders and loose sheets of paper. 

Lucifer is at his desk, making notations on records, and in the background, the TSL soundtrack plays. 

It’s just past midnight and your vision is getting blurry. Every time you blink, it gets harder to open your eyes again. But you’re not anywhere close to done and Lucifer is relying on you to have these sorted. This discipline record for Caacrinolaas should be in the C section under . . . under . . . 

“Falling asleep on the job?” Lucifer’s voice snaps you awake. He sounds amused more than annoyed. That’s probably good. 

“Ah, just, taking a moment.” You waive the paper in your hand. “I couldn’t find the C folder.” 

He smiles. “This one right in front of you?” 

You blush and pick it up, flipping to the discipline section. C-double-A . . . 

Lucifer takes both out of your hands and sets them down. “I think we need to call it a night.” 

“But I’m not done,” you protest. 

“Are you contradicting me?” One dark eyebrow lifts. 

“N-no.” 

“It sounded like it.” He bends down and scoops you up. “I will have to think of a suitable punishment for your insolence.” 

You try to wriggle out of his grasp, not because it’s unpleasant but because he makes you feel so helpless, holding you like that. 

Moving around only makes him grip you tighter, pulling you against his chest. “The more you struggle, the stricter I’ll be forced to be,” he warns. 

You go still. He carries you out of the office and down the hall. If you weren’t half afraid of what happens next, this might be pleasant. Lucifer smells good, and his chest is a perfect pillow. Despite your anxiety, you begin to close your eyes, lulled by the gentle motion. You aren’t sure when exactly that you fall asleep, but you can pinpoint the moment you wake.

 Lucifer’s fingers stroke gently through your hair. His breath is warm against your cheek. “I didn’t mean to make you work so hard you passed out from it,” he sighs. 

“I didn’t pass out,” you mumble. 

“You’re awake.” He lifts himself up on one arm to look down at you. “You should be resting.” 

“I thought you were going to punish me,” you reply, taking in the fact that he’s wearing pajamas now, and so are you. In his room. In his bed. 

“Looking forward to it?” He smiles and the heat in his gaze sends a shiver down your spine. “I think it can wait for morning. But perhaps . . . just a taste before we sleep.” His hand tangles in your hair, pulling you toward him as he kisses you. His lips are spicy and sweet, and your eyes close, enjoying the moment. 

Tea and Biscuits

You agree to meet Barbatos at the demon lord’s castle for tea. Just the two of you. The way he says it makes it almost sound like a date, but surely a demon that can see past, present, and possible futures wouldn’t be interested in a short-lived human. 

When you arrive, he leads you to a balcony overlooking the garden. There’s a small couch for two and a little table with a samovar for tea and several plates of biscuits, cakes, and sandwiches. Your favorite flavored biscuits, cakes, and sandwiches, to be exact. 

Barbatos smiles. “I hope it’s all to your liking.” 

“You know it is!” 

He laughs, and pours you a cup of tea. You both sit down, hips touching. It makes you blush a bit, but Barbatos doesn’t seem to notice - or care - so you decide to just ignore it. It’s hard though, to ignore the way his hand brushes yours and the press of his leg against you. The way his eyes never seem to leave you, going from your eyes to your face down your body.

 “Is it alright if I kiss you,” he asks suddenly. 

The question takes you by surprise but you nod. You like him but you’d never expected him to return the affection. 

Barbatos leans forward, his hand gentle on your thigh. His lips meet yours in a slow, sensuous kiss that spreads heat through your whole body. 

You’ve kissed before, but never like this. Never with someone that has millennias of skill and knowledge of you that even you don’t have. He slides his other hand behind your back, pulling you onto his lap. The kiss melts you against him. Silk and sweet and hot. You aren’t sure how long it lasts, only that when it ends, you want more.

Theater

When Diavolo invites you out to see the newest movie, I Was A TeenAge Witch’s Familiar and It Was Awful, you imagine going to a crowded theater, getting some popcorn, and sitting in a slightly smelly, stained chair that you wouldn’t touch with a ten-foot pole if you saw it in broad daylight. 

Instead, you end up at his castle, sitting on a wide, comfortable plush velvet couch. The only two people in front of a theater-sized screen, where the as-yet-unreleased movie plays. 

Diavolo starts out on the opposite side of the couch, but keeps getting closer. To share popcorn, to offer you a sip of his drink, to point out some funny line in the film. Then his arm snakes around behind you, settling on your shoulders. 

You hop up, surprised. 

“I guess this means you don’t enjoy my company,” Diavolo says, looking up at you with big, sad eyes. 

“No . . . I do . . . just, I didn’t expect -” 

He shakes his head. “It’s alright. I’m sure you find me quite frightening.” 

“I don’t!” You sit back down and set a hand on his. “You don’t scare me at all, Diavolo. And . . . I think you’re cute.” 

“Is that so?” He grabs you with both hands and lifts you up. “What about now?” 

“Still not scared,” you say, though you are a little. 

He grins and stands up, still holding you above him. “Not even a little?” 

“No?” He tosses you into the air and you feel like a little kid, half-afraid and half-exhilarated. You let out a little shriek on the second toss and as you come down, he catches you in his arms. “Your reactions are so entertaining. Much better than any movie.” 

You can’t help but blush at the look in his eyes. Adoring and sensual. 

“It makes me want to do all sorts of things to you, just to see what you’ll do next.” 

You gasp as he begins to tickle you, his fingers finding all the sensitive spots on your sides. You reach out to tickle him back, surprised to find that Diavolo is absolutely ticklish all over the place. Both of you end up on the floor, laughing and panting in waves of tickle-attacks. 

“Truce!” You finally shout. 

He stops, his fingers in mid-wiggle. “But I am having so much fun . . .” His lips turn up in a slow, evil smile. “I’ll stop on one condition. You have to promise we’ll do this again.” 

You nod. “It’s a deal.”  

Like Magic

You agree to meet Solomon for a lesson in pacts. He knows more about them than anyone besides a demon lord. And he’s willing to share. For a price. You had to bring him the latest Madam Scream’s Scarlet Tarts as a trade for his secrets. A small price to pay. 

The two of you meet at a park in the Devildom. It’s almost as bright as a day in the real world, from the brilliant glowing mushrooms, tree fungi, and floating flowers. 

“You know, I could almost call this spot romantic,” Solomon says as he spreads out a picnic blanket to sit on. 

You raise an eyebrow. The sorcerer has been a little secret crush of yours, but you know when someone is out of your league. And an immortal genius definitely is. “Huh,” you reply. Great response, you think, but Solomon laughs. 

“I didn’t mean to leave you speechless.” 

You hand him the pastry box from Madam Screams. “I’m not speechless. I said ‘huh.’ 

He shakes his head. “I don’t think that counts as a word.” 

“And I guess you’re the final authority on that,” you mutter, feeling annoyed. 

He grabs your hand and brings it to his lips. “I didn’t mean to sound like a know-it-all. Forgive me?” He presses a light kiss to your palm. 

It surprises you so much that all you can do is nod, actually speechless. 

Solomon smiles. “Good. I wanted this to be a nice date.” 

“Date?” The word leaves your mouth before you think about it.

“What else would you call two people having a picnic in the park?” You think of a lot of things you might call it, but he’s smiling at you so sweetly that you just agree. 

He opens a grimoire across your laps and settles a hand behind you to lean over it. “This was my first real spellbook. I thought it might be a good place to start.” 

You realize as he talks that he isn’t just teaching you - he’s sharing something he’s never shared with anyone else. It makes you feel special, which must have shown in your face when he looks over at you because whatever he sees there makes him smile widely.

“We should do this more often,” he says, and before you can reply, his lips brush lightly against your cheek in a gentle kiss. 

With your heart beating so hard you’re sure he must hear it, you say, “Yeah. We should.” His fingers curl around yours, linking the two of you as you look up at the Devildom sky. 

Gossip Girl

You take Simeon up on an offered afternoon of looking at forbidden photo albums of the brothers from their celestial days. He promises to dish on the best stories, provided you never let on that you know about any of it. 

The two of you meet at Purgatory Hall in one of the unused rooms. It feels a little odd to be alone with the gorgeous angel, especially like this. One kiss away from an illicit affair. But you soon feel comfortable as Simeon settles next to you, flipping through pictures of Lucy, Mammon, Beel, and the others in their childhood and younger years. 

“Once, Lucy tried to make Michael happy by baking him a poppy-seed cake. But he used baking soda instead of powder . . .” Simeon’s eyes crinkle with laughter. “It came out more like a poppyseed brick. Lucy was so mad he threw it - right through the Metatron’s study window.” 

You giggle, imagining a furious Lucifer. 

“You have such a nice laugh,” Simeon says, looking at you from the corner of his eye. “I’d like to hear it more often.” 

“Th-thanks,” you stutter. Taking compliments has never been your strength. He turns his head to face you. 

“Did I make you blush just now?” He tucks a bit of hair behind your ear. “I didn’t mean to.” 

You nod, blushing even more furiously. 

“You don’t have to be shy around me. But . . . can I admit something to you?”

“Sure?” 

“I like that I can make you blush.” His fingers brush across your lips. “I’d like . . .” He stops himself and his hand drops away. 

“I’d like that too,�� you say, unwilling to let the moment escape. You lean forward and give him a quick kiss. Now it’s his turn to blush.

The Incident

“No one must ever hear of this,” Luke tells you sternly. As sternly as he can, looking up at you and waving one little hand. 

“I swear to tell no one,” you promise. 

The two of you stand in the middle of a kitchen. At least, there’s a kitchen somewhere under the clumps of batter, berry jam, and soft butter. The results of Luke trying out spellcraft on his baking. 

It was *supposed* to be mystical muffins - a breakfast food that actually makes you look forward to the day. But it turned the mix into a growing, bubbling mass that eventually burst. Which is when Luke texted you to come over. The two of you set to cleaning it up. 

It takes hours to scoop, wipe, rinse, and dry everything in the room. You’re in the middle of a final wipedown on the cabinets when you realize Luke hasn’t said a word for awhile now. 

You turn and see the little guy with his head on his arm, a rag in hand. His eyes are closed and a light snore whistles from his nose. He’s so cute. Like a puppy. He can’t sleep on the floor though. 

You finish wiping and set down the cloth, then go to wake him up. 

He mumbles and rolls over, but his eyes stay shut. Finally, you decide to heft him up and carry him to his room. He’s a bit heavy, but you manage to lift him. His head settles on your shoulder and his arms wrap around your neck. 

He smells like warm milk and cinnamon, you think. And he is so soft, like a fluffy little poodle. You carry him to his room and lay him down. He doesn’t stir as you pull off his shoes and tuck him in. 

“Sweet dreams, little baker,” you tell him. He smiles.

[lyracasstuff]

Hello! I'd like match up if that's alright.

I'm female and bi with a male preference, but female is fine too. Survivor or hunter, I'm fine with either. I like to read novels and listening to music. I would most of the time have my earbuds on. I tend to have a rbf and sound sarcastic when I don't intend to. I'm a mom friend apparently but I can also be pretty childish and petty. I'm pretty lazy, but once I get it together I can actually do things. I have pretty bad eyesight too. Not a conversationalist either, but that also depends on the topic. I dont really like small talk either. It gets too awkward easily...

(Was this enough info or was it too much? Ah. So sorry. Hope you're having a good day/night wherever you are though.)

Don't worry!! It's definitely more than enough info that I can certainly work on!!( ´ ▽ ` )ﾉ

After much thinking, I've decided to match you up with...

💥Mike Morton!!💣

I would personally match you with Mike for a couple of specific reasons..

I'm not sure just how many people are aware,, however..

Mike is a pretty childish and immature person so pairing him up with someone more motherly would work wonders for him..（・∀・）

After all,, I think we can agree that him filling up his juggling balls with explosives and his cauliflower ears are pretty compelling evidence that he *might* get himself into trouble time to time so he needs someone to look after him..╮(─▽─)╭

((Pls don't fight me for saying this,, I love him too but I can't ignore the fact that he can be a dum dum sometimes...))

I also feel as though Mike wouldn't really mind your pettiness and sarcastic tendencies one bit. He's going to be conversationally intelligent with how many people he talks to and how different they've all been so he can tell whether you mean to be petty/sarcastic or not..╮(─▽─)╭

The circus DOES travel a lot so,, of course he would learn how to talk to ALL sorts of people..(｡･ω･｡)

So because of this,, you won't have to worry about small talk or things getting awkward!!(ノ^o^)ノ

In fact, he *might* talk a little bit *too much* at times...(^_^;)

He talks about all sorts of things. From weird things that happened during his day, pranks that he may have set up or is planning to do, tales when he was still in the circus, to even the smallest mundane things like how a leaf he saw falling from a tree looked like a footprint of a chicken..(◉Θ◉)

So yeah,, you don't need to worry about conversations. AT. ALL

On another reason as to why I matched you up with Mike..

His energy is TOO HIGH... He needs some help in being able to just sit still and relax for a bit..

And that's where YOU come in..(｡･ω･｡)

You help him cool down for a second and just be *lazy*..(´∀`)

In terms of reading novels,, Mike wouldn't delve in too much by himself since he gets bored easily..

But he ABSOLUTELY LOVES it if you're reading the novels to him,, it makes him feel like you're telling a bedtime story to him..( ´ ▽ ` )ﾉ

Which may or may not have led to him sleeping and snoring numerous times at your "reading sessions" with him..

Now,, while he may not be much of a novel reader,, he sure is a music listener!

And so,, he would be estatic to listen to music with you!!

I could imagine him bopping his head to the beat of the music of whatever you both are listening to!!（〜^∇^)〜

He will also be in awe at how lively and crisp the music is, it would really make him wanna dance with you..(/^▽^)/

One time while you were walking around with your earbuds on,, Mike had been trying to get your attention and in doing so,, saw your earbuds...

He was very much curious about your earbuds and asked you about them..

((Since once again,, we're in the Victorian Era...╮(─▽─)╭))

"Woah.. So, they're like antiphons but they play music???"

((Fun fact: the first earplugs that were patented were called antiphons in the late 19th century..))

