#I am so out of practise it's not even funny.

[ancha-aus]

Yaaaaas :D

Okay but my question is who came up with the game? Because if it was killer it would be SO FUNNY.

Killer: you can feel emotions right? vibe check people? Ngihtmare: correct. killer: can you sense when people lie? Nightmare: ... I get a feeling about it. Killer: we need to practise that! I am a great liar!! I will help. Two truths and a lie and you need to pick out the lie! nightmare: seems reasonable. Killer nods: it would work best if you could practise with someone else and didn't just learn my like give aways but really on your own magic kinda deal nightmare remembering how ccino managed to lie to nim's face multiple times and never got caught: i know someone.

which is also when killer gets to interact with ccino more. sure killer though he was hot before but now also very smart and silver tongue? sign killer the fuck up- oh wait. he can't because nightmare said "No." very early to anything concerning ccino :'(

At least killer leanrs a few things about ccino like this. (he also likes to guess which is the lie when it is ccino's turn.)

Oaky but the PLOTTWIST! Error: that is my brother. nightmare does a quick turn: since when do you have abrother?! I mena... aside from dust... error: euh... along time? I euh... it is a long story. geno is crying as he just holds his little brother.

omg stop error planning their first official date in the warroom is such a vibe!! (killer gave error a little warhelmet to lead the opperation with.) and they are planning it all out and helping with making sure he doesn't go too far with his funds and ccino giving killer the stare like 'if anything happens to either of them.' which killer gets and don't worry he is on it!

(the distraction was just dust and nightmare wokring with the horses and nightmare practising his riding skills. it was nice and very relaxed.)

nightmare knows himself and knows how he reacts and so he makes sure he isn't near- damnit that is the child fitting the describtions.

nightmare is so scared he will mess this up but he does really well and everything ends up working out just fine :D

(also. dont you mean third child? seeing as ccino pretty much also raised dream until he was 13? ccino is not ready for another child. (if ccino and killer ever expect a child ccino will be anxious even if they planned it. he took care of so many children already.))

I love the whole dream and blue side quest story. them just going out and about on adventures. but also making sure to check on the kids in the apprentice program and to make sure everyone BEHAVES! Nightmare doens't think dream needs to repay him for anything. dream already apologised. Dream disagrees but also loves helping nightmare so doesn't really see it as a chore/punishment.

and as you said. where dream goes so does blue. How it took those two so long to realise they are already married is beyond me (and everyone)

Ngihtmare always knew he was on a time limit wiht the mask. he could only hide himself for so long. it is probably why he even reveals his face to reaper so wuickly. he knows he is on a time crunch and the reaction of EVERYONE is just going to be worse the longer he waits.

and it works out! he did the groundwork. he proved himself a reasonable king. and when people see his real self? they are willing to accept it. because there is proof everywhere that nightmare knows what he is doing. (or that he knows to hire people who know)

also i am sorry but THE TRUST!! which is so big for nightmare because he was always so afraid and paranoid. he is willingly stepping into a possibly very dangerous situation because he trusts his knights to protect him!! My heart. my soul. tha tis just so amazing and such a great character development.

everyone watching error and nightmare stnading within inches of each other: omg they should just KISS already!

the boys have already been courting for a year at this point. (ngihtmare has the opposite problem of dream which is real funny)

the knigths may work for nightmare but they still got times off the clock :3

okay but the whole dust thing?! Fucking killed me?! it is perfect!!

Dust having such a loving family. and his parents desperate to finding a way to help him. his brother just carrying him around like a sack of potatoes!! Stop that is great!!

(also phantom just full of stubborn energy "My brother is fine! He is just lazy!" but it isn't just stubborn. it is denial because phantom and his parents would be so so so afraid to loose dust)

which is why his parents had already spoken to a mage. hell maybe the mage warned them that this could have serious consequences and even end up making dust very difficult and hard. (to which his parents replied. at least he would HAVE a life. We will help and support him through it all)

and to be fair. they do! They try so hard! but dust can't control the magic. he never had to control any type of magic. he never even HAD magic to control. and now he has magic strong enough to start up hurricanes?! He has no idea how to control it and-

and of course he ends up zapping his brother. he didn't mean to! He swears he didn't mean to!

and phantom of course forgives him and reassures him like 'it is oaky! I know you didn't mean to. you were just anxious and scared. i know. it is okay. we are fine.'

but dust can't help but stare. because that took out half of his HP. his storm is only getting stronger. it is only getting more out of control... he needs to do soemthing...

and for dust the answer is obvious. after all. he was always living on borrowed time. he knwos that. but he refuses to be a dnager to his family. and while his family just wanted him happy and healthy...dust didn't see himself deserving that.

so he left. and he ended up somewhere where he couldn't hurt people. and dust managed to make it work and he send funds to his family. (never an address to send responses to. never personal letters. what could he say? that he misses them? that he is sorry? that he can't risk them? no. it would just make them sad.. this way they maybe believe he just moved on and then so will they... Dust doens't want to give them a chance to talk him out of this... (or worse. a letter that it is good dust left because things are better now) no response address is better.)

and then everything in the story happens. hell maybe this is even before dust becomes official with geno and reaper. just dust and nightmare. going by horse there.

and dust being so unsure in his to approach. because that is his younger brother. (not little. never little. phantom was always bigger and stronger than him)

and phantom just looking up shocked at the rain. (trying to push his own hopes down or being disappointed again. phantom used to run outside with every rainfall or storm. praying his brother had finally come home. even if he doens't run outside anymore he always looked wishful at each rainfall. looks through windows hopeful. searching...) and then he hears horses nearby and he turns...only... only to see...

dust looks awkward. he always was awkward and shy. and dust just slowly and quietly saying hi and that he missed him. asking him how he is doing. and phantom is already rushing to his side. he needs to make sure this is real and not another wishful dream.

and it is real. oh it is so real. he can hold his brother. and his brother is okay! (phantom had dreams about dust returning... he had nightmares about them finally finding dust only for it to already be too late and dust to become dust before he saw them. before dust could learnt hat phantom missed him)

his parents seeing him. they knew he send money but... but dust. oh dust. they hold him and welcome him home nad gush about how much he grew and how strong and healthy he looks and oh what a beautiful horse is she yours? oh hello young man! We are so sorry who are you?

(and maybe nightmare feels insecure. maybe he just needs the reassurance. as he mutters that he is nightmare and dust is one of his four new brothers...) dust is a bit embarrassed but his parents (and phantom too) are so proud. because you learned so much and let yourself love others! You let yourself trust yourself to be near others and how could they not be proud of you?

which is when after checking with nightmare dust tells them that this is actually the king... that it is why he needs to return. he has a job there. a home. he is sorry he never came back earlier but... he doesn't have an excuse but being scared and would tell them as much.

god it would jsut be gut punch after gut punch!

also. love the idea that dust has like a fake bigger soul around his normal tiny soul. and like the room between these two (soo in the big soul and around the tiny soul) is where the storm spell is located. deeply rooted into the tiny soul to give it support.

dust would HATE how his soul looks. it is so fucking weird. (which he finally trusts geno and repaer enough to do like soulplay and stuff. geno finally sees where the magic is coming from... and understands why dust was so secretive and unsure about it. it isn't a weapon. it isn't dangerous. it is a whole support build of magic. powered by the weather itself. it is complex and geno just thinks it is beautiful)

okay i love the fresh and parasite bit! Especially because this would be the pushing point that makes the parasite learn to stop the magical consumption.

and fresh just falling over face first. unsure what happened but then still rushing to error. he is gong to hold his brother and apologise for to him. say he loves him so much and that he swears he will explain everything. he is so so so sorry ruru.

error holding his brother. even if it hurts he refuses to let go.

god it isn't even them hagning out. it is just becuase error wanted them there for this meeting. to see fresh. that is why dust is here and geno is kinda hurt that dust doens't even look at him but so happy that error has these people to support him here.

but on the sillier note. Dust's magical swag and rizz saves the day XD

yes to everything you said about ccino and error! You get it! You get the vibe!!

Okay i am also done :3

New Age AU (Error's Wacky Wild Plan)

Hi guys. So. Crazy Story. The crisis that stopped me from working on my banner art actually catapulted me into writing this drabble finally! (Also the wonderful @ancha-aus was also a life-saver and helped me hammer out a few plot points for this installment <3)

Currently my only context for this drabble is that Error is tiny, and ran away from home because Geno moved to Reaper's kingdom to make money to send back home, and Fresh spent too long away on his trip. Error was expelled from his magic academy and came home to an empty house, so he left! Now he's been on the road for about a month? Nightmare has been ruling for about 6-ish years now, almost 7.

(Hello @mutzelputz and @papiliovolens hi guys!!!)

     The town was bustling. 

   Error had been through a lot of towns since he’d left. Big ones, small ones, ones he was convinced weren’t even towns at all, just a few barns in a general closeness to one another who decided they needed to call themselves something besides the outskirts. Those people had been particularly hostile to his passing through.

   And, lately, they’d been really weird. People staring at him when he’d walk on the streets, or pass by shops. When they saw he had money from a different kingdom (he didn’t even realize he’d left his own, but he figured it meant he was on the right path) they’d squeeze their faces like they bit a lemon and hastily take his coin. Like it was cursed, or something. They were lucky it wasn’t cursed, honestly. He could probably figure out how to do that.

    This town, though, was filled so full with people that he imagined they couldn’t look at him weird if they wanted to. 

   People were riding horses, chatting in the streets, all sorts of stalls and merchants were peddling goods, and he was almost positive he could hear music lifting down the street over the general drone. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d run into a place so busy. He’d always been told to stick to the side, out of the way, out of danger. 

   He didn’t have to listen to that anymore. Though, he did skirt the crowds. The mass of people seemed all too willing to bump shoulders or elbows with each other in the early morning sun, and the last thing he wanted was to have his magic act up in a crowd. He’d done well so far. 

   Every booth, every merchant, every passerby seemed jubilant, ebbing and flowing. It was like some sort of party. 

   That was, until, Error spotted it.

   A big building, something that Error recognized only vaguely. 

   It was an amphitheatre. 

   Geno had taken him to see one once. Or, at least, the ruin of one. It hadn’t been too far from their home, and it was pretty abandoned and lonely. Plants had crawled up its walls, stones had fallen off in chunks, animals seemed to have deemed its high windows a perfect spot to build nests. It had been breathtaking, and ancient. 

   This one? Seemed perfectly in-use. 

   The walls were all in-tact, stones, an easy to look at grey, smooth and covered in little intricate carvings. Spells, he had to imagine, in some language he didn’t know. Curtains hung over the huge arched entrances, and heavy gates seemed to be lifted, the spikes at the base loomed over the heads of every passerby. 

   He couldn’t help but marvel. Was this a restoration, or maybe it was new. Some sort of imitation. Regardless, he found that his feet carried him to one of the entrances, which stood largely empty aside from some folks who looked strikingly like guards.

   Two of them stood, long spears in-hand. They both stood stock still as Error approached, and didn’t move a muscle as he passed them. They were strange, definitely different. Not at all the town guard he was familiar with. 

   The inside of the theatre was even more impressive. Rows and rows of stands seemed to line up either side. Huge tapestry hung from the high arches past those seats, and down the runways of the bleachers, all a bright teal and dark navy blue. They seemed fancy, and much newer than the curtains which had hung in the entrance. 

   Beyond the walkway where he stood, was a set of stairs which led down a level or so, before it leveled out into an open space. Sandy, and very flat. It seemed like there were people there, too. A much smaller crowd, but still a crowd nonetheless. 

   Error was almost amazed he’d not been stopped by someone yet. Whatever was going on seemed important, and so far in his experience, people did not like him sticking his nose into important business. 

   With that in mind, he decided he’d stick to the entryway for now. He leaned his bag up against the wall and watched from a position where the sun still shadowed his form. He was often grateful for his miscolored bones. It made hiding in the dark a whole lot easier. 

   It took a bit for him to really process what he was watching in the morning light. 

   There were four people sat on a sort of raised box toward the front of a stage. A huge stage, raised up off the sand with wood slats. They had a long-table before them, and quills and ink jars in-hand. Well, three were sitting. One was standing. But the point is, they were all watching the stage very attentively. 

   On-stage there was… basically nothing. Only a simple backdrop Error had to imagine was there at all times, because it looked like it was coated in sand, even from the distance where he stood.

   A person would enter the stage, the people sat on the box would speak to them, and then there was a flare of magic. Another. Another. And then they were dismissed. 

   It wasn’t until he really bothered to think about what magic was being cast that he realized those were extremely simple spells being used. Levitate, Create Water, Mimicry. Or Flame, Gust, Light. All just three easy spells, and then they were off-stage. That was taught magic. It gave him memories of his entrance exam to his school. He’d been way overqualified to get in, Geno taught him after all…

   But, no, this didn’t feel the same. There were plenty of people who seemed to stumble at spells they didn’t recognize, or who couldn’t muster a simple breeze. Then others who were very old and obviously skilled. Obviously they found the three spells to be child’s play. Like Error would. This was no entrance exam, so what-

   “Hey, pipsqueak, what are you doing there in the dark?” A voice startled him, and it took all of his willpower to avoid jumping away from its origin. 

   Error twisted rapidly, just in time to avoid the thrust of an elbow in his direction. 

   There was a monster there. Three, actually. Two lizards, both bright green and tropical, and one who looked more like a dragon. The green one closer to him must have spoken, because he laughed at Error’s flinch. 

   “Why are you bothering me?” Error shot back haughtily. 

   The lizard seemed to grin at the response.  

   “Oh, so we’ve got a feisty little small fry here? Thinks he’s scoping out the competition?” The dragonish one hissed, voice deep. 

   The other green one tittered a giggle, “So cute! I can’t believe the King really decided to let just anyone try out for Royal Mage.” 

   Oh…

   The lizard before him seemed to take this silence as a weakness, and reached out quicker than Error could react. A flick to the middle of his forehead. 

   Error winced and pulled away, back and into the arena. He grit his teeth and clutched his skull, where at the same moment the lizard jumped back and shook their hand in the air a bit. His magic had reacted poorly again, and while it was better than it used to be, it still stung like 5 wasps touching down and stinging the same point all at once. 

   “Little freak.” Was all the monster hissed, before he fled. His two friends moving on behind him in confusion. Approaching the line to the stage. 

   Error stood there in the sun for a moment, rubbing at his forehead until the pain was more of a numb static. 

   If anything, he appreciated the little run-in with those wanna-bes. Now he knew exactly what this was, and why it had felt so familiar to him. 

   The Mage Trials. 

   Geno had to go through them, and he’s been very thorough about his every single detail while doing it. Even though he was the best mage Error had ever known, he’d still stressed and wrote page after page of plans and spells and had placed them into a folder that felt thicker than an encyclopedia. Geno had always been the only one of them who bothered studying. Fresh couldn’t go to school anymore, and Error… Well, Error didn’t need to. 

   Thinking about it, Geno had been very quiet about it, but Error had looked into his folder a few times. Just out of curiosity. It’d been split into three rounds, something Geno had said was standardized. The first was a test of someone’s basic magic skills, the second were more complex spells which the mage has practice in, and the third, the one that had given Geno the most grief, was the personal spell round. In the last one, there were no restrictions to what someone could do, so long as they had done the work themselves, and that it mostly used magic. 

   If he was right, and he usually was, then this was the first round. Eliminating those with nothing but a hope and a prayer in their pocket before they got embarrassed before the one looking for the Mage in the first place. In this case, whoever this kingdom’s king even was. 

   In just a few moments, Error had decided. 

   This was how he’d prove himself. 

   The line was already starting to get longer, and he didn’t want to be here until nightfall in a queue. He dusted off his scarf, his shoes, his bag, and set off into the bright sun to secure his place in this contest. No prep. No warning. Just with his raw skill and what he’d learned so far. Nothing could possibly go wrong. 

.

   Finally. 

   Error felt like it had been hours in the warm sun before he was finally up next. 

   He’d been watching, of course. Watching as the people before him were passed or failed. It was just as he’d expected, and he couldn’t help but be a bit giddy as the two green lizard who’d bothered him earlier both failed. Though their dragonish friend had passed, it was still enough of a victory for him.

   Along with that, he noticed that the three people sat were all in robes of nobles. Something the wealthy and lofty would think to wear in a blazing hot arena all day. The one standing, though, was wearing all black. A hood was over his head, but Error thought he might be some sort of cat-monster. Very stone faced, very still. The only time Error had seen him move was seemingly to veto whatever choice the other three were making. He thought it was interesting. 

   That didn’t matter, though. 

   Based on what he’d seen, these people wouldn’t have any qualms with his magic. He was much better than half the people who’d already been passed, and knew he could keep him calm up on the stage. It’d be just like his entrance exam. 

   He watched as the monster who’d gone before him, a skeleton who was twice his height and twice as animal-ish, bowed gratefully to the people on the boxes, the evaluators, and exited. She’d passed fairly easily, Error thought. Though, her focus seemed elsewhere based on how shaky the hold on her last flame had been. 

   “Next!” 

   The call was shrill, and Error had heard it over a hundred times already today, but this time it bounced in his ears as he lifted himself up the steps and strode onstage. 

   If he’d thought about it, he would’ve tried to find a place to stache his bag, but it was too late for that, and frankly he didn’t trust it not to get stolen once it was out of his sight. Not with how busy the city seemed. 

   When he was stood in the center of the stage, he looked out across the way to the evaluators. They seemed closer up here than they did when he was on the ground. Interesting. 

   “First spell,” The person on the far left called, though Error could tell now that it was a voice projection spell. So they didn’t strain their vocal chords, “ Levitate.”

   That was simple. One of the first spells he’d been taught as a kid. 

   His eyes skimmed briefly, there had been a few props on stage that he only noticed once he was closer that were meant to be used with this sort of spell, but Error wasn’t for that. Instead, he muttered the words under his breath, outstretched a hand, and felt his magic reach out around him. Beyond the stage. 

   There… There was a barrier of some sorts, pushing back against his magic, between himself and the evaluators. He furrowed his brow and urged his magic forward. He didn’t have to break through it. He just. Had to- His magic felt like it was looping and wriggling like a worm through the dirt, but when it broke through on the other end, it felt so much more clear. He could feel a potent magic there, something raw and wet, like the air before a storm. 

   That didn’t matter, though. None of it did, because he was on a mission. His magic finally found its target, the stacks of ink bottles which the middle evaluator had just before their parchment. The magic latched on, and Error finally allowed himself a grin as he tugged his hand upwards. They floated calmly into the air, three of them, and did a quick spinning motion, before settling back down just where he’d found them.

   He didn’t catch the looks on the threes faces, but he had to imagine they were priceless. He was more focused on letting the spell dissipate and preparing for the next. 

   It took a moment, before, “Second Spell,” They said, “Create Water.” 

   Another easy one. 

   Error held his hand out again, though this time his palm faced the sky rather than the ground. At the mutter of his words, he could feel the water manifesting. Tiny droplets leaking from his fingers and into the air above his open palm, where he let it gather into a nice, easy sphere. 

   It hovered, and for this one he could see the nods from the three evaluators. The fourth, the cat monster, didn’t move an inch. A good sign. 

   Error, after a breath, moved the orb of water and simply set it on the stage floor. If he had to release it, he didn’t exactly want to get his clothes wet. That orb tended to shoot outwards when he released it, and the water would go everywhere. 

   “Third spell,” They must’ve been contented with his simply setting down the water, for they continued, “Flame.”

   Ah, one of his favorites. He was never very good at it, of course, but it was certainly very fun. If nothing else it’d be a taste of his raw power.

   He rolled up his hanging sleeves, quickly using strands of string to wrap them in place, before he picked back up the water orb in one hand. With the other, he faced his palm toward the side of it, and spoke the words for the flame spell. 

   The heat gathered in his wrist, and all at once shot out of his palm, like a cannon blast. The heat was intense, and Error laughed quietly to himself in pure elation as the fire did exactly what he was hoping. All at once, his glasses fogged, and a burst of steam blew past his face, off to the exiting side of the stage. He’d evaporated his orb, no longer needing to risk someone seeing him fumble with it and soak himself. 

   He let the fire die after a few second, and quickly grabbed the hem of his scarf to wipe down his glasses from the fog left behind on their surface. 

