#and he was willing to sacrifice them all!

[p4ranormaluv]

BEWITCHED — 재윤, 제이 (teaser)

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TO BE RELEASED NOV. 10 OR 17, 2024

jake and jay are the complete opposite of vampire stereotypes. they aren't sex gods or evil devils like the people warn, they've never drank human blood or even lost their virginity. in reality, jake and jay are two loser best friends who touch themselves more than they've touched a woman's hand and they drink animal blood. when they find out you've been blamed for their actions, the townspeople accusing you of witchcraft and sacrificing livestock, the two men try their best to help prove your innocence. in exchange, you offer them your blood.

PAIRING: vampire!jake x f!reader x vampire!jay

GENRE: smut, romance, angst, dark fantasy au

CONTENTS: vague historical setting, strangers to poly relationship (no mlm), lots of petnames, mutual love bombing? (in a good way), getting frisky in a corn maze, witches & trials, brief talk of animal sacrifices/death, biting & blood drinking, hanging, past death/side character death (with graphic desc.), ft. jungwon, more tags possibly tba

SMUT WARNINGS: two smut scenes (estimated wc 9k combined), virgin!jayke, sub!jayke, dom!reader, bedroom titles (puppy, angel, miss, etc.), jayke get turned on by drinking your blood, voyeurism (jake watches you bathe), masturbation, jay is the goodest boy, jake is a pervy cuck in disguise as a good boy, oral sex, piv, creampie (vamps can't procreate), praise/light degradation, filthy yet oddly loving sex, cock kisses, orgasm control, male squirting?, minor crying, overstim, making love, marking, more tags possibly tba

WC: estimated 20k (teaser wc: 1.1k. not proofread.)

TEASER UNDER CUT

“i don’t want you to go hunting anymore.” you state a little too urgently, the two men turning to you with a look as though you’d grown two heads.

“but…my lady, we have to.” jay explains, sounding as if he’s asking a question with how confused he is over your outburst.

“what if you didn’t have to?” you begin, unsure of how to say it.

“what do you mean?” jake asks, a rare moment where he’s fully staring at you, bashfulness forgotten as you stand before them.

“i…i could give you my blood.”

jay’s eyes widen impossibly, and jake becomes so flustered he hides his face in his hands and turns his back to you in favor of staring out the window.

“y/n! but— you…it’s…” jay’s eyes unfocus as his gaze is almost aimless, staring at nothing as you can tell he’s consumed by his thoughts. then he clears his throat and shakes his head, your interest sparked as it’s rare for even him to be bashful— at least show it.

“it’s not…to be taken lightly, giving a vampire your blood. especially since…”

“since you haven’t fed off a human before, besides when you both turned. i know.” you begin, knowledgeable from your vampiric studying.

a vampire drinking blood, especially from a willing human— it’s intimate, and can sometimes be somewhat of a sexual act. especially when jay and jake have been deprived of human blood for such a long time, it’s more likely to get…intense. and you can’t lie, the thought thrills you— but that’s not even your intention. your purpose is pure. why have the boys go out every night to struggle to fill their appetite when you’re right here?

“i’m aware of it all, jay. i still want to help you…if you want to have me.”

jake makes an abrupt choked sound that descends into a cough from your words. he knows you didn’t mean to sound so suggestive, yet he finds himself having to talk himself down, desperate to calm the growing hardness between his legs before it’s noticeable.

jay stares at you with wide eyes that resemble the night sky, holding every spark of light in his irises like stars. he bites his lip, subsequently flashing his sharpened fangs at you.

your heart stirs.

“are you…sure?”

“entirely, jay. i’ve thought of this for a while.”

“and you’re aware that it…will hurt a bit.”

you nod your head, a small smile that’s meant to be soothing on your lips. “i’m not one to be overly sensitive to pain.”

“…alright.” jay whispers, growing closer to stand before you, the tips of his shoes just beneath your skirts.

your heart starts to beat faster in anticipation, slowly pulling the sleeve of your bodice down to further reveal your neck and the junction of your shoulder, staring up at jay the entire time. the raven haired man shudders a breath, unable to control where his gaze lands anymore as he looks from your face to the smooth skin of your clavicle, and how the short ruffled hem of your blouse frames it enticingly. your breathing becomes faster as jay finally closes the small remaining distance, hands holding your waist as he pulls you against him. his nose brushes against your cheek, and you can hear him taking a slow inhale.

“you smell good, like you’ll taste sweet.” he mutters almost to himself, but you feel your body reacting to his words and his breath fanning against your neck, large hands gripping your waist more firmly. “your heart is beating faster.”

leaning further down towards the junction of your shoulder, jay mutters. “are you ready, my lady?”

“yes, jay. go ahead…bite me.”

his mouth bares as he doesn’t hesitate sinking his teeth into your flesh, making the pain not as bad but still enough to make you gasp— a burning hurt in your shoulder that turns into an odd tingling sensation as jay starts to suck.

you sigh as you try and get used to the feeling, jay’s lips pressing into your skin. his hands move in favor to wrap his arms entirely around your waist, and you find yourself having to surpass a moan at his chest being pressed against yours— how his sucking spreads that growing, pleasurably weak sensation all over your body.

