#sig writes

yiling patriarch lan wangji

yes it’s my new favorite tag on ao3

there is something so delightfully wrong about the man who would be light bearer being corrupted into a demonic cultivator

wei wuxian became the yiling patriarch because he had no other choice

lan wangji becomes the yiling patriarch because he chose to be

note: kind of ooc-ish but not really coz mammon wrote down his feelings remember??? he wrote everything he felt because he can't say it directly and forwardly. so that's that. hmp. ngl went crazy writing this. giggling and almost tearing up and shit. love this guy so much.

warning: slight angst, implied lesson 16 accident, fluff, mammon being open with his feelings. ENJOY READING!!!!

Dearest MC,

Ya have to know that I'm not as good with words as my brothers, unlike Lucifer or Satan or your favorite writers and poets. I ain’t a poet, MC, I’ve never written a love letter in my entire life. I’m just me. I’ve never had anyone like you or felt what I have for ya with anyone else but know that it is the most genuine thing in all three realms. I’m just so scared that eventually you would believe what my brothers say about me. That I’m a lying, cheating, good for nothing scumbag.I know I’m not perfect but I’m trying so hard to be good enough for you. Ya deserve everything nice the world can offer and I don’t know if you can find that with me. I just love ya a little too much and I kinda suck at expressing that.

You drive me crazy, you know that? I want to tell you how much I love you but you make me malfunction so much, I get shy. You’re so annoying. Why’d you have to be so perfect anyways?! Your smile is perfect, your laugh is perfect, you’re perfect and everybody loves you. You just have to make everybody else fall for you and THAT scares me. It horrifies me, MC. What if you realize that they can offer you a better life? With a pool of choices that have my brothers, Lucifer especially, Lord Diavolo, Solomon and an angel like Simeon, would you still see me and choose me? (erased: I could only hope ya do, I’m your first man after all!)

You know that one poem you read to me the other day? About the one baring your soul naked and being scared of being loved and all? I want you to see me tough, someone who could protect you, someone you could count on and someone who can love you unconditionally. I already lost ya once, I wouldn't be able to bear it again if I lost you. I have no idea how you see me, you’ve a very unique way of looking at things but if I tell you that my soul is rotten, would you still love me? I’m a demon after all and there are some things I won’t be able to change. Will you put up with my bullshits? Stupid schemes and all that?

I’m trying my best to be better for you. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for ya so just ask me, come to me for comfort, when you’re having your nightmares, when you need help with your homework - I may not be the best at it but it’s important for me that you know that I’m always there for you.

I love you, MC, more than words can contain and there’s no one else in this world I’d rather be with forever. You’re all I need. The greatest treasure in Devildom, Human World and the Celestial Realm. You.

Fuck you for making me love you too much. You made The Great Mammon sweep off their feet so don’t go looking at anyone else anymore, just me. I love you.

Yours, always and forever,

Mammon.

reblogs are more than appreciated, please do. comment are welcome as well so please leave some. also i know i said mammon wrote a three-page love letter but this is kinda short so i'm sorry xD just feel the rest of the letter ok?

[id: three photos aligned with each other, the first one with two ginger cats facing each other, the other leaning in for a kiss, the second photo is mammon from obey me who looks sexy, the third photo is a bunch of flowers scattered in an opened book's page. the last photo is a cropped photo with the text: “darling” in it. /end id.]

11 - with characters you want to write more of in the future

my little western gothic buddies <33

If you asked the town doctor, she’d say it was loneliness that caused Owen to start them fires. When I asked him myself, a couple of days before he went away, he said God made me do it.

Which, considering the high calibre this town used to hold religion to, ain’t an odd response. People ‘round here claimed God spoke to ‘em all the time; excused illnesses, delivered messages, appeared in dreams. What is odd, is that Owen said God made him.

The big man can request, but he’s never made no one do nothin’. He wants you to love thy neighbour, pray before bed, help your mother with the dinner, but you don’t have to. He can’t make you. He don’t really exist, but don’t tell no one I said that, cuz people ‘round here have been got for a lot less.