   The moment the red rims were back on the bridge of his nose, the voice spoke up again. 

   “Name?”

   Error cleared his throat, before calling back his name in response. Just the first one, the last one didn’t matter anymore. 

   There was another few breaths of quiet, before, 

   “Age?”

   Error hadn’t heard them ask anyone else for their age, but he figured they’d noticed. How strong and talented he was at such a young age. 

  He puffed up his chest when he announced, “Twelve!” to the arena. 

   There were a few muffled murmurs from the line, but Error was too busy grinning across the way at the evaluators as they seemed to talk amongst themselves. 

   He was ready to hear the word that would mark him to continue. The next part was tomorrow, after this round was concluded and the king arrived. He’d heard about it in the line while he was waiting. 

   One of the evaluators lifted their gaze back to him. Opened their mouth.

   “Disqualified.”

   That.

   Huh?

   Error must’ve visibly glitched at the response, because one of the evaluators seemed to flinch. Ever so slightly. 

   “How come?!” Error called back, reservations immediately fleeing his mind.

   How could they disqualify him? He hadn’t heard them do that to literally anyone else so far today. 

   The evaluator on the far right spoke up, “Too young. Now please move off the-”

   Error might’ve let his mouth speak before his mind, if he hadn’t seen the way the mysterious cat monster seemed to slink forward. A simple tap to the evaluator’s side and they stopped mid-sentence, attention drawing to the person. 

   He waited with balled fists. Hoping, against it all, that this person was using his mighty veto powers to get him his passing review. 

   “The Knight wishes to speak to you further.” They said, when the person, the Knight, took a step back. “Exit the stage.” 

   Mm. 

   This was his chance. This was his moment. He was being allowed to move on, he was sure of it. It had to be. 

   He practically scrambled off the stage and down the steps, and found that the Knight had closed the distance very quickly. He gestured silently for Error to follow him off to the side of the arena, seemingly outside of the voice spell’s range, as the noise of magic and calling for the next viewer seemed all muffled and contained. 

   Something Error noticed about the guy, now that he was right beside him walking along, was also that he wasn’t a cat monster. No, he had some sort of mask shaped like a cat. Black spots painted on black fur, with piercing white eyelights hidden in the darkness cast by his black hood. A cloth mask covered the lower half of his face, so Error would’ve had no idea what kind of monster he was, if he hadn’t left his hands uncovered. They were grey and grimy, but they were most certainly bones. 

   The other thing he noticed, was the magic. That damp, airy magic was no-doubt from this guy. It practically enveloped the both of them until they were stood in the shade of the wall separating bleachers from arena floor. 

   “You said you’re twelve?” He finally asked, shifting on his feet to look at Error. 

   The last thing he noticed, which only happened once he was able to look past the aura, was that. Well. He was a bit taller than this guy. Not by much, but there was certainly something stark about having to look a bit downwards to meet his eyelights. 

   “Yes, I am.” He claimed proudly, still convinced this was to be his ride to the top.

   The knight seemed to skim him with his eyes. Surely taking in Error’s clothes, his bag, his glasses, the weird bones. Though, it didn’t feel pervasive. 

   “Impressively strong for a kid,” He praised loosely, “And probably talented in spells if the nerds were any indication.” 

   His voice was quiet and raspy, but Error had no problem listening to it. This strong and very cool guy who was called a ‘knight’ was praising him. This was much better than getting yelled at by his professors. Much. 

   “Does that mean I passed?” He asked impatiently. 

   He needed this. He needed this. 

   The guy’s eyelights lingered on his face a bit, and it was then that Error finally noticed how virtually unreadable this guy was. Impossibly quiet, posture unmoving, all facial features shrouded in shadow and covered by masks?

   “I’m not sure what kingdom you’re from, but you’ve got to understand that the folks up there didn’t say no because you’re bad. They said no because the king made a new decree. “No soul under the age of 16 shall be put to work under the crown.” They’ve gotta take it seriously, just like everyone else has to follow the new rules about their own shops and businesses.” He said evenly, eyelights never leaving Error’s face. “You’re a couple years too early is all.” 

   It felt like he’d been shoved into a ditch, and he could already feel his right hand starting to tremble with the beginnings of a glitch. He was furious! How could they possibly say no to him because of some stupid rule about his age? 

   “No!” He exclaimed, trying to bite back the distortion on his voice, “I’m not going to just walk away. If I could just move on to the next round, they’d see I’m different! I’m not some weak little baby!” 

   He clenched his fists, driving his jittering one forcefully into his pocket. 

   The knight didn’t even flinch at his declaration. 

   “They’ve already seen that.” He said easily. “Listen to me. Error, right?” 

   Error hesitantly nodded. 

   “Error, ‘m sure that if my Lord saw you in action, he too would agree that you are very strong and resourceful.” The knight said, and Error hated that it sounded earnest. “But, he set that law into place for very good reason. If by any means those folks back there were to let you through, to pass you, and you made it before the king next round? They’d have committed treason, and I’d have their souls on the end of my bone in three seconds flat.” 

   His voice was hard and serious, and Error held strong as a loud crack echoed out beside the knight. A bone raised from the ground, sharp and jagged on the end, absolutely radiating magic. 

   “Do you really want their blood on your conscience, just so that you get sent away by the King anyways?” The knight offered. 

   Error hunched his shoulders a bit, and he felt his static worsen as he let his eyes linger on the bone. Yes. He muttered inside his head. He wanted to scream it at the man before him. Tell him that this was his one golden chance to prove himself. 

   But to who? He would ask, and Error wouldn’t be able to say it. It’d be a wasted sentiment and wasted time and wasted lives just for his temper tantrum. 

   “...No.” He bit out meekly. 

   He stood there, feeling a familiar shame creep up his spine. The knight made no move to leave, though he did let his bone disappear. The ground looked untouched from where it had split out of. Just more sand. Sand that was getting into Error’s bones. That he’d have to clean out later. Swinging in his hammock, lonely and moping. 

   “Heh,” The chuckle was almost inaudible, and Error was almost ready to let his distress turn back into rage, but, “Better kid than I was.” The Knight mused into the open air.

   He seemed to shift his stance again, and Error took a half step back. 

   “You’ve got your life ahead of you, kid. Don’t let this keep you down. Take the road less traveled by or whatever.” He said then, waving a hand loosely before him. 

   Error stared at him, trying to even his breath, before he had an idea. 

   “The other two rounds will be here, right?” He asked, voice still harshly stuttering and screeching. The Knight seemed unbothered.

   “Yeah. Planning on sticking around to watch?” The knight questioned, though it felt more like a warning. 

   Error nodded in agreement without hesitation. “If these geezers can get the job, I need to see what kind of tricks they have up their sleeves.” He agreed. 

   That earned another little chuckle, before the knight looked back to the stage. 

   Up in the center was a new mage, a human who seemed to be making a pretty wild wind that was whipping the sand around, bothering the people in line behind him. Error heard the knight make a scoffing noise, before turning back towards the stage.

   “Go hang around somewhere else for a while, why don’t you? I have to go make sure those nerds don’t pass that guy.” 

   Error didn’t even get to say a farewell before the Knight was off. 

   It seemed like every stride he teleported a bit further, building speed until he stopped cleanly up on the pedestal. Just in time for the sandstorm to die down. 

   Error didn’t want to walk away from this, he didn’t, but staying would only waste his time. It only took a few more seconds, to watch the knight nudge the evaluator and hear the muffled call of ‘fail’ ring out across the arena before he was turning tail and moving out of the sandy paradise, back into the bustle of the living city. 

.

.

.

   It was impossible to miss it. The sounds of celebration as the monarch entered the town. 

   Error could see the royal carriage from his perch, an old temple tower that had at some point lost its bell. It seemed untouched, birds nests and cobwebs, so he’d set up a hammock and a little makeshift shelter inside using his strings just before night fell. 

   He’d snatched some food from the town as dusk was setting in, and he’d been comfortably whittling away the dark hours, working hard on his plan. 

   With the King officially in town, that meant the second round would be starting up shortly, taking the numbers of who would be in the third round down by hundreds. He hoped the king was stingy about it. He hoped that dragonish monster would stumble on his spell and turn someone into a frog. 

   The thought humored him, and he cackled quietly to himself from his makeshift room. 

   The sun was high again, and he was only a part of the way through. His spells required a lot of his magic to be woven into them, and while it was much much faster than what he’d heard was the usual, it was still difficult to make. 

   Weaving the blue strings from his sockets, to his fingers, around his fingertips, and into the shapes he needed. It was monotonous, and boring by all accounts, but with every strand there was a new flow of power. A new pump of adrenaline into Error’s soul as he recognized his creation becoming more potent. Intent, intent, intent, every loop and knot was filled to the brim with it. His frustration sat at the core. Much more volatile and destructive than his usual intent, but it would serve him well if he wanted this plan to go well. Around it was his determination. The strings woven in with a sense of stubbornness which refused to let go, like a snake swallowing its prey whole. This would compress the first layer into a proper state. Let it coil and coil and coil until it burst. It’d be big, and loud, and send out that message he so desperately needed to be heard by the king. 

   Skipping the second round would probably hurt him in the long run, but… That knight had said he’d have to kill those people if he showed his face in round two. So, he’d just appear in round three instead, and make up for missing the second one. A final act, of sorts. 

   He’d have to be at this all day to make the time crunch. The orb was hardly as big as his palm, not nearly big enough. Though, he had wasted time making the shelter and finding food. He’d just have to skip a couple meals to make up for it. He didn’t really need to eat that much anyways, he’d known that for years. He just tried to make an effort when he smelled something tasty. 

   He knew he could manage. 

   It was late in the night when Error finally started on the outer layers. Those which would be filled with his patience, so that the potent insides would not be sensed as he moved with it among the many magic users. 

   The town had begun to line the streets with torches and party as the stars arrived. No doubt celebrating those who would be at the third and final round tomorrow. The ones who would be competing to become the new Royal Mage. 

   To Error? Every single moment down there was dedicated to him. They just didn’t know it yet. 

.

.

.

   The morning came, and Error only had a few more layers. 

   By the time the sun was almost in the center of the sky above, he had finished it, and carefully tucked it into his backpack. He unraveled the strings and carefully wrapped them, shaping them, changing them into a thin net with long ends. This was shoved into his jacket sleeve, the ends clutched tight in his hand. 

   It took him hardly any time at all to get to the arena, and he was early. 

   Good.

   He settled himself up in the stands, as close to the stage as he could get. Many people seemed to be staying outside the arena, sticking to the streets, but there was still enough of a crowd in the bleachers that Error had to be careful as he worked his way along the edges. He needed to be closer. Closer…

   There. 

   He stood at the railing behind the stage. 

   From here, he could see the line to the left, and he could see the people who had finished lingering on the other side. None of them spoke to each other, only standing about, icily, waiting for the rest to finish so they’d know which of them was chosen, and who was not. Error had to imagine that these folks were just as lame and boring as the seniors from his old academy. No fun at all. 

   He waited, so, so patiently, for the next few people. The last few. 

   Though he couldn’t see the spells themselves, he could certainly feel the pressure coming off of them. The control that they’d need to balance it. How much it might’ve drained their energy to do it just once. He was attuned to that sort of thing, he had to be. 

   His assessment was that all of these last few folks weren’t bad, but they were no match for Error’s raw talent. 

   Each spell cast seemed to tick away at Error’s patience, until it finally happened. The last mage went on-stage. It seemed there had been 15 of them. 

   He’d have to make 16, then. 

   It felt like a blur as he jumped the rails and let his strings carry him across the open space, much to the shock of the few who had been watching the competitors from around him. The blue lines snatched at the wooden supports of the stage, and he swung right over top, landing a bit messily in the center of the stage.

   He didn’t have time to look at everything. All he knew was the crowd was much larger than last time, that there was a shout of ‘Hey!’’ from somewhere to his left, and that the box across from the stage now held only three people. Monsters. One Error recognized, the knight in shadows who’d spoken to him. The other two he didn’t know, but he had to assume the one in the middle, tall and imposing, and dark, with an eyelight the same colors as the tapestries, was the King he was looking to impress. That was all he needed to know. 

   “M’lord, my name is Error!” He called out across the sand, and in one motion he shrugged the bag off his shoulders and used his strings to tug the orb out of its canvas body. “I want to prove that I’m more capable than any of the adults who just went before me! I could be your mage!” He would be the mage. 

   The orb sat cradled in Error’s hand for only the briefest moment, before it was inside the little net he’d made. He swung it in circles. Again. Again. Again. 

   He had to be fast. He had to do this quick.

   Error spent one last moment, extending his reach through his strings, muttering words and igniting an intangible spark. 

   For a brief moment, he watched as the King seemed to ease forward. A hand now raised, seemingly calling off his knights, who had been almost in motion. 

   He released the orb directly upwards, momentum carrying it up. 

   Up.

   Up.

   Into the blue sky. Practically into the sun. 

   Error watched it rise above him. 

   Only. 

   “Shit.” 

   His calculations must’ve been off. He must’ve added a layer too many, or maybe he released it a swing too soon. But he could tell that it wouldn’t clear the top of the arena. 

   Maybe if he had a few more seconds he could’ve used strings to boost it. He could’ve sent a magic gust to lift it further. 

   Not the case.

   He watched as the orb detonated, just like it was supposed to. 

   The wave moved horizontally through the air, and swept across the air above the arena so quickly that it sucked the sand from the top layer and threw it against the tall walls. Error’s footing slipped, and he stumbled to his knees on the stage as the wind whipped and tugged the heavy curtains into the air current as well. 

   It was an almost invisible force, Error had to imagine anyone without a solid grasp of magic would entirely miss it as it spread out. 

  He winced as it finally reached the edges of the arena, where he had just barely managed to fall short of clearing. 

   As the magic passed over the stone and mortar, he saw as it fell. Not in chunks, but crumbled like dust into fine particles. The upper half of every arch at the top of the grand amphitheatre, turned pitch black, then wasted away. 

   He hadn’t meant for it to come in contact with anything. It wasn’t supposed to do anything but harmlessly wave over everyone’s heads. As a show of his strength. That was all.

   Error could only think back to when this had happened before. When he’d accidentally exploded Geno’s favorite mug while metering the strength of his strings. When he’d broken the wheel of a carriage passing through the woods with a wayward slingshot blast. When he’d broken all ten of the large windows in the lecture hall of the academy when he failed to complete a spell the way it was written. When he’d done it too well.

   As he rose to his feet, he half expected the nagging voice of his older brother to be there, chastising him for not being more careful, before taking him home and making him dinner. 

   It wasn’t that, though. 

   He watched out across the sand. The king had his head tilted only slightly, looking up at Error’s lofty mistake. At the clean cut where stone now met unbothered air. His knight, the one in all black, was leaned ever so slightly towards him. They must’ve been speaking. Or, at least, the knight was. 

   About Error, he had no doubt. 

   He stayed in place, watching, swaying a bit with the residual force of his own spell lingering in his fingertips. Every instinct which told him to run and to hide were smothered and stamped out by the ligering fact that he had nowhere to go. Without his brothers, there was no one to help him. He knew it. 

   Even in front of this crowd. These mages. This King and his knights. He couldn’t bring himself to move offstage. Some part of him, deep down, childishly wanted the King to announce that he was impressed. To parade him offstage and let him experience what Geno had. Let him know why Geno left. 

   The King’s single eyelight swam back over to look at Error in the silence. 

   Error felt like the world had stopped. 

   It hadn’t.

   There was a clattering of armor and rustling of fabric, suddenly loud in his ears, and he had no time to react as everything came rushing in all at once. 

   Hands. Heavy, gloved hands. Two sets, two hands each wrapped one of his upper arms, and immediately lifted him off the ground. Into the air. 

   Pain flooded into his bones from his soul, like twin lightning strikes, trying to singe the bone and the magic in its core. The pressure wasn’t much, his mind knew that, but his body usually didn’t listen to him. He tried desperately to hold it in. The rampant part of his magic that had been hurting him since he could remember. That made it hard to touch anyone. To shake hands. To hug his brothers. 

   “Let go!” He pleaded, though he wasn’t sure if his voice made any sense. Fresh always told him they couldn’t tell what he was saying when his voice got too bad.

   More pain. He kicked his legs at the open air, and tried to muster control over his strings, just for a moment, but he couldn’t. He couldn’t focus. 

   And all at once it stopped. 

   Error’s feet were on the ground again, though that promptly became his knees again as he swayed and wavered in the sudden aftermath of his active magic dying down. Receding back into his soul. Because it didn’t need to ‘protect’ him anymore.

   He spotted then, as his vision returned to something aside from the gloves or the sky, that the King was no longer in his throne. In fact, there was a heavy, encompassing, magical weight behind him now. Somewhere very, very close-by.

   He took a deep breath, grounding himself. 

   “We are taking a recess.” Announced a booming voice. Very nearby. It was deep, and felt almost the same as the projection spell from two days prior. Then, more quietly, “You will leave the boy to me. Go ensure no one was injured, then manage the crowd. I’ll make my choice tomorrow at sunrise.” 

   The second bit felt quieter, an edge to the tone that Error didn’t quite like. Considering he must be the boy in question. 

   It was a moment, a few muddled ‘Yes, my king’ s, before Error found a pair of boots stepping before him. His head swam as he looked upwards. 

   The King, he figured that had to be him, was dark. Very dark. Like a living, dripping, shadow. Magic seemed to be all he was made of, an aura radiating from him. Dripping off his back into long slimy worms, twitching as they sat near the ground. He wore a fancy cape, too. One with huge gold clasps on his shoulders, one was shaped like the moon. 

   Error looked to his face last. In hindsight, something that could’ve been very, very bad. He was met with a dripping face. Skeletal. The place where his right socket should’ve sat was covered in that dark substance. The other hollow, with that bright cyan orb staring right back at him. 

   “Can you stand?” His voice came easily, and Error braced himself. 

   Could he?

   He had to, he didn’t want to be touched again. 

   Error took another breath, and managed to rise silently to his feet. 

   “Good,” the King said once he was standing, “Follow me.”

   It was an order he didn’t dare refuse. 

.

.

.

   Error found himself in an odd position. 

   He’d been given time to sit and recover from his magic’s outlash, and now he was sat in a room beneath the bleachers of the arena alongside the King and that knight he’d met before. The other one was guarding the door, he thought. 

   It’d been silent for a while, and it was almost expected when the silence was finally broken. 

   “You said your name is Error, correct?” The King asked, and Error gave a nod of yes. He forced himself to meet the King’s gaze.

   “Dust says that you’re only 12, and our people disqualified you in the first round. Is that right?” 

   Error nodded again. 

   “And Dust even explained to you why you were disqualified?” 

   Another nod. It seemed he’d at least made an impression on the knight. Dust. 

   The King tilted his head ever so slightly to the side, eyelight holding Error’s tightly. 

   “Then, I’ll ask, what brought you to think this was a good choice? To try and become Royal Mage above any cost it might bring?” The king asked, and Error was surprised to find it was a shockingly gentle tone. “Your home, your family, your life. You are so young, why put it all on the line like this?” 

   Oh. 

   It was almost funny. Was this whole thing because the king was some sort of charitycase? So disillusioned by his perfect life that he couldn’t even think of the hardships any random kid could go through? He almost grinned at that, barely keeping his mouth from twitching in a mix of frustration and humor.

   “I wanted to prove myself,” He muttered, “And besides, becoming the Royal Mage would be great.” 

   He waited, waited for the King to inhale, to say something, before, 

   “I’m an orphan.” He spat, finally. “Family abandoned me, house is left behind, expelled from school. I don’t want to keep wandering.” 

   It was basically the truth. This was his big break. His one last chance before he became a hated little vagabond. Maybe even a criminal. Maybe he’d have to go on the run for the rest of his life, live as a nomad. Join a caravan. Those people got stopped a lot though, kingdoms didn’t like them. He’d probably explode some city’s bakery by mistake and get put in jail for-

   “Wait!” Error suddenly exclaimed, breaking free of his thoughts, “Am I in trouble? Am I going to jail??” He asked then. 