He DEFINITELY asked you if he can try them on..（・∀・）though,, he might need some help since he has cauliflower ears...

I won't lie in saying that he looked like he was high on something for a few moments because never in his life has he EVER heard of antiphons that can play music..

You both will definitely have a fun time just learning each other's backgrounds and time periods,, I can say that for certain!! (｡･ω･｡)

💣💥💣💥💣💥💣💥💣💥💣💥💣💥💣💥

Author's Note: Sorry if it's been a while!! I've been a bit busy with schoolwork lately..(^_^;) but I hope you enjoyed reading this matchup as I had a lot of fun writing it!! I mean,,,, it is Mike after all.......＼(^ω^＼)

((I know..... BIASED much???))

Well,, until next time! I'll see you all later in my next post!! ヾ(＠^∇^＠)ノ💚

[aperrywilliams]

For You, for Me and for Us (Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader)

(Not my gif!)

Masterlist

———————

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Summary: Spencer and Reader share their feelings in a very special occasion for their family.

Word Count: 2169.

Warnings: Just a reference of sex (not explicit). Pure fluff. I need some of this sometimes.

A/N: This one is short, I promise. I got some inspiration from the Goo Goo Dolls’ song “Boxes”. If you can, listen it while, before or after reading. Remember my friends: impressions, comments and any reaction are welcomed. Thanks for reading!

——————–

We'll have tiny boxes for memories

Open them up and we'll set them free

There'll be bad days and some hard times

But I'll keep your secrets, if you keep mine

You are the memory that won't ever lapse

When twenty-five years have suddenly passed

Wherever you take me, it's clear I will go

Your love's the one love that I need to know

——————–

It was a hot July night. The patio had a beautifully decoration: a lot of white flowers hanging from the windows and walls. There were ten tables settled around the dance floor. All the guests sited enjoying dinner. The background music was calm, perfect for the moment.

Spencer and I were sitting at the main table looking at the guests who were staring back at us with big smiles. Some even raising their wine glasses in celebration attitude to us.

"This night has been exhausting, don't you think?" I said to Spencer in a minute. He glanced at me with a nod.

“The day in general has been exhausting. My feet hurt and I miss my bed right now,” he replied with a pout.

"You shouldn't complain so much. I'm the one who is wearing heels tonight,” I growled as I moved my feet in circles motions remembering the discomfort I was feeling at the moment.

"The shoes I'm wearing aren't the definition of comfort either, so we could say I share your pain. Also this tux is less comfortable than I thought." His words were accompanied by a grimace.

"And we have a lot of night and dance ahead..." I added to make our torture more miserable.

"I think we could skip the dance, right?" Spencer suggested winking at me.

"Spencer, I know you don’t like to dance but, do you want to disappoint all the guests? such bad host!." I said teasing him.

“It’s a wedding. By definition the most important thing in a wedding should be the ceremony, not the dance,” he complained.

"It's a party anyway. And at parties there is dancing. And the hosts dance. Period.” I said in a severe tone.

“I don't know where you got that rule from, but I'm not going to argue with you about that now. Look over there!". He shook his head, pointing to one of the tables.

I turned around a bit to get better vision. I couldn't help but smile when I saw our daughter doing photos with her fiance - now her husband - and the guests of one of the tables.

"She looks so beautiful...". I said barely holding my breath. I was so thrilled to see her right now. I felt my eyes fill with tears of pure emotion.

"She is beautiful. And in that dress it reminds me so much of you when we got married,” added Spencer. In his eyes I could only see love and adoration for her.

"Have you seen her so happy before?". I asked him, taking his hand and squeezing it gently.

"I guess I can't compare this to the times she was a little girl and we ran around the house pursuing to each other or playing tickle war," Spencer replied with a sigh.

"You're right. They are different things”. I rested my head on his shoulder. At that demonstration of affection, Spencer began stroking one of my cheeks with his thumb.

“That were the times when she really needed us. Now for her we are disposable. Now we are just her annoying parents.” Spencer said in a melancholic tone and perhaps unaware that he had voiced his thoughts out loud.

"And where did that come from?" I asked raising my head to look him in the eye.

"Uhm?" He looked back at me confused. Indeed, he didn’t realize he had said the last thing out loud.

"Spencer Reid, about the last thing you said… why are you so annoyed?" I asked him.

"I’m not annoyed (Y/N). I’m jealous.” he confessed a little ashamed. I burst out laughing.

"Why are you jealous?, she won’t stop loving you because she is married now." I tried to explain to him.

"I know, but I won't be her favorite man in the world anymore..." Spencer said with a shrug. There I understood.

I don't know if it will be something that happens to all fathers. When I married Spencer my dad had the same concern. It seems true that when you're dad's little girl, it most difficult to them let you go.

Emi has always been Spencer's favorite. In addition to being the oldest of our three children - after Emi, came Theo and then Abby - she is the one who missed him the most when he was away from home, the one who loved the most his bedtime stories, the one who most insisted to him to go out to the park and play with her, the one who could be always running around him in the house while he was reading on the couch.

While she physically has few Spencer attributes - like his nose - she certainly inherited much of his intelligence and the love of learning new things and always be rambling about everything.

Given that, I'm not surprised that he's more concerned and vulnerable. I’m, too, but I can understand that their special bond makes this more difficult for Spencer right now.

"Don’t worry. You won’t stop being her favorite. But you’ll have to learn to share…”

"Only if you can assure me he'll make her really happy. If he ever hurts her in any way, I swear I’m capable of…”. Just imagining Emily suffering for something immediately awoke in him anger and despair. I guess that will never change.

“Calm down Reid. You seem crazy acting like this right now. Look, now they are at the BAU table.” I told him. I was trying to he would focus on something else and stop imagining things.

While he watched in that direction I could see a bright smile on my husband's face. Despite the years, the BAU were still part of our family. At least those who remain. Life and the time’s passing are unforgiving, no matter what we do to try to avoid it.

"Wow, long time since I saw JJ and Will. They seem to be less affected by the years than we are,” said Spencer.

"Speak for yourself, old man. I still feel like a 30 years old woman.” I said jokingly.

Looking at him his eyes clearly said 'you're kidding right?' I moved closer so I could whisper in his ear.

“Come on Spencer . It’s not so bad either. You still do a good job in bed. So don’t worry so much either.” I said with a playful smile. Spencer blushed. I can't believe I still have the ability to make him blush after all these years together. He tried to change the subject by alluding to the other guests at the table.

"Hank is equal to Morgan when we started at BAU. He has exactly the same features and posture. And Morgan looks like he's hopefully 50 years old. The bastard aged like wine." I couldn't help but laugh at the comment.

“The gym years seem to be helping after all. We should have trained more with him when we worked together,” I said. Spencer nodded at my statement.

"I wish Prentiss was here," Spencer said at one point.

"Me too. I'm sure Emi misses her too.” I added, squeezing his hand gently.

Prentiss was the godmother of our Emily. Although Spencer had been JJ's friend for long before, with Prentiss the friendship was developed over the years and became very strong and lasting. Just like my friendship with her. I owe a lot to Prentiss, among other things, having come to work at the BAU. For all that and how much she supported us during our relationship, we decided to give her name to our first daughter. Unfortunately, Prentiss had passed away less than a year ago, positioning herself in the BAU's 'remembered' club, along with Rossi and Hotch.

All these losses reminded us that the years do not pass in vain, but that the love for them does not cease even though the time is implacable. They will always be part of our family and our hearts.

"What are you thinking about?" Spencer asked me after noticing I was silent looking at our daughter doing photos with the rest of the guests.

"About we made such beautiful children." I replied laughing. The truth was I didn’t want to reveal my true thoughts of that moment. But I have never been able to hide those things from Spencer, he always realizes when I’m putting something away. Sometimes he pushes me to say it, other times he lets me keep my little secret thoughts.

"I know. But that is not what you are thinking." This time he was going to pressure me to tell him. After a sigh I started to speak.

"It's just... I don't know. Sometimes it seems so surreal that we have been able to stay together all these years and manage to start a family on our own. After all the things we've been through… I don't know, did you ever have doubts about that?” I asked him.

Spencer released my hand to settle on the edge of the chair so he could look me straight in the face. He took my cheeks in his hands to make sure I made eye contact with him.

“(Y/N), this is an accomplishment of both of us. And despite of our ups and downs I'll never regret having bet on us. You’re and will continue to be the love of my life. You gave me some wonderful children and you make me immensely happy. And for every day that passes, the love and adoration I feel for you does not decreases in the least”. He sealed his words with a deep kiss, full of love, which I reciprocated with equal intensity. When we pulled away we both smiled.

"Jeez Spencer. I don't know how you manage to say all those things and make me cry.” I said trying to hold back tears that started to roll down my cheeks. He began to dry my tears with his thumbs. I could see that he was equally touched, with watery eyes, also leaking a few tears.

"Now we are old grumpy and crybaby," he said with a huff. I could only nod. The age and emotions of that day had us very sensitive. I rested my head on his shoulder again, watching the photo tour in the guest tables.

"When we got married, did you think we were going to be like this now?" I asked him suddenly.

"Maybe only in dreams," he replied.

“It's been a little over 25 years since that day." I said with a sigh. He looked at me with those loving eyes that captured me from almost the first day.

"And not a day of these 25 years have I doubted us" boasted the very cheeky.

"Don't lie, Reid. We haven't had a dream marriage, either.” A light blow to his forearm was what he received for such audacity.

“I know baby, but what effect do a couple of days have on the 9165 days we been married? In my opinion they do not statistically affect the result” he defended himself laughing.

"Such nerd! shut up and kiss me," I replied, before taking his tie and pulling him closer to give him another kiss.

"I love you too (Y/N)" he told me when we pulled away.

Our intimate moment was broken when Emily approached the table and stared at us with her hands resting on her waist.

“I'm sorry to interrupt you lovebirds, but it's time for the waltz . Are you ready dad?” Emily asked.

"We were just talking about it with your dad. How anxious he was to dance tonight.” I said teasing Spencer. Emily started to laugh. She knew as much as I did that Reid almost hated to dance in public. Spencer gave me a disapproving look as he got up from the chair.

"I’m ready if you are, Emi." Spencer answered as he took our daughter's arm.

"Perfect!. Mom, come on!. You have to dance too!”

"I will baby. Let me finish my glass of wine. In the meantime, try not to let your dad stumble on the dance floor,” I said, laughing. Spencer just shook his head without even looking back at me.

I saw them walking arm in arm to the dance floor. Sure I'd join them, but I wanted to look at both of them first. It was one of those moments that I wanted to witness and treasure in my memory and my heart by my own. The love of my life with our first fruit of love. A journey that started a new story this day, a new story for Emily, for Spencer, for me... for us.

——————–

[secretshinigami]

routine and soft eyes

Author: @hazblogs For: @beyondplusultra Pairings/Characters: nearmellomatt, mention of lawlight Rating/Warnings: T, mentions of Mello’s scar  Prompt: Wammy House kids sleepover (A, B, L can be included, can be AU) Author’s notes: I had so much fun with this !!! soft bois…. thank you to anyone who reads it !!

Mello is positively fuming. Someone (who shall not be named, though if you want to know it starts with “N” and ends with “-ate River”) just got on top of Forensic Science and Investigative Skills and History of Crime and the Justice System. Those are Mello’s topics. They’re the best at these and they always have been (in the two years they’ve studied here. But that’s long enough, right ?), so the fact that Mister Nobody just came in and stole their turf… That’s infuriating. To top it all off, the dean did them dirty and assigned someone to the second bed in their room, knowing full well that they need that second bed for Matt. This week is just a pile of flaming shit.

As they swing the door open they are greeted by the beeping sounds usually coming from Matt’s bed, a comforting electronic melody. Matt doesn’t even turn around to raise his middle finger to protest against how loud Mello is, but that’s also common practice around here, so no worries. 

“Heard you got your ass beat,” Matt says a while later, Mello’s hand carding through his strawberry-green hair. “By the newbie no less. How’re you taking it ?”

“Matt, my hand is dangerously close to your eyes and you need those to play on that stupid console. Better not risk it.”

“Like you’d ever hurt me,” Matt grumbles, and the certainty with which he speaks makes their heart pulse just a little faster. Mello is hopelessly in love, aren’t they ?

The rest of the evening is quiet save for that same musical background, a welcome white noise as Mello finishes their essay for Writing Comedy. The teacher seems to have some trouble with their rather macabre humour so they try to tone it down for once - rather unsuccessfully.

“Also heard you’ll have a roommate,” Matt continues a few hours later as they prepare for bed - gotta put some moisturiser on that scar like a damsel doing her skincare routine, the doctor said, “or you’ll experience how actually painful it can be”. Talk about being threatening…

“I heard. I can kick them out.” Mello would do it. Without remorse, even.

“I can sleep in your bed too,” Matt offers. “But only if you promise not to kick me out from under the covers every single night.”

“Okay, first of all, fuck off, and secondly, why the hell would I want someone else to room with me ? You’re already here. You’ve always been here.”

“And I always will be, Mels. Just… I think it’s time you get out of your shell a little bit, you know ? You can’t keep pretending that talking to me twice every day and ignoring Linda a couple times a week is enough friendly interaction for the little pea inside your coconut.” Mello turns away from the mirror, moisturiser in hand, and sends a glare to Matt who sighs and raises his hands in defeat. “Don’t say I didn’t try ! Think about it, okay, Mello ?”

They do think about it. The whole night. They don’t sleep - it’s not because Matt snores but that’s the excuse they’ll use. Ever since the accident and the scar, people have usually been too impressed - or scared - by them to even consider starting a casual conversation. Matt was there even before, and he probably always will be, Linda is a weirdo who wants to draw them with a ponytail, and… Well, that’s it. Mello lives for schoolwork, to be the best and hope to right some of the wrongs in this world.

“Yo, Mihael,” the dean says when he sees them in front of his office the following morning. Lawliet is a TA at their university, still haunting the dorms. He has a creepy smile under his stupid raccoon eyes and he keeps using Mello’s birthname, like it makes any more sense to call them with that than to call them “xXx_sexy_blondie_xXx”, or however you pronounce that out loud.

