#i know you guys ENOUGH for this to be the truth.

[boy-gender]

To any USAmerican queer and trans person right now, I don't know if this will help, but please try to remember that there are queer and trans people living, surviving, and even thriving in countries where they have NEVER had rights. I live in a very religious and very conservative country and progress is slow, but it is happening. Same sex marriage has never been legal here in a way that the government will accept, but we have local governments who are at least starting to legalize medical and property rights for same sex partners. We have local governments supporting trans rights protections. We have more and more local celebrities and influencers who have braved the barrage of potential hate to live their truth and have found communities that support and uplift them.

People here have been fighting for a long time and are continuing to fight and celebrating any small progress that we achieve, even if the tides are against us. And do you know why? Because we have seen that it can be done! American media is so prolific here and we see people like us on our TV shows and movies and even news channels. Conservatives here love to blame "the Americans" for introducing "these types of thoughts" (aka just letting people fucking exist as they are) to our country. You guys did that. None of what you guys have now (as little as it is) would have happened if people in the past just laid down and gave up.

I have nothing to add. Thank you for caring about us enough to send this. It's the first and only thing that's comforted me this morning.

[endless-ineffabilities]

chemical override (13)

Ewan Mitchell x actress!reader

a/n: the elections distracted me! This should have been up ages ago 💙 Anyhow, look at our boy pout up there. Darling never stood a chance.

series masterlist ▪︎ main masterlist

Darling gets closer to making her choice.

The holiday is already shaping up to be your most memorable one yet, and it’s only halfway done. 

Between all the commotion in the press about Ewan’s film, the lively spin-the-bottle game last night, and your… boys being more brazen in their affections, it doesn’t matter that you’re still half-limping and that one gorgeous blonde girl is testing the limits of your patience—Mallorca is one for the books.

Half of your vacation crew decided to head out into town for the afternoon, allowing you to see more of the local scene. Bethany, Phia, Luke, and Elliott have ventured off to see some shops moments prior, promising to rejoin the group with loads of goodies. So you walk the cobblestone streets with Tom and Freddie on either side, the lads promising to catch you should your ankle ‘betray you and make you faceplant on the street’. 

Because, as Freddie put it, they “can’t have the show’s rising star with a blow to her money-maker,” pertaining to your lovely face. 

You were able to finally remove your fracture boot that morning, after a long-distance call to your doctor, but you still have to slightly drag your left leg as you walk.

“Mate, if you could hurry up a little, maybe we can see more of the town,” Tom remarks with a cheeky smirk. He’s had an arm looped around yours the whole time, ever on the lookout. 

“Sure, let me just use my incredible powers of self-healing. Maybe we can check one of these souvenir shops if they’ve got a bionic leg on sale,” you deadpan, fighting hard to stifle a laugh. 

The fledgling weeks of spring bring a steady warmth to Mallorca. The sunlight is bright yet tempered as it casts its glow over the cobblestone streets, illuminating the quaint storefronts and cafes that line that town square. It’s a picture-perfect afternoon, so long as you don’t turn back to Ewan and Louise who are trailing a bit behind. 

But your curiosity wins over, and you see Ewan smiling politely as Louise gestures animatedly, completely absorbed in her tale. You immediately realise your mistake, a pang of something—guilt, longing, confusion… and jealousy, because who are you fooling—tightening in your chest. You quickly turn back to Tom and Freddie, who are too busy scheming to notice your reaction.

“So, do we let Ewan suffer, or do we intervene?” Tom asks, tilting his head toward the pair.

You can only shrug. “I think he’s handling it. It’s probably better to give them some space.” The truth is, you know Ewan well enough to sense when he’s at his wit’s end, and even though he looks like he’s about to throw in the towel, you don’t want to complicate things further. 

Who are you to deny Louise some quality time with your good buddy Ewan Mitchell? He is a stand-up guy, after all, and all of you are friends here. It’s a casual day out, nothing but a good time. 

And… you do need some time to let his confession sink in. He has given the power to you, and the only thing left to do would be to choose him.

You love him, you love him, you love him. 

So the choice should be easy, but why isn’t it?

Freddie smirks. “Space, you say? You mean you’re hoping he’ll finally snap and make a break for it?”

“Maybe,” you admit with a small smile. “Can you blame him?”

The three of you linger by a cafe, chatting to your heart’s delight. You catch sight of Ewan glancing your way, a genuine smile tugging at his lips. Hey, he mouths, staring you down until Louise nudges him, and he has to shift his focus back to her. 

“Honestly, though,” Tom continues, “what’s the deal with him and Louise? He looks like he’s drowning over there.”

“Maybe she’s finally wearing him down,” you say, half-joking, but you’re aware of how often Ewan gives too much of himself sometimes, especially to someone like Louise. The boy’s just too sweet and polite to say no. 

“I give him five minutes before he either leaves or starts shouting for you,” Freddie chimes in, his eyes dancing behind his sunglasses. “It’s a safe bet.”

Before you can respond, Ewan’s voice rises above the clamour of the street. “Actually, that’s not what I meant—”

“I can’t believe you thought that!” Louise interrupts, playfully punching Ewan’s arm, her tone a mix of disbelief and enthusiasm. “But that’s what makes you so unique! You always see things differently.”

What’s unique is the expression Ewan sports as a reaction, akin to a deer about to be hit by a Jeep.

“Unique?” Ewan repeats, a note of incredulity in his voice. He shakes his head, his mouth falling open, like he’s trying to find the words. Louise leans in closer, mentioning something about how cute he looks when confused. 

Well, she’s not wrong there. You have to hand it to her—she’s persistent.

“Why are we just standing around?” Tom suddenly says. “Let’s get some drinks. We need to fuel up for the gossip you owe us.”

“I’m in,” you say a bit too quickly, desperate for a distraction. You motion toward a quaint nearby bar with a bustling atmosphere. It seems like the perfect refuge, far from the intensity of the current situation. The bartender greets you with a grin, and Tom takes charge, ordering a round of brightly-coloured cocktails that seem to match the vibe of the holiday. 

Tom gives you a sly look over his glass. “So here we are, eh?”

“Here we are,” you nod, sensing something coming round the corner. 

“My god, this cocktail is amazing!” Freddie gasps dramatically, oblivious to the look you and Tom are sharing. “I must know what’s in this… Is that gin and… and what?”

“I myself would rather know,” Tom begins, leaning forward, “about the truth behind all the drama. The are-they-or-aren’t-they of it all. My missus has also been bugging me about it. All she talks about is you and your Ewan.” 