   His worries slammed to a grinding halt and he stared wide-eyed at the two before him. Geno had always told him not to go making his big stuff near town, because if the guard caught him he wouldn’t be able to bail him out. He’d end up in jail. Of course, it’d never happened back then because he was always fast enough. Always smart enough to get out of dodge when he broke something or made poor decisions. Here? Here he hadn’t run when he had the chance. 

   The King stared at him, his one eyelight nearly mirroring Error’s in surprise at the question. 

   “I mean,” he started, “You’re young. If I wont let you work for me, I wouldn’t dare put you in prison either.” The King stated, “Though, you did do quite a bit of damage to the theatre.” 

   Error watched him break eye contact finally and look over his shoulder to the Knight stood there. He’d been silently watching Error too. 

   When he had no insight, The king seemed to heave a sigh, and the shadowy extra limbs which draped around him twitched. 

   “You’re sure you have no family? No home?” the King asked him again, and Error nodded.

   The king muttered something under his breath, and shot the Knight another look. The knight shrugged. 

   “I… Will not employ you. Though, I do see talent in you, Error.” the King said carefully, a bit slower in his words than he had been up until now. Almost… unsure. “I will, however, extend to you the title so that you may conduct…” He waved a hand before himself, as though searching for a word, “ You may conduct independent research. If you accept, of course.”

   “You would be free to resend your acceptance at any moment, no strings attached, and may take any work you complete along with you, and any pay you receive would be given to you after your 16th birthday, if you stay that long.” He added, “I’ll have to rewrite the contract, but-”

   “I accept!” 

   Error couldn’t help himself. He was so excited he could puke. The last thing he’d expected was to pull this off. This shitshow of a scheme actually got him the job? He could scream. He could jump up and down for joy. He didn’t, he sat eagerly and tense in his seat instead, but he could’ve. 

   The King seemed to hesitate, for a few breaths, before relaxing. He stood, and offered a hand out slowly to Error. 

   Error stood too, grinning. He could manage this one. He could do it. 

   It was brief, but he grasped the King’s hand and shook it firmly.

   “Dust, will you help Error locate his belongings, and escort him to wherever he is staying tonight? I’ll send Cross to swap with you a bit later. We’ll reconvene in the morning just before sunrise.” 

[nihilistikal]

I cannot stress how frustrating it is to start writing again after a long while and feeling completely rusty. URGH.

[batsplat]

can we have a conversation about how much ktm is in shambles? cause i’m hearing they’re having so many problems financially and apparently even technically. it seems like they got stuck from the start of the season and they are just not progressing. i get that the last few circuits weren’t stop and go circuits that ktm prefers but the performances were really worrying. now, no offense to binder but he clearly has no backbone, but pedro already scolded them this weekend because they are not working the way they should, is there a chance they finally decide to take a risk and develop a project around him? because i feel like that’s what they need to do, a bit like yamaha or honda did for vale and marc. also i’ve thought about the fact that a lot of ktm engineers are leaving ktm for honda, if honda is actually working on a good project for 2027, is there a chance that perhaps a rider like pedro could get them out of the hole they got stuck into? cause i think that would be very interesting to see. of course only if he decides to leave ktm which i hope he doesn’t cause i’d like to see him become the first motogp wdc winner with a ktm. also i can’t really see where else he could go if one day he decides he’s unsatisfied with ktm

love asks that clearly come from the heart. I've been holding off on being too mean about ktm because in a way I do want to save it for after the NEXT race. we're in austria now!! ktm's home race! which they've actually been remarkably successful at, given they're the only non-ducati manufacturer to ever win in the modern iteration of this race in the premier class - first in that quirky last corner shoot-out courtesy of oliveira in 2020 and then in that bizarre slicks in the wet performance by binder in 2021. which, okay, unusual races and all that, but it's a track they should be doing well at!! binder got two second places here last year. if they flop here, then the alarm bells will really be ringing

I guess we can get into an argument about what 'flopping' would even look like. it's entirely plausible that, hm, the first 4-5 slots at minimum are locked out by ducati again - honestly, at the minute another ducati podium lock out feels like the expected scenario. I have heard there's a decent possibility of rain on sunday, but by this point of the year I've been promised rain quite a few times so I'll believe it when I see it. if it rains, sure, anything's possible. a positive result for ktm right now would probably be... a podium, right, which in itself is pretty damning - how are ktm still this bad at actually winning races? last year, binder got a podium at silverstone, which isn't a massively ktm-friendly track. this year, they didn't get even remotely close to that. the ktm defence argument goes 'well, look at what everyone else is doing'. silverstone is a very aprilia-friendly track and they had a pretty disastrous weekend themselves this year. the less said about the japanese manufacturers, the better. but... well, ktm was kinda supposed to take it to ducati this year. they finished last year on a very promising note, with what really should have been a 1-2 at valencia. (the fact that they didn't convert on that maybe should've gotten some alarm bells ringing about the ultimate potential of that rider line-up, but let's not get into that.) after binder's performance at qatar, ktm surely should have been determined to be in the title hunt. they are extremely not in the title hunt

the thing is, anon, ktm does know that pedro is their title winner. the idea of 'developing a project' around him is tricky - because to the extent that ktm is capable of that, they will do it!! they're not going to develop the bike in a direction that suits binder over him, for instance, or completely disregard his feedback or any of that. manufacturers can struggle with being reactive enough to rider concerns... my sense is that ktm likes to throw a lot of stuff at problems, it likes to flex its muscles and use a lot of data and come up with big update packages and all of that - and for all the progress they've made in their bike development, clearly all is not yet well on the in-season development front. (cf the whole chattering thing that ducati has gotten a handle on and ktm hasn't.) manufacturers do sometimes have a tendency to believe they know best and not listen enough to their riders, especially when there's a disconnect between the riders and 'the factory' that's actually designing the bikes. yamaha is an interesting example of that at the minute, where a lot of their current problems are so long-running that you can find their roots in stuff jorge and valentino were complaining about YEARS and years back. they've become a lot more reactive in recent years and did do a lot to tackle fabio's complaints about the bike's top speed... but by that point, they were in such a hole that just 'fixing the top speed' really wasn't enough to actually make a competitive bike. still, part of the reason why fabio's decided to stick with that project is he feels like yamaha is finally listening to him - and if they'd lost him, they'd really be fucked, so that has to count as at least a little bit of a W

in terms of the valentino and marc comparisons, they are just about different enough that it'll only take you so far. with valentino, the simple truth is that nobody today could do what he did for the yamaha project in 2004. he couldn't do that nowadays; it just isn't possible for a rider and his team to make that sort of instant impact anymore. motogp is so different now, with all the aero and devices and all the other stuff casey hates. the balance of power, if you will, has shifted pretty decisively from riders to engineers. also, valentino by that point was a fair bit more experienced and a lot of the credit has to go to his even more experienced team for what they were able to do with yamaha's carte blanche. a rookie, however gifted, just won't be able to provide quite the same level of direction. with marc... well, the honda was fantastic when he showed up! best bike on the grid! it's not exactly an analogous situation to pedro in that what honda needed to do was 'keep being good'. they did listen to marc's feedback and it did bag them enough titles to make it worth their while, but it also did not send their bike down a particularly happy development route for anyone else riding that thing - which ultimately as a manufacturer is not a situation you should want. honda was already losing the development arms race to ducati in the late 2010s, but giving marc a fast if capricious bike and relying on his natural talent to ride around the issues managed to disguise the problems for a while... or at least make them hurt less. all in all, I'm not really convinced 2010s honda is a model anyone should be particularly interested in copying

what ktm should do is listen to pedro, obviously. I assume they're already treating him as their championship contender elect, but if they're not then, yes, they'd be idiots. and given how long it took for them to actually confirm his place in motogp last year, I am open to the possibility that ktm are being idiots here. whether there's a workable system in place to actually make use of that feedback and continue to progress is more open for debate, and that's kinda what pedro went to the factory to check in on. pedro today was talking up a "big, big step" in the coming few races, in part due to the impact of their two test riders and the more ktm-friendly circuits to come, so it'll be interesting to see if it lives up to that. beyond that, who knows? ktm does have money and resources and a track record of success outside of motogp to give it faith, but of course this year has been a disappointment. (quick note: I have seen the stuff about ktm being in trouble financially and obviously that would massively change all of this, but at this stage it's quite hard to judge how seriously to take that - so the rest of this ask will assume that ktm will continue having a lot of money at its disposal. if they don't, my analysis is that they're probably fucked.) the first bit of the season made everyone doubt whether the bike was actually better than thought and the riders were simply not taking advantage of it - which a few signs last year like 'surely dani shouldn't be this competitive' and the whole valencia thing already pointed to. now, it's definitely less competitive than last year and even their superstar rookie can't do all that much with it, so that's not great. they do have a little time to play with here, but not that much. pedro's signed for 2025-26, but if ktm doesn't start next season more competitive, it won't take long for him to start looking around. and even though you can't do valentino 2004 things in quite the same way anymore, this is clearly going to be a project that needs an alien-level talent to actually get it over the line. they've kinda managed to fail upwards into a very strong set of riders next year and they should be able to extract a lot of them for bike development purposes, but also their rider management has traditionally been godawful so it remains to be seen how that'll work out

that being said, pedro will be fine! I mean, idk if he'll be ktm's first premier class world champion. if I had to put money on it, I'd say it's pretty likely, yeah? but the 'where would he go' thing isn't really a big concern. all the big names have kinda hunkered down (as have the teams who signed them) with two year contracts that take us very neatly to the next rule cycle kicking in, which everyone expects will majorly shake things up. while this whole japanese manufacturer situation is massively annoying, I would be shocked if at least one of them aren't regular race winners again in 2027, and hopefully will already be so before that. most manufacturers except maybe honda have at least one star rider they're intending to be a title contender in 2027, and ducati has two. they probably won't all stay in the same place (even if they all remain reasonably healthy in that time) and there's bound to be at least one manufacturer hunting for a big name. pecco will be in his late prime and possibly grey-haired, god knows what state marc will be in *taps wood*, we have no idea how the whole jorge aprilia situation will work out. maybe yamaha will be so competitive again that they actually decide they want TWO riders fighting it out for a championship and we get a proper throwback in blue to the good old garage cold war days - which is where my imagination sadly fails me because I can't picture fabio putting up a wall or yamaha not sucking. maybe, like you say, pedro is just what honda needs to... well, honestly I don't think he could get them out of this hole - but perhaps in a couple years time when honda is looking healthier again, he's the kind of rider that could make it a title winner again. it'll be a new world! if pedro is as good as we all think he is, then obviously any manufacturer would be thrilled to get their hands on him, not least to deprive the competition of having him. how old will he be in 2026? about nine years old, I think? if I had to guess, I do kinda see him being a title contender around 2026-ish, because I just can't quite picture ktm making the necessary leap by next year so 2026 feels like a good way of hedging my bets and trusting his sickening levels of natural talent to make up the bike difference. one of my big remaining doubts is... well, it's actually been quite a while since a new manufacturer has won a rider's title. the last time was ducati way back in 2007 when they nailed the new regulations cycle and also kinda lucked into signing the casey stoner, but ducati had already been regular race winners for quite a few years before that. capirossi was third in the championship in 2006. I suppose aprilia got vaguely close in 2022, but that was a chaos season we don't have much reason to expect to see a repeat of any time soon, and in the end they also didn't get that close. ktm really needs to be getting into race winning form soon if they want to be thinking about titles. it's ridiculous that it's been over three years since their last win in the dry, and nearly two since their last win full stop. if I were them, I would maybe consider winning some races, instead of continuing to lose them idk. let's see how they do on sunday, eh

[inuyashaluver]

Hi lovely I love ur stuff 🩷 I have a little request/idea - obviously feel free to ignore it

I was thinking R has a really thick accent (English - either Scouse (Liverpool), Geordie (Newcastle) or West Country (Devon/Somerset/Farmer) or Aussie or something really thick like hard to understand from native speakers let alone anyone else) but R plays in Barca and has a crush on a Spanish player (Maybe Patri? maybe Ona? Maybe Alexia?) and is tryna talk to them more and maybe ask them out but they just get looked at funny and they walk off and she goes to Kiera and Lucy and is like what have I done? Do they all hate me? And [Crush] overheads them and goes round to their house after training and is like I really wanna get to know u, I think you’re really pretty etc but I cannot understand a word that comes out of ur mouth to the point where I am questioning whether it’s English

qué? - alexia putellas

alexia putellas x reader

description: in which your accent proves to be difficult to understand

warnings: LONG!! swearing, misunderstandings, spanish in bold italics

a/n: i love this woman, your honour!! i was writing alexia angst but had to put out the fluff haha!! thank you so much for the love and request, lovely!! ily and enjoy ❤️

⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆

you never thought your accent would get you into trouble but you were entirely wrong. and we’re not talking about trouble like criminal, we’re talking romantically.

—

you’re from liverpool, your thick, scouse accent distinct in your dialect. at home in england, the accent was understood most of the time, with an occasional person asking for clarification about your words but you didn’t mind.

even some of your england teammates had to ask you to repeat yourself occasionally when you got overly excited or stressed, your accent proving to be the hardest to understand at those moments.

you often needed a translator for even native english speakers if you spoke too quickly, lucy and later grace helping out when people were truly confused.

when lucy and keira moved from manchester city, you moved with them, having played in the club for 2 years and desperately wanting a change. and so, when the contract arrived from barcelona for the three of you, you accepted it without a second thought.

you had supported barcelona in liga F, having a huge appreciation for the way the spanish players moved, the quick passes and the goals that came out of nowhere. you were excited to pick up those skills to adapt to your own play.

and through your extensive research, you grew a special appreciation for alexia. in your eyes, alexia was the definition of perfect, not only her football skills, but her as a whole.

you would watch her interviews and videos for ‘research purposes’, claiming it was to practise your spanish. and it was, until you zoned out hearing the gentle hum of alexia’s voice, getting distracted entirely but you weren’t complaining.

when you got caught making heart eyes at your phone during england camp, the teasing was so relentless it wasn’t even funny.

—

“our little (y/n) has a crush on la reina! (the queen)” lucy exclaims in the change room, you immediately turn off your phone and look up at her with an icy glare, only making her smile at you affectionately with a pinch to your cheek that you were quick to swat away.

“you’re not much older than me” you glare, “5 years is 5 years” she shrugs, moving away when you launched an empty bottle at her.

“go on, tell us about your crush” leah smiles, millie and rachel pretend to kiss each other while looking at you and you heat up in the cheeks.

“i’m only watching so i can pick up spanish” you defend, lucy laughs loudly, out of the three transfers, she was definitely the one who picked up the most spanish.

“excuse me, lucia, and everyone in here,” you scoff, “is it such a crime to watch a video of my future captain?” your accent was so heavy at this point, everyone cracked a little smile at you.

“so you were watching videos of alexia then?” leah smirks, you let out a frustrated groan, “leah, shut up man” everyone laughs, the teasing continuing until keira and alessia told everyone to stop.

during the whole of camp, it wasn’t uncommon you got caught looking at photos or videos of alexia, the teasing was so bad you thought you would explode.

—

when the time finally came for you to join barcelona, you were incredibly nervous. the fear of underperforming playing on your mind, only becoming worse at the thought of embarrassing yourself in front of a certain blonde you couldn’t take your mind off.

lucy and keira assured you everything would be fine, but you weren’t convinced, unsure of how you’d react when you finally saw alexia.

when you all walked to the change rooms, it was shocking how welcoming everyone was. hugs and kisses to the cheeks had you feeling so accepted amongst your new team.

and funnily enough, the last person to greet you was alexia, sending you a charming smile that had your stomach erupting with butterflies.

“(y/n), yes? bienvenida! (welcome)” alexia grins, her arms pulling you into a warm hug, her scent enveloping you and making you borderline dizzy.

“(y/n) is a big fan of you” lucy teases as alexia lets you slip from the hug after you mumble a quick hello. alexia gives a surprised smile, looking between a cheeky looking lucy and a sheepish looking you.

“you’re very good, too, I look forward to playing with you,” alexia’s hand moved to give your bicep a gentle squeeze and you swore your heart stopped, your cheeks were tinged with pink and you could barely formulate a sentence.

“yeah, i’m excited to play with ya” you breathe out, you move to your new cubby and get changed into the barcelona kit, feeling at home already even though it was your first day.

due to you busying yourself with avoiding alexia, you missed the way her gaze lingered on you as you changed, she was intrigued by you.

what you didn’t know was alexia had done her own forms of research. she had heard your name countless times in the media, a rising star in the making.

she respected the way you played, a midfielder who wasn’t afraid to take risks but also managed to avoid fouls frequently.

she wanted to get to know you as much as you wanted to get to know her.

—

weeks and months fly by and it was easy to say you felt comfortable amongst the team. your spanish was surprisingly getting better, being able to go through training without a translator most of the time.

the girls reciprocated you well, you’d go to team bonding nights and laugh and joke around with them. it was obvious to everyone except alexia that you were harbouring a crush on the captain.

the ways your eyes would follow her every move with pink cheeks honestly exposed yourself. and what made it harder was that alexia and you were growing closer each day.

—

one day you were chatting with mapi and ingrid, more like you getting teased while you begged them to stop before you were interrupted by a certain someone.

“do you want to be my partner?” alexia questions from behind you suddenly, making you choke on your own spit as she looked at you with a kind smile. “really?” you breathe out, she nods, nodding her head to the pitch for you to follow her.

you’d both been able to converse easily as the months went by, she’d have to ask you to slow down a couple of times when you both talked about something you had in common but it worked.

as you both trained together, you chatted and laughed, talking about random topics.

when you both got to shooting practice, alexia analysed your every move. she would give little nods of approval when you touched the ball, sending you an encouraging smile if you made eye contact, your heart was fluttering around her.

“you should put more weight into your hips when you kick” alexia corrects, you look at her questioningly, she huffs out a little laugh and comes to stand behind you.

her large hands place themselves on your hips and she turns them slightly to the front. her front was pressed against your back and you certainly weren’t breathing. she noticed you tense but chose to ignore it.

“focus here before you kick so it’s stronger” alexia says next to your ear, squeezing your hips gently before letting go of you. “try again, vamos! (let’s go)” she exclaims, you do as she says with her corrections and it was a much better result.

she smiles proudly, “buena niña! (good girl)” she laughs, coming up to you to squeeze your shoulders encouragingly, your cheeks were burning.

the entire team watched the interaction with big grins, ready to tease you for how sheepish you looked.

“gracias (thank you), ale” you scratch the back of your neck with an embarrassed smile, she shakes her head, “it’s nothing, thank me with a goal next game” she jokes, pinching your cheek teasingly before walking off to get some water.

you’re left there in shock, lucy and keira approaching with cheesy grins. “you’re in love” lucy coos, poking your shoulder teasingly while you shielded yourself in a hug from keira.

“i’m so fucking stupid, why can’t i be normal” you groan, keira laughs, her hand rubbing up and down your back. “you’re just shy, which is weird to see because you’re the complete opposite” she laughs, you pull back to throw her a glare.

“it’s cute” lucy chuckles, “i can’t wait to tell everyone about the development” she grins, her and keira share a hearty laugh seeing your face go pale, while you attempted not to scream.

“don’t you fucking dare” you grit out, “i won’t” lucy winks, unfortunately she did and by the time training was over, your phone was blowing up with text messages talking about the interaction.

you looked at lucy with a stone cold glare while she blew you a kiss, alexia watched how angry you were, she could practically feel it radiating off you on the other side of the change room.

“estás bien? (are you okay)” alexia walks up to you, holding a cold drink out to you. you take it after a moment of hesitation, “uh, yeah, sí” you smile, “lucia is annoying you?” alexia grins, looking over at lucy to see her and keira whispering while looking at you. “yes, she’s very annoying” you grumble, your eyebrows furrowing.

alexia smiles fondly at you, her hand moving to your face, her thumb smoothing out the crease between your eyebrows. “wrinkles” she tutts, your breath caught in the back of your throat as you looked up at her.

“are you coming tonight?” she says like she didn’t just make you flatline. she’s talking about a team bonding session at her house. “yeah, i think so” you smile at her, “think or know?” she teases, was she flirting with you?