“Lawliet. I saw you assigned me a roommate.”

“I did,” he smiles still, like there’s a joke Mello doesn’t get.

“Why ?” Mello would actually like to know - Lawliet never does anything at random.

“You’ll see when he arrives later today,” is the cryptic answer, and Mello sneers at their stupid fucking dean as they leave for their 8am lecture.

Because yes, multiple things are out to get their skin - though they won’t be deterred.

The day goes by in a flash, Screenwriting and Poetry being two of their most interesting classes, and by the time they’ve finished their Crime Prevision and Prevention homework at the library, the sun is well on its way down. Mello walks slowly to the dorms, enjoying the warm air - it’s still only September and winter hasn’t come yet. The music blasting from their headphones is a perfect background to the chill atmosphere, a few bird silhouettes dark against the wonderfully peach clouds. In a few minutes they’ll kiss Matt and they’ll eat a bite, and they’ll sleep knowing they’re safe now.

When they arrive in front of their room, a few cardboard boxes occupy the entrance. Shit fuck hell, they’d forgotten the roommate arrived today. All they can see from where they’re blocked from entering is a white blob of hair on top of baggy clothes, perched on the desk and looking at whatever Matt is playing.

“Uh, I’m supposed to be able to enter my own room,” Mello kind of yells. Only kind of. “Would you please not be a giant stupid bother before I even get your name ?”

“Sorry,” the snowball says, not looking sorry at all. “I’m Nate River.”

“But you can call him Near ! He plays retro games, which isn’t… let’s say it’s not my strong point, but I’m sure it’ll go well, we’re three whole weirdos with weirdo nicknames !”

Mello blinks. Near is still here. They blink again. Near is still here, looking a little like a frog with his lopsided smile, a hand playing with one of his curls. Mello blinks a third time and doesn’t expect Near to have packed his things and go, but that was a close call.

“Are you fucking kidding me,” they mutter. “Lawliet is gonna get killed.”

“You actually know enough about criminology to not be caught, so go you.” Near is smirking. Mello wants to cry. “But I would advise against it, because he’s dating that twink Light Yagami, the alumni who came last week to give the presentation about the War on Drugs and its consequences. He’s a police lieutenant now.”

“Called it !” Matt raises a fist in victory, taking five years from Mello’s lifespan. “Anyway, now that you’re here, please do help us with the last boxes. We’ve been setting up Near’s compy and it’s revoltingly difficult.”

“I will not- how can you ask me to- I’m gonna commit arson and this time I promise I’ll succeed !”

“Dramatic bitch,” Matt says jovially. “Just come in and drop your stuff, apparently someone from the ADA thing comes tomorrow to make sure the room is accessible with a crutch and to help Near settle in.”

Mello just now notices that Near isn’t fully standing up - he’s propped on the desk, a mechanical knee peeking through the bottom of his shorts. This changes nothing - though Mello feels the both grim and hopeful sense of community that disabled people get when they meet. Their ear still works wonky and their eye ? Not the sharpest either. Without talking about all the skin damage, the phantom pain, the- hell no, they won’t get into “reflective mode” without having eaten dinner first.

Reluctantly, Mello spends the rest of the evening avoiding Near as Matt and them help him settle in, surprised by the small amount of belongings he actually has - most of the boxes he brought are board games and hundreds of little kapla sticks. Is Near planning to recreate the Golden Bridge ? He looks like a nerd, maybe it’ll be the Death Star.

Routines are a persistent thing, and before they know it, Near has managed to get a small space - small, they insist - in Mello’s well-oiled machinery. He eats breakfast with Matt, a meal that Mello forgoes entirely, and he goes on unfortunate walks to his PT appointments, because he’s out of money from whatever government organism gives benefits to disabled people and can’t afford a cab. Mello thinks they should get into it a little more, maybe call their case worker, because ramen tastes worse and worse when you have it for every meal of the week. And then Near and Matt start talking about something or another, especially topics that annoy Mello, or Near gets a little too close to them while they both work on their assignments at their desk, his elbow barely brushing Mello’s side. It makes them shiver, but they will ignore that, thank you very much.

Another routine - bedtime - has gotten a little different. One single bed is enough for “one person and a half”, according to Matt, so the obvious solution to them being three in a two single beds room is to push the beds together.

“And now you have a perfect three people beddery !” Matt triumphantly declared. “Mello, you sleep in the middle.”

“Why am I in the middle ?” they protested. “It’s the least comfortable !”

“Oh well, we can take turns,” Near had snarked, knowing full well that the first one of them to sleep in the middle would have to accept defeat.

Mello does end up in the middle, Matt cuddled against their left side where the burn is, and Near an ever-closer presence against their right arm. It’s not as uncomfortable as they expected. Near doesn’t snore and he smells like minty toothpaste, a strangely comforting scent that lulls Mello to sleep way more easily than the five thousand melatonin pills they take before going to bed.

Oh well, maybe Lawliet can live a little longer. His boyfriend - Matt saw them kissing through the peephole, it’s official now - won’t have any (more) reasons to put Mello behind bars.

Near gets on top of International Law and keeps wearing strangely baggy clothes everywhere - or well, everywhere but in the dorms. Mello has time to get used to that mechanical knee, even asking a few questions about phantom pains on the days Matt is away and the itching gets unmanageable. Near is quiet like snow but they’re nothing alike in warmth, grey eyes like molten metal setting on Mello’s face and crinkling in a smile.

And it works wonders. One time they get a bad mark (for their standards) and they even study with Near for extra credit, a presentation about the death penalty that lasts about three quarters of the two hours class. The teacher gives them both full marks and Matt celebrates by crushing them both against his chest, the smell of motor oil and mint so comforting that Mello closes his eyes, just for a little while.

It’s winter before they have time to think about it, and finals go by in a blur of “no sleep, no food, no distractions”. They even manage to end up at the nurse’s office when they faint during the Criminology Theory exam, forced to drink sugar water until the world stops exploding in a million tiny stars when they move their head.

Mello thinks that surviving their last winter exam session ever - they should be able to find a job with a double Master’s degree in Criminology and Creative writing, right ? - deserves a celebratory nap and they sprawl on the bed as soon as they’re back from the last stupid oral presentation they have to do about stupid Foundations of Criminal Justice. Near is not in the room - which is weird, because he finished five minutes and thirty six seconds before them - and Matt is away for the day to try and get his internship at the garage, so they have the full three-person bed, and they fully intend to enjoy the luxury.

They enjoy it so much that they fall asleep, only noticing that time has passed because before they blinked, it was day, and it is now very much nighttime. Light giggles fill the room along with the muted light from Near’s bedside lamp, and Mello takes the time to relish in the quiet atmosphere. Hushed conversation rises from near the desk, giggles and the smell of hot chocolate both making Mello sit up at last.

“Lookit you ! Sleeping beauty arises. Though I haven’t kissed you yet,” Matt smiles, and he climbs on the bed to press his lips against Mello’s. “Love you,” he whispers as he pulls away and goes back to slump on Near’s shoulder.

At first, Near felt like an intruder each time Matt kissed them, but he’s become so embedded in their life that Mello doesn’t feel any awkwardness anymore - to the point where not including him has become the cause of their inner turmoil.

Because yeah, uh, there’s that. Near in a tank top and booty shorts, prosthetic being painted on by a very enthusiastic Matt, has become the new image they conjure up each time the need to strangle someone arises. And poof, instant peace. Discreet touches, Near sleeping fully cuddled against their right side now, Matt nosing through Near’s hair just after he’s washed it because his strawberry shampoo smells divine, Mello even going as far as ruffling Near’s hair without warning, just to see his little nose scrunch up… All that has become routine too, and suddenly the change is too big to go by unmentioned. 

They’ve managed to hold on to their feelings until then but as Matt starts talking again, Near’s smile is a little too tight - though his eyes sparkle, it’s like… something’s missing. 

“Emergency mee-ee-ting,” they yawn, the skin around their left eye crinkling up painfully. Near notices and doesn’t even ask before grabbing the petroleum jelly tube and throwing it rather inaccurately at their face. See, that’s what they were talking about, Near has just become… there, in the way Matt is there even when he’s asleep in another part of the universe where Mello can only hope to ever go to. “We gotta talk shit out.”

“Are you over your gay crisis yet ?” Matt asks, eyes calm and open, sipping hot chocolate with noisy slurps that Mello doesn’t bother mentioning anymore. His green hair looks more and more red as time passes, which is a strange feat of hair dye conspiracy. “Can we go back to playing ?”

“I haven’t even talked !” Mello protests. “I just really think it’s necessary to mention that…”

They don’t know how to continue that sentence. Near is looking at them with something strangely akin to hope, and Matt still has that infuriating openness about him like he just knows Mello so well he doesn’t need to be told what they feel. 

Near doesn’t, though, and he matters enough to Mello now for them to want to include him in the little bubble as well.

“I just think it’d be cool if we shared the secret chocolate stash with Near,” is what comes out of their mouth.

Well done caporal, please die of shame now.

“Mels, wow, that’s the most romantic thing you’ve ever said !” Matt’s voice drips with amusement - devoid of any mean spirit, they should add, because Matt is the one thing Mello knows is good in this world. And well, maybe there’s a second one they’ve stumbled on, and they want Near to know that he means a lot to them too.

“I mean it !” Mello whines. “He’s one of us now. I think we can share.”

“Mello. Please realise that I’ve been flirting with you this entire time,” comes Near’s deadpan answer. “The time I told you I wanted to braid your hair ? The time I made you sleep and finished the presentation alone because you’d gotten the flu and I hate being sneezed on ? The fact that Matt literally sits in my lap half the time, and only half because the other is spent on your lap ?”

“Okay, first of all, fuck off with me getting the flu.”

“You’re avoiding my question.” Near looks stubborn, and it’s a good look on him.

When did Mello start to think Near looks good ? “I, uh. I may be slightly romantically obtuse. Has Matt told you the time when-”

“-he kissed you and you thought he wanted to practice smooches for his secret best friend, because of course you wouldn’t be his best friend ?”

Utterly mortified, Mello can feel their cheeks become bright red. “Well, uh. Enough mushiness for tonight. Just pass me the chocolate, Matt, I’m starving.”

Matt giggles and throws a Kinder Egg at their face. Near munches on the leftover shell while Mello assembles the toy, and it’s peaceful - and happy, too, so when Mello raises a hand to their scar they smile still, in spite of their involuntary shiver.

[scullydubois]

Only the Light: Ch. 8

8/? | AU where Melissa moves in with Scully after Scully’s abduction | angst, msr slow-burn, some fluff | currently: s2, ep 12, Aubrey | T (for now?) | 2.3k | previous chapters | read on ao3 | tagging: @today-in-fic

Scully deals with the trauma of her nightmare when she and Mulder meet BJ in the park; a migraine leads Scully to breakdown to her sister.

[this is an especially angsty part...TW for mild implication of rape]

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

The rest of their breakfast passes without fanfare. After their conversation about love languages, neither feels like diving into particularly deep topics. Mulder spends their meal providing commentary on the songs other customers picked off the jukebox, turning Scully into a captive audience who occasionally nods, chuckles, or otherwise utters a phrase of approval. It’s not that they’re bored of each other, but that they feel they should preserve their energy for the taxing conversations sure to come along with the case. The electricity between them lingers in the air, waiting for a match to spark it. When the waitress asks if they want to split the bill, Mulder gallantly insists that he will take care of it, then pulls out the Bureau credit card with a wink his partner’s way. To Scully, his wink feels like a lighter flaring into flame. A brief moment of blaze, there and then gone again. One day, she swears to herself, one day she will let him ignite her heart. 

Back in the car, they buckle up and reacclimate themselves with 1994. The local country music station hums in the background, too low to make out any lyrics. It’s just a few stoplights to the park, not even long enough to get through an entire song.

They find BJ at a picnic table nestled among Aubrey’s fall colors. She notices them first, waves them over. “Good morning.”

“Morning,” Mulder says as he and Scully take a seat across from the detective.

Scully is struck by reality’s intrusion on the version of BJ she met in her nightmare. BJ is not heavily pregnant; she does not even show. She’s not covered in blood either, but looking polished in a pantsuit. Yet the sight of her conjures up vivid images from the dream, ones that Scully hoped would stay hidden in her psyche forever. The resolute darkness of Duane Barry’s eyes, like his soul had been sucked out of him. The way droplets of blood splattered when he pulled BJ by the collar. And the image of her own body, how it had been desecrated and she hadn’t felt a thing. She felt nothing.

“How are you, BJ?” she asks, her voice stiffer than intended.

BJ rests her hands on the wooden table. “I’m okay.” Then-- “I’ve made some decisions.”

Scully nods, not wanting to pry. The three of them sit with the silence. Sometimes this is all you can do. Her courage gathered, BJ looks to Mulder. 

“I don’t know if Agent Scully told you, but I’m pregnant. It’s Tilman’s. It’s made things...complicated.”

“I’m sure,” Mulder replies, not particularly moved by this announcement. 

“I don’t think it will impact the case in any way, but I wanted to be open with you. Staying quiet about it was only making the situation tougher.”

“Well, thanks for sharing.”

Scully shoots Mulder a look, as if to chastise his blase attitude toward BJ’s courage. He doesn’t see it, which makes her feel oddly guilty, like she had talked about him behind his back. 

Across the park, a little girl plays with her dog. They run through a pile of leaves together, and she takes a tumble. 

“Ow!” the girl exclaims loud enough to be heard throughout the park. BJ stands up, her gaze snapping toward the sound. Scully turns, fighting the urge to join BJ. The girl’s mother bends to check the girl for injury and seeing that she’s okay, sets her on her feet. BJ exhales, joins the agents back at the table.

“The mothering instinct,” BJ monologues. “I've been feeling it a lot lately. I used to hate it when my mother hovered over me. I swore I'd never be like her.”