“jake,” you breathily call out, wanting the boy to get a taste before you’ll have to stop.

the brunet slowly turns around, big brown eyes glossy in the moonlight as they roam over your form that’s captured in jay’s hold. your dress has lowered even more, breasts peeking out from the top as your face is contorted into an almost erotic expression.

you look absolutely breathtaking— and delectable. which is most likely why jake falls under an almost entranced state, hardly even noticing how his feet take a step forward. still— he’s hesitant, and you find yourself cooing to him with one arm outstretched.

“come, jakey. it’s okay, get your fill.”

you don’t miss the earnest whimper that he lets out before he’s suddenly in front of you, legs trembling as he stumbles to his knees beneath you. his hands are desperate and eager as he grabs your forearm, bringing himself closer until his teeth are piercing into your veins. you can’t help the pained sound you let out, jake much more messy and uncoordinated with how he bites you— and him sucking right at your veins make that pleasurable feeling grow ten fold. your cunt pulses strongly between your legs, nipples hardening as you feel like everything becomes more sensitive.

your moan is crude, but the boys only react with throaty whines of their own as they press and suck their plush lips to your skin more desperately. all control has practically been lost between the three of you all at once, your thighs growing weaker as jake presses himself to your leg, one hand wrapping around it from beneath your dress while the other still holds your arm with bruising strength that you’re sure is unconscious. jake’s legs squeeze around your ankle, and that’s when you’re made aware of the distinct hardness his cock has turned. you find your foot pushing against him without thinking, the movement so slight, yet jake is moaning out from the sensation.

one of jay’s hands creeps up from your waist to cup your jaw, tilting you more to the side before his fingers feel downward, over the veins of your neck.

“m— my lady,” he exhales shakily, retracting his teeth out of your shoulder to lick at the blood that drips down.

[inky-duchess]

Fantasy Guide to Constitutional Monarchy

As there are many breeds of government, there are equally as many species of monarchy. Today, we will be learning about the concept of constitutional monarchy and how we can write them within our WIPs.

What is a Constitutional Monarchy?

Constitutional Monarchy is a monarchy that is bound by a country's constitution, where the monarch doesn't rule but they reign. The government acts and runs in the monarch's name, at their pleasure and owes their allegiance to the Crown but they are the decision-makers.

The Power and the Glory

The monarch doesn't have the power to rule but as Head of State, they still retain certain powers and responsibilities.

The monarch has the right to:

Warn a Prime Minister/Chancellor against a decision.

Be consulted about all state matters, crisis and news.

Advise and encourage.

The monarch has the responsibility to:

Be impartial, no matter their true feelings

Support the Prime Minister/Chancellor in their efforts to lead the country

The monarch usually retains power in the form of the Head of the Armed Forces (though most can't declare war), has the power to dissolve a sitting government, has the power to sign bills and legislation into law, by the opening of Parliament and recieves diplomats and ambassadors.

Why a Constitutional Monarchy?

You might be asking, why would a monarch agree to all these rules and limits? They are the King/Queen, no? Shouldn't they have all the power? Easy answer, they want to maintain both their power and their heads. Most modern monarchies have ceded to be bound by constitution because autocracies come with as many dangers as they come with benefits. A constitutional monarchy is often chosen to protect the monarchy, ensure it's longevity, appease the public and modernise to fit with changing opinions. The monarchy that doesn't adapt, doesn't survive. If a monarch truly believes in the role of monarchy and their duty, they would do well to consider how much they are willing to sacrifice in its name. It also provides a unifying figure for the country to look up to without the divide of political opinion and creed.

Constitutional Monarchies Across the World

The UK: The monarch's role is ceremonial, they open Parliament, grant Royal approval to bills and meet with the Prime Minister to be informed of the government's doings.

Sweden: The Swedish monarchy is symbolic only.

Japan: The Emperor of Japan has no governing powers, he recieves foreign dignitaries, participates in traditional events and rituals.

Spain: The Spanish monarchy has the power to dissolve government, summon government and appoint the Prime Minister.

Norway: Norway's monarchy is heavily symbolic but the monarch resides over the Council of State, signs official documents and undertakes state visits.

Belgium: The Belgian monarchy is also ceremonial but has the power to appoint the formateur who leads coalition negotiations, signs laws but these acts must require the signature of a government minister.

The Netherlands: The Dutch monarch has a ceremonial role, with the Prime Minister and Parliament holding political power. The monarch’s duties include signing bills into law and representing the country at official events

Thailand: The Thai monarch has a cultural and ceremonial role but politics is the business of the elected government.

Monaco: The Principality of Monaco is an exceptional version of a constitutional monarchy. While the Prince is bound by the constitution, he had the power to appoint the Minister of State and the Government Council. These bodies are directly accountable to the Prince. The Prince has the right to propose laws to the National Council, veto laws and formally enacts the laws approved by the National Council.