“know, i’ll be there” you mock, she nods with a pleased expression, “hasta luego, lindura (see you later, cutie)” she winks, moving to grab her bag from her cubby and leave, making sure to look back at you another time with a soft smile before walking out.

you get pulled out of your trance once you hear your phone blowing up again, checking it to see lucy had recorded you watching alexia leave. you throw your head back in frustration but chose to avoid letting the older girl feel your wrath, you were still on a buzz from the thought of alexia flirting with you.

—

when you arrived at alexia’s house, you brought her a bottle of wine with a sheepish grin. when she opened the door for you, she pulled you into the warmest hug, both of you fitting together like a puzzle.

“finalmente! (finally) i was waiting for you!” she grins as she pulls away, taking the wine out of your hands and grabbing one of yours to drag you into the living room where everyone was.

her hand was so warm against yours, soft against your skin and you really didn’t want her to let go. “you look beautiful” alexia smiles before she ushers you to sit down, you barely had the time to tell her how breathtaking she looked, dressed casually but still looking like she could be on the front of a magazine.

you sit next to mapi and she immediately bombards you with questions, “have you kissed yet?” she questions, you slap her knee, “ingrid, your girlfriend is a bully” you huff, ingrid laughs, nodding along with you with an apologetic smile.

everyone was watching a movie while eating, alexia sitting beside you, the two of you would chat back and forth with small giggles and smiles shared between you.

by the time the night was ending, alexia’s arm was resting behind you on the couch, basically over your shoulder while you were in your own little bubble.

when you left that night, you couldn’t stop thinking about all the interactions you had with the catalan, you needed to do something about it. fast.

—

on a match day for barcelona, you decided it was time for you to tell her about your feelings. it was clear you were flirting with each other. confirmed during the game.

in the second half, you managed to get a goal, using the technique alexia had taught you a couple of days prior.

she was the first one to you after, the loud roar of the crowd drowned out when you felt alexia’s strong arms wrapping around your waist.

you both smiled so brightly as she congratulated you, placing you on the ground, giving you an affectionate kiss on the forehead and squeezing your shoulders. this told you everything. it wasn’t just her being friendly, it was alexia making a move.

at the end of the match, the two of you lingered in the middle of the pitch, you were fidgeting so much alexia was worried.

“(y/n)?” she dips her head to make eye contact with you, “estás bien? (are you okay)” you nod, opening your mouth to speak but nothing came out. “take a deep breath” she smiles, a hand on your shoulder offering you comfort but also stressing you out.

“ale” you start, she nods with an encouraging smile, “i really fancy ya, ale, i’ve been wantin’ to tell ya for a while” you blurt out, alexia’s eyebrows furrow, she looks a little confused.

the silence was loud, why hasn’t she said anything back. if this was her rejection, it hurt more than anything she could have verbalised.

“you know what, forget i said anythin’” you run off before she could say anything. “qué? (what)” she was about to ask you to repeat yourself, one - because you were speaking too fast, two - she didn’t know what fancy meant.

you heard her call out for you but you ran into the change room, knowing keira and lucy were in there. “keira!” you yell, “fucking check my pulse!” you shove your arm in her face and she looks at you in shock. only a couple of people were inside, and the ones that were were shocked at how you tumbled into the room.

“jesus, your heart is going so fast” keira says as she presses her fingers to the inside of your wrist. “fuck, why couldn’t you tell me i’m dead and this is a nightmare” you groan, your hands running over your face frustratingly.

“what’s wrong with you?” lucy says as she walks out of the shower to see you in absolute shambles. “everything!” you explain each and every detail and they look at you sympathetically, understanding now why you were so upset.

what you didn’t know was alexia was outside, ear pressed to the door as she heard you explain that you were trying to confess. she feels her stomach tighten, cursing herself for not understanding what you were saying.

“whatever, i’m going home, don’t follow me” you grit, tears pooling at your waterline as you rush out. alexia had moved out of eyeline when she heard you, quickly going into the change room and drilling lucy and keira for your address that they happily gave her with sly grins. happy to know it was all a misunderstanding.

—

that afternoon, you hastily wiped your tears away thinking about alexia. you had misunderstood her intentions clearly, you were disappointed with yourself.

you heard the banging from the front door and groaned, knowing your fellow england teammates were probably on the other side with ice cream and apologetic smiles.

“i told you both not to follow me-” you huff, the door opening to see alexia standing there, a bouquet of bright flowers in hand. “hola (hello)” she smiles, “what are you doing here?” you ask softly, “can i come in?” you nod, moving back a little so she could step inside. she hands you the flowers and you take them with a confused expression.

what type of rejection was this?

“i heard you speaking to lucy and keira before” she starts nervously, both of you walking to the kitchen so you could put the flowers in water, they were beautiful.

“it’s fine if you don’t feel the same” you shrink into yourself, brushing the petals of one of the flowers between your fingers.

“hermosa (beautiful)” she calls out, moving around your counter to stand directly in front of you. “me gustas mucho, y quiero estar contigo (i like you a lot, i want to be with you)” she says earnestly, speaking in her mother tongue and hoping you understood because she was speaking from the heart.

you freeze, each and every word quickly translated in your head. “amor (love), you’re very beautiful and nice but you speak very fast, i did not understand a word you said before” she laughs, you can’t help but laugh too, shaking your head at how fast you fled the situation.

“i’m sorry, ale” you grin, “don’t be” she dismisses, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear, relishing in the blush she just produced on your cheeks.

“me gustas mucho (i like you a lot), alexia” you smile, she gives you a dazzling expression, appreciating how you spoke her mother tongue to her so she really understood this time. “muy bien, preciosa! (very good, precious)” she coos affectionately, her hand cradling your cheek as she directed your eyes to hers.

“we will teach each other, sí?” she grins cheekily, you hum along with her words, “sí”.

she pulls you closer to place a sweet kiss on your lips, your stomach lurching at how soft they were against yours.

you both smile into it as she drew you closer, your arms wrapping around her neck while her free hand came to rest on the small of your back to press you against her.

she pulls away, not without pressing a few more kisses to your lips through the giggles and the small chatter between the two of you.

—

when you both came to training the next day hand in hand, sighs of relief were heard from everyone. lucy whipped out her phone as quickly as she could and sent pictures to the england group chat, your phone blowing up more than ever.

now that the team saw you interact, the teasing somehow got worse every time alexia would kiss you, or even hold your hand.

the pining drove everyone insane but the loved up versions of the two of you were insufferable. you were attached at the hip, just how you and alexia wanted.

⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆

you know the drill, just pretend it’s you xx

liked by keirawalsh and 44,232 others

alexiaputellas: mi niña (my girl)

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yourname: mami

↳ alexiaputellas: i didn’t teach her this

↳ marialeonn16: sureeeee

lucybronze: the most annoying couple ever

↳ yourname: shut up man

↳ leahwilliamsonn: there she is!!

↳ keirawalsh: she went soft but is still a shit head

↳ yourname: @/alexiaputellas bebé! defend me!

↳ alexiaputellas: you are soft

↳ yourname: the betrayal is unreal

[dragongirlpoet]

Dark Signs

Part II

<Read Part I here>

Alucard x female reader

Synopsis: You asked Alucard for a favour. Now you have to be careful what you wished for. (3.5k words) "To be born a dhampir is to be born a monster" - Vampire Hunter D

TW: Dark fantasy, horror & gore elements, blood, SMUT (Alucard is feral in this one) Explicit 🔞

Here's hoping you'll enjoy this too! Sorry it took longer than expected, I was unwell and didn't want to put out a story I wasn't proud of. Thank you for reading!

Also to @skychaser777 hope you can sleep after this 😉

The hollow stone walls echoed my shaky breaths, caving them in, the thumping of my heart violent in my ears. My skin was pricked with goosebumps, foreboding dire dwellings. 

“Baby, what’s wrong?” Absurd question, considering everything was inherently far from right. 

There had only been one instance where I felt unsafe with Adrian. 

Located in the underbelly of Wallachia was a forgotten catacomb, a labyrinth where the dead and undead alike convened. I had been extracting bile from slaughtered night creatures, told to render powerful salves when mixed with mint, myrrh and…other herbs. 

Body sticky with sweat and hands grimy from reaching into revolting guts, I was almost to my fifth vial when a guttural growl stopped me dead in my tracks. 

From the marrows of a tunnel, a numbing cold, laced with strangled gnawing, reverberated through the passageways.

Every fibre of my being told me to run, alas I had all but the impudence of a child. Unsheathing my iron dagger, ensorcelled to wound even the most vile, I treaded warily towards my impending doom.  

The sight that awaited me was sickening. Crouched over bodies upon bodies of night creatures was a pallid, mangled man? His face was buried in their carcasses, marring at their flesh, lapping at their blood. 

Before I could take another breath, the man turned, face smeared with ravaged viscera and foul, curdled blood. He had hair like the purest wisps of wheat and eyes like dark, desecrated graves. 

I choked back a gasp.

“You foolish, foolish girl. You are not prepared for the evil that lurks here, feeds here..” his bellow was deafening, diabolical. Blood spilled from his fangs, splaying his torso tainted with innards and rotten flesh.

“Wh..who are…you?” I paced backwards as he stalked towards me.

“You don’t know who I am? Most fascinating…” he offered a smile so sinister, as if he had stumbled upon the most naive of fools he was soon to devour.

“I am the sun…rain…the darkness. I am sin made flesh and I am whom you should most fear. I am Alucard, son of Vlad Dracula Tepes.”

A loud “smash” rattled through the room as I retreated into our wooden dresser, knocking over a prized hourglass Alucard so often used to practise his script. The pair of glowering molten eyes trailed me — never blinking, burning caverns into my soul. 

I shifted my gaze downwards to avoid stepping into glass, but that was regrettably the least of my worries. Lifting my stare, those eyes were gone — quick as spectres passing through dimensions. 

Our chamber fell into a boundless black, and my human sight could not adjust acutely enough to the darkness. I flailed my arms about willing to grasp onto anything that could give me some bearing. Anxiety crept through me like poison ivy ensnaring a forsaken home. 

“Adrian? Stop this please! This isn’t funny.” The volatile rhythm of my heart suddenly became too loud, too unbearable. 

No amount of breaths could repress my violent trembling. A faint flicker from the corner caught my eye — Alucard’s heirloom sword. If his magical estoc was there…he is still in the room with me. 

The hairs on my arms shot up, little by little.

Out of nowhere, forceful, ice cold hands prised around my throat, yanking me out of my state of terror. From behind, Alucard, voice grave like a thousand infernal souls, growled into my ear, 

“Do you understand the gravity of what you’re asking?”

Whether it was fear or the vice-like grip around my neck, I couldn’t speak.

“Answer me.” 

He clamped tighter.

”Ye…yesss,” I wasn’t telling a lie. 

“Then let’s finish what we started, shall we?”

One minute I was in Alucard’s death grip, the next I was shoved, hard, into the stone wall, my face chafing against the abrasive mortar. I winced at the pain.

“You’re hurting me, Adrian!” 

Behind, he tightened his grip on my wrists, binding them into the small of my back. 

“Am I? Ohh…but you like danger, don’t you?...His other hand reached down to unfasten his pants, his erect cock sliding out… “You are drawn to the darkness, just as I am.” 

He trailed the words up and down my neck, pausing ever so subtly to savour the scent of blood in my veins. 

A small bead of sweat started trickling down my face…no, no, it was blood — from my collision with the wall.

Alucard went eerily still again. I felt a shift in his countenance, like a malevolent cloud obliterating sunshine. 

He was hungry.

With one knee, he forced my legs apart and hauled my nightdress up, my backside fully exposed. I could feel the tip of his length against my rear — throbbing, impatient. He snaked his hands all over my naked body, grabbing at my breasts, digging into my thighs. 

The scent of my blood set his every carnal need aflame. 

Adrian had always been prudent — he would excuse himself at the slightest scent of my exposed blood, isolating himself in the castle dungeons for hours, as if he deserved it. Deserved to be punished for his beastly urges, deserved to be condemned for being born a monster. 

Every blood-month I had would send him away for days — “I don’t want to hurt you. You’ve seen what I become when I feed… I’ll just be hunting, it’d be just a few days, and your cycle would end when I’m back,” he would say with a smile. A sad smile.

And I was utterly tired and heartbroken that my Adrian, so kind and full of love, would admonish himself, rip his spirit to shreds, for a fate that had been unfairly handed to him. I was going to end this, tonight.

Alucard nuzzled his face into my hair, taking in all my smells, heaving. His body was unyielding against mine — elegant marble against bewitching velvet. I could hear his vampiric heartbeat ringing in his ears, drowning out all sense of reason. He was an animal in heat. 

“You know I cannot control myself around you. And you know what your blood does to me… Do you know how long I haven’t fed?” 

His writhing cock was brandishing my cunt, starving for my hole.

“Do you know I think about what it’s like to have your blood in my veins? How much I want it, need it, desire it. 

How much I want my blood in you. And you ask this of me, tonight, when I’m sitting at the precipice of hunger and lust…”

There was a sharp intake of breath. 

“Hmmm you don’t know what’s coming for you. Once I do this there’s no turning back. 

Do you know how long I’ve been holding out for you? To be better for you. And now you ask this of me…”

At that he yanked at my hair, forcing my head to fall back. The red trace on my cheeks bowed complete to his mercy. 

Staring defiantly into his eyes, I said, “Do it, Adrian. I want you to.” 

Danger, danger.

A devious smile tugged at his lips. Alucard skimmed my neck with his mouth, bruising it with reckless kisses and parlous nips. He moved precariously to suck at the aquamarine veins running down my breasts, licking slow circles about my nipples. He was a wolf dallying with his food. 

A true vampire, hedonistic even in the slightest of pursuits, moving inevitably to the blood trail. He had waited so long for this. 

Alucard pushed his lips delicately into my face, afraid of spilling even the smallest of drops. My blood was a sacred river, a bath of worship he would praise forever. Shaking, he ravened the scarlet off my face, sucking at the open cut, willing for more. 

He was a mixture of muffled moans and enthralled ecstacy.

It was exhaultant. I adored being able to give Adrian what he most craved. 

Drinking in more than necessary, the whites of his eyes were no longer — entire sockets now overtaken with crepuscular crypts darker than the blood moon that hung outside.

Alucard’s cock twitched beneath me, length growing harder and bigger by the second. Grunting, he pumped his sex and slid it against my pussy. I was light-headed with anticipation, but he had merely fondled my folds, prodding at my entrance, testing to see how wet I was.

Perhaps he had been right. Perhaps a dissolute part of me yearned for the darkness, but what I’d wanted most of all was to know that I had years, centuries — immortality, to be with Adrian. 

Head over my shoulder with eyes like lacquered obsidians, he interlaced his fingers with mine, bringing them down to press at my clit. Flagging off from my most sensitive spot, he traced them up my body, slowly, torturously. 

“I wonder…” fingers caressing my abdomen… “how far up…” I gasped as he adjusted them higher… “my cock will go when I’m deep inside you…” Alas settling on a spot above my navel.

A sacred river spawned between my legs. 

Incapable of restraint any longer, I reached back to stroke his shaft, thumb stimulating his tip until his pre-load creamed my fingers. I lathered his fluids, relishing in the feel of his hallowed flesh tethered to my hands. 

“Fuuuck.” Alucard bristled against my touch, face buried in my neck. Below, he was thrusting at my entrance, not yet entering, readying me for his carnal devotion. 

”Adrian please, I need you. I want you inside…”  

His last thread of resolve snapped. He rammed his boner into me from behind, stretching me, engulfing me. My tender walls were a haven to his brutal thrusts, welcoming him in. Cock barely to his hilt, he spread my bottocks apart, plunging his engorged member in. 

“Ahh…ahh…” I whimpered, hands braced on the wall. 

“How are you still so tight…” he hissed, enraged he couldn’t yet feel all of me.

My fingers weaved into his hair, tugging as I leaned further back into him. This feral urge, I craved it. It was scarce enough to satiate the searing lust in me, so I ground impiously against his length like the unholy girl he wanted me to be. 

Tonight, he was to have his way. He was the nefarious overlord and I was but a malleable zealot. My hips were firmly held down by his hands — he wanted to control my rhythm. I was, afterall, his submissive little prey. 

Alucard forced his cum-stained fingers into my mouth, swirling them about the insides of my cheeks, wresting in and out of my plush lips. I licked at them greedily, suckling on his taste. He was so deft — hands and length penetrating me in a lyrical sync, sating me above and below.

I gagged when he stuck his fingers further down, my throat wedging tight. Tears rimmed my eyes but I continued hollowing my cheeks, head bobbing. “Such a good girl…” praising as he brushed hair off my face. I was to appear immaculate while being fucked indecent.

Hypnotised by his bulge assaulting my hole, I bit sinfully on his index, tearing his skin. He pulled out from my mouth, eyes transfixed on the blot of blood. 

“You’re being a naughty little lamb tonight…” His smile was insidious, like a serpent suffocating its meal.

My vampire smothered his blood over my parted lips. My tongue grazed over it, wiping it clean like I was the one writhing in blood lust. What I did had Alucard under a powerful spell. He plummeted his smug into me, our kisses heedless, crashing into each other in depraved lust. 

We sucked and bit them swollen, both of us unrestrained and shameless of our monstrous love. Under, he continued hammering his heat into me, hand pushing my cunt back to swallow more of him.

Alucard was never one to trifle with a perfect opportunity. Hands at his favourite spot, he rubbed his digits forcefully at all the places his cock didn’t already fill. My knees buckled at once from overstimulation. 

“Stay.” He landed a firm smack onto my soaking sex… “Still.”

“Or I won’t let you cum.” An order.

He bent me over, my backside raised to allow him easy entry. I compelled my wobbly legs to stand, muscles quivering at my bones.

“Good. Hands on the wall.” 

Like his obedient little lamb, I hoisted my arms on the cold stone, squeezing taut around my feral wolf.

I was begging, moaning his name, my being in complete disarray.

Content with how tight I was clenching around his shaft, Alucard drove his erection mercilessly into me, pounding so hard I was lifted off the ground. 

I cried out in pleasure and pain. “Adrian! Adrian please…”

“You like it when I’m rough with you, baby? You want me to turn you, and fucking you senseless comes with it,” he spat in between thrusts, dragging hair away from my ears to ascertain I could hear him loud and clear. 

I was so deliciously filled my lewdness spilled out onto my legs. Paths of sweet nectar trickled down my trembling thighs, glazing his girth with my wicked desire. 

I was so close.

Smelling my arousal and imminent climax, Alucard slammed faster into me, his own pace losing cadence. 

We were so close. 

He had everything timed perfectly. Just as he had countless times before — night creatures and wild animals — all unsuspecting pawns to his blood thirst. He was adept at hiding his deplorable little secret, but I knew better. 

Fangs fully exposed, he grazed them masterfully over my neck, humming at my veins and arteries. Quite like a skilled chef discerning food, he was choosing which would taste most exquisite. My scarlet vessels were pulsing in tempo with my heartbeat — palpitating, quivering, waiting.

“Are you frightened? I can feel your terror in my bones…” villainy laced his snarl like a wolf finally rid of sheep’s clothing. 

I had to inhale gulps of air to articulate my words, “No….” But what I said or what I thought mattered no longer. Gone was Adrian — human, moral, benign. A bestial, debased monster, instead, all consumed him. 

Soulless eyes searched me once more, as if to forewarn me about my perilous decision, as if the human in him was straining to break free of his chains to stop this atrocity.

There was no turning back now.

I offered my neck to him, reckless, bloodstreams on full display. At last, with Alucard’s throbbing cock still stuffed full inside, I felt the firestorm in my core and the crushing torrent soon overcame me. 

My release tonight felt different — cathartic. I was once again the delicate driftwood being dragged underwater — careless, aimless, going where the current took me. My limbs fell limp at my sides, my spirit devoid of vigour. And I knew why. 

Alucard’s fangs were buried in my neck, drinking my blood as if a divine offering. When did he bite me? I felt no pain, only a rapture so heavenly I ached for more. 

And so drink he did. Rivers of blood coated his lips, crimson tributaries surging down his throat. He sucked and lapped at my vital spark, clawing at my body so arduously as if I was the most cherished jewel of immeasurable value. 

Like a vampire deprived of debauchery, he drank me in like sweet sin. He had no beginning and no end. And rightfully so. I was profoundly proud of my Adrian. At long last, he no longer had to be ashamed of who he was. He was liberated. He was free. 