Scully’s throat tightens. She felt the gravitational pull too. I mean, she’s always liked kids, but she’s not sure she would be a good mother and so she’s tried not to think much about it. Certainly her situation is unfavorable for motherhood. What kind of life would it be for a kid to have their mother gone all the time? She knows what it’s like to tuck herself into bed without a goodnight kiss and a bedtime story...to feel like an afterthought in a parent’s life. It made her push herself harder, trying to shed the inadequacy her father must have seen in her. And still she fell short. Is it all in her head, this fledgling maternal instinct? Or is it a sign of changing brain chemistry?

“I think we all feel that way at some point or another,” Mulder says. For a moment, Scully thinks he’s read her mind. She’s about to ask him whether there’s such thing as a paternal instinct when BJ continues on--

“My father was a cop. A good cop. That's all I ever wanted to be. He'd say what we're doing here is nonsense. That you can't solve a crime from a dream.”

Scully is somewhat relieved to know that she’s not alone in failing to measure up to a father’s expectations. This is not the point of the conversation, but this is what her mind latches on to. Her own father felt that the X-Files was a waste of time,, and she could never put into words why the work was so fulfilling to her. It’s not medicine; the results aren’t as obvious. Yet she can’t help but feel like she and Mulder are tuning into a rarely heard frequency, listening to its message, and passing it on. Little by little that will change the world, won’t it?

“Well, I've often felt that dreams are answers to questions we haven't yet figured out how to ask,” Mulder offers, rising to meet the gravity of the moment. Scully wonders what question her nightmare was answering. She shudders at the thought.

---------

Her skull feels like it’s being cut in half with a chainsaw, there is no other way to put it. She’s lying stretched out on her motel bed, a washcloth over her eyes, praying the pain away. Migraines aren’t a common occurrence for her, but she recalls all the times her mother would turn off the television, pull the curtains, and lay flush in her recliner in an attempt to ward off the pain. As little as she was, Scully would pull a step stool over to grab a glass from the cabinet, then fill it with water and bring it to her mother like a dog itching for a treat. She’d get a ‘thank you’ from her mom’s quiet, steady voice and sometimes a pat on the head, but nothing she could subsist on. She always wished for a little more to fill the deficit in herself. Now she understood. Pain chips away at your capacity for love.

What had started as a dull roar now felt more like the scream of a banshee. It came on suddenly around 4 while she and Mulder were reviewing the evidence of the 1942 murders. Their day had been pretty slow, one of paperwork and manila folders and bureaucracy. Not a lot of progress on the case. It’s as if her brain weren’t working hard enough, and so decided to punish her by making work impossible. She let on nothing of her plight until the way back to the motel when she leaned her head against the window and Mulder asked if she was okay. She responded nonchalantly, saying it was just a headache, and he in his savior complex offered to stop for Aspirin, but she insisted she had some in her suitcase. She did--a bottle with only two left--and she took them both. So far they’ve done nothing to combat the pain. 

It occurs to her that her ardent desire to avoid coming off as a damsel in distress doesn’t exactly mesh with Mulder’s tendency to be the hero. What is she to make of that? Nothing, not in her current state of mind.

She lies there, wonders if it’s reached a late enough hour to change into her pajamas. She can’t deal with the monotony of the shower tonight, not even if Mulder’s on the other side. She turns, glances at the digital alarm clock. 8:09pm. Certainly that’s appropriate pajama time, right? She can never be sure that Mulder won’t come knocking on her door with a new interpretation of the evidence for her to shoot down or a theory somehow more outlandish than his original. She likes that they keep each other on their toes, but tonight that’s not where she wants to be.

Her head berates her for sitting up. She figures that if that’s wishful thinking, changing clothes will be too, so she lays right back down. She has gotten very used to ending up back where she started.

Seeing as modern medicine is failing her, she decides to try meditation. Missy swears by it, but Scully doesn’t see the benefit of willingly turning off your brain. She can hear her sister now: “It’s not about turning off your brain, it’s about transcending your thoughts and being present with the world.” Since when am I not present with the world, she always wants to reply. She can’t afford not to be present with the world.

But the older sister always has some semblance of sway over the younger one, so Scully closes her eyes and listens to the nothingness of the room around her. Well, it’s not exactly nothing, but nearly so. The mini-fridge, which she doesn’t dare touch even if the bill isn’t her responsibility, hums like it has something to prove. The remaining leaves on the trees in the parking lot rustle with the wind. In the adjacent room, Mulder’s TV is on. She can hear the droning chitter-chatter of sports commentators. Baseball, probably. That’s played in the fall, right?

She slips out of active listening and into mindless musing on her lack of sports expertise. Her father was never a sports junkie himself, but her brothers were. She was often made the referee of their wrestling matches or t-ball games, having been deemed more impartial than Melissa. And yet her understanding of plays and pitches and batting averages never progressed from there. She could name all 206 bones in the body in alphabetical order, but she couldn’t tell you what 3rd down meant. Usually she doesn’t care, but at the moment, this is making her indescribably sad.

Overcome by her isolation, she grabs the phone off hook, dials her own number. Melissa picks up right before it stops ringing.

“Hello?”

“Missy…” she doesn’t know it’s going to happen until she opens her mouth and tears fling themselves down her face.

“Dana, what’s wrong? Did something happen? Are you safe?” Missy’s voice is concerned but controlled, like a 911 operator. 

“I-I’m okay,” Scully manages, in probably the least convincing delivery ever.

“Where are you?”

“I’m in the motel. Mulder and I are safe, we’re okay,” she stammers. 

“Tell me what’s wrong,” Melissa says with utter calm. 

“My head is pounding, Missy, and I know mom used to get migraines, but I’ve never felt anything like this before--” Her voice catches, a sob slips out. “And I’m scared, Missy. Something’s wrong with me.”

“It sounds like you need medical attention, honey.” Melissa always knows when to slip in a term of endearment. “Can Mulder take you to the hospital?”

“No, no, it’s not like that.” She squeezes her eyes shut, sees stars. She hopes Mulder can’t hear her crying. The embarrassment of hurting is almost worse than the hurt itself. She pulls the bed sheet over her head like some over-dramatic teenager. She wouldn’t be able to look Mulder in the eye if he heard this next part. 

She sniffles. “I’m six days late, and I’m never late, and I can’t be pregnant unless…” She wonders what would happen if she just stopped the sentence there and never spoke of it again. Could she do that? Would Melissa mind? 

She lets the bottom drop out from under her. “...unless they did something to me.” The words are barely audible, she hates to have them on her tongue. Worse still, she’s not even the subject in her own sentence. She’s the object, of course. 

She hears Missy take what she’s deemed “a cleansing breath.” Then--”Can you come home? Tonight, tomorrow morning?”

“I...What would I tell Mulder?” Her tears have stopped flowing, but her brokenness still lives in her voice. 

“Anything. That I locked myself out of the apartment, that it’s mom’s birthday, maybe the truth. That man will listen to whatever you say. He’s not gonna stop you.”

“Well, I have to tell the FBI something.” 

“Say you have a family emergency. Or that you’re experiencing trauma from work-related events. You don’t owe them anything, Dana.”

Scully knows this, but could never operate as if she actually believed it. The FBI is her job, her duty, her choice. How can she be up in arms about something she wished upon herself? 

She takes as deep a breath as the pain in her head will allow. “I’ll fly out tomorrow morning.”

“Call me with the deets before you take off. I’ll pick you up.”

“Okay.” Scully feels a rush of safety, of being held & supported. “Thank you,” she breathes. Missy has saved her from herself.

“You’re welcome. And Dana…?”

“Yes?”

“We’re gonna figure this out. Whatever it is, we’re gonna figure it out.”

Scully flutters her eyelids shut, feels the temptation of tears at the back of them. “I know...Thank you. I love you.”

“I love you too,” Missy echoes. “Get some rest, and try not to worry. I’ll see you in the morning.” 

Scully wonders what gene her sister has that gives her such a distinct ability to say the right thing every time. She wishes she hadn't missed that boat. How much easier would life be? 

She notices that Missy has refused to hang up first. “Goodnight, Missy,” she says into the phone.

“Goodnight, Dana. Sleep well.” Her words are a balm to the soul. 

Scully puts the phone back on the hook, feeling like Missy just put hope back in her vocabulary. Hope or belief? Which is stronger?

[draconicocelot]

Hidden Talent ~ Little Vampire Fic

Hello Little Vampire fandom! Have another fic! :D

(Thank you to @poepoe-thebunny for letting me write about your headcanon and to @rudolph-sackville-bagg for the add-on to that headcanon)

Description: Tony finds out about one of Rudolph’s hidden talents

{Pst! One more thing! Whenever Rudolph mentions starting up music, you may want to listen to these while they dance!

Song One: Vampire Waltz by Derek Fiechter 

Song Two: The Last Dance by Peter Gundry }

****************************

With the sun officially setting over the horizon of the castle that had become a temporary home for many, the time came for mortals to start getting ready for bed and for vampires to rise for the night. Tony had a long day of traveling around the nearby town with his parents and was anxiously awaiting his extremely comfortable bed. 

As his parents went to bed, Tony made his way to the bathroom to brush his teeth. On his way there, he happened to see Frieda floating her way down the hallway.

“Good evening Mrs.Sackville-Bagg,” Tony greeted in a drowsy voice.

“Why hello, Tony. Heading to bed soon I presume?” She paused in front of the bathroom door as her pale face lit up with a kind smile. Tony nodded his head as he grabbed his red-handled toothbrush and the half-empty tube of toothpaste sitting next to the mirror. 

“Yep! Time for us humans to get some shut-eye,” he ran the toothpaste covered end of his brush under the faucet for a few seconds then started brushing his teeth as Frieda let out a light chuckle.

“Just as the vampires come out to play! So unfortunate...” Tony’s expression turned to that of slight concern, which aroused a bigger smile from her. “Do not worry, I am only trying to make a joke. My son has taken a strong liking to you, he would never forgive us if we made a meal of you!” Tony spit into the sink and tried to keep his nervous smile as convincing as possible as he wiped his mouth with a towel.

“Yeahhh… haha… Well, he is the best friend I could ever ask for,” Frieda seemed pleased with the genuine tone of his voice as her expression humbled.

“I’m not sure if I ever properly thanked you for saving my son. Just know that I will be forever gracious to you, mortal boy,” Tony tipped an imaginary hat in her direction as he shut off the light in the bathroom.

“Of course! To be fair, he saved my life a few times after that, so we’re pretty even,” just as a yawn escaped Tony’s lips, Frieda turned her attention to the hallway behind her as she heard one of the doors upstairs open and close.  

“Well, have a good night, Tony. May we see each other once more before the sun rises,” with that, she floated back towards the sound of the recently-opened door. Tony proceeded to his bedroom without haste as he just continued to picture his fluffy cotton sheets shielding him from the cold air outside. It was a wonderful daydream that would soon become reality. His bedroom wasn’t far from the bathroom, but it was still easy to get lost in a castle that was so large and had dark winding hallways that all looked very similar. However, as he got closer to where his room was located, he could hear music getting progressively louder. It was very gentle music, like an angelic choir of organ chords and a solo violinist that was combined in a very specific manner. Tony definitely could tell it was coming from his room as he reached his door. Not wanting to disturb whatever was happening inside, he slightly cracked the door open by slowly turning the doorknob and peeking one eye through. 

When he looked inside, he immediately noticed that the closet doors to Rudolph’s “coffin” were open. Not only that, but his phone was on and sitting on the bed. Tony had a phone for calling and texting his parents and for music, which he had allowed Rudolph to use whenever he wanted to. He saw that the music was coming from the phone and that Rudolph was in the center of the room dancing to its beautiful melody. It was actually quite amazing. His graceful movements fit the slow-paced tempo of a waltz. He looked completely peaceful as his eyes were closed and a wide smile rested on his face. The window to the room was wide open, and a cold-night breeze blew through his hair and cape as he swayed side-to-side in a circular pattern. Tony was in awe of his amazing companion. He had never told him about his ability to dance, let alone the fact that he was very skilled at it.  As the song died down into silence, Rudolph sighed with satisfaction and stood straight up in front of the window, staring out at the starry black sky. 

“Rudolph, that was incredible!” Tony decided that he had to know where Rudolph learned how to dance like that, even if he had been watching when he should have revealed himself. Rudolph jolted in surprise as he whipped his head around in his direction.

“T-Tony! How long have you been standing there?!”

“Long enough to watch you dance like a professional! How’d you do that?” Rudolph’s cheeks blushed a deep purple color as he tried to act cool and collected. 

“I… I learned about it two hundred and seventy years ago…in the early eighteen-hundreds,” Tony sat down on the edge of the bed as he intently listened to what he had to say. Rudolph could sense that Tony had no intention of making fun of him for dancing, so he continued. “I have only ever done it with my family. My mother and father used to dance like this all of the time. As soon as we watched them dance, my sister and I were fascinated and we just had to learn. Gregory never really cared for dancing, but ever since then, we have perfected the form and rhythm. I’m sure Anna and I could dance to any waltz thrown our way,” Tony’s eyes lit up as he imagined how amazing it would be to show up to a dance and waltz to a dark masquerade song with perfect rhythm. 

“Wooow…” mused Tony, his eyes full of motivation. “Hey, can you teach me?” Rudolph’s eyes slightly lit up, similarly to the time Tony had called him a “friend” for the first time.

“You want me to teach you how to waltz?” Tony nodded his head excitedly as Rudolph smiled, his sharp fangs shining in the moonlight. “Very well! Let us start with music,” as he hit the shuffle button on a saved playlist on Tony’s phone, another waltz song began with beautiful yet haunting violin with a constant beat pulsing in the background from a deep organ. “Now, you want to keep in line with the tempo of the music. I shall demonstrate,” Rudolph held one arm out to the side with his palm facing the ceiling as the other was curled so that his hand was hovering over his chest, and he was slowly rocking back and forth in consistent, circular motions. There was a warm smile on his face as if he was enjoying reminiscing old memories of when he first started dancing. Tony watched his motions, and even found himself mimicking where he positioned his arms as he glided across the floor. “One, two, three… one, two, three…” he muttered the tempo under his breath as he danced, occasionally glancing over at Tony to see if he was watching. “Does that make sense?”

“Yeah, I think so!”