Freddie’s grin is huge as he raises his glass. “Bloody hell, cheers to that then! I know there’s something brewing, but no one ever tells me the details. What is this, a fight to the death? May the best Targaryen win? Lucky girl you are.”

Tom snorts. “Or may the right man win. Which, to be honest, is not Matt in this scenario.”

Freddie’s jaw drops in mock horror, clutching his chest. You may take the lad out of classical theatre for a while, but you can’t take classical theatre out of the lad. “Excuse me? Matt is a national treasure, he’s mature and reliable, and he throws a fabulous party. Might I mention how highly he speaks of you?”

Tom shoots him a scornful look. “Reliable. How riveting. Look, I love the guy, but Ewan’s practically half of her soul—”

You groan. “Can we not turn this into a debate? I’m actually trying to keep things simple now.”

“Simple,” Tom repeats, one blonde eyebrow arching. “Darling, nothing about this is simple, especially not since Ewan isn’t bound to that ridiculous PR setup anymore. Are you going to pretend that it doesn't change things?”

Freddie waves a finger. “It doesn’t have to change things. Matt’s good for her. I mean, they’re actually happy, and you need someone solid, love. Someone who isn’t going to fling you around emotionally, from the very little that I’ve heard.”

Tom rolls his eyes. “Of course, you’d think that. You get all your goss from Liv and she basically adores Matt.”

Freddie clutches his glass defensively. “Well I know for a fact that Matt is fun! And steady! You don’t need fireworks all the time to make something work.”

“But fireworks are the whole point, you know?” Tom insists. “You can’t reduce a relationship to sensible compatibility and call it love.”

“Love can be practical too,” Freddie says, looking at you. “Wouldn’t it be nice to just…breathe? To not have to worry about how he’s going to handle things every other minute?”

You wince, half-convinced by Freddie’s logic, but then Tom’s voice cuts in, softer, more serious.

“Sure, she could breathe,” Tom says, “but let’s not forget who actually takes her breath away.”

It hits you, the truth you’ve been dancing around with both of them.

Freddie gives you a sidelong look. “Alright, love, confession time. Say Ewan was still bound to that PR relationship, do you really think you could have handled not being with him? Watching him essentially be with someone else?”

You swallow, glancing down at your drink. “It would have hurt, but I would have had to handle it.”

Tom keeps the interrogation going. “And now? What would you do if he does end up with someone else? Louise seems to have her claws in him.”

You let out a huff, your next words decisive. “Look, if she can take him that easily, then he’s all hers.” Because that would mean all those heartfelt phrases about being so in love with you aren’t true. 

That’s the reasonable part of you. The other, less savoury part wouldn’t hesitate to get your own claws in Louise if she swoops in to take your man, petty catfight style.

“But see! See here,” Freddie exclaims in glee, “We’re talking about Ewan and she’s already stressed. She needs a break from the drama, Tom, and Matt is like… an oasis.”

Tom rolls his eyes but doesn’t let it go. “Sure, an oasis that leaves her wishing she were somewhere else half the time.” He sighs, his voice softening. “Look, Matt’s lovely, but he’s not the one. He’s not the one who can turn your whole world upside down, and I know you two. I’ve seen you together, I’ve seen you apart, and trust me, you’re so much better together. Hell, it’s better for all of us too! I simply cannot deal with Ewan moping around again.”

You feel your cheeks warm as you consider his words. It’s almost dizzying, trying to compare the two men, as though they represent opposite sides of you, each offering something you desperately need. They’re both right, in different ways. With Matt, there’s a sense of stability that you haven’t felt before. He’s steady, he’s sweet, and he genuinely adores you despite all of the tangled strings that have bound you to Ewan. 

But with Ewan… you want him, love him, with an intensity that is almost all-consuming. It’s the kind they write songs about, the kind that drives hearts crazy. 

Freddie drops the dramatics, his voice sincere when he speaks again. “Darling, Tom’s got a point, but just… be honest with yourself. What do you really want? Because whatever you decide, it’s your heart on the line. And you know, we’re here for you, no matter who you choose.” And then, as if with the flick of a switch, he turns his flair back on. “God, you could choose me, just so you don’t have to deal with this dilemma of yours anymore!”

You let out a breathy laugh, all the tension you’re feeling dissipating. “I just might!”

Tom mirrors your laughter. “Now that’s a dangerous idea. But hey, life’s short, right? You don’t have to have it all figured out right this second.”

Freddie grins, raising a toast. “To being a beautiful mess.”

You clink your glass with theirs, watching in amusement as they both begin bickering again over who’s really the better choice. As the debate drifts over to which drink to order next, a quiet but unmistakable presence makes its way to your table. Ewan stands behind you, his hands resting on the back of your chair. 

“I’ve been looking for you guys,” he greets calmly. 

Freddie doesn’t hesitate to take a playful jab. “Ah, Ewan! All by your lonesome now? Where’s your lady?”

Ewan perches on the last empty chair on your table, catching your eyes. “My lady’s right here,” he smirks, and he says the words with such ease that your cheeks heat. Everyone would benefit from taking lessons in the Ewan Mitchell School of Charm. “Fancy a walk, darling?”

You quickly glance at Tom and Freddie, whose raised brows practically tell you that they’re going to be chattering about this as soon as you’re out of earshot. “Try not to miss me too much, boys,” you wink at them, letting Ewan help you out of your seat and whisk you away. He offers his arm to you for support, and the two of you fall into stride, allowing the buzz of Mallorca’s streets to fill the quiet between you.

“So,” he starts, “I sure hope Tom and Freddie didn’t give you any trouble.”

“Nothing I can’t handle,” you smile, your tone lowering as you decide to tease him a little. “We would have invited you over, but you seemed to have plenty of… entertainment yourself.” You playfully wag your eyebrows at him, and he makes a show of groaning and turning away.

“Don’t remind me, my darling,” he groans. “I was so close to faking an illness and making my escape.”

You chuckle at his apparent distress. “Poor Ewan. It must be so hard being adored by a beautiful girl, isn’t it? Wait, where is she again? Did you scare her off?”

“Phia came to my rescue. They went walking by the bay or something, I don’t know. And about being adored, it only matters to me if it’s by you.”

You’re about to lean into a joke and call his bluff, when he adds, “Well, you… and my mum.”