My racing heart was now a supine hum. I lay naked — pliant and frozen in his arms. The sleepy swell of the ocean lulled me into the black nothingness. I was rising and falling, so in harmony with the current.

Above, hazy sunbeams fractioned the waves like sparkling diamond necklaces. Beneath, the sombre abyss tugged at my essence, diffusing all manner of light. The ominous depth, though a macabre embrace, was one so full of promise. It was beckoning to me, calling my name — stay, stay, stay…

—

I awoke to a pall of infinite blackness. 

I had been dreaming. There were shadows — silhouettes, of people I couldn’t quite make out. They were whispering, a sonnet of hurried voices, as if going somewhere, but nowhere at the same time. Then there was a lambent flame — the colour of pale amber, always in the distance but never near. Always tailing, always watching…

Where was I? 

I could see nothing, hear nothing. I shifted slightly, and my shoulders were met by cool textile — silk? As more of my senses reconciled, I felt the mattress below me, a satiny divan not reminiscent of my bed. Muted was the air, hollow was the roof, and

…algid was my skin. 

I was in a coffin.  

Panic coiled through the ridges of my ribs, puncturing my heart like lethal thorns. I clawed and pounded at the wood…was I buried alive?

Alas, like the caves of hell being vaquished by divine light, the casket slid open, and I clambered onto a sprawling granite floor. I was heaving, frantic to take in air, clamouring at my chest as if ghostly hands were crushing my heart, splintering my valves. 

Where was Adrian?

A succession of torches adorned the upper vaults, the mellow ebb of light suddenly becoming glaring to my eyes, as if I had been staring directly at the sun. I could make out the phosphorescent ripples and saffron hues that wreathed the flames. 

The air smelled vaguely of mildew and crumbling concrete, while the scampering of rodents in between masonry thundered in my ears. I could hear them squeaking, the sounds of their bones compressing while they squeezed through cracks and crevices. 

I could hear their heartbeats — tiny surges of blood in their capillaries. 

Such fragile little things, I wonder what they’d feel when they’re crushed by the force of my teeth. If they’d feel pain, if any at all, as I drain them dry…

I was so, so hungry. 

My awareness had heightened ten-fold, the anarchy of it all confounding whatever human that was left in me. The sensation of everything all at once was too much to bear and I covered my ears to drown out the distress. 

Futile efforts indeed. 

“Adrian? Adrian…” My voice hoarse from wheezing.

Was this what he had to endure? Being so akin with the presence of entirety, enough to render one insane. Was this why he had been so loath to turn me?

I hauled myself off the ground, bidding my legs to what looked to be a door. Scarce a blink had passed than I was face to face with a metal threshold — intricate lineations etched faintly onto the frame. 

“Willing blood of the Raven Maiden,” — Enochian, words of ancient bygone, but Adrian and I had been avid philologists.

I didn’t concern myself with whether the translation had in fact referred to my blood, but I sank my fangs — a lurid extension — into my wrist and smeared them over the threshold. 

The magicked portal transported me to a bed chamber, a former bed chamber, now resembling the crux of a dense forest.

Creepers cleaved through stone, while poison vines slivered across furniture. Rich moss clung to the bed frame, eating away at the tulle canopy, embedding itself into rotted linen.

That chaise…it was ours. 

Horror flooded my senses as I glanced furtively around. 

Our armoire, our settee, our desk. 

Strewn across the floor, some shredded by tree roots dissecting the wooden panelling, lay stacks of disintegrating parchment like remnants of forgotten lore.

Vampiric speed overtaking, my eyes scanned the moth-eaten pages over. 

“Come back to me.”

“Come back to me.”

“Come back to me.”

I choked on my tears. 

“To be born a dhampir is to be born a monster.”

They fell like glass, shattering on the ink, eroding the paper more.

How long had I been asleep for?

“No, no, no…”  I wept into the emptiness, anguish imprisoning my lungs, blocking off air. In spite of being undead, I had a heart, and it bled — it bled crimson, pain and grief. It bled with all the words I wished I could take back. 

It bled with all the ache that I might never see Adrian again. 

I scoured the castle. Every tower, every room, every dungeon, each a shell of its former mirth. The scenes ran parallel  — overgrown foliage, wrecked furnishings, pillars atrophied by decay. Our home had been eaten away by the curse of time. There was no sign of life, no essence of Adrian. 

With a threshing hole in my heart, I raced past the lattice of abandon toward the main doors. As the iron portcullis lifted, I recoiled at the hell that awaited me. 

There, in the blistering winter, impaled upon rows and rows of stakes, dangled festering corpses of night creatures…and humans. 

What have I done?

Part I

[schluttandco]

𝖶𝗁𝗂𝗍𝖾 𝖥𝖾𝗋𝗋𝖺𝗋𝗂˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ Highschool!Schlatt x Reader ༉‧₊˚. PREVIEW

Hey! I wrote this twenty chapter fic like 6 months ago and now I'm reworking it⋆.ೃ࿔*:･I am like totally new to Tumblr and this concept genuinely keeps me up at night.

Reader and Schlatt are both eighteen, eventual smut, angst always.

The schools star baseball player and virgin Schlatt can't help but befriend the grunge girl with no friends who has a bit of a reputation.

Schlatt was leant back in his gaming chair, fingers lazily moving over the controller of his Playstation as he focused on the game of Call of Duty in front of him. A great use of his allowance. The noise of something banging against his window drew him out of his technology driven haze, pausing the game to throw open his curtains. His eyes widened slightly at the sight of you, clinging to the trellis that ran the length of his house, a grin painted on your face as you motion for him to open the window.

"Hey there..." You say, with an air of faux casualness. "You come here often?" Schlatt shakes his head at the sight, yout chipped black nails clinging to the wood like an insane person, giving him a stupid grin that made the skin of his palms sweat.

"Ha ha, very funny doll..." He says, with a small huff of laughter. "You're going to break a bone or somethin'." Your face peels into a smirk at that, rolling your eyes at him.

"Wanna go get drunk?" You ask, gesturing to the vodka bottle poking out of the top of your denim shorts. He lets out a small groan, which turns into a nod.

"When don't I wanna get drunk?"

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

After scaling the trellis with practised ease, the two of you fall into step with each other. The evening air is cold as you make your way to the small wooden area at the edge of Schlatt's neighbourhood. You settle in the slightly dingy den, which you built in freshman year. It's not much: just a few big sticks tied together with rope, but it was secluded and a good place to get drunk away from the eyes of parents or kids from the neighbourhood.

"You stole the vodka, didn't you?" Schlatt asks, slightly amused as you sit cross legged opposite each other.

"Obviously." You reply with a small smirk, twisting off the cap, taking a swig and then passing him the bottle. "How'd it go after the game?" Schlatt considers the question, taking a sip from the bottle with a small wince.

"Same as every other game, I guess..." He shrugs, passing the bottle back to you.

"Get with Kelsey?" You say, wiggling your eyebrows, taking another sip and sticking out your tongue in disgust. "I overheard her talking about you." He rolls his eyes at that, shaking his head as he lets his back rest against the sticks of the den.

"Nah... she was all over me after the game but I..." He trails off, unable to meet your gaze properly, his fingers playing with the dirt below him. "I ditched her. I guess."

"Still a virgin then?" You grin, passing him the bottle as you place your satchel bag onto the ground in front of you, pulling out a tube containing a joint, taking a moment to fish out the lighter from the bottom.

"Says the one that keeps sleeping with half the seniors in the school." Schlatt bites back, his eyes studying your fingers as they pop open the tube, pulling out the joint and placing it in between your lips. He's mesmerised  by the sight, able to watch over the top of the vodka bottle as the alcohol scorches the back of his throat.

"You calling me a slut, Johnathan Schlatt?" You say with mock offence, lighting the end of the joint. You take a hit, then you pass it to him, watching as he places the vodka bottle haphazardly in between your legs.

"Well..." He hums, taking the joint from in between your fingers. "I'm not wrong, am I?"

"So you are pissed at me for sleeping with Ben then." You say, watching him closely as he exhales a small cloud of smoke.

"I don't care what you do with who doll." Liar.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

Chapter One comes tomorrow! Idec if nobody likes this fic, I simply just need to pour out my inner feelings- lmao.

[ash-says]

Hush Hush Honey:

A guide on how to regulate oversharing and balancing the conversation flow.

Each one of us has at least been in a situation where we accidentally ended up spilling more than we should. We do recognise the patterns but are unable to control ourselves. That's why your girl Ash-says is here to say a lot about it.

1) Find the why

What are you trying to achieve by sharing that piece of information? Drama? Attention? Get it off your chest? Is it important to inform them? Is it valuable to them?etc.

First tackle the why. Before you go in to reveal something ask yourself if it goes with the conversation flow and if yes is it really important to share it.

2) Are you a celebrity?

No like why? Who is interested in your life so much? Are those people paparazzi to broadcast your current events and bring you fame? No right. So shut up.

3) Who puts their dirty laundry on display?

When you overshare you are basically putting all your secrets, stuff that you do or did on blatant exposure. People are going to judge you. That's the very nature. So breathe and keep it inside.

4) Try to listen more

Train yourself into listening more than speaking especially in group settings or around people that you don't know much about. Gossip is real. You don't want to be the next tea time sensation.

5) Alternatives for talkative people:

Now I know you might be thinking can't say this can't say that then how the hell am I going to bond with people or what should I converse about?

I have developed a solution for you. It's Ash verified because I myself have been using it unknowingly for around 7 years of my life.

Never open your mouth for passing judgements, expressing your opinions on things that do not relate to you, your dirty laundry, secrets, family issues, relationship issues, your sex life, your goals and aspirations, your daily routine, your political standpoint,etc you get where I am going right?

Instead speak about the experiences you had while travelling somewhere, some goofy stuff that happened to you, your harmless vice for example: I am clumsy so I have a lot of incidents that occur due to it which can be told in a funny way. It adds a nuance to my perfectionist image plus helps people warm up to me. Movie shows, songs, etc here also there's a catch if you relate to a show/song/ piece of literature strongly never reveal it. The smart ones will understand the inner workings of your mind.

Never let them know your next move.

If nothing of this then goof around being nonsense. Do little hand gestures, funny faces if you are bored but never overshare.

6) Be mindful of interruption

Practise practise practise. Literally that's the only way. Try not to interrupt people while speaking. There's no roundabout way. It is what it is.

7) Be comfortable in silence

You have to be okay with the conversation dying down. Running your mouth dry will only result in one sided convo. It's more useless and harmful than the one mentioned before.

8) Know your limits

Fix in your brain what you can share and what you can't. Stick to it. Even over your dead body.

9) Be genuinely interested in people

Ask yourself are you asking questions to really get to know the other person or just looking for a chance to talk about yourself? Dethrone yourself first and then interact with others.

10) Put out stuff that you are over with

Always remember what you say can and will be used against you. Drill it and from next time when you speak be mindful that every word can stand against you. Do you have the capacity to handle the consequences? Yes then go ahead. No, then stop live streaming.

Bonus point: Be as private as possible on social media. People don't need to know what you are doing nowadays. Privacy is power. What they don't know they can't ruin.

Strategically put things out. I am not saying be inactive. In Rome you live like the Romans. Do it smartly.

That's all for today's show on ash-says. Stay tuned for more illegal tricks and explosive opinions.

[heaven4lostgirls]

Hi, hello, hope you're doing great :)

I just wanted to ask if its okay to request a fluffy Barty Crouch Jr x reader? Something in their hogwarts years, maybe something with the two practising for quidditch together even though they're in different houses (or something of the sort)

If you don't end up doing this that's completely fine, he just needs more fics if u ask me

nobody knows me like you

barty crouch jr x hufflepuff!reader

warnings: fluff!! fluff!!! so much fluff, barty is so soft

a/n: i loved this ask!! sorry it took so long to get out x

The wind was loud and harsh the higher that you flew, your quidditch robes did little to nothing for warmth however it seemed that it didn’t even seem to faze Barty as he laughed manically at your shivering almost pale form. It’s not that you didn’t enjoy quidditch it was more the harsh winter conditions that didn’t agree with your body however your boyfriend seemed to have no problem with it.

“I told you we should have just snuck into the kitchens, its literally right next to Hufflepuff’s common room” you complained through chattering teeth however all Barty did was grin at you slyly. “Then how would I beat your ass at quidditch?” he winked, and you had the urge to push him off of his broom, but you knew that idiot would probably find it funny. He truly was your greatest annoyance however for some reason you two worked together, how that happened you and everyone in Hogwarts were left confused.

It truly started after a potions class were you two were paired up, Barty and his usual dumbass ideas lead to something going wrong and both of you in the hospital wing for the next week. At first you were rightly annoyed at him for messing up your mark however after a heartfelt apology and midnight whispered chats in each other’s beds you soon found out that Barty was actually an alright person, he was funny, a little psychotic but very sweet when he wanted to be. Honestly the both of you just clicked the moment you both started getting to know one another.

“C’mon we only have a couple of minutes before we have to get ready for dinner” he whined as you slowly flew around the pitch, you rolled your eyes but conceded. You played for Hufflepuff as one of the best seekers Hogwarts had seen while Barty was truly a ruthless beater, he had only gotten into quidditch because of Regulus who was Slytherin’s seeker. You both flew around and spent some time throwing some bludgers to Barty to help him practice his swing. He looked really good sweaty and panting but you knew bringing that up would only inflate his ego, which truly was already big enough as is.

“Let’s head back, my arm is starting to hurt from catching your bloody wild bludgers Crouch” you say while rotating your arm. “Those wild bloody bludgers are going to take your teammates out next match love” he smirks as he flies closer to you before snatching your am closer to take a look if you’ve been bruised or hurt in any way. “Not with your shit aim” his smile drops before he yanks you onto his broom. You squeal before you meet his pout with a cold glare. “Bastard, I could’ve fallen” you grumble, and you see his lips twitch before his pout becomes bigger.

“Tell me I have good aim or I’m not letting you shower before dinner” his puppy dog eyes have come into play at this point. You smirk amused “if you do that you realise neither of us are going to shower right?”. He nods seriously and you have to hold yourself back from letting out a sign. You are an idiot is practically what your smile says. I know his grin answers back. “Your aim is not that shit” you say begrudgingly. His smile is almost blinding, not many people see this side to your boyfriend, the most they get really is a few laughs and smiles around Cas, Ev, Reg and Pan but otherwise he’s mostly known as a stone cold Slytherin whose father is the Minister of Magic.

“I’m going to ignore that you didn’t say what I asked you to say in favour of kissing you” he declares before pressing his lips against yours. You’re not shocked because this is generally typically how most of your physical affection happens, it used to bother you before when he didn’t ask but after a quick talk with him you often found yourself finding it surprisingly sweet. You smile into the kiss and wrap your arms around his neck before you remember you’re literally a couple hundred feet above ground and you pull away.

“Get me down right now before I hex you” he smirks “...Bartemius” it drops. You cackle playfully as he carries you both to the pitch with an annoyed huff. Once you reach the ground you try to run off to the Hufflepuff common room in order to hopefully shower before heading to the great hall, but Barty has other plans as he wraps his arms around your waist. “Shower together?” he muses as if he’s in thought. You’re about to tell him no because you both know you won’t get anything done and before you can he nods and picks you up. “I think so”.

[huenistar]

Hi! I'm the anon with Yoongi as my older brother in my txt dr. And since you asked for more, I MUST DELIVER!

Yoongi is like a sugar daddy but in a brotherly manner? I don't know how to explain it, but like he buys me stuff and spoils me just for existing. I hit my ankle while practising this once for txt's upcoming album, Yoongi was there with us since he had a day off. And because I hit my ankle, he bought me $10 thousand dollar purge to make me feel better. Like bro?😭🤡 thank you but wtf? He just needs random reasons to spoil me. He is like "Oh you just yawned? Let me buy you Tiffany & Co. jewellery to make you feel better" like bro no! Thank you but it's too much? I am just tired? Tf? But I love every second of it. Public doesn't know that he is my older brother because he suggested not revealing due to people screaming nepotism even though there is none. I become a trainee along side him, I was supposed to debut with bts but that didn't happen due to my age. (the funny thing is, I didn't script anything in this paragraph, it happened on it's own)

And since public doesn't know that my older brother is Yoongi who spoils me so much, they think that I'm either dating a foreigner billionaire or that Yeonjun is dating me and spoiling me because him and I are best friends and we have very good chemistry. Also, all the members of txt flirt with me and take so much care of me 24/7. They just can't stop fliritng?! Like chill! I don’t know what's that show or whatever called, but it has one member asking questions while others are in these boxes. So the same thing happened in my dr right, and I as a joke asked "step out if you would have approached me and asked for my number if we were not idols or trainees and had met outside in a normal way" all of the mf's came out. Followed by which PD nim asked the question "If given the chance, would you date {my name} right now?" and they all stepped out once again!!!!!!!! But they said that they're scared of my brothers reaction (they didn't take his name obv, since that is a secret to the public and only the staff, bts, my ex IM and my group members know of it) (They were scared cuz Yoongi is very very very protective of me, and he is very very very very scary when he gets angry. The good thing is that he doesn't get angry that fast or often. He is hard to make angry) Anyways, the questions were not edited out and when people saw it they went crazy! They started shipping me with all of the them and it was such a scandal in a way, but not a negative one. (I didn't script the questions part, and neither about their feelings for me) Chris Evans and Tom Hiddleston have my face cards as in their transparent phone covers that they used publicly, and they are huge fans of me (I didn't script this either)

Leonardo DiCaprio asked me out on a date PUBLICLY on twitter when I was 19, it caused a massive scandal. (I am the same age as Soobin, we are born on the same day so we joke about being twins, which in hindsight is lowkey weird since he has a feelings for me? but not like romantic feelings? it's confusing?) (I didn't script thie Leonardo part either, I don't even know why that happened and why so publicly? Like? Have common sense?)

Okay, that was a lot. I hope it's entertaining for you 😘

Also, can I be your 👻 anon? I can share my stories that way with you and everyone.

WOAHHH YOONGI SEEMS LIKE SUCH A GOOD BROTHER😞😞 ITS FUNNY HOW HE BUYS U STUFF AND WOAH WOAH WOAH??? THEY ALL JUST FLIRT WITH U??? lowkey sounds fun…. BUT THEY ALL CAME OUT??

omg….ur rich and famous how u got all types of celebrities falling for you!!!

LEONARDO DICAPRIO ASKED U OUT PUBLICLY??

AT NINETEEN??? AS IN 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19???

how dumb is he to ask a nineteen year old out on an date PUBLICLY and yes this was VERY entertaining i was gasping every 5 seconds and YESSS U CAN BE 👻 ANON!! :33

[oldiesstationlover11607]

Hello. It’s me, anonymous (yes. I am the person who submitted the torchbearer request. That was amazing by the way! You’re an amazing writer!).

I feel bad asking for another TØP one shot (another Josh one on top of that), but I was wondering if you could do a fluffy one where Josh teaches the reader to play the drums a little bit everyday after soundcheck for the Clancy tour, but they don’t tell Tyler (no reason. They just want to mess with him). You can end it however you want, but I think it would be cute Tyler accidentally interrupts a cute moment Josh and the reader are having.

You don’t have to follow this exactly (or at all), I just think it’s cute. Only if you want to of course.

Drum lessons - Josh Dun x Reader

Pairing: Josh Dun x Reader

Warnings: None! Super fluffy <3

A/N: Dude I love tøp and have been waiting for someone to just throw requests my way so NEVER feel bad for requesting tøp. They’re my main fandom anyways and no one has been requesting them so ily 🤟 I'd love to assign you an anon emoji so I know who my anons are so let me know which one you want next time you request. And keep requesting! I write for both Josh and Tyler (and I love Josh a lot so keep them coming!)

I couldn’t tell you how many times I’d watched Josh play drums and wondered how on earth he managed to get each of his limbs to move at different speeds. I’d played guitar before, and I understood how piano worked, but drums just left me clueless. The boys had been practising for the Clancy tour for a few days, and it was the last day before we travelled to Denver. Tyler had gone to get changed and shower before driving home, but Josh and I stayed behind to talk to Mark and film some stuff. The red drum kit sat alone on the stage. I stared at it before sitting behind it and holding the sticks.