Denmark: The monarch appoints the Prime Minister who leads Folketing, they sign all acts passed by the government which must be countersigned by a Cabinet Minister and participates in state ceremonies.

Lesotho: This monarchy is ceremonial too but the King has the power to appoint the Prime Minister and other officials (on governmental advice).

[rainybyday]

a question but also an idea dump

has there been a Kakashi time travel fic to his time in Team Minato and he's scared or overly cautious of Obito? Like I'v seen a couple where he is just either very nice to his team mates or he's going through trauma hell to be very jumpy over everything. But like, is there one where he is just kind of fresh out of the war or during the fourth war and the first thing he wakes up to is his old team?

Minato which, while dead, he still saw and had some sort of closure with him

Rin, depending on when he traveled back, is a girl he spent years regretting her death but understood through years of friends helping him that she made that choice, or saw her ghost, and is stable now of his feelings about her

Obito on the other hand? Obito who he despaired for years, who he based his personality and character on, who turned out to be the killer of his second family, who hurt his village and friends, who started a world with the world, who wanted him to essentially kill him (the same way he did with Rin), and if we go further, who died after he saved his students when Kakashi was willing to be that sacrifices instead.

Honestly, I think he would have fresher newer trauma from Obito all over again. I think Kakashi would have spiraled if Obito lived after the war, yes maybe he will forgive him or whatnot but you can't tell me he wouldn't have some sort of complicated resentment for all that he did and the impact it had in some sort of twisted way in his life. Kakashi is a shinobi, he is an adult, he has trauma. He will not just feel one type of emotion for other people because he himself knows to see the world in a shades of gray. But emotions are a funny think and they take time to react and mask them.

So imagine Kakashi back to his younger days and the first thing he sees is Obito yelling at him, getting angry at him, blaming him

You know what most people talk about when it comes to trauma? Flashbacks. But for Kakashi, he's flashback was real and staring right back at him.

He will attack Obito, maybe run, maybe keep fighting him, to kill or defend himself? I don't know, you usually don't know when you are faced with the face of your trauma yelling right in your face when you are at your most vulnerable.

Needless to say, Team Minato is very concerned for their youngest.

[still-searching-for-something]

What gets me is not that Donald Trump won. It's that he won the popular vote. It's that a majority of American voters said, "Yes, I want this guy as my president."

They deliberately, knowingly decided the fascist, felonious, antidemocratic candidate who'd organized a coup attempt and got away with it needed the presidency. No American voter doesn't know who Trump is. They have no excuse. They knew he stood for antidemocracy.

But he also stood for a stronger economy! Lower gas prices! Cheaper groceries! Lower taxes!

And most Americans decided those things were more important to them than democracy. They've, as a majority, decided democracy < convenience.

"But the real problem was voter turnout and apathy!"

Okay, so then most Americans--85.7 million--either voted for the fascist or couldn't be assed to lift a finger to save democracy, compared to 68 million. 55% of Americans either deliberately chose cheaper groceries over democracy or were too pathetically lazy to give a fuck either way. Much better. It's a human choice to make, to vote for their wallet than their grand abstract ideology, but it's one that hurts all of us, including them, including Ukraine and the EU (and Palestine, for the record!) and all future generations to come. It's a selfish, short-sighted decision that betrays a deep rot in our priorities.

I thought we understood that sometimes, we have to take a hit as a nation to preserve our democracy and our freedoms. Is the same nation that took rationing during the Second World War to defeat the Nazis and the Japanese Empire? That lost hundreds of thousands of men to put down an illegal, treasonous rebellion?

And today, we've decided our rights can be exchanged for cheaper eggs, milk, and butter?

"Oh, Harris ran a bad campaign. She tried to appease everyone which pleased no one. She didn't appeal to the right demographics on the right issues. She dodged questions, she was entitled, she was--"

Yeah, I don't care.

In fact, I agree with you, but frankly, the economic policies and foreign policies and immigration policies and social policies of either candidate are completely fucking irrelevant if one of them doesn't adhere to the basic democratic rule of accepting that democracy's validity and existence. If a vote for one candidate threatens the democratic health of that nation, and a vote for the other--regardless of what other consequences it may have--doesn't, then morally, you have to vote for democratic one.

Is that unreasonable? Maybe. Yeah, Democrats should have run a better campaign more focused on the bread and butter issues people care about. Like Clinton said, 'It's the economy, stupid!' Democrats had a responsibility to run the best campaign they could have, given the stakes.

But that still doesn't justify a vote for antidemocracy. Call me crazy, but I think a vote for authoritarianism is unreasonable. "They were a little patronizing and I want to shave a few bucks off my grocery bill, so I'll vote for the fascist!" is still an unhinged and indefensible conclusion to arrive at, regardless of how valid your claims of being hurt at the cash register or being patronized are.

I've lost any and all faith in Americans. I honestly thought we were better than this. I really did. And I don't know how or if a democracy can function if a majority of its electorate are willing to sacrifice democratic norms for short-term benefits.

Fuck Republicans and every single person who voted against democracy because their grocery bill was too high. May you get exactly the kind of government you deserve and voted for.