“It’s quite easy. Just follow my lead, alright?” Rudolph extended an inviting hand towards him with a smug smirk on his face, “Shall we dance?” Tony didn’t know why he was so nervous, but he was. He had never danced in front of anyone, let alone someone that meant so much to him, but he was excited to learn something that he had never tried before. However, he had already learned quite a bit from watching him and he was anxious to give it a shot. Tony grabbed Rudolph’s chilled hand as he guided him to the floor, then positioned himself so that they were standing across from each other. 

“Now, place your left hand right here around my shoulder, and your other hand will rest in my left hand,” Tony rested his left hand on Rudolph’s right shoulder, and Rudolph rested his right hand against Tony’s upper back, while their two open hands became clasped together. “To begin, we will be slightly offset to the left, but once we get into more advanced movements there will be times where we will be directly in front of one another. Not to worry though, we will start off easy,” As Rudolph shifted to the left slightly, with one foot following another, Tony stared down at his feet to try and copy his movements. “Yes! That’s it!” Tony smiled brightly as his eyes met Rudolph’s for a moment, then immediately focused back down on his movements. He was starting to get a hang of the swaying motion until his concentration was broken when he accidentally stepped on Rudolph’s boot.

“Ah! I-I’m sorry!” Rudolph couldn’t help but laugh as he patted Tony’s back with his hand that was already resting there.

“It happened many times when I was learning, don’t worry. Just stay focused on the beat and following my movements,” Tony got back in line and listened intently to the tempo of the music. One, two, three… one, two, three… With enough practice doing the same moves over and over again, Tony was able to keep his head up and ignore what was happening with his feet. “Well done, Tony! You’re a fast learner.”

“This is fun! You said there were more advanced moves? Let’s try one out! I think we make a great dancing team,” Rudolph looked at Tony with a different expression than what he had seen before. It was a type of extreme gratitude and happiness that was masked by a humbled filter.

“I think so too, Tony. Now, would you like to try a spin?” 

“Of course I would!” After about an hour of dancing together, Tony glanced at the clock that read “1:34 a.m”.

“Oh geez… I stayed up way past any bedtime I’ve ever had set…” Tony chuckled as he rubbed his eyes and parted from Rudolph. The vampire smiled once more as he floated up in the air and sat on top of his bed. “I don’t know how to thank you enough, that was really fun,” Tony pulled out a set of pajamas from the chest across from the window as he walked over to the right side of his bed. Rudolph crawled over to the side that he was sitting on and hung over the top of the bed frame so that he was facing Tony upside down. 

“No need to thank me, I had just as much fun showing you one of my hidden passions.” 

“Well we should do it more often now that I know how to do it!” Tony held out a fist in front of him, patiently waiting for Rudolph to return the gesture. Rudolph smirked as he formed a fist and bumped it against Tony’s. It was one of Tony’s favorites that he had taught Rudolph. 

“I would like that. Now go to bed mortal, I have some food to catch,” Tony pulled off his hoodie as he shook his head.

“Yeah yeah… Just make sure you close the window, it’s freezing in here now!” Rudolph floated off of the bed and head for the window, but paused as he perched on the windowsill. 

“For the record, you are definitely a better dance partner than Anna,” with that, he flew out into the night, shutting the windows as he took off. Tony chuckled to himself as he changed into his pajamas, reminiscing over how much fun he had learning how to dance. As he drifted off into sleep, he dreamed of dancing to beautiful waltz music in the air. That was something he absolutely had to try with Rudolph. 

[emile-hides]

YouWatch

This is a conversation topic that came up playing Overwatch last night; What if the Overwatch cast all has YouTube channels?

And while we voiced our opinions and debated to eachother, I feel the need to share all of my own takes as well.

Now, there’s 32 of these assholes so I’ll put it under the cut. Cause it’s long

Ana

Her channel is called “Grandma reacts”

Her viewers send her videos or shows to react to

She likes to have Jack, Gabe, Rein, and Torb on sometimes for some of the funnier videos

Hates daredevil compilations of people on high places with no safety gear

She swears at jump scares

Ashe

Daily vlogs

She calls her viewers part of the gang

BOB is the camera man and the crowd favorite

She mostly just likes to chat about nothing while wandering around the hide out

BOB makes really cool time lapses of them riding her bike down Route 66

Baptiste

Runs an advice channel

Mostly does Q&A live streams 

All of his ad revenue goes to local charities and hospitals

People sometimes donate to him and that also goes to charity

There’s a very slim chance he got overnight famous because he’s so pretty

Bastion

One 12 minute video of him playing with Ganymede in Torbjorn’s backyard

Torbjorn recorded it for him

Brigitte

Tried to do a make-up channel

Eventually devolved into a “How to” builder’s channel

Can put together an Ikea bookshelf in 15 minutes without even glancing at the instructions

Ikea furniture speed runs are her most popular videos

D.Va

Canonically already has a gaming channel

Also has a daily vlog channel where she hangs out with Lucio and Junkrat a lot

Takes requests on what games she plays

Despite mainly being an online PvP gamer, she adores playing story games and voice acting

She cried on live stream when she finished Undertale

Doomfist

Runs Talon’s official YouTube channel

All the videos are join Talon adds

Echo

Her channel is a mash

Will play or do any kind of video that’s popular at the moment

There’s three episodes of a Minecraft LP left to die

Seven vlogs all recorded almost 3 months apart

Two animations she made herself

A couple of reaction videos

And a Pachimari unboxing

She has a lot of sponsors

Genji

Also, canonically, has a gaming channel

Sometimes does videos of sick ninja tricks in his backyard

Has the same channel from before his fight with Hanzo, so there’s a 4-5 year gap between two videos

“So my brother tried to kill me” is the first video he makes when he finally comes back

Occasionally makes “Master reacts to (anime)” videos with Zenyatta

Hanzo

The show off channel

It’s mostly just target practice with his bow and arrow Genji recorded for him

90% of his comments are telling him to put a shirt on and cover the nipple

His channel also went dead after he killed Genji

Might start recording and uploaded unscheduled vlogs during his hobo days

Also does movie reviews

Junkrat

If I may defer your attention to this post

Yeah he just runs a demolition channel

Roadhog makes sure the camera doesn’t get damaged

Junkrat really loves the slow motion effect 

Lucio

Like Hana, he has two channels

One is his official music channel with music videos and concert clips

The other is also a vlog channel where he hangs out with Hana and Jamie

He’ll also talk about serious issues and his opinions on them on his second channel

McCree

Much like Hanzo, runs a show off channel

His is more popular because he’s straight up a cowboy though

People think it’s a gimmick for the channel. They have no idea he looks and sounds like that all the time

Mei

Has a scientific fact of the day Podcast with Winston

Talks about big issues

Her channel is very kid friendly and she explains things like global warming in a way they can understand

A lot of her videos will be watched by kids in science class

Mercy

“What to do encase of an emergency” tutorial videos

Gives basic medical training, like how to do CPR

Her videos are short and to the point so they can be played in an actual emergency

Genji is usually the person she uses as an example

Moira

Her channel is like Junkrat’s but more contained(?)

She does dangerous shit with chemicals but somehow it always ends wholesomly

The last minute of the video she speaks in a soothing Bob Ross voice as the lab is on fire behind her

The videos typically end with Angella coming back from her break

Orisa

It’s technically Efi’s channel

It’s a vlog to record Orisa’s progress tword becoming Numbani’s protector

Very popular, everyone loves how wholesome Orisa is

The money from the ads goes to fixing whatever Orisa breaks while trying to be helpful

All rude comments are deleted

Pharah

Show off channel

“99 dunks in a row” and such types of videos

They’re typically sped up with relaxing music

Lucio has appeared to play soccer with her a few times

Reaper

As Gabriel Reyes he ran a prank channel around the Overwatch base

He didn’t do any pranks that hurt or scared people though

Just recorded himself eating vanilla pudding out of a mayo jar to get people’s reactions

His favorite people to prank were Jesse and Genji because they had the most over the top reactions

Reinhardt is unprankable

The channel died with the fall of Overwatch

Reinhardt

Advice channel but louder than Baptiste

He’s full of energy in every one of his videos

Calls himself his viewer’s Grandpa

If anyone comes to him for advice on how to handle abuse of any kind he will adopt them on the spot

Also does meme reactions, sometimes has to have Brigitte explain what makes it funny

Has one video where he speaks quietly called “Grandpa reads a bedtime story” and it’s literally just him reading a bedtime story with soft music in the background

Roadhog

Toy unboxings

All of his videos are silent aside from the cute music he puts of them

The only part of him that’s ever on camera are his hands

Sigma

All his videos devolve into rambles about the universe

Other than that his channel doesn’t have a real theme

He tries to explain scientific principals but quickly turns into a shouting mess about the universe and gravity

Moira is the one to stop recording in the middle of his breakdowns

Soldier 76

Use to run a tutorial channel

Gabe called it “Dad Teaches you” and Jack hates that he’s not your father

He teaches you to cook basic meals and do simple repairs on a car

He talks in a very fatherly voice

Begrudgingly, he became his veiwers father

His channel died with Overwatch as well

Sombra

Gaming channel, but hacked

Does glitched speedruns on live stream

Clickbait thumbnails and titles

“How to get 1,000,000,000 free V-Bucks in Fortnite”

Steals kid’s Fortnite accounts

Symmetra

Stim channel

All of her videos focus on satisfying visuals

Someone asked her to do ASMR once and she hated it. The video existed for less than 24 hours

Torbjorn

Like Brigitte, runs a builder channel

It also doubles as a story time channel as he tends to ramble about the good old days

All his videos are 30+ minutes long

Somehow adds “and that’s how I lost my eye” to every story so no one knows how it actually happened

Bastion guest appears in a lot or Torb’s videos but only because he’s bored and wants attention

Tracer

Animated story telling

Makes animations of their missions and her day-to-day life

Thanks to her chronal accelerator animations take half as long

Still only uploads like two videos a month

Widowmaker

Food review videos

Hates everything, nothing gets high marks

Gets view ship cause she’s hot and very snarky

Winston

His channel is exactly like Mei’s

It’s more popular though because he’s a monkey and thus draws kid’s attention better

All of his viewers are elementary school science teachers and their class

Wrecking Ball

Tried to do a builder channel but all the comments were on how cute he is

Hates being called cute so he made his mech say swear words

He’s very popular with little boys

Also loves destruction and may destroy things for fun

“5000lbs wrecking ball VS Junkrat’s house”

Zarya

Vlogs but like... Work out vlogs.

It’s just time lapses of her at the gym

Insanely popular with lesbians for very obvious reasons

Encourages her viewers to take care of themselves and start slow

Blew a kiss at the camera once, became the most used image of her on the internet

Zenyatta

Most of his videos are relaxing music over beautiful visuals he recorded

The other half of his videos are meditation leadings and yoga

He’s also done videos on the omnic crisis and talked in length on his belief for the future

Has one video of him pranking Genji

[sighonahurricane]

A really long Peaky Blinders side plot, continued (Part4)

Part3

They decide to marry. Now, the wedding is a short affair. Nothing too grand. Just Thomas's family, gypsies and the rest of the peaky blinders.

So when the party n all is done, Tommy and Arabella are in their room. Since Arabella commits to whatever she does, she says a vow to Tom that she will be a business partner to him before she's his wife so that they can always talk about anything and everything to each other and will try to be a good mother to Charles. And that she understands him (as they come from a similar struggle) and will stand by his side as his strength and that he doesn't have to reply to this because she knows why he married her. Tommy is a bit taken aback but doesn't say anything. (This scene is REALLY good in my head, someone write this beautifully please)

Now as a year passes Arabella grows close to Charles and he starts calling her mum which Tommy didn't like in the starting but is now accepting. Also her and Tommy still have a very professional relationship but they fuck often and both of them love the hell out of it and there is a mind blowing chemistry and passion between them but they don't express it much. She is gentle with Tommy and both of them believe in keeping their conversations to-the-point but calls the shit out of him at the things which are not acceptable. Tommy doesn't sleep out of this marriage at all and is loyal.

If someone looks at how they live, they wouldn't call it a very happy marriage as they hardly spend time with each other than discussing their businesses both mutual and each other's seperate. When Charles wants to spend time with both of them they come together and play with him for sometime. Usually Tommy wouldn't care, but Arabella asks him to so that his son doesn't have to grow up without good interactions with his father. Arabella considers Charles her own son. She takes time out almost everyday for him. Puts him to sleep whenever she can. Reads him his favourite bedtime stories. Charles loves his new mother. Tommy notices that Charles is very happy with her. He hadn't seen him this happy in a long long time.

They continue like this for more time and they develop a friendly relationship. After almost 3 years Tommy has just started opening up to her. One day he comes to her office (she has a small office at the Arrow Manor, too, and they usually sit in seperate offices all the time) and she out of habit thinks about any documents or paperwork between them that must've been pending because he wouldn't come to her otherwise. He just sits in a chair opposite to her, lights a cigarette and keeps looking at her which has never happened before. He gets up, puts some music on and pours them both some whiskey. She's confused, as they sit there in silence. Tommy's eyes never leaving her. When is drink is almost done he asks her to dance with him. Arabella is so goddamned surprised and gets up to dance. While dancing, she asks him what this is about. Tommy tells her that it's almost 12 at night and it's their 3rd year marriage anniversary. (They've never celebrated their anniversaries yet) He kisses her and wishes. She doesn't know how to react. That night goes pretty good. And the next day in the evening he tells her that they're going out for dinner. Now she's suspicious for why Tommy is being like this and asks him who they're meeting. Tommy is a bit surprised and lets out a little smile thinking how well she knows him but tells her that someone wants to meet both of them for a deal but originally he had planned the night just for them. They go out. Meet the man. The man eyes Arabella because she looks absolutely stunning and passes a comment which makes Tommy wind up the dinner real quick. They then spend the night nicely n all.

But then the Wall Street crashes and Moseley steps into their lives.

And that is a story for another post.

Note: Tommy loves her long hair which she usually keeps in a low bun. She only opens them when she's home. And he often asks her to keep them open and not tie them. He loves touching them and seeing her wear them down.