“Look at you!” Josh laughed. I smiled brightly at him. “Well if you’re gonna be behind the kit at least play me something.” I hit the snare, kick, and cymbals making a loud (and awful) sound. I burst out laughing, knowing it sounded terrible yet I was thoroughly enjoying myself. 

“I should replace you as the drummer shouldn’t I?” I grinned. He walked up behind me, holding me in a backwards hug. Pressing his lips to my cheek, he whispered “Not quite.” I looked around to see the crew were all gone. “I could teach you though.” He had to be joking. Yeah, I could play guitar and was interested in what Josh did, but he was crazy to think I had the coordination even to play something basic. 

“Haha funny,” I smirked, putting the sticks down and getting up. 

“No, seriously,” he followed quickly behind me as I grabbed my stuff and headed to our car. “It would be something cool for us to do together on tour. Tyler normally leaves after soundcheck to hang with Jenna and the kids. We’d have time.” He was right. I really did want to learn to play drums; they’d always fascinated me. “Come on… it would be fun,” Josh enticed, getting into the car. 

“Yeah, okay,” I nodded, “let’s do it.” 

The first ‘session’ was a disaster. He’d attempted to get me to do a ‘basic’ drum beat he called some complicated name I’d forgotten the name of by the time I sat down. 

“No, no, like this.” He hit one of the drums before stopping to let me try. I’d just stayed to get it before we were told to get off stage. “You’ll get it next time y/n, trust me,” Josh reached for my hand and led me down the halls of the venue. 

“Why don’t we just choose a pilots’ song and you teach me that? Surely there’s an easy one?” I asked. He perked up in excitement. 

“Yeah, that’s a great idea. Routines isn’t too hard, we could even get out up on stage once you get it down,” he smiled. There was no way on earth that would ever happen. 

“Sure Josh, sure,” I rolled my eyes. 

A few sessions later I was starting to get the handle of it. Josh would play the track on his phone and tell me which drums to hit and when until I remembered what to do. 

“Kick, snare, kick, kick, kick, snare. Oh, and remember to keep hitting the high hat the whole time.” I continued to play the song while Josh air drummed and Tyler’s voice played in the background. “Yes! There you go!” I flashed him a smile as I hit the last drumbeat in the song. Josh snuck up behind me, wrapping his arms around my waist and pressing his lips to mine. I kissed him back, cupping his jaw and smiling into the kiss. Josh’s baseball cap brushed against my forehead as we pulled away. I pull it off him and put it on backwards, just like him. 

“Drums are actually kinda fun.”

“Of course they are. I told you, you could do it,” he still held me close in his arms, “I love you.” 

“I love you too,” I brushed one of his loose curls out of his face, wondering how lucky I was to have him. He turned his head into my hand, pressing his lips to my palm. “You’re my favourite person.” The curtains backstage ruffled as Tyler stepped out onto the stage. 

“Josh you’re still practicing? I thought we finished soundcheck,” he shouted, running across the venue to the B-stage drum island. “We already did Routines.” Tyler was dressed in his first tour outfit, holding the Clancy mask in his hand. Josh rested his head in the crook of my neck as he looked at Tyler. “Oh shoot, sorry,” Tyler smiled awkwardly, realizing the position we were in, “I didn’t realise you were uh… what was it you were doing?” I waited for Josh to say something, but he stayed quiet. Tyler waited patiently for either of us to answer the question. “Wait, was y/n playing?” A more confident smile spread across his face. Josh sat up and nodded eagerly at Tyler.

“Yep, I taught her the song, she’s amazing isn’t she?” 

“Yeah, I genuinely thought you were Josh with that hat and the drumming over the speakers,” Tyler said, sitting down on the b-stage just next to the drum kit. “You know, it would be cool to have you on stage together playing.” I knew this was coming. I could practically feel the smirk grow on Josh’s face. “And I’m guessing he’s already tried to convince you. I’m sure we can set that up, the fans would go crazy,” he rested his head on his hands, staring up at the roof of the venue. I placed the drumsticks back into their storage cup before getting up from the kit and sitting in front of Josh on the floor. He nudged me, trying to bring my attention to the idea of playing on stage. 

“I-uh… I don’t think it’s for me, you know. You guys perform in front of massive crowds and given that it took me 3 weeks to talk to Josh after we properly met, my anxiety could never,” I pulled at the sleeves of my sweater nervously. 

Tyler smiled at me, knowingly, “I get it, it takes a lot to perform in front of people every night.” I nodded, glad he understood my situation. 

“Just know that I can make it happen if you want it to,” Josh smiled. 

“Of course you can.”

//

Please submit any requests y'all have! I love to write so let me know if you've got any!

[lafleshlumpeater]

being besties w/ Luci would include?- (God I feel like I'll get a lot of opposition from everyone because a lot of followers and you love marauders but oh well)

: ̗̀➛ ꜱᴏ, ᴡʜᴀᴛ ʏᴏᴜ ᴅᴏɪɴɢ ᴛᴏɴɪɢʜᴛ?

ˢᵉⁿᵈ ᵐᵉ ᵃ ᵖʳᵒᵐᵖᵗ, ᵃ ᵗʳᵒᵖᵉ, ᵃ ᶠᵃⁿᵈᵒᵐ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵃ ᵍᵉⁿᵈᵉʳ ᵖʳᵉᶠ ᵃⁿᵈ ⁱ'ˡˡ ʷʳⁱᵗᵉ ᵃ ᵇˡᵘʳᵇ ᶠᵒʳ ⁱᵗ!!

lucius malfoy masterlist remus lupin masterlist

"And then, the lupin boy had the audacity to talk me down! 'you're not the only prefect around here, malfoy,' he said. the sheer disrespect!" lucius exclaimed.

the corners of your mouth twitched upwards. "how very dare he!" you tried to sound as genuine as possible, but to be honest, you found the whole ordeal hilarious.

"i know! and-" he paused for a second and sighed. "you find this funny, don't you."

your eyes glistened with mirth. "no," you continued to almost mock your best friend, continuing to braid his unnaturally platinum- blond hair. " i think it's... quite... uhm...." you try to hold your laughter in in vain, eventually letting go of his precious locks to cover your face as you snorted into your hands. "oh my god, malfoy, you are so pathetic."

"i am not pathetic!" he exclaimed in protest. "just because he's friends with them, if he wasn't he would get them in so much trouble, detentions every day-"

"hey, leave remus alone, he's done nothing to you!"

"please, just because you have a crush on him!"

lucius was muttering angrily after you had heard him practically yell the common room password and marched into the dungeons, and when you had asked him what was wrong you had expected for him to say anything except for begin to rant about one of your classmates-nearly-mates, mates. who you also happened to have a tiny crush on. but that was besides the point.

you scoffed in retaliation. "just because he got a higher mark than you in the last arithmancy test."

"you didn't deny your little crush." he ignored the snide comment directed towards himself and mocked you instead.

"i don't like him," i murmured, concentrating at the task at hand to ignore the fact you were blushing slightly. "and shut up, you're ruining your hair."

"ow!" he muttered mock- angrily as you pulled a lock of his hair. "watch how i embarrass you in front of him tomorrow."

"you watch i don't cut your hair off in your sleep, malfoy."

"i know you wouldn't, love."

he was teasing you for the nickname remus had oh-so-casually called you when asking for an extra quill the day before, and you had blushed the hardest you'd ever had before even processing what he had asked for.

cringing internally, you were quick to snap at lucius, but it was all in good intentions- that was how you two worked.

"shut up!"

"i didn't hear you complaining when he called you that," he drawled. you slapped his hands away from where they were prodding and poking at his hair, trying to figure out what style you were doing.

"leave off, you absolute menace," you hiss. "that's different."

lucius was about to come up with another witty retort when barty threw a book at the two of you from where he was trying to sleep on the sofa, his arm sprawled across his face. "shut up, both of you. i'm trying to sleep, you're worse than regulus and bellatrix."

"shut up, barty," the two of you parroted in unison.

"just because evan left you for a 'puff girl," you snorted.

this time it was an inkwell which you dodged, well- practised at the sport. "try again, my friend."

"or DON'T!" lucius practically shrieked as he failed to avoid a cushion which you smirked at. "shut up, you."

"i didn't say anything."

"yeah, well.. shut up."

"yessir."

"... don't let cissa hear you saying that."

you and barty gasped.

"malfoy!"

"ooh, kinky," barty smirked.

you flipped him off in response. "shut up."

lucius smirked. "i mean, is he wrong?"

"ooh, scandalously kinky!"

"SHUT UP, CROUCH!"

barty features bc he's my bff

anyways hope you like this<3

(i hate adding tags to things sm smh)

taglist: @kimorna @quickslvxrr @bibliophile-dendrophile

READ: this account stands with palestine, and so— i require everyone who interacts to educate themselves, and support/donate. READ THESE; 1 and 2, HELP HERE, BOYCOTT. silence is complicity, do not scroll past this.

[batsplat]

seen people talk about how marcs 2012 season was the reason the penalty point system was introduced (that made vale start from the back in 2015 which is admittedly absolutely absurdly funny) so here i am to ask my favorite motogp historian for thoughts (and prayers?) mostly about what exactly marc DID to make that happen (kinda funny also that he was branded a track terrorist from day 1 😭) and why they struck it in the mid 2010s?

okay so I'm gonna be lazy here and start out by just including what I put in the marc race recs post:

phillip island 2011 was the worst incident, and marc was criticised by motogp riders too, including valentino and casey. that one was like... it was just straight up dangerous and also incredibly stupid, I mean you're trying to get an extra lap in at the end of fp1 and are putting yourself and other riders in serious danger (definitely a case where you can argue that the penalty didn't go far enough and a race ban would have been warranted). marc can sometimes be pretty bullish in response to criticism while still going away and kinda realising what he'd done was a bad idea, quietly adjusting his behaviour... examples include this, where he had his team appeal the penalty, as well as of course 2018 argentina, where he talked down the 'mistakes' he'd made and said he'd done more wrong in the aleix than the valentino incident (which may be true, but it's the rhetorical equivalent of saying it's better to go up to someone's home and throw bricks through the windows than it is to set it on fire) - he is fairly good at learning from his mistakes, even when he doesn't always fully admit to them

that being said, of course he did continue getting himself involved in a fair bit of controversy during 2012. but it's worth pointing out that the penalty points system wasn't just a case of 'oh this kid is so bad, we've got to do something' - it was also a case of 'yeah this is being handled in a super inconsistent manner, actually'. like, there were times people felt marc should be penalised more, yes, but other times where they felt it was too much... it was just a bit all over the place. luckily, inconsistent stewarding is a problem they've managed to fix in the intervening twelve years, so we never hear about that stuff any more. let's just give a quick summary of the four biggest 2012 flashpoints:

qatar: marc runs luthi off-track in a deliberate and pretty dangerous way and gets a slap on the cooldown lap for his troubles, plus a reprimand from race direction

catalunya: towards the end of a race in which marc made several questionable moves, pol espargaro attempted to overtake marc who had just saved a fall - marc cuts across the track to rejoin the racing line and ends up colliding with pol. he was initially given a controversial penalty in the form of a minute added to his final time, before that was rescinded (which was unsuccessfully appealed by pol's team). see here for valentino and casey's reactions

motegi: marc 'torpedoed' kallio in saturday morning practise, riding into his side while kallio was on the racing line headed into a turn and causing kallio to highside... which he was not penalised for. some responses to the incident below

valencia: marc attempted to overtake corsi in friday practise, causing him to crash. this time, race direction handed out a back-of-the-grid penalty

it's a subtle distinction but an important one so I'll just stress it again: the stated aim of the penalty points wasn't to hold back aggressive riders like marc but to attempt to reduce inconsistency, which had been exposed in part due to how differently these marc incidents were handled. what marc did was create several high profile controversies, in each case prompting some level of frustration with how race direction handled the whole thing. obviously, there were other non-marc-related stewarding controversies, but it is inarguable that he was a significant factor in causing a revamp of the system

by the way, here's valentino's criticism of marc after the valencia incident:

here's a quick explanation of how the penalty points worked:

and, you know, for what it's worth marc did calm down in motogp... he certainly became better at operating in the grey area of the rules, approaching his racing in a manner his competitors didn't always appreciate but was certainly a lot harder to penalise. though there were also incidents that of course people felt marc should be penalised for - say after jerez 2013, jorge did kinda go 'okay but surely you can at least give a few penalty points for this, isn't this what they're for'. but it's not like there was unanimous agreement on that, see the immediate responses of some of the riders:

(bradley smith saying that jorge's last serious race was motegi 2005 - the one he got the race ban for - is a bit of an insane stance to take and doesn't really match up to reality, but it did make me laugh so that's something. of course the general point that during the alien era most of them were avoiding doing much actual racing isn't exactly wrong but. still)

not to make this a riding standards post, but this is the underlying tension when you're trying to decide how to regulate the sport... jerez was the first serious test that system faced - and it's one where race direction ended up calling it a pure racing incident. which is a tough call! I talked about it a bit in the sete post and what his stance was on the jerez 2005 incident, where he feels like this isn't a contact sport and shouldn't be adjudicated as such. it's a fundamental philosophical difference that became very relevant again when marc showed up fresh from his controversial moto2 campaign and woke up the entire class with his own particular brand of racing. from a write-up of the jerez 2013 race:

(motegi 2008 not motegi 2010, which is something I remember because casey's pass also allowed valentino to immediately swoop on through. should be noted that casey may have apologised but he did not give the position back to dani lol. also motegi 2010 is pretty memorable if we're talking about hard racing. fair to say that valentino demonstrated he did not share the approach of his fellow aliens when battling jorge)

and more on the shift marc brought about:

this is the thing, right - a big part of understanding that time period is concerning yourself with what came just before. the general feeling (unsurprisingly not shared by casey, jorge or dani) was that the series desperately needed some new life breathed into it, that the racing had become stale and sterile and far too predictable... there were several factors that contributed to this, from the beloathed 800cc bikes that were only replaced in 2012, to the approach of those three aliens and how adept they'd become at racking up wins by dominating out front, to how valentino (generally considered the most 'exciting' racer of the lot) had taken himself out of the competitive picture... I mean, in all honesty the racing is still not great in 2013 compared to the rossi heyday (it had gotten better by the very end of the 2010s), but of course there's a lot more energy to it than the years before. which meant the sport as a whole was in a tricky place where they both had to be seen to be constraining marc, stopping him from being an active danger to himself and others, while also kind of... letting him loose. a little bit of controversy is hardly a bad thing, after all - love him or hate him, everyone had a take, and that's the kind of thing that's obviously healthy for a sport

marc did get two penalty points that year for ignoring yellow flags in silverstone and crashing in the same place as cal crutchlow had just gone down:

(for obvious reasons, 'ignoring yellow flags' is extremely dangerous, but there's no reason to believe he wasn't being honest here)

he was also given another penalty point for the contact that caused dani's crash in aragon, taking him perilously close to that back-of-the-grid penalty:

and that was basically their position - it's a warning. broadly they wanted him to not completely revamp his approach, but just apply a little more discretion, exercise his judgement. a little more caution, a little more restraint. it's still fundamentally a different philosophy of racing than the one that had been espoused for several years by the other aliens save for valentino - but marc could get to a place where he was engaging in hard racing that generally toed the line without crossing it. a little more detail on the aragon incident and marc's approach to racing in the context of the time period from this write-up:

this is the issue, right, marc was riding on just the right line of acceptable that race direction would not have in any way been justified in slapping out race bans - though you can certainly argue that in some cases, you could have handed out more penalty points, which would then have meant he would have faced more 'real' consequences. in any case, they couldn't actually 'teach him a lesson', because he'd already more or less learned it... if the lesson is 'hard racing and contact is fine, just don't overdo it'. which of course, not everyone would agree with. the odd memorable exception aside, throughout marc's premier class career he's been very aware of that line, and has taken care to avoid bringing the wrath of race direction upon himself too severely

the penalty points thing and sepang 2015... well, first of all let's quickly bring in what the actual ruling was:

honestly, I imagine that if they didn't have a penalty points system, they would've figured out a different way to penalise him, and might have slapped him with a back-of-the-grid penalty anyway. not in a 'oh the fim had it out for valentino rossi!!!!' way, more that they did need to be seen doing something. the penalty points felt like a fairly elegant way of giving a penalty that wasn't that harsh and wasn't making any judgement calls over whether valentino deliberately kicked marc, while also in an indirect way ensuring that valentino would suffer consequences. and yes, it is a nice bit of dramatic irony - but the piece says it, the penalty "had to be severe enough for rossi to feel truly punished". the penalty points happened to be the tool they had available and perhaps with a different set of rules, valentino would have been handed a slightly different flavour of punishment. but really, this is more 'fun historical coincidence' than something that massively changed the events that played out

of course, it was a controversial decision that few people felt 100% comfortable with. on the one hand, if you believe that valentino kicked marc, then you probably would have wanted him to be disqualified - three measly penalty points does not feel enough in that situation. on the other, if you believe that valentino engaged aggressively with marc but without deliberately trying to make him crash, then a back-of-the-grid penalty that essentially decided the outcome of the championship before the final race even started is a tough pill to swallow. (of course there's also a position somewhere in between where valentino didn't literally kick marc but did attempt to run him off track, which would make the penalty 'about right'.) of course, the championship standings should ideally not determine what sort of penalties are being handed out - but equally, it's something that did limit the intrigue going into the race, and over something that felt quite arbitrary. the other penalty point he'd gotten to rack up the four total was about a qualifying incident in misano - which either feels like a silly thing to determine the ultimate outcome of the championship, or instead is a demonstration of how the cumulative nature of the points system is supposed to work. but yes, it did get a lot of criticism in the aftermath, with concerns over whether future title fights could end up being defanged as an indirect consequence of relatively minor incidents earlier in the season

and of course, the penalty points were eventually scrapped in early 2017. here's a bit more on that decision:

basically, sepang 2015 was a contributing factor to broader changes in how motogp was regulated, which down the line had the knock-on effect of getting rid of that penalty system entirely. rightly or wrongly, race direction felt like they had better tools available to penalise riders and this system was now redundant. anyway [insert another lazy gag about how the switch to a stewards panel has completely failed in eliminating controversy from stewarding] [insert pithy closing line] [press post]

[ya-zz]

Okay, so if you feel comfortable! Can you write am AU (Genji never was murdered) where Hanzo marries fem!reader in an arranged married due to their families status? And when they're finally alone, reader just goes straight to the point and asks when he'd like to produce their heir.

Maybe reader seems a little unapproachable because she's covered in diamonds and jewelry due to their wedding and she has a more carefree personality!

Just fluff and a little funny story!

It's almost 2am as I upload this, let's not talk about my dwindling sleep schedule coming back. ANYWAY, I enjoyed writing this and I hopefully you enjoy reading!

Hanzo x Fem!Reader

Word count: 1514

You knew it was happening, you knew for years what was going to happen, and everything inside of you despised it. Your parents drove it into you each day, ‘nurturing’ you into the perfect wife. 

“You have to be proper!”

“You have to wear make-up like this.” 

“Ladies don’t do that!” 

“Stop slouching! Straight back and head high!”

Each and every day. 

It tired you out, it wasn’t what you had in mind for your life and marrying one of the Shimada brothers was certainly not on the list. 

You knew of their history, what they had done, who they were, and the thoughts alone would always send a chill down your spine. Your destiny was set in stone, there was no way out of it no matter how much you protested. If that’s how it was to be, then you were going to have some fun regardless of what’s in store. 

Disobeying your father was one task you had done countless times. Sneaking out at night to party, or even to watch the starts on the beach front. Anything to take your mind off of the days coming. The one day you had dreaded for months. It was approaching, and quickly. 

You hadn’t even met your future husband, only word of mouth got you the information you wanted. A few pictures here and there but you hadn’t actually been face-to-face with him, only a name, Hanzo Shimada. No matter the begging and pleading to see him before the wedding, you were always met with a resounding “no.”. It irked you, and part of you wanted to leave to go find the man you were going to marry. 

“You will see him a few days before the big day.” Your mother said.

All you could do was groan and leave the room, heading upstairs and flopping down onto your bed, releasing a scream into your pillow. 