I humoured him, nodded and said sure thing, makes sense, and it weren’t til he was walkin’ away and his back was turned that I thought sure. God made you. God took your tiny mind into his divine, imaginary hands, and made you set the church on fire, with Pastor Sinclair and all his little pastorling’s inside.

13 - that helped me understand a character better

i find izzy hands very very interesting and its so much fun to write his thoughts

Stede fucking Bonnet has been aboard the Revenge for no more than two weeks and Izzy has grown murderous. If he has to hear that adoring tone gush praise and approval over the flags needlework one more time, he fears he’ll have to throw himself overboard.

“That’s really, very clever Ed!” Bonnet compliments, leaning over the side of the ship to watch how the anchor brings them to a stop. Blackbeard suppresses a grin, shrugging his shoulders and aiming for casual as if he had invented the idea himself. “Will you show me it again?”

They spend three bloody hours floating in the middle of the ocean so Bonnet can watch the anchor sink and then remerge. And every time he laughs, and claps his hands together, and showers Blackbeard with flowery flattery, and every time Blackbeard accepts it, and asks if he wants to watch it once more.

If Izzy were to ask the Captain to show him how the anchor works, to lean in close and lay a soft hand on the warm skin of his forearm, he’d receive a scoff and a fuck off and a burning shame in his ribcage. If Izzy were to clap his hands and tell Blackbeard how wonderful and clever and strong he was for hours on end, he’d be laughed at and reprimanded for such a waste of time.

This is not jealousy.

😮😮😮 Thank you so much! This was such a nice message to receive! I’m so flattered thank you thank you! And I wish you a very lovely day as well!

And though I know this wasn’t a request or a prompt or anything it made me want to write anyway so here is a silly little snippet of a scene for @merryandrewsworld​ just on the topic of receiving lovely messages!

“OSWALD!”

The Penguin’s fingers rubbedagainst his eye sockets in protest of the headache already building just at the prospectof having to talk to his ever-so-energetic partner this evening. It was notEdward’s fault that he had spent the last few hours dealing with a… well, ‘traitor’seemed like far too kind of a word for the scum that had crawled out of the vilestcesspool of Gotham to ruin his otherwise pleasant day. And how was Edward toknow that the stress of it all had left a thumping, throbbing pain behind histemples that rebelled at the sharp shout he had been greeted with as the otherman crossed the threshold into their home? No, Edward was blissfully ignorantas he came barreling through the house towards him, and so long as hispatience would hold, Oswald did not intend to dampen the high-spirits hispartner apparently seemed to be in.

“Oswald!” the green-clad man chirpedunnecessarily loudly as he burst through the door, waving a tattered piece ofpaper in the other man’s face so quickly that the scribbles on it wereindecipherable no matter how hard he tried to focus on them. “I got fan mail!”

All Oswald could offer back inresponse for a good few moments was a slow, confused blink as Edward beamedproudly back at him with the paper still outstretched, like a child waiting fortheir drawing to be hung on the fridge. “I beg your pardon?” he askedeventually, hoping a more reasonable explanation would follow this bizarre descriptionof the letter hovering in front of his nose too close to read.

It did not. “I got fan mail Oswald,I have a fan!” The other man’s posture straightened, one arm flicking out tothe side in a dramatic gesture that signaled that his partner had slippedeasily back into the Riddler persona he wore so comfortably these days. “I meanof course I have a fan, I’m sure I have hundreds, but this dear Gothamite wasfinally not too intimidated by my brilliance to contact me directly about it.”