“I thought so,” you giggle, his eyes holding yours with a familiar sweetness. But then his gaze is snagged by something behind you. 

“Is it just me, or does that cat look suspiciously like Sansa?” Ewan points to the front display of a rustic souvenir shop, and you immediately see a plush black cat with curious amber eyes.

You gasp softly, your hand tightening around his bicep. “I did leave Sansa back with my neighbour in London, right?”

“Are you sure? She’s right there, darling,” he plays along, grinning. “I think I’d recognise my daughter when I see her.”

“Your daughter, huh? The most you have right now is visitation rights.”

“Wait here, baby,” he presses a kiss to your temple, leaving you leaning against the wall across the shop. He disappears inside, emerging just moments later, the little cat plushie already in his hands. His expression is tender as he passes it to you. “Here. Figured you could use a bit of home.”

You take the little black cat, heart swelling at the sweetness of his gesture. “Thank you, Ewan. She’s perfect.”

He’s all smiles, his dimples deepening as he nods in response. 

You hug plush Sansa to your chest. “Now I wish they also had whippet plushies, so I can give you a piece of home too…” 

Ewan’s gaze softens, and he shifts slightly, his gaze dropping as he gathers his thoughts. “Darling, I hope you won’t think I’m just trying to score brownie points here or something, given the current situation, but honestly…” He hesitates, but makes up his mind as his eyes meet yours. “If I wanted to feel at home, all I really need is… to be with you.”

Your breath catches, and your mind is too focused on what you’ve just heard that your hold loosens around plush Sansa, causing it to nearly stumble out of your hands. 

“Ewan,” you say softly, your voice laced with an affection you can’t quite dampen. “You don’t play fair, you know that?”

He chuckles, a little self-conscious, his hand reaching for yours. “You know me, darling, and you know how I feel about you.” His thumb brushes over your knuckles, and the touch is light, almost reverent.

“So, no Sansa needed, huh?” you tease gently, trying to keep things light even as the weight of his words lingers. 

His smile returns, a little shy, a little playful. “You got that right. But maybe we don’t have to tell Sansa about this.”

You’re about to offer a witty rejoinder, when a cheerful shout slices through the air. “Ewan!” It’s Louise, her voice loud and undeniably eager, and you find yourself dropping Ewan’s hand. 

And either you’re not in her line of sight, or she just didn’t bother calling out to you too. What a delightful girl.

“Oh,” Louise finally acknowledges you. “That’s a nice… toy you’ve got there.”

“It’s a plushie actually,” you mutter dryly, wiggling plush Sansa in the air.

Ewan snorts at your deadpan expression, and much to Louise’s obvious annoyance, he drapes an arm around your shoulders, pulling you snugly against him. “I got it for her. It’s almost an exact replica of her cat, isn’t it, darling?”

Your eyes widen at his purposeful cheekiness. The lad has finally had enough of another girl trying to get a bite out of him. “Well, yeah…” you stumble on your words, “It does look like her.”

Louise pouts. “What a nice, friendly gesture.”

Ewan chuckles to himself, not letting her mood dampen his spirits. “I think it’s rather romantic.”

“Hold on,” Louise responds, appraising you with a raised eyebrow. “Aren’t you dating Matty?”

“Uhhh—”

“There you kids are!” Phia materialises out of thin air, an angel in disguise.

Oh, you could just kiss the very ground she walks on.

Everyone makes their way to the pool area the next afternoon, the group scattered all around the lush backyard of the villa.

Matt lingers outside your door, waiting for you to finish changing. He leans casually against the railing, his gaze drifting downstairs to Fabien and Elliott, who are hauling crates of beer toward the poolside. He whistles and shouts out a playful, “Save me some, lads!”

“Waiting on your woman, Romeo?” Elliott sings up at him.

Matt waves them away, spinning around to face your door. As he waits, his mind drifts back to a conversation he had with Liv the evening before. She’d seen right through him, spotting the quiet insecurities he tried to keep buried and urging him to go all in with you, to show you what he couldn’t quite put into words. And so, he decided he would; he’d pour everything into showing you just how much he cared.

He has the advantage in that he hasn’t hurt you the way Ewan has in the past, and he has absolutely no intention of doing so, not when being with you feels like the easiest, most natural thing in the world. 

To him, you are like the human equivalent of a shot of espresso, a musical laugh, a jolt of positive inspiration. He’s always felt this, but one night, many nights ago, this effect that you have on him became amplified.

And suddenly, you are all he sees.

And he wouldn’t have it any other way, especially not after you finally open the door. You don a forest green bikini that leaves little to the imagination, with a sheer white wrap tied loosely around your waist. 

Matt lets out a low whistle, walking up to you with a slow, playful swagger. You roll your eyes at him when he unapologetically draws his gaze over your bare skin, but he can’t help it.

You look so ravishing that he wants to push you back inside the room. As stunning as your bikini is, it would look even better off.

To hell with the pool.

“What do you think?” 

He has roused from whatever grey temperament he was stuck in, now that he’s had his espresso. “I'm a goner. Absolutely done for.”

“Flatterer.” You shake your head at him, taking in his broad, bare torso. “Well, you don’t look so bad yourself.” 

He smirks, his large hands kneading your waist. “I'm the luckiest man on the planet, and this is you after an accident, you say? My love, you're a vision in green.”

“You like the colour?”

“Mmm, if I didn't like you in it, I'd cause a fuss about how you're playing for the other team, my Alyna.” He swoops down and kisses the crook of your neck, the spot he is aware would tickle, eliciting a soft giggle out of you.

“I could never,” you say, swatting his arm. “They were just out of black bikinis at the shop.”

“Black... green... we both know you look the best without either of them on. I mean, we did establish that six times in one night, remem—”

“Matt!” you squeal, eyes wide and scandalised. He feels smug, because he made sure you would never forget that night. “You're such a dog. Come on, let's join the others. I can’t wait to finally dip my toes in the pool.”

He is one step ahead of you the whole time, paying special attention to your bad ankle. He knows he’s being too careful when you eye him strangely, but he doesn’t care. “I got you,” he says.

“I can walk, you know,” you huff. “I’d have been down here ten seconds ago if it wasn’t for you going all Mr. Protector.”

As you reach the final landing, Phia’s voice rings out, “Hands off my woman!”

“She’s got a point.” You tilt your head at Matt, lips pulling at the corners.

“Have I? I was just kidding,” she shakes her head, before mumbling under her breath. “I'm not Ewan.”