[ladysomething]

hi! i was wondering, why does max love charles so much to the point where he would sacrifice his assets and alter his whole life for him? how did he get to that point, i mean they were never close and they never really got to know each other, charles hated him too. it was more of an admiring from afar kind of thing no? will we get flashbacks to that process of max falling for him?

er well. I suspect you're kind of wanting a definitive answer, but it's kind of hard to give one, because why does anyone fall in love with anyone?

I also suspect your actual question is: how does somebody fall in love with someone they've never spoken to/don't actually know, and honestly, that is Charles' point completely. how can Max claim to love somebody he doesn't know anything about?

but to me the answer is this: Max doesn't know anything superficial about Charles (unless he's heard it in interviews) because they've never been able to have a talk about things like their favourite colours or their favourite movies.

but what he does know is the core of Charles, distance or not.

He knows Charles is stubborn, spiteful, manipulative, aggressive, and terrible with understanding his own emotions; he knows Charles is kind, generous, loving, ambitious, forgiving, and so terribly sad.

And he knows all this because he's seen it all through their karting years, and into F1.

he's seen Charles push people off track and then bat his eyes after to get out of trouble.

he's seen Charles present as an omega and be so scared he felt the need to effectively cut out an entire part of himself.

he's seen Charles lie to his friends, to Ferrari, to the entire world, just so he has the chance to achieve his dreams.

he's seen Charles be so scared of him, because of Max's own presentation and how aggressive and cruel he was.

he's seen Charles be so brave despite all of that.

he's seen Charles be kind to other kids, seen him help them, laugh with them.

now, he gets to see all that kindness directed at him, which is certainly making everything much worse for him feelings wise. Max has always felt so much for Charles, but now that he's actually getting to know him, it's become so much more pure and real and true.

also, another real big thing is: Max was willing to change his entire life for Charles, and of course that is partly attributed to how much he loves him, but a large part of it is also attributed to Max's desire to be a protector and a helper for omegas/people who need it.

he effectively feels as though he's paying a penance, and that he has a duty to help omegas that need it. he did it with his mother (who he also loved), kelly (who he came to love as a friend, but she was just a stranger at the beginning), and I've also recently written a scene where he does it again for another stranger.

it's just a core part of who he is.

I hope this kind of answers it for you!

[acourtofthought]

This is very outside my typical posts but I can't stop the thought running around through my mind.

It's not that I don't understand why some felt the desire to vote Republican. There is a scale that each person has, where certain issues take precedence over others for some and the Republican party overall might line up as a better fit for those people.

However, the issue I have with this particular election is that what some wanted was a stronger motivating factor than the concern over allowing a bully, a sexual abuser, and a convicted felon being the one to lead them there.

That's like desperately wanting your child to be captain of the football team and thinking, "I'll allow my child to commit a crime against his competition to ensure their victory. Their behavior does not matter so long as they win".

Trump has committed heinous acts, some which most would be horrified of if it was their child, friend, spouse who had been the victim. All which now teach our children that you don't actually need to follow rules or obey the law because you can still hold the highest position of power in the US. Yet people are willing to support him simply because he agrees with their political views.

We all have our own desires but when one is willing to sacrifice their morality to achieve them it's sending them down a slippery slope.

[mythalism]

#I genuinely don’t read mythal and solas’s relationship as romantic too#they feel more like ‘creator/creation’ ‘mother/child’ or ‘goddess/devotee’ than lovers#that implication comes solely from the companions’ speculation in my opinion#his idea of love and devotion (in ANY relationship. not just romantic) is sooo tied to servitude and sacrifice#and I think that’s largely because of his history with mythal.#to be loyal to someone—to love someone—is to be willing to sacrifice anything and everything for them#he literally tried to coach rook into building relationships and trust with the veilguard so they’d willingly sacrifice themselves for rook#and the absolute fear and disgust solas has towards himself because of his relationship with lavellan makes SO much sense now#he doesn’t want lavellan to do that. he doesn’t want her to give everything she is over to him. ESPECIALLY knowing what he planned to do#he doesn’t want her to become like him—willing to sacrifice herself. her beliefs. her *wisdom*. just for him#because he did that for mythal and look what it’s led to. THAT’S the point of all his regrets and all the references to him and mythal

@eight-of-pentacles no way you are allowed to leave these bangers in the tags

im so sorry to be a mythal lover like my icon and url suggest but i genuinely think her relationship with solas in this game was one of its best writing moments and specifically their confrontation is the highlight of this game for me and i have to talk about it.

it is so fucked up and tragic and raw. it shows us a side of him we have never seen before. she is so brutal but also somehow kind. she is probably the most complex and nuanced character in the entire dragon age universe. what she did to him was inexcusable and she takes full accountability for it but she also does not apologize. its SO INTERESTING!!! ITS SO INTERESTING!!!!

WHEN HAVE WE EVER SEEN HIM LOOK LIKE THIS>??? HIS FACE??? HIS BODY LANGUAGE????? HE LOOKS TERRIFIED AND WRETCHED. WE HAVE NEVER SEEN HIM LOOK LIKE THIS EVER.