Oswald took the paper while hispartner continued to trill about how someone had finally managed to put hismagnificent impact on the world into words, though he found himself frowning asthe message he read did not seem to quite line up with the interpretation theRiddler was currently spouting. It was certainly complimentary, but there wassomething altogether sinister about how the sentiments were written. Hardly surprisingconsidering… “Edward, you do realise that the sort of person who would writefan mail for a convicted criminal i-”

He paused as he looked up into the brightwide eyes of the man standing over him, staring deep into the centres of them,past the cocky, arrogant exterior and towards timid little Edward Nygma stillhiding there deep under the layers of charisma and steel he’d built up aroundhimself, to the man who just wanted to be loved, to be appreciated by the worldas a whole – something Oswald could more than empathise with. So after a briefpause that he was sure Edward would be more than happy to ignore, he continued ina conspicuously more jovial tone, “is likely to be a man of great taste.” Hesmiled, not bothering to add any further comments on the matter as the villainbefore him continued on in his monologue about what this written recognitionrepresented. What did it matter if the letter was from someone of less thansound mind? On some days it seemed that the insane made up the majority ofGotham’s populace anyway. And if it meant his Edward could prance andgesticulate and enthuse with such glee then it could be seen as nothing but agood thing.

cue the nosy neighbors (aka gertrude and her book club) who are very interested in this "nice young man" who has moved in across the street at first gertrude keeps an eye on him because she will. not. stand. for anyone to "flip" the perfectly nice house from 1920s into some minimalist monstrosity

wesker passes her expectations for the house with flying colors. she brings him a peach cobbler as a present after the house is all fixed up. he is perplexed. gertrude wants to know why he's wearing sunglasses indoors but is too polite to question. everyone has their quirks

bookclub because less bookclub and more gossiping-about-wesker club. he's such a nice, "young" man who is always nice to the cashier at the one and only grocery store (charlene's great nephew), and sticks to a meticulous routine. he gets up, goes for a run (gertrude respectfully ogles, because dear heavens that is a fine looking man and her husband, marvin god rest his soul, has been gone for 20 years), drinks his coffee on his porch, and tends to a few scraggly flower bushes.

after a couple of months and nobody else moving in, or even visiting for that matter, they assume there is no mrs. wesker in the picture. matlida wants to set him up with her daughter. gertrude kindly tells her to knock it the fuck off. mildred wants to see if she has a chance. kathy wants him to prune her like his roses bushes. gertrude threatens to withhold all her wesker-related gossip until they calm down and leave the poor man alone. the flock of vultures.

after bringing wesker some leftover chocolate chip cookies one day, gertrude kindly suggests that he might look into getting a companion of sorts. the shelter she volunteers at has lots of puppies and kittens this time of year, and he looks like he could use a friend. wesker just kinda stares blankly at her.

however, the next week he comes back with a fluffball from the shelter. it has to be the most ill-mannered, scrungliest little senior rat-dog that gertrude has ever seen. wesker pleasantly informs her that his name is titan. it's the closest to smiling that gertrude has ever seen him

life goes back to plain, boring normal until wesker is knocking at gertrude's door at 2 in the morning. she nearly has a heart attack. wesker explains that there is a personal emergency he needs to take care of out of town for a week or so and asks if she could feed/take titan out while he's gone. gertrude shushes him as he tries to pay her and tells him to go take care of whatever it is and that titan is in good hands.

wesker is gone for nearly 2 weeks. by day 3 gertrude can't wait for him to come home because titan only likes wesker. eventually they come to an understanding over some deli meat turkey. wesker returns one day but he isn't alone.

gertrude calls cletus and tells him to put mildred on the phone while she watches as a well-built, brown-haired man painfully limps from wesker's black SUV, up the sidewalk, and into the house, supported by wesker all the while.

a couple hours later she brings over some chicken noodle soup (for wesker's guest) and some of her chocolate chip cookes (for wesker). a harried wesker answers the door, his normally perfectly-gelled hair a mess, as if he'd been running his fingers through it, and his sunglasses nowhere to be seen. gertrude notices his lack of shades and says nothing, because it seems the poor dear is going through a lot at the moment, but she does note his beautiful gray eyes.