Being kept in the dark like this was annoying but there was nothing that you could do about it, except hope that your husband wasn’t a total asshole. 

—

As time passed, your routines got more severe, more demanding. Practising walking, dress fitting, how to be a proper wife. 

It was borderline torture, or at least it felt like it. You were too tired to even think straight, but eventually the day arrived where you were to meet your future husband. 

It’s like your mind woke up, finally awake from the tiredness of the routines. Your parents were almost shocked at you when you rushed into the car. Finally! The moment of truth! Your heart was racing as the car started, pulling out of the driveway and going deeper into Hanamura. 

You were like a kid at Christmas, giddy to the point of throwing up. 

“Will you calm down?” Your mother spoke out from the front seat of the car, head turning slightly. 

“Sorry!” You weren’t, and you were pretty sure your mother knew too as a small smile crept onto her face before she turned back around. 

There was the slight anxiety coursing through your body as the car approached the Shimada castle, hands shaking in your lap. The season was perfect, cherry blossoms falling in the slight breeze, clouds littered the sky but weren’t threatening rain, and with the Shimada castle behind the trees, it was practically picture perfect.

As the car slowed down, a group of men approached, dressed in all black suits. Intimidating was the first word that popped into your head, and despite their small smiles, it didn’t change that first opinion. 

“Behave, [y/n].” Your fathers voice was stern as he turned to look at you, eyes glaring deep into your own. You nodded quickly as the car door opened and a hand offered to help you out. 

Hesitantly, you took the hand, getting out of the car and facing the man in front of you. 

“[y/n]. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you.” He spoke out, a small smile on his face as he looked you up and down. “I have heard a lot about you.”

“Likewise.” Was all you could muster. You had seen the photos of him but by god was he a lot more handsome in person. “It is nice to meet you also, Hanzo.”

“Come, allow me to show you around.” With his hand still in yours, he pulled you along gently and you followed beside him. 

His hair was done up, slicked and black, golden silk ribbon draping over his back, bouncing slightly as he walked, talking to you as if he had known you for years. His stride was confident, strong arms by his side except for the one holding onto you. The short kimono shirt of his hung loose on his shoulders, yet his muscles were still prominent behind the fabric. Every part of him was screaming at you to touch him, yet you refrained. It was your first meeting. In the next three days were you to marry him. 

“I would introduce you to my brother, however, he is currently running errands.” 

You snapped out of your thoughts, looking at him, cheeks flushed warm. ”I’m sure I’ll meet him soon.” 

He chuckled in response to your expression. “You haven’t been listening to anything I have been saying, have you?”

“That obvious?” You look away, the embarrassment rising. 

“Yes, but it is cute, seeing you blushed like this.” His hand came up and gently caressed your cheek as he turned you to face him.

Your breath caught in your throat as you locked eyes with him, the anxiety of marrying this man had disappeared, and in fact, you were looking forward to it. 

“There is still so much to show you.” His smile was warm as his hand left your cheek. The pair of you continued to walk around the building, talking as if you were old friends, while the adults, your parents and his, were talking in another room. Talking about your wedding day. 

And it came quicker than you had expected. It felt like you were in a daze for most of the day until the final few hours when the party was coming to an end. You had yet to meet his brother, but your attention quickly shifted back to your now husband. His eyes were on you, watching you for a few minutes, admiring your beauty. His hand held your thigh under the table, giving a it gentle squeeze. 

A playful smile embraced your cheeks as you looked at him before looking back around the room. You had realised a while back that other family members hesitated to approach you. Maybe the Shimada you had married was intimidating to everyone else until Hanzo whispered into your ear. 

“Don’t worry about them. You look beautiful.” His breath was hot against your ear, sending a chill over your body. “It’s all this jewellery.” 

“That… That would be my mothers doing.” You whisper back to him. 

He nods in response. “A little overboard, I won’t deny that, but-” 

“Please, I’m glad I’m not the only one to think that.” You laugh quietly and Hanzo joins you, small creases at the corners of his eyes. Oh how you could look into them all day… 

“But-” He continued, “I still find you the most exquisite thing in the room.” 

You could feel the heat rising inside of you, cheeks flushing hot as you look at the man who only chuckles in response. 

“Let’s leave, shall we?” He offers a hand as he stands up to which you take, standing beside him. A few members of the party whistle towards you and Hanzo as you walk away and out of the room, the music slowly quieting down as he leads you to the car that had been waiting outside.

His hand never left yours even as you reached the hotel, his grip only tightening as you reached the elevator. The moment the doors closed behind you, his hands were all over you, pulling you close to him and kissing you passionately. His lips were soft against yours, hair tickling you as your hands tangled in his hair, pulling out the silk ribbon and letting his hair rest on his shoulders.

As you pull away, gasping for air, you speak out. “I suppose this is when we make our heir, huh?” 

Hanzo laughs, shoulders rising and falling as he does, a faint blush on his cheeks. “You’re funny.” 

You smile at him, pulling him down to kiss him once more before the doors open. His hands pull you up, carrying you as he walks down the hallway. 

“Lets have some fun first…” His voice was low in your ear as he fumbled with the keycard to the room. He kissed you again, lips locking to yours as the door opened. He stepped into the room with you still in his arms. “We have all night…” He kicked the door shut, not breaking any contact. Soft gasps and giggles were barely audible from behind the door, slowly leaving earshot.

Perhaps my parents won’t mind waiting a little longer…

[marengogo]

Silver Lining - What If #6: FOR(ever) ↔️ YOU(ng) - Jikook the Musical

Good Morning - by Verbal Jint  [10 Years of Misinterpretation Part I]

[Music is a very big part of my life and I’m MOSTLY INCAPABLE of writing without music, so I just thought I'd share what I am listening to while writing this]

🐺 — 🐺 — 🐺—

Dear Ladies, Gentlemen and Distinguished Enbies, welcome to a one day only “showing” of FOR(ever) ↔️ YOU(ng) - Jikook the Musical. Tonight I shall try my best to narrate a cute little story, which has various songs as centre plot developers; hence a “musical”. Taken individually, all these events may seem absolutely disconnected, and with no relevance to each other. However, as I started to collect them, they turned out to compose quite the neat little story about two boys their love for music and perhaps each other? So grab a snack, and a thin hat everyone, sit, relax and enjoy the show.

SCENE 1: FOR YOU

This story brings us all the way back to almost 8 years ago, to be precise, the year is 2015, the date is August 18 and during BTS’ Japan Official Fan Meeting Undercover Mission in Osaka (this fan meet went on from the 13th to the 20th of August), while playing a game, JM suddenly loses consciousness and falls off stage. He is taken to a hospital immediately and as soon they are explained the situation, Big Hit Entertainment tweets the following:

 TRANSLATION:

The same day, JM himself goes ahead and posts the following

TRANSLATION:

Fans panicked. Obviously VERY LUCKILY FOR ME: I WASN’T AROUND AT THE TIME. As for his members, I am sure they were worried out of their minds, so much so that one particular member would express his relief perhaps at having JM safe and sound back with them, right on their very stage. This member was JK, whom two days later (August 20), on the last day of this event, as they performed "For You", walked right by JM and stopped for a couple of seconds, looking at him while he was singing part of the song’s first verse. For the rest of the song, it would become quite visible how JM couldn’t help but smile (cutely).

SCENE 2: I KNOW

So, even though we do not have an elaborated tale of what all the members must have felt exactly, it is safe to say that JM’s accident had a bit of an effect on JK’s mind. So much so that, a couple of months later, while he was playing around as Romeo & Juliet with JM, on the shoot-set of Season Greetings 2016, JK suddenly “refused” to play with JM because, and I quote:

Let’s fast forward to June 2016, this time we are in Paris, and the boys decide to start a VLIVE just before performing at KCON and, at the beginning of the live, we only have VMIN in sight. They start to talk about RM & JK’s new song “I Know” and, as the two are actually in the room but off camera, Tae asks  bribes JK to sing a bit of the song. We still can’t see JK, but, while Tae looks away JM looks straight into JK’s direction as the latter proceeds to sing

🎶Know you love me, boy

So that I love you🎵

… The expression on JM’s face is priceless the things I’d give to know how JK sang this to JM. ANYWAYS, RM eventually also joins into a funny rendition of the song and when they are done, VMIN resumes talking to ARMY and though we will never know for sure what caused it, perhaps JK’s expression, or the lyrics, or the fact that it was JK or all things together, or none of the above, BUT JM did stumble his way through trying to describe the song, in the words of Tae, JM suddenly seemed to be a bit “nervous” almost as if someone had suddenly serenaded him out of nowhere.

Another example at JM being flustered actually happened a month earlier to the Paris trip, at the ISAC where the Tannies needed to sing a song called Hand in Hand and while they are practising (at minute 0:57) I believe that JK might have change the lyrics to “promise me” but don’t quote me on that!, which made JM react in that way Joon and Hobi on the other hand; LOOOL 😬.

Basically, 10 months had effectively passed since the “For You Incident-Serenade” and it feels as if JK might have caught on to the fact that the easiest way to get a flustered reaction from JM is to sing to him. Perhaps he had to sing at him a couple more times off camera, in order to confirm this theory AS ALWAYS; WE WILL NEVER KNOW but from this moment on, whenever he’d find a chance to, it would seem like JK would take the topic at hand and find a way to romantically sing it at JM.

SCENE 3: A DAY LONG AGO

It is finally February 2017, and love isn’t the only thing in the air, in fact, on paper actually, on February 7, JK graduates high school. He is visibly hella excited, and though he goes to the ceremony alone, all his members show up, and afterwards, on their way to the restaurant, VMINKOOK share a ride.  For the most part jikook are doing most of the talking and at a point in which JM is talking a very eager looking JK suddenly starts singing, at JM, the beginning lyrics from A day Long Ago (오래전 그날) by Yoon Jong Shin.

AND, For the very first time on-camera, JM does his very best not to react. We can still see the slight hint of a smile, but for the most part, he’s successfully brushed it off and he is very quick at keeping the topic of discussion on track.

This might have thrown off someone like your-truly, but JK? No, the boy likes a good challenge. JK nor was discouraged, nor did he try to force JM to listen to him, he just went along with JM. We are talking about an almost 20 year old boy who, for the greater part of 2016 (that is when he turned 19, which is the age you become an adult in Korea) has been trying his mighty best to have his hyungs, and JM in particular, understand that he is now an adult and that he has been for quite some time. But hyungs gonna hyung, immaright? Sorry JK…

SCENE 4: BEST OF ME

Now, I don’t know what happened in the months between JK’s graduation and the 1st of October (2017), but there seems to be no on-camera attempt of JK even attempting to sing at JM, in fact, if anything, JK has been trying to appeal in different ways. For example, JM-Encyclopedia JK makes an appearance, or I’d rather not call you hyung makes a strong comeback. Regardless, for the first time, at the Fan Meet in Goyang (1st October, 2017)  JM is singing at JK lyrics from the “Best of Me” where he substitutes the word heaven (cheonkook) with Jungkook (he would do it again on episode 28 of RUN BTS, which would be broadcasted on November 7, 2017, but telling from the hairstyles it was probably filmed around the same period as the Goyang Fan Meet).

We are now halfway through the movie, and though our heroes have gone through a series of back-and-forths, they haven’t really encountered any “conflicts” per say; namean? Sure, JM is the one doing the singing now, because maybe he is trying to get JK’s attention. Had he lost said attention? Had something happened between the two of them? Or had their relationship evolved to a point in which he was just trying to return some of the musical energy he’d received thus far? WE WILL NEVER KNOW unless they tell us that is. But what we know is that a good 30 days after this, JK would take JM on what we now know to be, thanks to Beyond The Story, a healing trip to Tokyo, which would give birth to the first and most famous gcf: GCF in TOKYO. 

SCENE 5: BOY WITH LUV

Upon returning from Japan the two of them feel closer. It looks like they had the time of their life and they can’t seem to be able to talk about anything else. Basically they appear to be quite smitten with this shared experience, and perhaps, with each other? In addition, while still being the maknae, JK is sort of shifting into being more of a protective entity for JM and though JM tries his best to keep him in that designated maknae-slot, he also can’t help but indulge in the “offered protection”. 

They are now spending a lot more time together and this fact is not lost on some people in their environment, regardless of whether said people want to admit it or not. Particularly in 2018 (where, before even getting to the infamous Nampyeon-Namchin December )

we are in Hamilton, September 22nd, on their Love Yourself Tour. As they perform Attack on Titan, during the song’s break, JK pulls a For You Serenade-typa thing, but this is not 2015 and JK is no longer 17. This time, he focuses on JM for the whole part, hair pushed back and all, and for the first time in a while JM is visibly flustered, he silently giggles, turns towards ARMY, and also pushes his hair back. JK’s satisfied expression as he got JM’s attention says it all.

Yeah, this is not the same JK. He is not a boy who is relieved to see his bandmate's being well and alive, or trying to use the situation to his advantage in an awkwards manner. NO. This is a 21 year old, who’s just come back from the trip of a lifetime, this right here, seems to me, to be a boy with luv. 

Speaking of which, fast-forward a couple of months, May 21, 2019, they are in California, and as they are getting ready to perform on The Voice, Memories 2019 will show us how, for the first time JK substitutes words of a song while singing at JM. He substitutes the word “Love is” with “Jimin” while singing Boy With Luv at JM, who acts like he is ignoring him completely but actually proceeds to sing along. Who knew there was an art in serenading and beginning serenaded? Jikook circa 2015 🤡

Indeed, there is nothing stronger than a boy with luv, let’s not forget that a couple of weeks prior to this (May 5th to be exact) Rose Bowl-gate did happen. Well, up to this point, all seems very flowery and very peachy; what could go wrong, right?.

SCENE 6: THE TRUTH UNTOLD

AND, here we are, the part right before the end of the “musical”. We all know some sort of “big conflict is coming” and at this point some might just turn off the movie and leave it at a happy place but the majority will probably just brave it through to this day I start watching Baz Luhrman’s Romeo + Juliet and stop the movie right before the part whenthey take the fake poison, nobody dies in my Romeo + Juliet, thank you, bye! . Let’s brave it through.

Things are going quite well in Jikook world. The Tannies were given a break for the first time ever and thought JM left to go explore the world, he made sure to travel all the way back to Seoul to spend JK’s birthday with him, just to then travel off again; dedication. BTS then takes off to go and shoot Bon Voyage 4, and amongst the many things JK goes up a mountain and comes down with snow for JM; devotion. The two of them are living life, all while diligently performing touring as well.

Thus comes the end of the Speak Yourself tour, Seoul, October 26, 2019. The vocal line performs The Truth Untold and it happens, not only do JK and JM turn to face each other as they sing the last part of the song, but they also change “And” to “But”.

Jikookers who notice are left speechless, but jikookers weren’t the only people who noticed. That and a series of “jikook moments” throughout 26th-29th of October, made October 30, 2019 quickly roll by and the following happens:

I can’t even imagine what it must have felt to have experienced THAT. To be honest I don’t even want to think about it, but then actually is more like “I can’t believe they actually fucking did that…”. BUT, guess who won the IDGAF war?:

JIKOOK

I bet many thought jikook would perhaps “tone it down”, but they kept being themselves. They kept being as affectionate, annoying, close and “flirty” as per usual, I mean some time in 2020 we got 👇🏾

So yeah, I suppose, love will always win.

SCENE 7: GOOD MORNING

It’s now 2023. All the boys are getting ready to go to MS, as a result, they are giving it their all working on solo projects. Jikook has finally managed to become a bit more private, and this isn’t as a consequence to what happened in 2019 (if not we wouldn’t have had that hickey-incident). A lot has happened since then, but I believe that, perhaps, as things got more serious, and as they got older, their relationship naturally progressed into something more mature, personal and deeper in significance. For example JM associating JK with the song Young Forever

*The writing in the shoe where JM is sticking his tongue out says Jeon Jungkook.

a song that holds a very special place in JM’s heart; tattoo-worthy special. 

There is that, the adult side … Aaaand then there is also JK & JM quietly spending 4 days together in NYC/CT, in the midst of JK’s debut (perhaps getting content ready?) and there is also JK half naked in bed trying to bait JM into doing a live with him and starting off the bat with singing at JM the initial lyrics from Good Morning by Verbal Jint.

🎶Good morning – that’s what I texted you

I think I’m into you, it’s dangerous 🎵

… I suppose old habits die hard.

THE END

Always respectfully yours 💜🫰🏾

Marengo.

DELETED SCENES:

THROUGH THE NIGHT by IU

MAKE IT RIGHT by BTS

DAY vers.

NIGHT vers.

ROLLIN’ by BRAVE GIRLS:

[ellie-24]

USS Randall Ramblers Part 2

Writing prompt: Army Elvis

Yay, I actually managed to be on time this week. Thanks to the most amazing, funny and creative people ever: @thatbanditqueen @vintageshanny @be-my-ally @whositmcwhatsit @missmaywemeetagain @from-memphis-with-love @powerofelvis

Part 1 Part 3 Part 4

Summary: Mary and Elvis reunite in Germany after their first meeting on the ship that brought them there.

Word count: ~4.7 k

Frankfurt am Main, Germany. October 29th 1958

"He still hasn't called, has he Dad?" Mary asked dejectedly, her chin resting on one hand while she and her family sat at the dinner table. The lights briefly flickered above them and her eyes slowly wandered from the failing lightbulb towards the ceiling which was covered with cracks and spots where the paint had flaked off. It was probably a pure white colour at one point, but now it looked yellowed and stained from decades of smoking cigars inside. It was an old apartement building which had miraciously survived World War II that they had rented out. An apartement where the shower was located it the kitchen and the boiler from the heating would thump and rattle loudly and reliably every other minute. But she quickly got used to that and didn't dare to complain. The days grew colder and shorter now, the mild winters in Texas she experienced for the past years were probably no comparison to the german ones. It was already pitch black and outside and she had to make sure to always wear an extra pair of fuzzy socks, even inside the building.

Her father's head shot up at her question and he looked confused for a second, as if he hadn't heard a word she said. "Uh... no, dear I'm afraid not." He eventually muttered and waved his hand before letting his gaze wander downwards again.

Mary's mother had carefully watched the exchange and raised a perfectly plucked eyebrow. "Teddy, I told you, no more music sheets during dinner. Or breakfast. Or lunch. Put them away, you can study them after we finished eating."

Her father looked up again, this time towards her mother, feeling caught. "Alright, Josie." he agreed with a sigh and reluctantly pulled the notes he hid under the table from his lap and placed them onto the kitchen counter. Ever since that one evening aboard the USS Randall his interest in music had sparked once again. Completely. Mary still recalls his goofy expression when he entered their flat one evening, not even a week after they had arrived, with an old tattered guitar he bought somewhere tight in his grasp. "God help us." Her mother had muttered with an affectionate smile. He now spend most of his free time practising and even tried to teach himself how to read sheet music. Mary watched her father with an apologetic smile when suddenly her little brother opened his mouth.

"Mary, I think it's time for you to accept that he probably didn't like you as much as you liked him." He snickered across the table.

"Shut it, Tommy!" She hissed with a frown, tempted to throw a pea into her brother's sneering face.

"Language, Mary!" her mother chided her with a pointed look.

"Sorry, Mama." Mary mumbled and quickly glared at her brother before continuing to push the food around her plate with her fork, deep in thought.

It's been nearly a month.

A month since Mary set her foot in a foreign country. A country which would be her home for a few years now. A month since she met Elvis Presley. Before they both departed the ship at Bremerhaven he had promised her that he would call her father at his base and properly introduce himself to him once more and explain his intentions before inviting her over. He sounded so honest, so determined, as he pressed a small and gentle kiss to her cheek. It nearly made her knees buckle. The half smile he gave her in an effort to hide the still very evident melancholy in his eyes was reassuring for her in a way. He'd certainly call her. He wanted to see her again, wanted her around. She was sure of it. He'd call her once they both had the time to properly settle into their new, very different and yet kind of similar lives.