HE WHISPERS HER NAME, AVERTS HIS GAZE. HE CANT EVEN LOOK HER IN THE EYE. HIS NAME IS PRIDE??? HE IS THE DREAD WOLF AND HE IS THE MANIFESTATION OF PRIDE AND LOOK AT HOW HE LITERALLY CRUMBLES IN HER PRESENCE???? HOLY SHIT. THIS IS SO UNLIKE HIM

i love that she does not apologize. it would have been out of character. she isnt sorry and she never was, but she at least takes accountability for what she did to him and the effect it had. she does not offer meaningless platitudes of sorrow. why would she??? she just plainly states the truth.

I RELEASE YOU FROM MY SERVICE. I RELEASE YOU FROM MY SERVICE. HE STILL CANT LOOK HER IN THE EYE. HE IS SOOOO SUBMISSIVE HERE WHAT THE FUCK. honestly i need to make a comparison between their body language here and his body language with lavellan in trespasser but that'll have to be for another time. but i am so obsessed with this line being what she says of all the things she could have said. again no apologies. just catharsis. and she talks to him like a loyal dog, someone under her command, a subordinate, not a lover. did she always see him that way? where did those lines blur? this would have been a good moment for an "ar sala mala revas" but this line is so brilliant on its own i cant complain.

AND THEN YOU HAVE THIS NEXT. THE WAY THEY ARE THE INVERSE. mythal stands over him and looks down upon him, while lavellan literally GETS ON HER KNEES TO SEE HIS FACE. TO LOOK HIM IN THE EYE. BRO THIS IS SO SICKENING. once again it mimics the way they kneel in trespasser, the way they kneel when he removes her vallaslin. and even though he's not kneeling he is bent over in agony and she is quite literally meeting him where he is at ohhhh myg od

and then when it is finally his time to address her directly he looks her right in the eye, his face is calm and not wretched like before when he looked upon mythal, im literally so sick over this look like how long has it been since they stood face to face like this, 8 years????? i havent even gotten into the way his face is bloodied and bruised like this is so vulnerable im literally dying i dont even remember what my point was with writing this i just needed to scream about it. i think mythal's presence here gives so much context to solavellan's dynamic. seeing how he is with mythal versus with lavellan back to back, how mythal speaks down to him while lavellan literally looks up to him. also something something about how lavellan offers him forgiveness while mythal offers him freedom. maybe i can make these thoughts more coherent in like a week from now but right now im running on 3 hours of sleep and pure dopamine. this scene is so fucking crazy i love it.

[sapphireswimming]

I just!! Am Screaming!!!! Sean said they were just going to keep sending him back into the field one more time just one more job you gotta do until he was dead but he never said no! he could have left Candela Obscura at any point, after any job, but he chose to stay there! even after he'd reached the end of his rope! and everyone else continued to stay with him! for him!! Marion told Sean he was only there because of him. Auntie Bee admitted she was only there to stay near him. if he ever said he wanted out they would have not only let him but left with him! and if Sean and Marion were both out, Jean would have been to! Nathaniel would have followed as soon as he paid his debt to Allison! they didn't want him to keep going until he broke! they were trying to be there with him for him by him beside him because that was literally all they could do for him! they all could have been happier outside of Candela Obscura but Sean was there so they weren't going to leave! they loved him!! the love was there!! the love was there the whole time and it mattered of course it mattered but it didn't do anything!!!! it didn't do anything except keep them all together until it was too late! and I! ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

[turtleblogatlast]

[ cw: sacrifice / self sacrifice / slight suicidal themes / death mention / ]

I personally think that Leo took the wrong lessons from the movie. I definitely think he grew to understand the importance of teamwork and making sure he takes others into account so as to not harm them by proxy of whatever scheme he has cooked up, however based on the ending events I’m not quite certain he fully grasped two things.

The first thing is communication. Oh, he can communicate, and he does, when he deems it necessary. When he’s setting up a plan prior to the action. But this is where the second thing comes in.

The second thing I don’t think Leo truly grasped is “it’s not about you.” It’s so unbearably easy to take that the wrong way, especially when taking the rest of the series into account.

What I believe Leo took from this message is not “it’s not just you, everyone matters and can contribute, can help and be helped” but “put the whole of everyone above yourself” which can both be a good lesson…and a fatal one.

And it is fatal, we see as much in the movie.

Even after the big hope speech, when Leo is “fighting” Krang!Raph, he takes a huge risk. Sure, it worked, and Leo managed to get through to Raph through a well deserved apology, but it could have so easily ended in his death and yet he barely even hesitates to go for it.

And then again, to the big scene at the end, where Leo sacrifices himself not only for the sake of his family, but for the whole world.

To him, that’s the message to take from this. That the lives of everyone, of the greater good, matters…more than him. That the risk to himself is worth it if others can be saved.

Leo learned that gambling with his life as the betting chip is always the best move to make in the end.

And to make matters worse…this thinking is what works.

These risks are ultimately what is needed to save the day, so why would Leo look away from it now? Clearly it’s the right move and everything worked out!