throughout the next few weeks, she continues to drop off meals every couple of days. whoever wesker's friend is, they'll need their strength to recover from their ordeal. gertrude doesn't ever see the other man, but wesker's house is uncharacteristically messy, strewn about with various medical supplies when he invites her in as he retrieves her casserole dish

after a month or so, wesker's routine finally returns to normal. one morning, the other man is seated on the porch with wesker, sipping coffee with titan curled up in his lap. gertrude whips up a quick apple crisp and casually wanders over, deli meat in hand to bribe titan

she greets the two men and tuts over the other man's injuries, who introduces himself as chris. despite his recovery thus far, chris is still visibly battered and bruised, splinted fingers stroking titan's fluffy back. titan eyes gertrude warily, but seems content to stay snuggled in chris' lap

as she converses genially with chris about the area and a bit of its history. gertrude can't help but notice the soft look on wesker's face and how his eyes never leave chris. she excuses herself after a while, giggling like a schoolgirl as she phones her bookclub later with all the details. chris and wesker find themselves inundated with homecooked meals and baked goods for the next month

cw/tw: nope, just the usual mammon fluff <3 mammon x gn!reader

thinking about mammon writing a love letter addressed to you. he heard you talking with satan about how lovely it is to receive love letters. at first, he didn't really didn't think much of it until he heard his brothers talking about giving one to you. nu-uh! nobody's allowed to give you love letters except him! dammit human, he's your first! he should be your first everything. so, that night, bothered with heavy feelings with an uneasy flow of words, he tried to write. he's never written a love letter to anyone before and he's never been good with words but he tried. for you, he really tried.

it was dawn already and he was done, it was almost a shock to him that morning had come so soon but then again he scratched and wrote all night until he's left with satisfaction. the results of his overnight hard work was a three page declaration of love letter to you. fucking hell, if you don't make him feel things. you're the only one who made him do this, made him feel this way. you. gah.

he ruffled his hair in annoyance as he made his way to your room. it's too early, he knows. you're probably still asleep. but just as he was to open the door, you opened it first. mammon got flustered at the sight of you. fuck.

he totally forgot it was your breakfast cooking duty today. you smiled at him and greeted him with good morning while standing there dumbfounded. you invited him to your room and once you're inside and he's still quiet, you asked him if there was anything wrong.

fuck. fuck. fuck. fuck.

his heart was thumping inside his chest so loud, can you hear it, mc? he hopes not. the envelope ever so slightly creases as his grip tightens. fuck. okay. calm down mammon. you asked him again if he was alright and he stuttered and staggered trying to give you an answer.

he sighed loudly and gave you the envelope. “listen ta me carefully, human. i'm the only one who can give you love letters, a’right? and if any of my brothers give one to you, throw ‘em out. do ya understand?” a smile found its way to your lips. you nodded eagerly and looked at the envelope in your hands.

you opened it. you looked at mammon. “mams… i don't mean to offend you or anything. but, you know i'm having a hard time trying to read your handwriting, right? why don't you just read it to me?” if mammon wasn't blushing before, he's a fucking tomato now.

the whole point of writing his feelings was because he never says those out loud to you and now you want him to read it?!?! mc, you're gonna be the death of him.

but instead of keeping up his bravado, he took the envelope from your hands, grumbling quite under his breath and he clears his throat.

“alright! ya better be thankful i'm doing all these. remember THE great mammon wrote this love letter to you. this is for you and for you only.” you were smiling and nodding at him. “of course, mammon. i'm always thankful for anything you do for me.” fuck. he cleared his throat and stared at the letter he have on his hand. god, the things he does for you. he cleared his throat again and sighed. “dearest mc…”

goddamn i fucking wish he'd write me a love letter sigh

reblog if you want to see the love letter he wrote!

warning: none! just fluff. mammon x gn!reader.

warning: angst/fluff, happy ending. mammon x gn!reader. enjoy reading!