This has been really good. I missed a lot of details out because then it'd be tooooo long. So thank you for reading <3

And this is the song I imagine playing in the background when they share a good intimate moment.

[romantic-hero]

morden romelza au, where ross is getting horny in Isolation😉

Ross was quarantined alone in their London home. Demelza and Caroline had taken the children to the Enys’s vacation house in Cornwall  before COVID-19 had hit and now the whole country was on lockdown. London was a virtual ghost town and Ross had promised to self-isolate for as long as the orders to stay home remained in place. Being a loner, Ross was mainly ok with being alone. Their pantry was full and he’d made a schedule. Wake up, workout, coffee and the news. FaceTime with Demelza and the kids, do as much work as he could from his home office, lunch, nap, sneak in a run with Dwight (maintaining the 2 meter distance rule), try to read or watch  Netflix,  workout, dinner, then call Demelza, then bed. It wasn’t too bad, but Ross missed Demelza and especially missed her in bed. Oh, it wasn’t just the sex. Sure he missed that, but he missed her smell, her touch, her cold feet on his. He missed their nightly talks, the confidences they shared. Her wise advice that kept him sane. He’d do what needed to be done, but he’d give anything if he could drive to Cornwall and bring his precious family home.  He missed wrestling with Jeremy and reading Clowance her bedtime stories. Thank God they had a well stocked wine cellar. Brandy was now his bedfellow.

That night as Ross was doing his final 500 push-ups of the day, Demelza’s familiar ringtone gave him the  excuse to abandon the last 100.  He grabbed his mobile, got in bed and leaned back against the pillows. Happily it was a FaceTime call and seeing her cheerful smile lifted his spirits.

“My love,” he said to her. “Is everything alright? Why are you up so late?”

“Ross, everything is fine! I just wanted to talk to you.” Demelza had a glass of port and Ross watched  her take a long drink. “Actually Ross, I wanted to show you something.” And to Ross’s surprise, Demelza drained her glass.

“You wanted me to watch you drink?”  he asked.

Demelza laughed and poured another glass full, and chugged it down. “No, silly!” And then  In the background Ross heard their favorite hip hop song, Boo’d Up by Ella Mai. It had been  their song for the last year and when ever Ross heard Demelza playing it, he knew she was up for some loving.

“God, Demelza! Are you trying to torture me?” His wife had disappeared from the screen but now she came back into view he could see she was only wearing only one of his old flannel shirts and he thought he caught a glimpse of black lace underpants.

As she sang with the song, she began to slowly unbutton her shirt.

“Boy, you do something to me,” she crooned as she let her shirt fall open and indeed all she had on were panties underneath  She cupped her full breasts, and came up closer to the phone so Ross could get a good view.

She danced a few steps back, swaying to the music. “ Ooh, no I’ll never get over you until I find something new,” as she ran her hand slowly down her stomach until her fingers disappeared, hidden by that sheer lace. “That get me high like you do, yeah yeah”. Demelza closed her eyes and Ross could clearly see she was turning herself on, which of course made him hot with desire.

Then she started dancing again, slowly rubbing her nipples then closing the shirt as Demelza seductively sang the chorus,

“LListen to my heart go ba-do, boo’d up

Biddy-da-do, boo’d up

Hear my heart go ba-do, boo’d up

Biddy-da-do, it just won’t stop, it go

Ba-do, boo’d up

Biddy-da-do, boo’d up

Hear my heart go ba-do, boo’d up

Biddy-da-do, it just won’t stop, it go”

To Ross’s pure delight, Demelza took off her shirt and threw it across the room then got on her hands and knees and crawled towards the phone’s camera.

“How many ways can I say that I need you? Baby, it’s true

I think I might die without you

Feeling all over my body

You know how I like it

Ain’t gotta tell you what to do, yeah yeah”

Demelza looked into the phone. “Tell me, Ross, what would you like to do?”

“Ravish you, you naughty minx,” he growled.

Demelza lay back and wiggled out of those scraps of lace she dismissively called pants. With one hand she caressed her breasts and with the other fingered herself arching her back as she sang, “Got me boo’d up, boo’d up

Grab me by the waist baby, pull me closer.”

“Damn it, Demelza, I wish you were here.

“Come on Ross, show me what you’ve got,” she purred.

Who was this woman, thought Ross, but they’d gone this far, he might as well go for it and he took off his briefs and got some satisfaction when Demelza’s eyes widened with a little shock.

Demelza ran her tongue over her lips. “I certainly have missed that good friend of mine.” She touched herself and pushed her hips up. “ You know what  I want, Poldark.”

And Ross started stroking himself, amazed at how erotic this whole FaceTime thing could be.

“Don’t  close your eyes, Ross. Look at me! I want to look at you.”

And as the music played,

“Listen my to heart go ba-dum, boo’d up

Biddy-da-dum, boo’d up

Hear my heart go ba-dum, boo’d up

Biddy-da-dum it just won’t stop, it go

Ba-dum, boo’d up

Biddy-da-dum, boo’d up

Hear my heart go ba-dum, boo’d up

Biddy-da-dum, it just won’t stop, it go”

Ross did as he was told and while he pretended it was Demelza’s hand bringing him to the edge, it was the sight of his wife’s hips in motion as she brought herself pleasure that really had him turned on. He watched mesmerized as she made herself come, calling his name as she boldly seemed to be looking right at him.

“Ross, I wish you were in my mouth,” she panted. “Imagine I’m holding you as my lips…” and Ross interrupted her with a groan as he let go.

“Jesus, Demelza,” he whispered, finding it hard to catch his breath.

“Was it as good for you as it was for me.” she said softly.

“Love, it was wonderful,” he told her.

“Good night, Ross. I’ll call you in the morning. I love you.”

“I love you, too.”  

He felt a bit sad when the screen went black, but oh, my God. It wasn’t nearly the same as having his wife with him, but he had to give her credit for making this horrible time a bit more tolerable.  Ross grabbed the tissue and cleaned himself off then he snuggled down into his bed pulled the covers up. His last thought was of Demelza. He smiled. She never ceased to amaze him.  He couldn’t wait to see her, even if it was FaceTime, in the morning. And he fell into the best nights sleep he’d had since this nightmare of a virus had disrupted their lives.

Songwriters: Dijon Isaiah McFarlane / Ella Mai Howell / Joelle Marie James / Larrance Levar DopsonBoo’d Up lyrics © Warner Chappell Music, Inc, Peermusic Publishing, BMG Rights Management, Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Universal Music Publishing Group

[hailing-stars]

for peter - part 3

Summary

“Tony.”

He turned and saw Pepper marching towards them.

“You brought the leash,” said Pepper, her voice clipped, annoyed. “Our daughter is on a leash, but our dog isn’t.”

“Honey, she darts,” said Tony. “When she’s as responsible as the dog, she can come off the leash.”

or

Morgan’s third Christmas holiday with her dog brother.

or

An AU where Peter is turned into a dog instead of snapped out of existence and spends that five year gap living with the Starks at their lake cabin

read part one, part two

part three after the cut, or read on ao3

“Dad!”

Tony didn’t look up from his phone, but he knew Morgan was trying to race off towards the pond for two reasons.

The first was the same reason Tony wanted to burst into song every time someone told him you’re welcome. Morgan had Moana on repeat at the cabin since she discovered it months ago. The songs never disappeared from Tony’s mind, and the desire to chase after bodies of water never disappeared from Morgan’s.

The second was more obvious. It was the leash in his hand, being pulled at and tugged on, by the three-year-old on the other end.

“Daaddd,” Morgan repeated. “Come on, I wanna go look at the water.”

Tony looked up and over at dock resting in pond. Ice chucks were breaking apart and melting, and the water glistened with sunlight poking out from behind the clouds. It was a strangely warm day for early December. The perfect sort of day for walking around their favorite park, or at least, it would’ve been if Nat wasn’t blowing up his phone with distracting text messages.  

His cellphone buzzed and his screen lit up, and even though Morgan was pulled on her leash and Buddy tried to get his attention by nudging his hand with his nose, Tony felt compelled to look at them.

“Just a minute, little miss,” said Tony. He looked at Buddy and gave him the end of Morgan’s kid leash. “Here. Hold this.”

Buddy took the leash in his mouth and sat down, freeing up Tony to read Nat’s messages. They were the same as always. Nothing new. Just updates on her children’s home, on whatever that flying space girl was doing in space, on hopeless things Tony didn’t care to read about.

As a reply, he snapped a picture of Buddy holding the leash in his mouth with Morgan in the background, still trying to reach the water’s edge. He pushed send and pocketed his phone, hoping Nat would get the message. That he had better things to look at than her text messages that dwelled on the past.

He was moving and moved on. She should, too.

“Tony.”

He turned and saw Pepper marching towards them.

“You brought the leash,” said Pepper, her voice clipped, annoyed. “Our daughter is on a leash, but our dog isn’t.”

“Honey, she darts,” said Tony. “When she’s as responsible as the dog, she can come off the leash.”

Buddy barked his agreement, the leash slipping through his teeth as he did, sending Morgan tumbling to the ground in a faceplant. Tony and Pepper paused, preparing to dry tears, but Morgan just giggled, stood up and tried wiping the mud off her clothes, only smearing it around even more.

“You’re on bath duty tonight,” Pepper told him, as Tony offered her his arm and she accepted it. “For both our kids.”

Together, with Buddy following close behind, and Tony back in control of the leash that prevent Morgan from drowning herself in the pond, they finally walked over to the dock and watched the ice chucks floating in around in the water, appreciating that one sunny day December had to offer.

*

Tony was crouched down in front of the fireplace, adjusting fuzzy reindeer ears on top of Buddy’s head with one hand and his phone out and ready to snap a picture in his other. When they were near to perfect, Tony scooted backward and stood up. He wasn’t fast enough though, but before he could get his picture, Buddy had laid down on the floor and swiped the ears off with his front paws.

“Don’t be like that,” said Tony, crouching back down and picking up the reindeer ears. “It’s cute.”

Buddy groaned and covered his eyes with his paws.

“Don’t you wanna be a reindeer?”

Buddy huffed a growl.

“Morgan will love it.”

He uncovered his eyes and his tail slowly started to wag, and after a few seconds, he sat up and allowed Tony to readjust the ears. Buddy didn’t try taking them off that time. Just stared at Tony, looking sad and pathetic and like he’d rather be going off to a vet appointment.

“Now stay still,” said Tony. He lifted his phone back up, but just as he was clicking on his camera app, Morgan sprinted into the living room, wielding a plastic sword.

She stopped, took one look at Buddy, then ripped the ears off him. “He doesn’t like those, dad.”

Tony dropped his phone hand down to his side in defeat. With children and dogs, it was impossible to get a good picture.

“Wanna play princess dragon with me?” Morgan asked Buddy, while she whacked her father in the knees with the sword.

Buddy barked and followed her out of the room, and in spite, stepping on the reindeer ears as he trotted along after her.

They skidded across the floor, and with a sigh of defeat, Tony picked them up. He put them on his own head and settled with a selfie, hoping it was wild and ridiculous to get the message across to Nat, or at the very least, make her smile.

*

Putting Morgan to bed on Christmas Eve turned out to be the most difficult feat Tony had ever been tasked with.

She had ideas, about trapping Santa, and meeting the reindeers, and maybe an elf, and it didn’t matter how times Tony tried explaining to her Santa would not come until she was asleep. She was persistent. She escaped her bedroom on four different occasions armed with her plastic sword, that Tony regretted buying immensely.

“Go to sleep,” said Tony, plopping her back on her bed, after wrestling the sword away from her grip. “Or I’m telling Santa to leave you coal.”

Morgan giggled, then looked up at Tony with big, brown eyes. “Tell me a story? One about my spider brother.”

Tony never missed an opportunity to talk about Peter, so he was persuaded. At some point during the bedtime story, Buddy joined them and laid down at the end of Morgan’s bed. By the time he was finished, Morgan was drifting off, with that look in her eyes that told Tony he was hovering somewhere between awake and asleep.

“Daddy,” she said, shifting around under the blankets. “I know Pete’s in heaven, but sometimes I feel like he’s here with us.”

“Yeah, me too,” Tony told her, running a hand through her hair. “Now go to sleep, so Santa will bring the gifts.”

Morgan’s eyes finally fell shut, for real, that time. Tony could tell by her breathing, and how peaceful she looked, that this wasn’t another fake-out.

He took a few seconds. Watched her chest moving up and down, then left her room and headed to the kitchen, with Buddy following close behind him.

Tony went straight for Santa’s cookies, savoring every bite, until he realized Buddy was sat in the middle of the kitchen floor. Staring at him.

“What?” asked Tony. He waged a half-eaten cookie at him “Don’t give me that look. You’re old enough to know these were never really for Santa.”

Buddy barked, loud and mad.

“Hey, quiet it down,” said Tony, in a low voice. “I just got the gremlin to sleep.”

Buddy made a low noise Tony interrupted as a grumble, and laid down on the floor, looking up at him with sad eyes. It was all that talk about Peter. Sometimes Tony forget just how much Buddy missed him, too.

Tony put his cookie back down on the plate and crouched down next to his dog, massaging his ears.

“What do you wanna do, huh? Wanna go out for burgers? At our spot?”

Their diner probably wasn’t open on Christmas Eve, but Tony could break in. Grill his own burgers. He could do that. For Buddy.

Buddy jumped up and darted out of the room. When he came back, he had his favorite, bright yellow tennis ball in his mouth. His tail was wagging. He was giving Tony big, brown puppy dog eyes.

“Ok, fine,” said Tony. “Let me get my coat.”

Tony suited up with snow boots and coat, then headed outside, in the frigid, winter air. He snowman him, Morgan, and Pepper made was still standing over by the icy lake. His nose was missing. Tony suspected Gerald. That little shit.

Buddy dropped his tennis ball and ran to the side of the house, forcing Tony to stick his hand into the freeze to pick it up and clog through the snow to follow him.

The dog finally stopped once he got to a clear patch of snow, on the side of the yard Morgan had yet to trample through. He dug his nose around in the fresh snow, and it took Tony a few seconds to realize Buddy wasn’t just playing in the snow. He was drawing something.