Matt huffs out in response, trying not to let it get to him. Phia takes your other arm, deaf to your protests. It’s silly, because they’re both aware that you can probably fend for yourself, but not if they have anything to say about it. 

Fabien, Elliott, and Harry are manning the grill out on the patio. Some of the ladies are cozying on their sun chairs. Ewan, Luke, and Freddie are smoking on a bench under a canopy. And Thom Yorke serenades the whole scene, the speakers emitting ambient music.

Matt’s always loved a good European excursion, but this one might be his favourite yet. Thanks to the girl who lets him fuss over her despite her feigned annoyance.

Your fingers dig tighter into his arm as the two of you lower into the pool. He relishes the moment and allows the ebb of the water to push him closer to his girl.

“Hold on to me.”

You roll your eyes, but wrap your arms around his shoulders anyway. “I'm fine, Matthew. My ankle’s almost healed back to normal.”

“Almost is the keyword there, my love. We can't take any chances. So... hold on to me, beautiful.” The late morning sun is a blanket comfort as you float on together, your laughter ringing out as he flaps an arm on the water and splashes your face. 

From the sidelines, Freddie lets out a loud, teasing whistle. Matt responds with a triumphant fist pump, turning to give him a cheeky grin. 

That might have been a mistake because his eyes landed on Ewan, seated comfortably to Freddie’s left, a cigarette burning low between his lips. His eyes are obscured by dark sunglasses, but he’s clearly surveying the scene unfolding in the pool with an air of nonchalance that doesn’t sit well with Matt. 

He would have expected Ewan to jump in the pool as well and make a show of laying a claim on you as he had before. But no. The younger lad just sits, and watches, the makings of a smirk pulling at his lips when Matt makes eye contact.

Since when has he been this self-assured? Perhaps you’re to credit for this renewed sense of confidence? 

Are you slipping away from him, and back into Ewan’s arms? 

Too many questions, and not even the pleasant haze of Spain can shake the anxiety out of him. 

But then, Liv strolls over, positioning herself in front of Ewan, blocking Matt’s view. She bums a cigarette from one of the guys, and as she turns, she gives Matt a subtle nod—a reminder of her advice from last night. Just show her, she’d said. Show her you’re all in.

Thank the heavens for Olivia.

Turning back to you, Matt softens, brushing a lock of hair from your face. He presses a gentle kiss to your cheek, feeling his doubts fade as you meet his gaze, eyes bright with laughter.

“Enjoying yourself there?” you ask sweetly.

“What’s not to enjoy?” he replies, his hand tracing slow, lazy circles on your back.

“I don’t know,” you shrug, “I just don’t think I’ve ever seen you glare like that before.”

“I was not glaring.”

“You so were, Matthew.”

“Oh, yeah?” he murmurs, a mischievous glint sparking in his eyes. Before you can react, he dips underwater, reemerging just inches from your thigh, where he plants a quick, teasing kiss that makes you yelp.

“Wha—Oh! Matt! Get up here!”

He surfaces, grinning, his arms winding around you again as he pulls you close. Your laughter mingles, echoing across the pool as the rest of the group cheers and jeers good-naturedly.

Just as Matt’s about to pull you in for another kiss, a loud shout breaks through the calm. 

“Cannonball!” Tom���s voice echoes from the villa, and before either of you can turn around, he comes barreling out, sprinting at full speed. With a triumphant yell, he launches himself off the edge, arms and legs splayed out like a human starfish.

The massive splash sends water arcing high, soaking you, Matt, and everyone within a ten-foot radius.

“Always one to ruin the moment, Tom,” Matt jokes.

“Had to make sure you two didn’t get too cosy,” Tom shoots back, swimming closer and clapping Matt on the shoulder. 

It’s all in good fun, sure, but then Matt catches Tom shoot a quick wink at Ewan, a flash of understanding passing between them.

So that’s how it’s going to be? Game on. 

It’s the penultimate day of the Mallorca trip and the group has rented boats to paddle out along the stunning coastline. Only 2 people are allowed per vessel and some pairs have already formed—Phia and Phoebe, Louise thankfully pulled away from Ewan by Bethany, Harry and Freddie…

And then there’s Ewan who strides over to you determinedly. Matt is a half-step behind, his expression expectant, but Ewan is quicker. “I’m with you today, darling,” he says, his tone leaving little room for question. His hand finds yours, warm and grounding.

Matt’s eyes flicker with disappointment but he’s never been one to kick up a fuss. He gives you a faint resigned shrug, then turns to Liv. “Guess that means you and I are a team then.”

Liv rolls her eyes playfully, pushing her sunglasses up and swatting his arm. “Don’t sound so thrilled. But I promise I won’t make you row the entire time.”

Matt’s smile softens as he looks at her, his earlier disappointment slipping into something more relaxed. “Fine, but I’m claiming the right to judge your rowing skills.”

“I’ll have you know I’m an excellent rower,” Liv insists, taking her spot at the front of the boat and casting a teasing glance at him. “You, on the other hand…we’ll see.”

As you and Ewan push off into the water, he throws a glance back at the others, and a spark of mischief lights his eyes. “Think they’ll survive?”

You laugh, settling across Ewan on the boat. “I think it’ll be a surprise if Tom’s boat doesn’t capsize.”

Soon enough, everyone’s boats are spaced out on the clear, serene waters, and there’s nothing but the occasional splash of oars, the birds squawking high above, and the warm glow of the horizon. Ewan rows steadily, having doggedly refused your offer to help, and every now and then, his eyes flick to you, a soft smile never leaving his lips. His gaze lingers, like he’s committing your image to memory.

As you watch the world, he watches his world.

“Feels like another reality out here, doesn’t it?” he says, his voice barely above a murmur.

You nod, watching the sunlight dance across the water. “It really does.” You pause, glancing over your shoulder to see Liv and Matt, already in animated conversation. “It’s nice to just… forget everything for a while.”

He smiles, tilting his head. “Anything specific you wanna forget?”

You smile back. “Everything, really. The pressures, the expectations… wondering what everyone thinks or wants.”

From a few metres away, Matt’s voice carries over the water, cutting through the quiet intimacy of the moment. “I’m just saying, Liv, you don’t have to prove anything. You can let me row.”

Liv laughs, her voice filled with playful defiance. “Matt, I am fully capable of handling this. Maybe it’s you who should be taking notes.”

“Oh, I’d hate to step on your expert skills,” Matt teases back, before throwing a glance your way, his gaze lingering a bit too long before he turns back to Liv, who seems blissfully unaware of his momentary distraction.