Her new life in Frankfurt, where her father was stationed at Drake Kaserne, part of the headquarters of the 3rd Armored Division, as First Lieutenant, and Elvis' new life in Friedberg, stationed at Ray Barracks as a more or less regular Private. They didn't even live an hour apart from each other but to Mary it felt like they were oceans apart, he seemed undeniably out of her reach even though they arrived here together. She'd never openly admit it, but she desperately wanted to see him again and Tommy's mindless comment affected her more than it should. Did Elvis already forget about her? Did she read more into the situation than he did? Was it ever his intention to call and arrange it for her to come visit him? Did he not like her as much as she liked him? All these questions made hear heart feel heavy and her appetite promptly disappeared. She curtly excused herself from the table to go to her room and hide under the duvet, mentally preparing herself to give up all hope that she would ever see him again.

The more surprising it was when her father got home the next day to tell her that he had, indeed, called. He'd asked Mary so spend the following weekend in Bad Nauheim and offered to pay for train tickets and a room for her to stay in in the same hotel he was currently living. When her father had expressed concerns about his daughter embarking on such an endeavour all alone Elvis had offered that her mother could of course accompany her as a chaperone. Mary was giddy with exitement and even though it felt very spontaneous and impulsive she got her mother to go along with her. Deep down she knew that her mother was probably looking forward to meeting him again as well, she rather enjoyed his music and whenever he was on tv she'd make sure to comment 'what a handsome, young man' he was.

So, her and her mother left on the following saturday morning to catch the train to Friedberg. It was a bumpy ride and the sky above her was as grey as it could get but that didn't deter Mary from grinning like a maniac as she gazed out of the window to take in the equally dull industrial landscape. Elvis had promised he'd arrange a driver to pick them up at the station and bring them over to Bad Nauheim. It didn't take long until a heavy set man who gruffly introduced himself as Lamar Fike approached them and swiftly snatched their luggage from them, telling them to follow him to the car. It was s rather silent ride, Mary and her mother quickly found that the man behind the wheel didn't really care much for conversation.

When the hotel came into view Mary felt her hands starting to sweat, nervous butterflies now in her stomach. They got out of the car with Lamar excusing himself and pulling out of the driveway again and made their way towards to entrance of the old building, which seemed to be from the last century. They entered Villa Grunewald and Mary looked around in awe when they arrived in the beautiful salon. Wallpapers with golden ornaments, heavy ruffled curtains and a chandelier hanging from the ceiling made it look very classy and old fashioned.

She quickly spotted him lounging on a green velvet sofa, reading a magazine. With himself on the front page. There he was, just like that, and Mary was once again taken aback by his beautiful features. This time he wasn't dressed in his trim uniform but a comfortable yellow cardigan and black dress pants. His sad eyes immediately lit up when he saw her standing only a few feet away from him. He shot up from his seat, the magazine falling to the floor, forgotten.

"Hello Mrs. Davis, Mary." He said with a nod towards her. He greeted both her mother and her with a quick kiss to the cheek. Mary hoped she looked less flustered than her mum, who herself was giggling almost like a school girl.

"Oh, Elvis, our dear Mary's talked so much about you for the past month. Always wondering when you would-"

"Mama!" Mary interjected frantically, eyes wide and pleading. She could see Elvis fighting back a grin when her cheeks turned red.

Her mother tutted. "Oh Mary, don't be like that. It's so sweet! Elvis, it was very kind of you to arrange all that." She said and looked around appreciatively.

He leaned towards her mother. "Oh, it's no big deal ma'am, really. Don't worry about it, it's great to have you here."

Thankfully, a kind looking man approached them in that moment, sparing Mary of any further embarrassement now that everyone's focus was on the stranger greeting them. Although she did catch Elvis looking over to her again and again in the corner of her eye, smiling mischievously. The man in front of them introduced himself, with a heavy German accent, as Otto Schmidt. The hotelier. They briefly exchanged pleasentries and Mary could tell that Elvis grew impatient, shifting from one foot to the other. When Mr. Schmidt started talking about the history and the architecture of the hotel Elvis quickly grasped her hand. "Come on, wanna show you around." He whispered, his body close to hers and his head bent down.

She threw a short glance to her mother, who probably heard the exchange as well. "Oh, off you go, sweetie. I'll get us settled in." She chirped with a knowing smile and turned back to Mr. Schmidt, listening dutifully.

Elvis didn't let go of her hand when he led her over to the old, wooden and creaky looking stairs. "I rented out the entire second floor. I think you'll like it." He practically ran up the stairs and pulled her along with him, making her almost stumble over one particular step which seemed to be higher than the ones before. "Oh yeah, watch out for that one, honey. Almost broke my damn neck when I walked up here the first time." He shook his head at the memory.

"Thanks for the warning beforehand." Mary muttered with a smile.

"Honey, I'd catch ya, don'tcha worry." He countered, throwing a stern look over his shoulder, as if offended that she thought he'd let her fall and injure herself.

They walked along the hallway until they stood in front of room number 10 and he reached out to open the door. Mary stepped inside, his room equally noble looking like the salon downstairs. The wallpapers here were pastel coloured, also adorned with gold ornaments, a golden mirror with stucco decoration, a big red armchair and a dark wooden bed right in the middle of the room. She quickly looked away. This was where he slept. To her it felt very invasive, just standing here and observing everything. But as soon as the door closed behind her, she felt his arms wrapping around her in a nearly suffocating hug, which made her feel silly for thinking she was the one overstepping boundaries.

"Oh, little Mary, I've missed ya so much."

She blushed and awkwardly patted his back, still not used to his familiar, almost intimate touches as if they were old friends. For her it certainly didn't feel like they just met a month ago and only spend a few hours together. She was grateful for his forwardness, the feeling of his strong body against hers and his hand in her hair transported her back to the night they met. When he pulled away from her after a few more seconds, much to her regret, he looked down on her with a frown. His face was still so close to her's that she was afraid she'd get lost in those blue eyes adorned with impossibly long dark lashes. Were they so beautiful aboard the USS Randall as well? Did she just forget their absolutely hypnotic effect? Her voice failed her, words stuck in her throat.

"Aren't you gonna say you missed me?" he asked with a pout.

She quickly snapped back at that and smiled up to him with a shrug. "Mhm, maybe. Actually I'm just here for a few more autographs you know?"

He tightened his grip on her waist and playfully glared at her. "I see, ya trying to play little Miss Difficult again? Cause I remember what ya mama said downstairs." He spoke in a low voice and lightly started to tickle her sides. It was right then that they were interrupted by high-pitched, energetic barking and the sound of little paws quickly hitting the carpeted floor filling the room. Mary turned her head and saw something, what she first thought was a little beige coloured hairball, emerging from the connecting room and approaching them hectically. Upon closer inspection she quickly realised it was indeed a little puppy now dancing and jumping around their legs.

"Oh, come here, oh you sweet thing!" Mary exclaimed happily and leaned down on her knees to scratch the exited poodle behind it's ear. "What's it's name?" she asked, looking up at Elvis again who watched her with a soft smile. He crouched down as well, running his big hand carefully over the wooly hair.

"He's called Cherry, picked the little rascal up just two days ago."

"Oh Cherry, oh hello little one, yes, you're the cutest aren't you? And the smallest! And what a sweet name you have!"

The puppy frantically moved his little legs and awkwardly tried to climb up her lap to lick at her face, barking at her the whole time as if he wanted her help. Mary gently picked him up, he seemed to weigh no more than a loaf of rye bread she'd come to like here, and nuzzled her nose against his cold, wet one.

"Guess I thought of you when I named the lil' guy." He added with a charming look on his face, as if trying to get her attention again.

But Mary didn't take her eyes off the small dog in her arms. "Oh, your daddy is a big charmer today isn't he? Yes, always saying these nice things." She giggled and puckered her lips, as if wanting to kiss the puppy's face.

"Hold on now. So there's a guy you'll kiss just like that, but when I ask for one ya gotta look all annoyed and irritated with poor me as if ya smelled something bad?"

She lowered Cherry back into her lap and turned towards Elvis, her face blank. "Well, this one didn't try to blackmail me into it in exchange for a napkin with a scribbly signature on it."

His eyes widened in alarm and he backed away a little. "Now, h-honey ain't n-nobody forced ya-" He argued frantically, his hands up and a heavy frown on his face.

She put a reassuring hand on his arm and giggled. "I'm just joking... Don't get all worked up, sweetie." She imitated his voice in the latter half, making him look at her with the most unreadable expression, his mouth hanging open for a few seconds, only to then explode into the most contagious, genuine laughter.

He put a hand over his heart. "God, honey, we really gotta work on that attitude of yours." He chuckled. "You're scaring a man outta his wits with that icy glare of yours."

She smiled. "My dad always says that's a good thing."

"Now that I think about it your father might actually be right, sweetheart." He agreed with a good natured smile. They just looked at each other, lost in each other's eyes for a moment.

Little Cherry felt neglected again all of the sudden and tried to climb up her chest again, eager to lick at her face once more and Elvis quickly snatched him away from her with a grunt. "Alright, that's enough buddy. She's here for me. You better get your own girl." He gave Cherry a quick kiss before setting him down on the floor again, making Mary giggle. Then he stood up and grabbed her hand again, helping her stand as well. "Christ, why do I always have to tear you away from other guys to make you want to spend time with me, honey? I'm starting to think you're doing this on purpose."

"And if I did?" She challenged, trying to sound extra cheeky. She would regret that.

He bit his lip and stepped closer to her, his hands ghosting over her hips. "Then you'd be a little minx, who ought to be spanked for that. But you're not are ya? I know you, little Mary. You're a good girl." He spoke and briefly cupped her chin with his thumb and index finger.

Any smart answer she might have had for him instantly died in her throat when he uttered those words in that sultry, deep voice of his. Instead, the raging butterflies in her stomach that made her feel nearly nauseous at times wandered... down into her lower belly. She tried to swallow the lump in her throat, but apparently she ran out of spit when he lead her towards the bed. He laid down, pulled her down with him and she had no choice but to sink into the soft matress. The old wooden bed briefly creaked under their combined weight and she tried to focus on the soft linen below her and avoid his burning gaze at all cost. He threw a casual arm around her and it felt utterly indecent, if her mother could see her like this now she'd probably have a fit. But Mary couldn't but like it. It exited her, especially when his fingers lightly skimmed over her arm. She could practically feel him staring at her profile, but she still didn't dare to turn her head towards him.

Of course Cherry quickly followed them and hopped onto the bed as well, something she wouldn't have thought he could manage at his size. He got comfortable in her lap again, presenting his belly to Mary. The thick tension between her and Elvis was broken just like that and she let out a sigh, both in relief and disappointment. She reached out, her hand still trembling a bit and patted him with another giggle. "Oh you sweet thing you like that don't you? Yes you do!" she cooed.

"Lord." Elvis groaned with an exasperated frown and threw his head back.

She leaned back against the headboard again. "Alright, sorry, I just can't help it, he's so cute!" Mary said with a laugh and turned her attention towards the scowling man next to her again.

"Oh, don't be like that." She mumbled with a gentle smile and leaned over to softly press her lips against his cheek in an effort to appease him. Not at all just to do something she had dreamed about for the last month. And damn his skin was still as soft and warm as she remembered.

He smiled bashfully when her fingers brushed over his cheekbone. "...Okay, baby, I'll forgive you."

Mary bit her lip to supress an absolutely lovesick smile and looked around. "...Are we alone? Didn't uh, some of your friends and family come over as well?" She asked suddenly, just now realising that they were, in fact, alone.

He smirked down at her, pleased that she apparently followed the news about him. She picked up on that and shrugged nonchalantly.

"That's what I heard at least."

"Right, sweetheart." He grinned. "Yeah, my father, my grandmother and two of my... bodyguards live here as well. You've met Lamar."

"Oh, yes, that's right, although, uh he didn't really say much." She grimaced lightly at the memory of the awkward drive here. "Where are they now? Aren't they... I don't know, supposed to guard the door or something?" She gestured around and looked at him quizzically.

He raised his eyebrows. "Lamar and Red? Don't know what these two airheads are up to now. Probably causing some ruckus in town. Sometimes they really ain't good for nothing, I'll tell ya."

She pursed her lips. "And... you father? And grandma? I'd love to meet them."

"You would?"

"Of course!"

"Well, sweetheart, Dodger is out running errands and my father is off meeting some girl who, uh, wanted to... o-offer her c-condolences, uh... I wanted to invite her over for a coffee... but I found I'd much rather spend my time with you. So I-I sent my father instead."

"Oh..." Mary felt horrible all of the sudden. There was this strange girl reaching out to the family after such a devastating event and here she was... just being sassy with him all the time. He was still grieving and managed to hide it way too well for his own good. One could almost forget how much he was still suffering.

When he spoke up again it was as if he'd read her thoughts. "No, Mary, don't feel bad. You just being here is everything I need." With that he quickly put an end to the conversation about his parents, especially his deceased mother and she nodded while clearing her throat, at a loss of words for a second. He scooted closer to her, his fingers still softly caressing her arm.

"You know..." she started tentatively. "I uh, also cancelled plans for you."

He slowly turned towards her, his eyes narrowed. "What kinda plans?"

"A new friend of mine and I wanted to go to the uh.. what's that word... Lichtspielhaus! That's the one!" She said proudly.

He blinked. "The what?"

"The cinema." She offered.

His eyes narrowed even further and his fingers now dug into her skin. "So... you go on movie dates now? I hope it's not another G.I.?"

She felt a smile tugging at her lips. "I'd hardly consider Helga a G.I., she helped me trying to figure out the busses in Frankfurt when I looked lost. Which I admittedly was. We met up a few times since then. I teach her English and she tries to teach me German." Mary explained and watched how his hard expression softened again. He closed his eyes and nodded, satisfied. Then he looked at her again and searched her eyes curiously, his brows furrowed.

"Why do ya want to learn it? Not planning on staying here forever, are ya?" He asked, a bit hesitant.

"Heavens, no."

He nodded again and his gaze drifted down towards their still interlocked hands. "Good, because I need ya back in the States with me when I return."

"You do?"

"O-Of course, honey. You're so important to me, I-I don't think I can let you go now."

She looked down, not sure if he really meant it, or it was just his emotional distress talking. Her eyes wandered around the room and she bit her lip in thought. Cherry had taken residence by her feet and seemed fast asleep. "I... I'm glad to hear that. You know, I really started to wonder if you actually want to see me again."

He cooed and pulled her closer to him, guiding her head to lay on his chest and the soft fabric of his cardigan against her face made her want to sink into him compltely. "Oh, sweet Mary, no don't ever think that. I-I know it took me a long time to reach out to you... It's just, uh-"

"No, I guess I understand. You probably had other things on your mind as well. Sorry."

"No Mary, don't. Life's just... very different now, here. The people a-and the army... e-everybody wants something from me...can't even catch no damn sleep in this damn country..." He trailed off with a huff. "I really... miss home. And I-I got nobody to talk to here, except my family. It's really good to have ya here. O-Otherwise I'd start to get mad here, t-trust me on that, sweetie."

She raised her head again, his frantic heartbeat beneath her ear suddenly too much too bear for her. A deep frown distorted his handsome features, the same look she spotted on him when they crossed the Atlantic Ocean. The melancholy in his eyes was one that went well beyond his 23 years of life and although his days in the army must be strictly regulated and timed and routined, he seemed to be completely lost, without a plan or a prospect of what the future might bring. What it might hold for him.

Mary reached out and carefully ran her hand through his short hair, hoping to provide at least a little comfort, knowing that there's really nothing she can do. He leaned into her touch and his eyes bore into hers, his piercing stare making her feel exposed. He frowned, suddenly remembering something.

"I still have to sing for you, Mary. That was part of our deal." He mumbled.

"You're right." She whispered. "But if you're not feeling like it, that's okay as well."

"N-No, I promised." He insisted, probably needing this more than her right now.

She smiled reassuringly, thankfully at him and traced his bottom with her finger again before pulling back and listening intently.

He quickly cleared his throat and furrowed his eyebrows in concentration before singing a beautiful rendition of the song "Love me". While he sang Mary rested her head against his shoulder again, and contentedly listened to him. When he finished she was almost asleep, his velvety voice soothing and calming and so, so much better than when she heard him on the tv or the radio. It all felt so surreal to Mary, she almost pinched herself so make sure this was really happening. To her. Suddenly the man under her jerked as if waking up from a dream himself.

"...Uh...sweetheart, there's something I gotta tell ya."

"...What is it?" She whispered, a hint of anxiety in her stomach about what was to come.

He took a deep breath, his chest rising and falling under her cheek. "I'll have to leave on monday. Uh, they're sending me Bavaria for six weeks for a maneuver. It's a few hours away from here. That's why I had to see ya this weekend. Don't know when... uh, we can see each other again."

"Oh... alright." She managed to get out, her voice a bit raspy both from nearly falling asleep as well as the disappointment suddenly flowing through her.

"B-But it won't be as bad, sweetheart. I-I'm gonna call ya every day. You'll see."

She shifted. "Yeah, no, I mean I'd love that, but you don't have to. I mean you're probably busy-"

"Sweetheart I will. Because I want to, alright? Wanna hear your sweet voice to get me through the day. And I'll be save from that icy glare over the phone." He added with a smug grin.

"Ha-Ha."

He pulled her closer again. "Aww, sweetheart, I love that look... Promise me you'll see no other boys while I'm gone?"

"And you'll see no other girls?" She countered with a frown, her fingers picking off a lint from his cardigan.

He smiled. "What, are you jealous, honey?" He asked playfully.

Her frown deepened, which he thankfully couldn't see. "Just asking for the same conditions."

He smirked and licked his lips. "Look at me, honey." She did. "I promise. And I'll call ya. Every day."

With that he softly, unexpectedly pecked her lips. It wasn't an open mouthed kiss she'd awkwardly shared with boys from school, which would drag on for eternity. This one was over before she could even react, making her crave more, eager to replicate exhilarating feeling of his mouth against hers. His lips felt way softer than they looked which she didn't think was even possible. She wanted to kiss him again, but he pushed her head back down against his chest, effectively preventing her from getting another taste of him. And just like that he had her hanging by a thread again, leaving her with nothing else but the hope that he'd keep his promise to her once more.

Thanks for reading!! I'm also tagging the amazing people who asked for a part two!! I love you all!❤️ @godlypresley @lookingforrainbows @18lkpeters @c-rosenn

[goldenkookietae]

Spell it right | JJK

BTS Imagine

“I cannot believe you don’t know this word, you’re so outdated Y/N!” Jungkook raises his eyebrows and sticks his tongue out at you. You’re once again caught on the losing side of your highly capable all rounder golden boyfriend.

“Just accept your defeat already Y/N.” He says and when you’re about to argue he looks away and fixes his eyes on his computer, a small smirk hinting at the corner of his lips. He knows how much it annoys you when someone turns away from you in the middle of conversation. Especially, when you’re trying to make a point.

This time however, it’s a challenge that you can’t give up on so easily. Okay, you didn’t know that brekkie was slang for breakfast, but so what? Breakfast is only two simple words put together and you can’t believe people have made up another word for it.

“Technically, that doesn’t count as being fluent in the language because it’s slang. How many other words do you know?” You ask. You’ve done as much homework, maybe even more on the language than he has, and it should be you winning.

“More than you do obviously, and you know what the fact that you don’t know that word is really trusfrating.” He says as he looks at you, a pleased smirk on his face, as if he’s made yet another point.

“Frustrated, you mean.” You say, raising you eyebrows high and letting your own lips curl into a smug smile.

Jungkook looks shocked and you don’t stop yourself from laughing as you watch him ponder over the corrected word in his mind, repeating it himself over and over with furrowed eyebrows.

“Aww, how does it feel to lose, golden boy?” You stick your tongue out at him and he huffs. His face hardens and he sits up straighter.

“That’s one word down for you and me both, hun. This fight is not over.” He grins as you both launch into another word building match.

“Oh boy, you’re so going to lose.”

“Jeez, you guys, can’t you accept that fact that neither of you know the language? Whereas I, am actually good at it. I even practised spellings. P-I-Z-Z-A is pizza and P-A-S-T-A is pasta. Jin watches the fight smugly and flicks his hair. "S-T-O-B space I-T is stop it so I’m going to stop now.”

A/N: For those of you who're confused, Jin is the harmless funny ghost that lives in your shared house with any member. It's random I know, but I like it. He makes an appearance in all the imagines I write.

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