Once his was finished, he sneezed snow off his nose, and sat down, his tail wagging back and forth as he looked up at Tony, like a childhood showing off a crayon drawing.

Tony’s breath caught. In the snow, he had written the word Underoos, with a backwards R and an upside-down E. Had Tony ever referred to Peter as Underoos around Buddy? Tony couldn’t remember, but he must have, because that was the only explanation he could wrap his mind around.

“I always knew you were a genius, boy,” said Tony. “I – I know, I really miss him, too.”

Buddy groaned, again, and his tail stopped wagging. He walked over and nudged Tony’s hand, the one that held the ball.

They fell into a rhythm under the bright, winter stars, in the calm of Christmas Eve. Throw, run, return, repeat. Each time Buddy ran back with the ball was one more time he trampled over the writing he’d made in the snow. He was back and forth, back and forth, until it was unreadable, until it was no more.

*

Tony walked into his bedroom and was assaulted by Christmas music, wrapping paper, and bows.

Pepper stood over their bed, ripping shiny blue wrapping paper off a dog toy Tony had tried to wrap according to her standard, but obviously, had failed. She gave him a look as he had walked closer and threw the Yoda dog toy at him. It hit his chest, squeaked, then fell to the floor by his feet, forcing Tony to pick it up.

“How many of those did you buy?” asked Pepper, a slight smile on her lips. She could pretend to be outraged by Tony spoiling both their child and their dog with toys on Christmas, but Tony knew she loved him for it.

“He needs the whole set,” said Tony, sinking down on their bed, causing heaps of torn wrapping paper to crinkle under him. He put Yoda down in the pile of other Star War toys Pepper had yet to wrap.

Most were dog toys for Buddy, but there were a few plastic lightsabers for Morgan, too.

“Yeah. The same way Morgan needed an alpaca.”

“She didn’t,” said Tony. “Gerald needed us.”

Gerald the alpaca joined their family of misfits on Morgan’s third birthday. She had wanted a petting zoo for her party, and had gotten one, and when she overheard the employees talking about sending Gerald off to an early retirement, she’d convinced Tony to write a check.

Tony had Gerald less than a day before they out figured why the petting zoo workers didn’t think he was fit to work. Gerald was a pain in his ass, so naturally, him and Buddy and Morgan all became fast friends.

“Tony, seriously?” asked Pepper. She unwrapped the red and gold, Iron Man, dog sweater. “You’re never going to get this thing on him.”

“Sure I will.”

“May I remind you of the time you tried getting him to wear a sweater?”

“That was different,” said Tony, snatching the dog sweater away from her and holding it up to see the Iron Man emblem and trying not to have flashbacks of a shredded AC/DC sweater.  “He clearly has bad taste in music, but this… Pete will love this.”

After a few beats passed, and Pepper didn’t say anything, Tony lowered the sweater and looked at her. She was staring at him. With concern. A look in her eyes that was familiar, but one he hadn’t seen for years.

“What?”

“You know… you know that Buddy isn’t Peter, right?” she asked him, carefully. “That Peter’s gone?”

“What? Yeah, yeah of course,” said Tony. “Because that would be… just… ridiculous. That would be ridiculous.”

Pepper eyed him with suspicion, as if she didn’t quite believe him, but then, the moment passed, and she fixed him with a small smile. She took the sweater back from him and laid it flat on the bed, beginning to wrap it with precision only she could manage.

“Where’s Buddy, anyway?” she asked. “He’s being too quiet. It’s scaring me.”

A valid question, and even more valid concern. Every other night they wrapped presents, Buddy was outside the door, whining or trying to claw his way in. He was worse than a literal child about wanting to catch a peak of his presents early.

Tony stood up off the bed and walked over to the window. Down below, Buddy was visible, running around in the snow, near the icy lake, and near where Gerald was stood inside his stable. Buddy had refused to come back inside after Tony had decided he’d had enough of throwing the ball around. Almost as if his grief for Peter had turned into anger towards him.

“Running around,” answered Tony. “Blowing off some steam.”

He turned back in time to see Pepper fold the wrapping paper over the Iron Man sweater. Maybe he’d wait a couple of days before trying to make him wear it and snapping a picture. Maybe he’d wait until Buddy’s anger melted away with the snow.

*

Christmas morning turned Tony’s living room into a disaster zone. Torn wrapping paper laid about in piles, empty boxes and shiny new toys, both for dog and for child, were spread out all over. The toys went ignored, though, while Buddy rustled around in the wrapping paper and Morgan was sat inside a giant box, pretending she was a spaceship and about to shoot lasers into the Death Star.

They watched too much Star Wars in their house. Pete would be proud.

After they were done playing with the trash, Morgan and Buddy settled down on the couch and watched Morgan’s latest obsession, Frozen. She stretched out, used the dog as her pillow, and tapped her foot on the cushion to the beat of the songs. They were both distracted, and so Tony and Pepper saw the perfect opportunity to rid their living room of paper and cardboard.

Tony left the spaceship box behind, though, when he and Pepper bundled all the trash together to take out back to the waste bins. He’d never survive the whining if he didn’t.

It didn’t take them long to dispose of the trash. Just a few minutes, and then another few minutes on top of that to make the hot chocolate and put some cookies on a plate. Ten minutes, tops, but tragedies have happened in less time than that.

When they returned, there was a chill in the house. Their front door was sitting wide open.

“Morgan?” asked Tony, hurrying in the living room. He peaked over the top of the couch and saw, or didn’t see, exactly what he feared.

There was no daughter, no dog. Just Frozen playing for an empty room.

Tony was outside in seconds, with Pepper rushing along beside him. His sock covered feet tore through the snow, towards the lake, where he knew, without looking, that’s where Morgan had gone. When he did look up, when he finally forced himself to see, it was another fear confirmed.

Buddy and Morgan were in the lake. Morgan, with her arms locked around Buddy’s neck, and Buddy, trying to keep his head above the water, dog paddling with all the strength of a golden retriever.

Tony and Pepper both arrived at the water’s edge just as Buddy carried Morgan out of the lake. She was lifted up, and straight into Pepper’s arms, shivering, teeth chattering, too cold and scared to even cry.

“Mom - mommy,” she said, then coughed. “I’m sorry, I wanted to be like Elsa and walk on the ice, but I fell through.”

Tony looked dog as Buddy emerged from the water, slow and sluggish, whining a little.

“Please don’t be mad.”

“We’re not mad,” said Tony. He tore his eyes away from Buddy and put his hand through his daughter’s freezing, soaking hair. “Just promise, never again?”

“I promise. Is.. is Buddy going to be okay?”

“He’s going to be fine,” Pepper told her, killing the panic in not just Morgan, but also Tony. He didn’t know how she did it, how she remained so calm in terrifying situations. “Daddy’s going to take care of him while I get you all dried off, okay?”

“O-okay.” She clung onto to Pepper, borrowing her head in her neck.

Tony crouched down where Buddy lay in the snow, wrapped his arms around him and picked him up, carrying him as he trailed after Pepper back into the cabin. Once inside, she took Morgan upstairs, and Tony carefully placed Buddy in front of the fireplace before leaving him, just for a few seconds, to get some towels and on an impulse, Pepper’s hair dryer.

Buddy was still lying scarily still when Tony hurried back and began the hard work of getting him dry. He whined a little, and whimpered, when he watched Tony plug the hair dryer in, but didn’t try to escape. He stayed perfectly still as Tony dried him, and as Tony’s thoughts run wild with the worse possible version of that Christmas day.

He could’ve lost everything. In ten minutes. Two thirds of his world. Gone. Just like that. Just like snapping a finger.

Tony switched the hair dryer off and ran his hand across Buddy’s back. He was warm. He was dry. He was still breathing.

He let out a breath and closed his eyes, only blinking them open when he felt a paw on his knee. Buddy stared up at him, all wide brown eyes that stabbed at Tony’s chest, that threatened him with a truth Tony wasn’t ready to face.

He broke eye contact, and instead, rubbed the top of Buddy’s head.

“You glory hound,” said Tony. “You just can’t stop saving people, huh?”

Buddy responded with a bark. A real one. Something Tony needed to hear to fully understand that Buddy was truly okay.

He stood up, sudden, causing Tony to fall back on the palm of his hands, just watching as Buddy ran across the room, grabbed the red Iron Man dog sweater between his teeth, and ran back over. He dropped it in front of Tony, sat down, and looked at him expectantly.

“Is this a joke? Because that’s bad for an old man’s heart.”

Buddy barked at him, then nudged the sweater closer to him with his nose.

Tony smiled and pulled the sweater over him, lifting him up and helping him put his front two legs through the sleeves.

“I gotta say, boy,” said Tony. “Red’s your color. Wanna go show Pep? Can you believe she said you wouldn’t wear it?”

Buddy barked again and followed Tony up the stairs, his tail wagging as they went.

The next morning started the day Pepper gave up buying dog food and trying to get Buddy to eat it. She grilled him a steak for breakfast and let him eat at the table. He sat next to Morgan as she sipped the milk from her cereal. He wore his Iron Man sweater, and Morgan wore her Christmas pajamas.

Another perfect opportunity to snap a picture.

He took it, and for once, it didn’t get ruined.

Tony sent it to Nat, who finally decided to respond with something that wasn’t related to Avenger’s business.

cute dog

[homenum-revelio-hq]

Welcome (again) to the Order of the Phoenix, Amos!

You have been accepted for the role of non-biography character MAURICE CREEVEY with the faceclaim of Tom Sturridge! We really enjoyed reading through your application! The idea of a Muggleborn character who is actually not all that excited about going to Hogwarts is awesome! He’s resentful that he was taken away without a choice - resentful that he can’t go back and be the same person. We’re so thrilled to have him as an addition to the cast!

Please take a look at the new member checklist and send in your account within 24 hours! Thank you for joining the fight against Voldemort!

OUT OF CHARACTER:

NAME: Amos

AGE: 22

TIMEZONE: GMT

ACTIVITY LEVEL: You already have a pretty good idea of my activity. There is also plenty of time when I’m around and could be writing but I am either caught up on Fab or don’t have quite the right muse for him, so hopefully this new charrie can fill those gaps!

ANYTHING ELSE: nope

CHARACTER DETAILS:

NAME: Maurice Creevey

AGE: 24

GENDER, PRONOUNS, and SEXUALITY: Male, He/Him, Homosexual. Gender isn’t something he’s really ever thought about. He’s pretty content in that respect. He is quite unapologetically gay though.

BLOOD STATUS: Muggleborn

HOUSE ALUMNI: Ravenclaw

ANY CHANGES: This is where you can request a FC change or a change from something in the skeleton bio.

CHARACTER BACKGROUND:

PERSONALITY: 

To sum Maurice up very concisely, he’s angry. He hasn’t always been. He was a relatively happy go lucky child, full of endless energy and enthusiasm. Then he was plucked from his life and sent away to a school to learn magic. At first that was pretty cool, after all, every 11 year old wishes they had magical abilities, the difference being they get to grow up and forget those wishes and live normal lives. He has to live with his childish fantasies for the rest of his life. And apart from that, he appears to be in a world where muggleborns are being hunted and killed by an evil wizard and his crazy cult. To make things worse, they can’t escape back to their muggle lives because of all the damn secrecy laws. So yes, he’s angry, and a lot of his actions are fueled by that. Make no mistake though, Maurice is no Gryffindor, he doesn’t use his anger in brash reckless ways, he is more calculated. You may catch it crackling under the surface occasionally, but it would take a lot to make him properly explode. Even slurs like ‘mudblood’ would only make him roll his eyes and perhaps give a snarky retort.

Maurice is a Ravenclaw. He is a big believer that knowledge is power. He did fairly well at his subjects in Hogwarts considering he didn’t try all that hard. He did not choose this path and as a consequence, resented it. He would often get his brother who was a few years older, to send him muggle textbooks when he’d finished with them. He was fascinated by science and maths and history. Of course he had some curiosity for his lessons at Hogwarts, and the things he and his magic was capable of, but the element of choice was important for him. It felt like by attending Hogwarts, a whole area of understanding was suddenly off limits. As anyone knows, forbidden knowledge is the most desirable.

He likes to ask questions about as much as any other Ravenclaw, but he is also a big observer. He likes to take time to gather information before jumping into a lot of things, especially interactions with other people. He by no means stalks people, but a few minutes, to watch, take someone in, before starting a conversation is quite usual for him. It’s all about making informed choices.  As a consequence, unexpected interactions can throw him, making him more awkward than he’d like.

He can be arrogant, he has a conviction in his beliefs that can come across as condescension if viewed the wrong way. He can get frustrated when someone is not following his thinking quite as quickly as he’d like, which is why he’d make a terrible teacher. However, this works equally in the opposite direction. His frustration can be palpable when he doesn’t understand something, and these moments are when he is least in control. A lot of his acts of protest come from anger, sure, but also the frustration of not being able to fathom how things got so bad, why they can’t just make them better now, why people can’t see it for themselves. But usually he is quiet. Unless he is invited to speak, or is so damn angry the words won’t stop, he can keep his thoughts to himself until someone is listening and his words can have an impact.

BRIEF OVERVIEW OF FAMILY: 

Until the age of 11 Maurice grew up in a very normal, working class family in the midlands. His mother was a typical housewife, loving but somewhat distracted, staring out of windows whilst doing the washing up, leaving the dinner in slightly too long when listening to the radio. Maurice didn’t mind, he barely noticed, and she was excellent at bedtime stories, so what was there to complain about? His father was a miner, a tough, but humorous man. He worked hard, and he always came home dirty, but played football with them in the garden the weekends.

He has one older brother. Not the brightest bulb, but the kindest person Maurice knows. Maurice always thought him brave, in a quiet way. There is no one Maurice has ever looked up to quite like his big brother, even if they squabbled and scrapped as much as any other loving siblings.

Perhaps this happy set up, along with glowing school reports and a nice bunch of friends, was why he has always resented being ripped from that life and that path. 