Ewan notices it too, and his grip on the oar tightens ever so slightly. But he says nothing, keeping his focus on you as he rows further along the shore.

He steers the boat around a small bend, his voice low. “They’re good together, don’t you think?”

You turn, following his gaze. It’s a simple, easy dynamic between them, one you know you’ve seen before, and for a moment, a pang of something unnameable twists in your chest.

“Yeah,” you murmur, a touch distracted.

Ewan catches your gaze, his eyes searching yours. “You seem… surprised. Or maybe… jealous?”

You laugh it off, shaking your head. “Not at all. It’s just—”

But before you can finish, a sudden splash interrupts you. Harry’s boat has tipped over, both he and Freddie flailing in the water, their laughter filling the air as they try to right themselves.

Bethany, a few feet away, doubles over, her laughter carrying over the waves. “Oh my god, Freddie, I told you to sit still!”

Harry, sputtering as he surfaces, grins. “Guess I got too excited.”

“So I was wrong,” you turn to Ewan, smirking. “It’s not Tom who capsized.”

Ewan just laughs, then adds slyly, “Here I was wishing it would have been Matt.”

After the boats return to shore, you’re all tired and exhilarated, the sun higher in the sky as you make your way up the beach. But the peace is short-lived. Fans, seemingly appearing out of nowhere, begin to gather along the shore, their voices excited, cameras ready as they shout greetings and ask for photos. The relaxed energy shifts as each of you is drawn into the swirl of attention, questions flying as you try to keep up.

A fan steps in close, slightly shaking in her nerves. “You… and Ewan?” she asks, the question open-ended but its meaning clear.

You chuckle awkwardly, caught off guard, opting to just wrap an arm around her shoulders as she takes a selfie with you. 

But the fan is relentless, her attention shifting to Matt, who’s standing off to the side with Liv, his gaze directed toward you even as he signs another fan’s poster. “What about him?” she says, grinning.

Ewan’s arm slips around your waist protectively, pulling you closer. “She’s with me today,” he says confidently, not minding the possibility of this fan taking to the internet after this encounter, with proof of her ship actually being together.

Ewan doesn’t care; he has no reason to hide how much he wants you. Not anymore. If his fans want a crumb, as he often reads online about him, then he’s going to give them a whole feast. 

With you as the main course in the Ewan banquet.

As the day comes to a close, you find yourself resting all alone in your room, stealing the group introvert mantle right under Ewan’s nose. Everything that has happened during this vacation plays in your mind like a montage, and somehow, it all feels like it’s building up to a grand finale.

But before you can lose yourself completely in your thoughts, there’s a soft knock at your door.

You groan to yourself as you walk over, but your protest dies as you find Ewan standing there, holding something behind his back.

“Hey, you,” he greets you with a smirk that’s more mischievous than usual. “Got a minute?”

Your heart skips a beat — it’s always been that way with him, that instant flutter, even now after everything. “Sure. What’s up?” 

“I’ve got a surprise for you,” he says, his grin widening at your raised brow. He steps into your room, pulling whatever he’s hiding behind his back.

When he finally reveals it, you blink, eyes widening. “You... bought these?” You can’t help but laugh.

Two brightly coloured superhero masks — one Spider-Man, the other Spider-Gwen.

“Yep, I saw a costume shop that had Carnaval masks… and these too, apparently,” Ewan says, looking pleased with himself. “I thought it would be fun. We’re getting away from the villa tonight. I figured we could use these. You know, masks for our incognito date night.”

It had taken one quick scroll on the internet for your group to discover that the paparazzi trailed everyone around town today, and Elliott even annoyingly revealed that he might have seen one or two of them lingering outside the villa’s premises. 

Vultures.

You laugh again, shaking your head. “Wait, you’re serious? We’re wearing these to our… date? Wait, why are we going on a date?”

He shrugs with a playful glint in his eye. “Why not?”

You hesitate for a second. It’s such a ridiculous idea, but in the best possible way. He’s always had a way of pulling you out of your own head, making you feel like there’s no right or wrong way to just live in the moment. 

Or maybe he could propose anything—anything at all—and you’d be beside yourself if you refused. It’s how you and him ended up having copious amounts of…. casual lovemaking, months after breaking up.

“Okay,” you finally say, “but only if you promise not to laugh when I look completely ridiculous in it.”

“Never,” he says with mock solemnity, holding out the Spider-Gwen mask for you. “You’ll look amazing. Trust me.”

As you slink past the gates, the masks make you feel more than a little silly, but also oddly liberated. It’s like you’re in on another secret with him, something just for the two of you.

You look at him, smiling as you adjust the mask. “This is insane,” you say, your voice muffled behind the fabric.

Ewan smiles back, clearly pleased with himself. “I know. And it’s perfect.”

“Are you sure this isn’t just you practicing for an audition for yet another Spiderman reboot?”

He only playfully shoots air webs at you, his adorable pew-pew noises audible under his mask.

You chuckle softly, your heart warming at the sight of him. “So, what now? You’re just going to walk me through the streets like this?”

“Of course. You ready to go on the best secret date of your life?”

You laugh, feeling lighter than you have in days. “Lead the way, Spiderman.”

The walk isn’t long, just enough to enjoy the quiet of the night and the unexpected adventure of it all. When you finally arrive at the restaurant, you stop dead in your tracks, blinking up at the building in front of you. It’s perched on the edge of a cliff, offering a breathtaking view of the bay below. The warm glow of the restaurant spills out onto the street, and you’re immediately struck by how beautiful its facade is.

You look at Ewan, your surprise written all over your face. “This... this place looks amazing. How did you find it?”

“I have my ways,” he says, grinning. “Come on.”

He leads you up the stairs, and you both remove your masks as you enter, giggling to each other. You’re met with a homey, rustic atmosphere. There’s a dim light from lamps perched on the posts, the soft murmur of conversations, and the smell of fresh food in the air. It’s everything you didn’t realise you needed tonight—calm, peaceful, and more than a little romantic.

“I booked a private table for us,” Ewan says softly, glancing around for the waiter. 

The two of you are escorted to a table on the balcony, overlooking the bay. The moon reflects on the water, casting a silver glimmer over the scene. For a moment, you just sit there, both of you silent, taking it all in.

“Ewan, this is incredible,” you say, your voice quiet but full of admiration. “I don’t even know what to say.”

