Inbox Call !! You Know The Drill Like This And I'll Go Through Your Meme Tag And Toss Gregory In Your

inbox call !! you know the drill — like this and I'll go through your meme tag and toss gregory in your inbox!

okay so I revamped my rules and about page fairly heavily if you guys wanna give that a peek — basically streamlined my rules a bit more and finally wrote a bare bones history for gregory ( which is extremely more developed in my head and you guys are welcome to ask about it I just wanted to finally throw something down )

that being said !! I update my mains list relatively sporadically as I feel comfy putting people on there and don't do mains calls at all, but if you guys are interested in being mains please please feel free to reach out to me ♡

𝐼𝑁 𝐴 𝐻𝑂𝑈𝑆𝐸 𝑂𝐹 𝑀𝐼𝑅𝑅𝑂𝑅𝑆, 🪞 𝑌𝑂𝑈'𝑅𝐸 𝑁𝐸𝑉𝐸𝑅 𝐴𝐿𝑂𝑁𝐸

[…] 𝚆𝙴𝙻𝙲𝙾𝙼𝙴 𝙷𝙾𝙼𝙴 !

independent    &    selective    canon    /    original   multimuse (operated by, morgan)

[ JACKET ]:          sender notices the receiver beginning to shake after an immensely distressing incident, and removes their own jacket to wrap it around the receiver’s shoulders.

𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐒𝐔𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐏𝐓𝐒.

★ — Gregory's throat feels hoarse from screaming ( feels as though he's been screaming for hours, for help, for someone to hear him, for the blind panic that felt as if there was no other outlet than to scream in anguish ; though it can't have been more than a few minutes since he escaped. since the fire started ), and yet he starts once more the moment he feels a hand on his back, desperate and tired, sure that he has no more fight left in him — if this is William crawling his way back out of the fire, then Gregory is going to die here.

He's flailing in his potential assailants arms, weakly hitting at them as his screams meld more into exhausted sobs, pleas for them to let him go when a familiar voice ( one he's long associated with safety ) cuts through the haze of panic, and for the first time since the flames started Gregory truly sees.

He sees Michael.

Michael, who he had been so certain was dead in a basement because of him, because of his inability to take care of them both. He thought he was never going to see him again.

He's holding onto him tightly, not letting the teen fight out of his grasp, but still at arms length distance so that he's not smothering Gregory, not invading his space and increasing his panic. His expression is deathly serious, full of concern — still pale, but alive, his blue hues worriedly scanning over his smaller frame. Gregory is covered in blood.

( he's not sure how much is his own, and how much is the blood of his guardian's father ).

A long moment passes as they stare at each other in similar states of disbelief. Michael is mumbling words of reassurance that Gregory doesn't hear. His shouting sobs pitter off into quiet cries as the fight leaves his body, slowly and then all at once. Pure exhaustion takes its place. Gregory's knees begin to buckle, and he falls forward onto Michael, trusting that the man will catch him. He does. Without a second thought, Gregory wraps his arms around his neck. He's trembling.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I wasn't supposed to tell anyone, but I — I thought he'd leave me alone if he saw it. I didn't know he was looking for it. I'm sorry. I didn't know ——."

Half - babbled apologies that Gregory is hardly conscious of, just overcome by the need to make sure Michael knows he's sorry. Michael returns the embrace just as tightly, pulling Gregory in tighter as he tucks himself into the man's collarbone. He feels safe. He wants to stay here, forever.

Everything begins to blur together as the adrenaline begins to wane. Michael shifts, and Gregory allows himself to be maneuvered around easily ( not noticing that even as he's moved, michael never once lets him fully slip from his hold ), still muttering apologies under his breath that are softly forgiven and excused. Something heavy settles on his shoulders, the weight of it solid and warm ( not that it's the cold causing the teen to shake like a leaf ).

It feels safe. Michael is safe.

An arm wraps around his shoulders, pulling him in close to Michael's side and Gregory goes without resistance — burying himself into his guardian's side, leaning his weight into him ( something in the back of his mind reminds him that michael isn't fully healed yet, he shouldn't be relying so heavily on him, but it's not enough for him to take back control of his body from moving on autopilot ) as the man begins to steer him away. Gregory stumbles as he moves.

The crackling of flames continues behind them, though neither looks back.

zombie and 12 year old bonding

“Me? There’s nothing wrong with me!” nessssaaaa pq!

Argumentative Sentences, Vol. 1

★ — Growing pains are to be expected in a situation such as theirs. A damaged kid who never asked to be given home, a damaged girl trying to pick up the pieces of both of their lives, and a stolen robot who surpassed his own code. The trio sounds dysfunctional even at the briefest of glances.

And yet — Gregory can't help the frustration that bristles under his skin at her response. Brown hues narrow as he practically glares at his guardian, his expression making it clear that he doesn't believe her at all.

"Stop fucking lying to me!"

Comes the snapped response, his hands balling into fists at his side. Concern and irritation blend into one. Vanessa did everything she could to ensure Gregory was taken care of ( in every way possible, a fact which he was still getting used to ) while she, herself, was falling apart. She may try to hide it from Gregory, but he wasn't oblivious.

( he's seen it before ).

"We're supposed to talk to each other, right? That's what Freddy said — so why won't you talk to me about what's going on! Because I don't want to be here if you taking care of me means you're not taking care of yourself!"