Thing is, Leo did grow from the events of the movie. He learned to take things more seriously and be more mature, he learned to value his team’s input and capabilities enough to rely on them more, and he learned to be less self-centered and realize the turmoil others were going through (especially if that turmoil is a result of his actions.)

But still, he’s grown to accept the gamble of his life as a viable answer to their problems.

Personally, with how Leo has been shown to toy around with the idea of “it’s better me than them” I think this goes beyond sacrifice in the name of love or even sacrifice in the name of responsibility, and pushes over into sacrifice in the name of worth.

[miketownsends]

i simply do not think there is another catcher out there who is as good with their pitching staff as Cal is!

(put the full article link in the source bc Tumblr was being weird about the link)

[spotaus]

yipppeeee!!!!

Skipping a bit, but yes!! A lot of why Nightmare trusts who he does and makes rash decisions across his rule (and why he can be so confident, and that his paranoia is usually silly stuff) is because of that emotional empathy!! I think he probably had several sessions with Ccino (or even Killer for that matter, though both of them are very convincing liars) where he basically played two truth and a lie to see if he could parse out and recognize how his magic was sensing lies vs. truths! So, by the time the more pressing folks, Cross and Error, come along? Night is very very confident he can tell the truth from lies, and recognizes that Error isn't lying.

Even though it's *technically* not the truth, considering he does have Geno and Fresh, but in his current mindset, those two aren't his family anymore, and Nightmare can recognize the grief and conviction and assumes his family might have died, so he ignores that nagging feeling of something being off because it's not a lie. (And he's like. 100000% blindsided with the Geno reveal- because??? Error has no family, what are you doing? WHAT DO YOU MEAN THAT"S YOUR BROTHER????)

The bit about the payment really is so chill too, because Error's a very stationary monster (doesn't really feel a rush to go anywhere new, he likes this home!!) and Nightmare has been really reallly good about providing him with everything he could want or need, so it just turns into Error having the sweetest idea EVER. And ofc he recruits the other into it!! I like to think they meet up in the war room while someone (probably Dust, because he's the least helpful for romance atp) hangs with Night and distracts him. And Error and the others start planning and budgeting and brainstorming. And across the table Ccino gives Killer one of those looks like 'Don't you dare let them out of your sight' and Killer gives a look back like 'Duh'. And it's just so lovely of all of them and a good distraction from the chaos that's been happening at that point!

With Night that's 100% the energy I want to go for! He's very much willing to sacrifice himself (no shocker, considering his palm scar + the whole prophecy thing) for those he cares about! And, unfortunately, Error is exactly the demographic he was hoping to avoid influencing, because! Like your said! The Ccino thing! But he does well, and even though it still might not be the best anyone's ever done it (Night is NOT a parent, and Ccino can't raise a whole second kid) but Error comes out of it so so happy and confident and decently adjusted, so who is anyone to judge?

For Dream and Blue I really wasn't sure lol, but I feel like it'd just be the perfect pair of people to really manage it. Night wouldn't want to put that sort of responsibility onto his Knights (he loves and trusts them, but only one of them (Horror) had a semblence of a healthy childhood, minus the famine ofc. And 2/4 were criminals. Dream on the other hand? He and Blue care so deeply about the people, on a 1 to 1 basis, and like u said Dream can still feel emotions, so if there were any places his check-in crews felt were sketchy, he could pop in and figure out if it's just a kid acting up, or if something was really wrong and needed fixed! (Also I can totally picture that Night wouldn't be above asking for this one thing from Dream between his adventuring dreams, considering all he's done. He doesn't think Dream needs to pay any debts to him ofc, siblings help siblings, but it'd be nice to have support. So, Dream helps! And where Dream goes, Blue goes, because they are inseperable :] )

Mhm! I love the ideas of when a character in a place of power is made to put a vulnerability out there in the hopes that they can get to the people before their enemies turn them against them. With Dream's disappearance and his time in the camp, it's a ticking timebomb before people think Nightmare is falling ill, or unfit to rule, or try to stage a coup that will get a lot of people hurt unneededly. He trusts that his Knights can defend him from any physical attacks, so he has to hope and pray that the actions and the voices of the people he had helped so far were enough to carry him through. (And largely, they were!) (And yeah, it helps that Error is like super duper committed to lingering around. Like. He is THERE. In the same way Blue and Dream were so obviously a couple, Night and Error are the ones who show very little pda so everyone is just like 'kiss already!!!' when they've been courting for like. Half the year already lmao.)