Ewan smiles, reaching across the table to take your hand. “You don’t have to say anything. And I promise this isn’t some ploy to get you to speed up your decision-making. I just… I just wanted you to have a night where you could forget about everything else.”

He leans back slightly, his eyes studying you with that gentle familiarity, like he’s waiting for you to say something more, but he doesn’t rush you.

You glance down at the simple sundress you’ve been wearing all day. You didn’t have time to change when Ewan mentioned the surprise evening out — there was no real thought given to a perfect outfit. And yet, as you sit here now, across from him in the warm candlelight, you don’t feel the usual self-consciousness you might’ve once felt. 

You feel more beautiful than you ever have before, because he sees you as the most beautiful person in the room. In any room.

“I don’t know how you do it,” you say, looking at him. “How you make everything feel so…” You trail off, unable to find anything adequate. 

His lips curl into a knowing, half-smile. “I feel the same about you.”

And you might not know it yet, but this night is when you choose him. 

Under the unprecedented rainfall, later on, you will realise that you never truly had to choose.

It’s always been Ewan, all along. 

Taglist: @namelesslosers @skymoonandstardust @valyrianflower @luckyfirebasement @omgsuperstarg @elissanatok @callsignwidow @sinistersnakey49 @darkwriteracademia @yyrzmomo @queenofshinigamis @luvaerina @shamelessblazecrown @mirandastuckinthe80s @elleinex0x0 @pierrotlu @aegonswife @strangersunghoon @lunampacheco @writer-ann-artist @gaiaea @of-swords-and-words @ateliefloresdaprimavera @m00n5t0n3 @helaenaluvr @peachysunrize @annie-ruk @luvly-writer @ananas26t @athenafaes @lovelyteenagebeard @mamawiggers1980 @moongirl27 @katherine93 @barnes70stark @justbelljust @cloudroomblog @somestufftoday @esposadomd @girl-in-the-chairs-void @insideyourimagination @vyctorya @wildrangers @onlyrealjoy @hotdismylife @thepurplecrown @just-fics-station @clarkysblog @urmomsgirlfriend1 @misfitbimbosblog (continued in comments ... )

Some notes in the margins...

I have no notes. The red mirage is still at play as I type this. Please distract me in the comments 🥲

The next chapter wraps up this trip :) We also might have a bit of Liv's POV...

Then it's back to LA or London, depending on who darling opts to go with 💛

[sleepymirko]

Bluelock boys reaction to s/o liking winter but (ironically) being very chilly (part 1)

..•°•..•°•..•°•..•°•..•°•..•°•..•°•..•°•..•°•..•°•..

Featuring Michael Kaiser, Rin Itoshi, Sae Itoshi

Fluff, nothing weird here except Kaiser being slightly suggestive

Let me know if there's errors! Enjoy!

..•°•..•°•..•°•..•°•..•°•..•°•..•°•..•°•..•°•..•°•..

You and Kaiser have been together for quite a while so it was obvious that he knew about it.

But he just couldn’t help being fascinated every time you got chilly, even in the mildest weather.

"It's not funny" you said narrowing your eyes at Kaiser, who had a shit eating grin on his face.

"It isn't?" He said cocking an eyebrow. "You're wrapped up with two wool blankets and on top of that a duvet. You look like a burrito." He said as he sat closer to you, the sofa feeling strangely smaller now that Michael was awfully close.

"I can't control my body temperature and if I could I wouldn't be in such a state, don't you think?" You said rolling your eyes but smiling faintly, knowing that he was just teasing you.

“Maybe we can change that...” he murmured, locking eyes with you. His grin widened as he saw the flush on your cheeks. “Looks like someone is in the mood,” the cocky soccer player said, lifting you effortlessly.

“Wait, I didn’t say anything...!” you protested, struggling against him, but the blankets wrapped around you acted as an unintentional shield, much to his advantage. The irony.

“Silence is consent, Meine Liebe." he said with a mischievous smirk.

..•°•..•°•..•°•..•°•..•°•..•°•..•°•..•°•..•°•..•°•..

It was snowing outside. The snowflakes were slowly falling, covering everything in white. Rin swore he never experienced a colder winter than this, and as a soccer player, it spoke volumes.

When you first met, he discovered how much you loved the season, and as time passed, he found himself loving it more than he had anticipated. He knew how easily you got chilly during this time of year, and, deep down, he liked it.

It was a good excuse for him to gatekeep you in the Itoshi household. Call him possessive, but he just couldn't help it.

The only footsteps heard in the house were his, going up and down the kitchen to prepare a hot chocolate for the two of you. You guys agreed on a horror film marathon, and choose various titles, with the majority chosen by you.

When he finally finished preparing the mugs, he walked towards your shared bedroom, where he found you already covered up to your ears, looking out of the window from the bed you were sitting on.

"Here" he said, laying on your hands the hot mug.

"You didn't have to.. thank you" you spoke softly, looking at him sitting next to you, the remote in his hand, ready for the movie marathon to start. In the first few minutes he noticed you shivering slightly and put your head on his shoulder, taking you by surprise.

Neither of you talked; the silent yet genuine gesture was enough to warm up the both of you, as you sank in a comfortable silence.

..•°•..•°•..•°•..•°•..•°•..•°•..•°•..•°•..•°•..•°•..

The storm was in full swing and you were looking at the snow outside, a warm oversized hoodie enveloping your body and a closed book in your hands that kept you occupied just a few moments ago. Sae watched you from across the room, the fire of the fireplace casting shadows over his stoic features. He had just gotten home from practice, and the warmth was enough to remind him that he was where he belonged, even if he would never admit it.

Because the source of it was the same person that was looking at the snow storm with eyes full of wonder.

One would say that he cared only about football and himself, but it wasn't the truth as without a word he walked over, your shivering not going unnoticed as his brows furrowed slightly.

Wordlessly, he draped his own coat over your shoulders, the familiar scent and warmth of him enveloping you. You looked up surprised, meeting his steady gaze.

"You're going to catch a cold even with all these clothes." He simply said, his tone uneven but the glimmer of his eyes betraying him as you spotted a hint of concern in his gaze.

"Thank you.."

"Still cold?"

You looked up surprised and nodded, not able to hide your small smile as Sae sighed.

"Let's go to the fireplace then. If you're still cold even there I'll take you to the hospital." He said, and you rolled your eyes but took his hand as he led you to the couch that was perfectly placed in front of the fireplace.