you've been pacing in your room for an hour or two right now. it's been a week. it's been that long that you tried to ignore mammon. you've been avoidant and distant to him as of lately but for good reasons, you convince yourself. for good reasons! you don't know how or when, but you fell in love. how stupid of you to do so. considering the situation you are in - being a short-term human exchange student whose time in devildom is only limited, it's really not the best for the both of you to have a relationship. but you can't help your feelings from pouring out especially not when he gives you reason to live. you cursed to yourself. why the fuck is mammon so perfect? he didn't have to be. and now, look. you fucked up.

mammon thought he had done something wrong. you didn't even communicate with him well. it's killing you. should you just… knock in his room and confess? but you can't do that. that's too risky. then again, avoiding him isn't doing anything helpful either! you have to do something. so, here you are, sighing loudly as you knock on mammon's door. don't know what to do nor to say, you just have to see him again. you just have to. whether you burst out your feelings or run away, doesn't matter. this needs to happen. you waited and waited but there was no answer. no “go away” or a shuffle or anything. is mammon even here? impatient and filled with concern, you opened mammon's door.

nothing. the room felt empty. mammon wasn't there. where is he? you didn't want to ask any of the brothers in fear that they'll interrogate you or something like that. you sighed heavily. why are you so stupid? going here in the middle of the night. he's probably out partying or who knows what. you texted him from your DDD but there was no answer. you plopped down on his soft bed. you're just gonna wait for him here. right. yes. good choice. you laid on his bed and hugged the nearest pillow to you. it smelled like him but it didn't feel like him. gah. how did mammon make you feel so complete but at the same time inadequate as well? you always knew there was something missing in your life. you just didn't expect it to be him. you didn't notice the tears that fell from your eyes. stupid tears crying for nothing. you let yourself cry anyways, until you fell asleep.

you woke up with the sound of shuffling and thuds, the door slightly ajar, the light outside going in, you rubbed your eyes and sat. you caught a glimpse of him. it's mammon.

“MAMMON? where have you been?” you asked, walking towards him. he looked at you, confused as to why you're inside his room.

“MC, what are ya doing in my room?”

“i was waiting for you.”

his brows furrowed. “why? you should be asleep already. ya know it's unhealthy for you to be stayin' up late.”

you didn't know what to say. “i know, i just wanted to see you.”

he didn't answer. you can't look at him either so you don't know what kind of look he's giving you right now.

you took in a deep breath. “just… i'm sorry for avoiding you these past few days. i acted out. i'm sorry.” you said and find the courage to look at him, locking gaze — fuck — if he doesn't hold the most beautiful eyes you ever saw. you were embarrassed. he was your best friend and to avoid him all of a sudden with no explanation whatsoever really hurt him. he thought you were gonna replace him. he thought you realized what a scum he really is and you were leaving him. he really liked hanging out with you so when you blurted all that, he couldn't help but to lock you in his arms. he hugged you tightly.

“'m sorry if i've done anything to make you upset. i won't do it anymore. just don't leave me. don't ya avoid me like that ever again-”

you realized what you've done and returned the tight and warm hug. you rubbed your hand against his back. “no, mams. im the one who should be saying sorry. i- i was just worried. i promise i will never avoid you like ever again. im so sorry.”

you heard him sniffled. he was crying. that broke your heart. you let go of him to hold his face and wiped his tears away. “im so sorry, okay? the… the truth is i was afraid of losing you — i know how ironic that sounds. it's just, it's only weeks before i go back to the human world and i realized how attached i am to you. i thought maybe that if i avoid you now, it'll soften the blow but no. it made things worse. im sorry. im really sorry.”

“ya stupid human!” he buried himself in the crook of your neck again. “it's only natural that i'll be hurt when you leave. you're… my human, after all! but that doesn't mean you should avoid me. you shoulda just told me that!”

you smiled softly. “im telling you know, am i? sorry, alright? not gonna happen again.”

“ya better own up to your words.”

you didn't know when your hug ended but that night felt like forever. it was silent and it was just the two of you. a heavy weight was lifted off of your chest. you held mammon closer to you as he peacefully slumber. you sighed softly before caressing his face. “i love you.” was the last thing you said before falling asleep next to him.

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