And for those who disappear. Well, Night never ordered any killings. However, Killer is fairly trigger happy, and Dust hates flying rumors and loose ends. They have free will :]

Oughhh. This Dust bit is what consumed me earlier- So, I think that for his narrative I'm going to take a route that will follow more closely the idea that Dust's parents were decent people just trying to help him! (Very much going with the His Soul needed more Magic and so the magic was woven into a Spell itself, connecting to the Weather- so thank you for that!) So. Dust was raised outside of Nim's kingdom, probably just in the neighboring one. In an unassuming town, and, for the fun of it, let's say his family is like. The medieval equivalent of middle-class. Surviving, but not exhorbanently thriving. His parents loved him and his brother dearly, but Dust was weird. He was born... let's say early. His soul was missing a LOT of magic that he'd need to live, but somehow, through a lot of careful watchin, he lived. He wasn't sickly, but he was very very frail, and tinier than anyone expected him to be, especially when his parents were both taller. Then came along Papyrus when he was young. With his health being dangerous, his father wanted a back-up heir just in case, and so his brother, Phantom, was born. Perfectly healthy. And the brothers were super super close. (Think, normal canon Paps and Sans, where Dust is 'lazy' thanks to his obnoxiously low magic/hp while Phantom carries him around, jokes with him, treats him just like any other monster.) And when Dust is in his mid-teens, his magic suddenly starts declining rapidly. Like, his growth spurt just. Sapped what little extra magic he had that was keeping him out of a comatose state. And so his parents used emergency funds to get him help from a mage they'd been speaking to. Finding that natural basis of magic (storms) to ground Dust's magic somewhere and let him draw from it.

And it worked, and Dust survived. But anytime he'd be distressed, silently or not, it'd bring a storm to town. A storm which started ruining crops. Started flooding businesses. Sweeping away a few herd animals once. Ad Dust couldn't figure out how to control the latent amount of magic that had been gifted to him in order to make this spell a part of his being. No matter how hard he tried, it seemed that so long as there were natural storms, his emotions and magic would elevate right with it. His last straw was when his storm struck his brother with a lightning bolt, downing more than half his hp and leaving a nasty singe scar along his shoulder and arm bones. He couldn't stand to hurt his family anymore, and looked into the rumors of the neighboring kingdom. A place with no storms, no rains, nothing. That should be impossible, so it was definitely magical, and he swore to his family that he was just going to find work, send money back to them, and stop causing them so much trouble. (None of them wanted him to leave, least of all Phantom)

So he went, and he found that the moment he crossed the land border, that the storm which had been literally following him since he left his home? Yeah, it full-stopped. He still had immense amounts of magic for his little body, sure, but the storm was gone. His plan had worked. So he finds work, accidentally gets recruited by the black market (because they think he's a weak lil baby), proves himself and accidentally starts running a branch of said black market because he's strong, and he has a strong will to live and survive, and send things back home so his family knows he's safe.

And then, when Nightmare takes over and stops doing the rituals? At this point Dust has had time to do the proper training to control his magic, control the spell without the consiquences of the storms being immediate (only mustered through vague dampness in a room before). But when Night lets loose that good weather spell, and good chunk of the storms are because Dust is learning to put all of his practice into use. And he is a LOT of pent up emotion. He's just lucky noone with magic senses as good and Night were around him at the time to pin things on him. And by the time he's caught, he's much much better at consealing it, and it is indeed why he needs the 4 magic dampeners!!!

Anyways yeah. I think there should be a side-story where Dust goes to visit them, or asks Night to invite them to the castle, maybe both but the visit home first, and just. Dust insisting Nightmare come with (not much is important to him, but he fears if he comes back like he is, that if he gets rejected, he might not take it well. Plus he wants to introduce his King (his other little brother) to his family so they know he's been safe for a good chunk of time). And like. He gets there to town, and before they even get to the house, his brother is outside working with like. Sheep or something. And there's the start of a drizzle completely fueled by Dust's fear and happiness at seeing his little brother all grown up, for the first time in almost 15 years. And Phantom looks up, super confused at the light rain because it had been sunny before, and then he looks around and spots Dust and there's this moment of utter confusion, then recognition, then *Dust* approaches and they have this sad but happy reunion. Phantom ushers Dust (and Night, without much question) to the house and his parents are older, but still alive, and life just enters their eyes when they recognize their little boy. Their son. Alive and seemingly well. (Nightmare is glad he got to be there to see Dust with his family, and though he has this moment of worry, acceptance, that Dust might just choose to stay? Dust proceeds to tell his family how important it is that he stay with Nightmare, how much he's grown, how much he's been able to grow. Etc. (Also Phantom is Dust's best-man at the Dustedafterdeath ceremony. Because like. idc how unrealistic, these poly losers are getting married- Also Killer is jealous he doesn't get to be best man.)

Okay sorry I got really off-track there lmao- But!! I love the idea that Dust has this supportive family who he had to close himself away from in order to keep them safe, because they'd do anything to keep him alive and happy, and his self worth was NOT high enough to let them keep going like that.

Oh!! And I like to think Dust's soul has something wrong with it visually. Like. I think Dustedafterdeath all have weird souls. Geno still has his ripped apart lil sliver, I think Reaper's is a pure black (ironically the only part of him that can really be touched without technicalities) and Dust? I like to think that his is maybe his original soul (tiny and white) physically sown into a larger, spell-based mimic of a soul that is a dull sort of gray (also plays into his name, because sometimes he sheds his own dust from the magic having to recycle his cones faster, like humans w/ dead cells). So He's like. Super super not a fan of having it even remotely messed with.

Okay NOW I'm done!!!