The heat of the flames warmed your body, but your heart was already warmed by the coldest man you had ever loved.

Let me know if there's some errors! Thank you for reading!

[starcurtain]

While We're on the Topic... A SethoScara Fic I Want to Read:

"That I time I almost caused a calamity because I asked a cat a question."

Or, more precisely:

Sethos, being incurably curious, is convinced that the Akademiya's favorite aloof "Hat Guy" isn't quite the average Inazuman student studying abroad that most people take him for--and, in fact, Sethos is pretty sure he isn't quite human at all. But how do you research non-human entities from a foreign country you've never even visited? Well, well, well, how remarkably convenient it is to have a known non-human Inazuman who visits Sumeru every couple of weeks!

When Sethos stops Kirara mid-delivery, it's supposed to be an innocuous question: "Is Hat Guy a youkai like you?"

But Kirara's equally innocuous answer somehow threatens to up-end 500 years of accepted history: "A youkai like me? I don't think so. If you're asking me to use my nekomata senses, unfortunately all I can really say is that he doesn't smell like anything 'alive' at all... Oh, but I have smelled that exact same scent one time before--when I met the electro archon!"

Pulling on one thread is enough to unwind it all, and Sethos's mostly-innocent curiosity brings to light a tale of suffering, murder, gods, and political machinations five hundred years in the making, awakening truths which should have been long wiped from Irminsul--and putting his tentative friendship with the mysterious Wanderer (not, to mention, you know, the fate of all of Sumeru) in gravest danger.

Don't worryyyy. Sethos has got this.

[littlefireball]

ʜᴊ|ɴᴏ ᴏɴᴇ ʙᴏᴛʜᴇʀꜱ ᴜꜱ (ᴍ/ᴀ)

Happy Birthday to Hongjoong~

ꜰᴀᴋᴇ ɢᴏᴅ ꜱᴇʀɪᴇꜱ (ʀᴇᴀᴅ ᴀᴛᴇᴇᴢ ᴀꜱ ꜰᴀᴋᴇ ɢᴏᴅꜱ ꜰɪʀꜱᴛ~ ʙᴜᴛ ɪ ᴄʜᴀɴɢᴇᴅ ᴛʜᴇ ᴘʟᴏᴛ ᴀ ʙɪᴛ)

ᴋɪɴɢ ᴏꜰ ɢᴏᴅꜱ ʜᴏɴɢᴊᴏᴏɴɢ x ᴀɴɢᴇʟ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ 

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢ: ꜱᴍᴜᴛ|ᴀɴɢꜱᴛ|ᴜɴᴘʀᴏᴛᴇᴄᴛᴇᴅ ꜱᴇx|ᴍᴀᴋᴇ ᴏᴜᴛ|ʀᴏᴜɢʜ ꜱᴇx|ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ꜰᴇʟʟ ꜰɪʀꜱᴛ, ʙᴜᴛ ʜᴏɴɢᴊᴏᴏɴɢ ꜰᴇʟʟ ʜᴀʀᴅᴇʀ|ᴅᴀʀᴋ ʀᴏᴍᴀɴᴄᴇ (ᴏᴏᴘꜱ)|ᴍᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴᴇᴅ ᴏꜰ ᴋ*ʟʟɪɴɢ

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 4.8ᴋ

other members

Summary: He initially aimed to wield Cupid's arrow to ensnare your heart, hoping you would devote yourself entirely to him. Little did he realize that he would end up being the one to give up everything.

Hongjoong reclined on his majestic throne, his fingers interlaced as he scrutinized the list of angels before him, his gaze sharp and predatory. Whispers of insurrection had begun to ripple through the celestial realm, murmurs of discontent brewing against his iron-fisted rule. Tsk, just a bunch of tiresome guys. Perhaps the abundance of idle time in heaven had led them to entertain such foolish notions of rebellion. Hongjoong, with his towering arrogance and self-obsession, saw no flaw in his reign. Clearly, a firmer hand was required to govern these lesser beings; any hint of compassion would only serve to deepen their moral decay.

Naturally, he couldn't simply brush aside the swirling rumors, yet he needed someone to handle the grim tasks for him─eliminate anyone who crossed his path. With their help, he could reclaim his lost reputation under the guise of delivering justice. How perfect the plan is! But, who would he find? 

A sudden knock echoed through the room. "Come in," he commanded, setting aside the documents that had occupied his lap. In walked Cupid, the God of love, his gaze fixed on the ground as he approached the throne. "Your Majesty," he murmured, kneeling on the plush carpet, his wings gracefully draping beside him.

"Is it true that your arrows possess the power to make people fall in love with me?"

"Indeed, Your Majesty," Cupid replied.

"Good," he said with a nod, turning to descend the stairs, his hands clasped behind him. "The throne of the queen has remained unoccupied for quite some time. Now is time to consider it," he murmured softly, though this was far from the truth. Deep down, he was unwilling to let anyone encroach upon his authority. Yet, he knew he must feign concern to keep everyone in the dark.

"Of course I know everyone loves me but I need someone willing to sacrifice themselves for me." He bent closer, a sinister grin curling at the corners of his mouth, making Cupid not dare to meet his gaze. "Am I right?" 

"Ye-yes…" 

Hongjoong straightened up, striding over to Cupid to grab his bow and arrow, fiddling with them playfully. "Okay. It's none of your business now. Get out." 

Cupid slowly backed away, his steps echoing in the vast chamber. As he reached the door, he paused, hesitating before turning to face Hongjoong once more. "Your Majesty, be warned. The consequences of such an act may not be as simple as you think." 

Hongjoong's expression did not change, and his voice was cold as ever when he replied, "Do you understand the meaning of 'none of your business?" He shifted his gaze from the weapons to him, said "I said Get Out. Don't make me twice." 

Cupid nodded and apologized, slipping out of the room and leaving Hongjoong alone with his thoughts and the arrow in his hands. Now here's the problem─who should he shoot? The room fell silent as he scanned over the list of angels before him. He knew that Cupid's power was not infinite, and he would need to find a suitable target to use the arrow on. The idea of someone falling in love with him was abhorrent to him, but he saw it as a means to an end. He would use this power to quell any further whispers of rebellion and strengthen this grip on the celestial realm. 

He needed someone who would be both powerful enough to be a threat and vulnerable enough to be manipulated. 

But is it enough? The answer is No. 

Obviously. 

"What's on your mind, Joong?" The gentle caress on his cheek brought him back from his thoughts as you leaned in to plant a soft kiss on his lips, your smile lighting up the moment. "You space out." 