When he was a child, he dreamed of being an astronaut, an archaeologist, a doctor, a lawyer, and what’s more, none of these were stretches for him, with his brain and desire for learning, he could have done it, he could have gotten out of the rows and rows of back to back terraced houses that he and his family were confined to. He could have taken them with him. But he was torn away and sent to Hogwarts, and his parents only vaguely understood, were proud, but in a distant way. His brother became a milkman, a job he enjoyed, but not one that paid well. He married young, his school sweetheart, and they are expecting their first child. They all seem happy enough, they have the things that matter, enough food to eat, a roof over their head, love, but Maurice can’t help but feel he could have saved them. The terror of living paycheck to paycheck, the mundanity of their terraced hells, or just never being able to treat yourself to that little bit extra. He remembered as a child, when his father would be on strike, the unspoken fear that filled up their home. He had wanted to save them from that.

When he would return home for the summer, he would act like nothing had changed, he wouldn’t speak of Hogwarts, or of his magic. He would pretend like he was no different from them, but something had changed and something had broken, and eventually he realised that something couldn’t be fixed. Getting his Hogwarts letter had been the beginning of the end for Maurice. He hated it when summer would end and he’d have to go back, but he also hated going home in the first place.

OCCUPATION: 

Maurice works as a sound engineer at the Wizarding Wireless Network. It was not something he expected of himself, more something he fell into. A job at the Ministry would have gone against all his principals. A deep hatred for ‘the man’ but also the wizarding world in general, he wasn’t about to go work in a place trying to keep it all ticking over, and bore himself to death in the process.

He considered more academic positions, but he’d had a hard enough time concentrating at Hogwarts. Trawling magical forests for new flora and fauna, or raiding tombs and breaking their curses had no appeal to him. Which largely left working class positions or the arts. It was not a tricky decision.

The newspaper was an option, but the fact that the Daily Prophet seemed to have a monopoly on journalism in wizarding Britain didn’t sit well with Maurice. Without another widely available newspaper to oppose their horribly biased reporting, what was the point? He would not be a puppet for their propaganda. For a while, he tried to write his own pieces, publish them independently, but that wasn’t entirely successful. The pieces were convoluted, preachy, and he had no audience, no one to either agree nor criticise him.

Eventually he wound up at the Wizarding Wireless Network. Again, it irked him that there was only one major company broadcasting, but at least they had a bit more variation, and whilst they did broadcast the news, the purpose leaned towards entertainment. It’s not a cause Maurice is particularly passionate for, but it’s not one he opposes.

As a sound engineer, he’s around for recordings and broadcasts, cleans up pre recorded audio, fixes equipment, just whatever needs doing that seems like it fit within his job title. Most of it he learned on the job, but it was fascinating enough to capture his attention, and similar enough to muggle radio not to infuriate him. It also introduced him to the world of pirate radio.

About 2 years after he started at WWN, his friend and mentor quit, and in his last few days, confided in Maurice that he was leaving to start his own show. Technically WWN was the only official broadcaster on wizarding radios, but if you knew how to get a frequency, you could broadcast whatever you liked. He and some friends were setting up a station out of someone’s garage, mostly to play the music the WWN spurned.

The idea lit a flame in Maurice. Of course, the fact that it was ever so slightly against the rules, and possibly the law, made it exciting. But the idea of broadcasting whatever he liked, even if there was no one listening, putting something out there, finite and unique.

So that’s what he does with his evenings at the weekends, he broadcasts late into the night and the early mornings. The Order gives him a focus, not just long rambling opinion pieces that sounds like the inner thoughts of a paranoid conspiracy theorist. He has found a purpose now. His show, it helps spread news, it helps spread information, it helps spread hope. Of course there is the tricky business of making sure the wrong ears don’t hear it, but he’s a smart guy, there’s a way around everything.

ROLE WITHIN THE ORDER/THOUGHTS ABOUT THE ORDER: 

Maurice joined the Order with best friend, Daisy Hookum. He was at the same Squib’s Rights March, right in the middle of the rioting, and landed square in the Order’s gaze because of it.

Maurice has always been an activist, even before graduating Hogwarts, he would hold small demonstrations, conquering whatever stage fright he might have for the greater good. Standing up on tables at breakfast to make impassioned speeches, chaining himself to statues and refusing to go to class, he even came very close to slashing a painting once before the painting’s occupant managed to talk him out of it.

Maurice has taken a lot of inspiration from muggle strikes and demonstration techniques. He remembers picket lines from his childhood, and grew up with the punk movement. He even had a bright red mohawk once before Daisy told him it really didn’t suit him.

These energies are what he hoped to bring to the Order. He recognises that Voldemort and the Death Eaters are the main enemy, but in his eyes, the Ministry are accomplices, and he feels just as violently about them. The Death Eaters may be the ones directly killing people, but the Ministry are letting them do it, even helping them to a certain degree. The fact that so many squeaky clean Ministry employees come to the Order to ‘do their part’ indicates to him, that there are just as many who are going over to Voldemort for the same reason. He wishes more of their actions were against the Ministry directly, but he can also do that in his own time.

Day to day, Maurice is generally a pretty good foot soldier, he isn’t crazy about the actual violence part, but he’ll do it if he has to. He’d like a louder voice at the table, but he knows how these things work, and he knows too many cooks spoil the broth. The fact that they are organised is enough for him. There is a system, and if he ever feels he needs to take something to the top, then he knows how to do that.

He has also brought his pirate radio platform to the Order. It’s a good way to spread news to people such as those being helped by the dissendium task force, and a good way to organise large groups of people. And also quite simply, it can raise spirits. Assuming that people tune in to listen. Maurice doesn’t think it’s quite being used to its full potential, but it’s getting there. The Order function on secrecy, whereas Maurice wants to inform the masses. There is clearly a conflict of interest. 

(I see this radio show as being very similar to the Potterwatch of the second wizarding war, and if it isn’t quite at that structure yet, then building it up to that during the game.)

I think although he is happy to fight with the Order, and be on the front line of the fight against You-Know-Who, his main motives are doing something about the International Statute of Secrecy, even if he is a little distracted by other things and other causes, it all really comes back to him having the choice to fight, to flee, to live his life where he pleases, taking the elements of both cultures and combining them. And he wants that choice for others as well. A lot of his anger and frustration is on a very personal selfish level, but he does recognise that he’s fighting this cause for people other than himself.

SURVIVAL: 

Being both muggleborn and publicly vocal in his opinions, does put a bit of a target on Maurice’s back. He’s had a few close scrapes in the past, but luckily that’s as much as they were. Making enemies with a lot of purebloods perhaps isn’t the most efficient way to survive this war. He doesn’t move around a lot, thankfully he’s never been traced to his home address and he wants to keep it that way. He rents a little place in Muggle London, clean and comfortable enough, but out of the way and non-descript. He wards it heavily, and takes great lengths to make sure he isn’t followed home.

He isn’t too bad at dueling, but it isn’t his greatest strength. Mostly he relies on quick thinking rather than brute strength. And paranoia. He’s seen what the other side is capable of, and he’s heard enough of Moody’s lecture like speeches to know how to watch his back.

Still, he can lay awake many nights, realising there that if he continues to fight like this, there is a large chance he won’t survive the war. Is it worth it? He usually falls asleep before reaching a conclusive answer. Needless to say, as a 24 year old, he is terrified of dying. He is just also too angry to let that stop him.

RELATIONSHIPS:

Daisy Hookum: Friends since first year, he and Daisy have a special bond. There are very few people who know him as closely as Daisy knows him. Even his family, who he loves dearly, can’t understand him the way Daisy does. They may have been brought together by class timetables and group projects, but what bonded them was their shared views of the world. Particularly as they got older, they could talk for hours and hours about their politics. They didn’t always agree on every point, but respected each other enough to hear the other out. Of course this wasn’t the only thing that kept them friends. They could have fun together, let loose, forget for a little while that things were so bad, forget how angry they were.

They joined the Order together, as they did so much together. But then Daisy left for her year in the muggle world. Since then the relationship has been strained. He understood better than most what she was trying to do, but the reality is still that he felt abandoned, and jealous, that she could go off and live her ‘muggle’ life. It’s become obvious since her return that Maurice’s idea of activism is now split from hers. She wants to take a more passive role, and Maurice couldn’t bear that.

Caradoc Dearborn: Caradoc is someone Maurice begrudgingly looks up to. On the one hand he is everything he despises, wealthy and pure blooded. But the way he conducts himself is something that Maurice admires. He can’t help but want to be in Caradoc’s good books. If he had an issue within the Order, he would most likely take it to Caradoc.

Mary MacDonald: Mary is a more recent friend. They were a few years apart at Hogwarts and so only got to know each other after they both joined the Order. A lot of Mary’s politics match up with Maurice’s, and apart from that they are very compatible on a personal level. She is one of the lucky few Maurice has let in. Of course it helps that she is muggle-born as well, he feels that with so few of them inside the Order, they really have to stick together.

He has never been the most social of people. It is not that he doesn’t enjoy company, more that he doesn’t settle. If he is going to spend time with someone, properly invest in them, he wants to be sure they are the right person. He does not do this consciously you understand, but he is constantly assessing and reassessing the people in his life. First impressions, as he’s found, are often misleading, but that doesn’t mean doesn’t heed them. He’s more inclined to search out the red flags than give someone the benefit of the doubt. The people who slip through the cracks however, get the best of him. The warmth, the wit, everything he’s been desperately been bottling up waiting for the right vessel to pour it into.

Generally, Maurice is going to feel some animosity for the richer, pure blooded members of the order, but he’ll tolerate them. He’s also going to be fairly uninterested in those who aren’t as active in the cause, or any cause for that matter. So maybe he’s made a few enemies within the Order, or at least brushed some people the wrong way. Or perhaps he’s been pleasantly surprised by others.

OOC EXPLORATION:

SHIPS/ANTI-SHIPS: No ships or antiships, I’m really open to anything. I do see Maurice as gay, so I think relationships with women would be unlikely, but I’m a sucker for some unrequited love plots, or maybe some confused one night stands. Basically anything is on the table.

WHAT PRIVILEGES AND BIASES DOES YOUR CHARACTER HAVE?

Well Maurice is a white male, so let’s start with that. I don’t think feminism is high up on his rank of causes, or racism, simply because I don’t think it’s played a huge role within his personal life experience. He probably doesn’t even realise a lot of the privileges he has as a white man.

He’s also gay, and whilst he is quite unapologetic about that, his sexuality seemed to be more of an issue in his muggle life than in the wizarding world, so it isn’t something he feels the need to fight about all the time. Again there are more important causes right now.

As a person who grew up in a working class family, he generally just resents the wealthy, and he won’t give them much chance to prove themselves to him either. This definitely stems from growing up poor, but perhaps if he’d been able to make his own fortune and save his family from their poverty, then he wouldn’t feel as strongly. In that sense it’s quite hypocritical. Now it’s also tied to the fact that the wealthy are the ones in control, both in the Death Eaters and their reign of terror, and at the Ministry, making and enforcing the laws that keep them all trapped and helpless. It hasn’t missed his attention that most of the wealthier wizards are pureblooded, so he’ll often lump them in with his disdain.

This works the other way as well. He’s willing to overlook a lot of shit that his working class/muggle born acquaintances get up to, forgive a lot of their sins. I don’t think he realises he does this, but it certainly happens.

He doesn’t necessarily hate the people who work for the Ministry, even if he has a dislike for the establishment and the way it’s run. He understands everyone has to work, and most don’t get the privilege of doing something they like or agree with entirely. There is a bit of time though where he’ll figure out their motives before he really trusts or likes them.

Law enforcement isn’t particularly in his good books either, but that is perhaps more linked to his view of how muggle police act towards protests and demonstrations.

When it comes to the issues of half-breeds, he’ll go along to the marches, he’ll sign the petitions, he’s probably up to date on all the latest views and opinions, but again, it’s not at the top of his priorities.

WHAT ARE YOU MOST LOOKING FORWARD TO? You already know I love this roleplay. I’m looking forward to being more active hopefully, interacting with a wider range of characters, playing someone who is quite different to Fab as well and stretching those writing muscles.

PLOT DROP IDEAS: 

I would love to see his pirate radio show have an effect somehow, either positive or negative (but maybe more positive at least at first, I’ve already done a lot of disappointing the Order with Fab).

I would love to see how his bloodstatus affects him. If he is genuinely more in danger for being a loud annoying muggleborn, it might be nice to work that into the larger plot somehow.

ANYTHING ELSE? I haven’t put whether he’s low level or mid level in the Order, I’m happy for either, wherever you think he’d fit best.

EXTRA FOR NON-BIO CHARACTERS:

PAST: 

Maurice Creevey grew up in the midlands, part of a typical working class family. His mother was a housewife, and his father a Miner. The strikes and picket lines his father was a part of were some of his first experiences with activism, and the spark didn’t stop there. Maurice was rudely torn from his happy muggle life by the revelation he was a Wizard and the letter ‘inviting’ him to study at Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry. With no choice but to follow this path, Maurice has resented it ever since. He didn’t waste his time there by any means though. This was when he got his first taste for activism, protesting in the great hall and demonstrating in classes. These habits followed him faithfully into adulthood, developing until he found real urgent causes. At the top of his list, was tearing down the Statue of Secrecy that traps all muggle-borns in the wizarding world whilst an evil wizard and his cronies are attempting to pick them off one by one, and also prevents the muggles from fighting back on their own terms.

PRESENT:

It’s his activism that brought him to the attention of the Order. He is a good soldier for the Order, willing to do what has to be done and follow orders dutifully. That doesn’t mean he doesn’t have his own intentions. Maurice works for the Wizarding Wireless Network, and a few nights a week he hosts his own pirate radio station. Sometimes his broadcasts can get hundreds or thousands of listeners, all scared but hopeful, wanting to hear what no-one else is telling them, the news the papers won’t print, the the stories the WWN won’t air. The Order value their secrecy, but Maurice knows information is power, and knowledge gives you a choice. He knows he can use his show to the Order’s advantage if only it’s given a chance.

FC CHOICES: top choice is Tom Sturridge, I’m not very good at fcs so if you don’t think he fits I’m happy to go with recommendations!