You are SO right!!! Fresh wouldn't take the parasite trying to drag him back lying down. He thought his little brother was dead, he grieved for him!! He needs to hug his brother right this second, right now! Shut up parasite!!!

Oh the parasite would be so so confused (I love the idea of the shock from the storm spell-) and it's try to flee immediately because whatever that is is nasty, and owie, and ouchie, and evil! And Fresh is actively trying to fight against it. He needs to get to Error! (Probably a very visual and very outward expression on Fresh's end. Like, The parasite pulls him back and makes him move super unnaturally and he's so fed up that he like. Is just fighting for control and jittering and flinching and trying his best to convey to Error that this is NOT him. Because he hand Geno never told Error the full story! They wanted to protect him until he was older! And. And then he ran away when he was young.

And dude, yeah, Geno would be super cautious ur on point. Definitely thin, thin ice. They're only next to each other in the room because Error asked them both to be there (and also maybe Ccino and Nightmare) because they mean a lot to him. Geno would recognize it, and have to choose his battle very, very wisely. He can't risk excluding Dust, but he can't risk letting Error think that Fresh hates him.

Now that I'm thinking about it. It'd be SUPER funny if Fresh was so persistent in trying to get to Error, and Dust's magic hurt so much to ambiently consume? That the young spirit learns for the first time how to shut off its ambient magic consumption. And when it does it's like a switch is flicked and Fresh just like faceplants for a second, letting the weirdness of the lack of magic consumption process, before he ignores it and rushes to Error. (It's a problem for him to figur out later, to explain later, but for now it's gone and that means he can be near his brother again! The paraite figured it out like 5 years too late, but it happened-) And Fresh just bowls him over into a bear hug (and Error braces himself for it so it's less painful and explosive than usual, but even as he does start to feel it, he refuses to let go of Fresh, so it's a mutual hug).

Dust really did pull them with his magic swag <3 (especially if I keep this last bit in, because then he Supports Error, made Geno rethink his harmful habits, and speedran a learning curve that would've taken the parasite a century in the first 5 minutes of meeting Fresh-)

Waughhhhh Ccino looking out for Error!!!! This works so well too because. Well. Everyone in the castle was forced to grow up too soon. Night for.. obvious reasons. Ccino for... also obvious reasons. Killer being the true orphan of the group (gonna expand on this in a post later-). Horror having to work sooner in youth to help provide food. Dust and his weird magic issues. Cross being a literal child soldier. None of them got to be kids, and most of them hardly think about it! Nightmare and the others, though not intentionally, are treating Error like an adult already, because it's all they know. And here's Error, a kid, and Ccino takes the chance to make sure Error knows that he can be a kid. he can be silly, and pursue his interests, and. Ohhhh. Like you said he's not the mage *yet*. He has years before any sembelance of responsibility falls on his shoulders. he has plenty of time. And this time Error seems relatively well adjusted, with few pressures, and now a decent, multiple-person support system. He can focus on being a positive force in Error's life, andd still enjoy himself! (Almost like letting his own inner lil kid out! To listen to Error and maybe even learn from him? Invested in the idea that Ccino learns to crochet or smth from Error. A nice hobby for him! (I could see him being the king of making lil stuffed animals. Makes a Cat for Killer. Horse for Dust. Leaves them on their beds with a nice lil note like "Hi, Just Ccino, it's not a bomb :]".)) And yeag about Ccino just really, really making sure Error knows he's wanted, but also that he can leave if he changes his mind.

Okay I'm done but!!! Ough Ancha as always ur points were so so tasty!!!!

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.” 

[lesbianwyllravengard]

I'm a real tragedy enjoyer but Luis's death is no longer narratively enjoyable for me, now it just feels like an insult. I'm tired of characters having to die to be "redeemed". It's not their death that is the redemption, it's the fact that they were willing to die in the first place; it's the intent of sacrifice. I much prefer a narrative where Luis survives and is forced to every day atone for his past mistakes. I much prefer when characters don't get the respite of death, when they have to live with their demons, when they have to face their past and maintain their growth. And it's especially maddening when the only reason Luis dies is because he did in the original. They'll change his character so much to give him substance but they won't change his fate? I don't want that.

[shima-draws]

Grips my shirt and tears it apart so that all the buttons go flying and SCREAMS I love Law and Cora so much what the FUCK!!!!

[codakk]

dave "the only touch i know is my older brother's violence" strider and jade "i've long forgotten what the touch of another human being's felt like" harley both being lonely best friends struggling with their touch starvation but maneuvering through it and healing from it with each other's guidance and company

[elevenenthusiast]

This forced ass el hate 💀

“The mess she created” we just gonna sit here and act like all of this isn’t Henry’s fault… putting the fault on an innocent 14 year old girl who was abused for her powers like how tf was she supposed to know that opening a portal to the upside down was gonna lead to consequences 💀 she was trapped in that lab for so many years plus that’s on Henry because he’s the one fucking around and she shouldn’t make up for his actions.

I can NOT stand these people at ALL like this is the reason why i barely interact in that fucking side of twitter.

[sskk-manifesto]

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