"I'm just wondering how I'm so lucky to have you by my side" he replied, his hold on your shoulder firm as he drew you nearer, placing a tender kiss on your forehead. You laughed softly at his sentiment, nestling your face into the warmth of his neck.

"Don't lying~" 

"I could never. I'm the King of Gods, Y/N." 

You lifted your chin to catch his eyes, which wandered to your lips. With a silent understanding, you shut your eyes, and he leaned in, his lips brushing against yours. The kisses grew more intense as he hovered above you, the warmth of your body igniting as your nipples pressed against his chest. There was nothing but only your kissing sound rang in your ears, bringing both of you to pleasure.

An addictive pleasure.

Yes, the King of Gods. How could he fall in love with you? Though he never openly confessed it, his body revealed the truth. Each time his gaze fell upon you, a deep-seated desire awakened within him.  He found it impossible to resist the urge to possess you, to make you his own. Physically. What began as a stare soon escalated into a touch, a peck, a hug, and finally sex.  It was the work of Cupid's arrow; he accidentally wounded himself when he shot you. And that's how this tale unfolds. Actually he could eliminate the effect of Cupid's arrow, as long as he healed the wound, but he never did it. Maybe he got used to it, to you being there beside him, fulfilling his every whim.

He chose you for a reason. It's simple; you are strong, loyal, and above all, you love with a passion that defies logic. He spent lots of time gathering information on the various angles and their strengths and weaknesses. You were the most perfect one, fulfilling all the requirements he needed. 

"Y/N?" he murmured, pulling away from the kisses, his voice a gentle whisper.

"Hmm?" you replied, wrapping your arms around his shoulders, feeling the warmth radiate from him.

"I need you to do something for me," he said, taking your hand and bringing it to his soft, pink lips, where he pressed a tender kiss against your palm.

"What is that?" 

"The angels." His voice was resolute as he tightened his grip on your hand. "Kill them all." 

You frowned for a moment, but it quickly transformed into a smile. "Yes, my lord." 

"You're not asking why?" 

"I'll do everything for you, no matter how hard, as long as you ask, " 

"Oh my dear. You're really my good girl." He leaned down to kiss you again, prompting a delighted giggle from you.

"So can I get some reward?" You tilted your head, pulling him closer. 

"Of course you can. My lovely girl." 

You both drew closer, lost in a fervent kiss that ignited the air around you. His hands eagerly sought yours, intertwining fingers with a firm grip as he buried his face into the curve of your neck. His lips brushed against your skin, tracing the delicate patterns of pink and purple hickeys that adorned you. Each caress sent waves of warmth through you, making you feel as if you were melting away, surrendering completely to the moment. Breathy moaning flew from your tongue as something solid rubbed against your sensitive clit, the excitement built up within your body. 

Your legs climbed up to his waist, encircling him to pull him nearer. Each subtle movement of his cock sent waves of sensation through you, teasing you until you found yourself pleading for more. He won't do anything even if he has an impatient temper. He needed you to beg, begging for his alms, his mercy. His proud spirit would never allow him to fulfill the desires of others without a sense of triumph. He would only grant his "gifts" when he could relish the power that came from your desperate pleas.

"Please…please…joong. I need you." You let out a small whimper as everything was too gentle for your liking, the emptiness almost driving you to lose control. An evil-like smirk came out from his body as one of his hands reached down to grip his cock, moving up and down to rub your clit with its tip. He made sure you could feel every hard press, every movement, every vibration when he let out a low growl.

"Oh baby, see how beautiful you are." He stared at your reddened clit covered with his pre-cum, flattening his thumb to press against your bud. You tumbled as the sudden pleasure rushed through your mind, feeling your bottom lip begin to shake as he kept brushing. "Tell me baby, do you want my cock, huh?" 

"Ye-yes. Please fill me up with your seeds, my lord. I need you." "Good slave." Your broken voice stopped as he shoved his cock into your cunt without warning, making you hold your breath. Shutting your eyes tightly, you let him to batter your sweet spot to chase his high and enjoyment. 

Not knowing why. Your heart twisted painfully at the sound of the word 'slave.' It wasn't the first time he had labeled you this way, yet the sting felt fresh. Was it merely a dirty word used on the bed, or did it reflect the reality of how he perceived you? Memories flooded your mind, taking you back to the beginning. When did your feelings for him begin to blossom? And when did he start to see you in a different light? What could possibly draw a King of Gods to a mere angel, one without power or the strength of the other goddesses?

It seems like everything suddenly changed overnight. 

"You space out." A commanding tone escaped his lips, prompting a startled gasp from you. His hand moved to clutch your cheeks, applying a firm pressure that stung. As you blinked open your eyes, you found his gaze locked onto yours, brimming with fury and envy. He squinted, scrutinizing you like a predator assessing its next target. 

"Are you thinking about other men?" 

"No. My lord. I could never do that."

He leaned down, his hot breath pooling against your skin,sending shivers down your spine. "You can only think about me, understand?You're mine, only mine." 

You were hesitant for a while but you soon brushed aside the doubtness within your mind, wearing a smile and repeating what he liked to hear. 

"Yes, my lord. I'm yours, forever yours." 

"You better remember this." Before he finished his words, he shoved back with all his might, plunging your spot over dead on. "Joong!!" Your back painfully arched at the way his hard tip battered your ruined cunt; his fat cock rubbed along the curve of your wall harshly to ensure you feel every vein of that. A powerful push after a powerful push. He suddenly stopped thrusting and got off the bed, clenching your ankles to tug you to the side until your ass hung in the air. His cock pushed back to your cunt once his fists clenched around your wrists for balance, plunging your depth again. 

You let out a broken moan as his ball slapped your ass and his thighs hit yours, producing a loud skin slapping sound. The jolt of the impact radiated from your thighs, enveloping your entire body in a wave of pain that left you breathless. Tears streamed down your face, spilling over and soaking the crumpled sheets that bore the marks of your tumultuous struggle. Watching you in this state, he felt an unexpected pang of sorrow, though he quickly dismissed it. It was just that damned injury, he reasoned, not any deeper feelings for you. Gradually, he eased his pace and intensity, allowing you a moment of respite. With a firm grip, he lifted you and settled back onto the bed, positioning you on top of him.

"Ride me." 

Almost without thinking twice, you started swaying your hips in a circle, rubbing each other's pelvis at a steady pace. His cock went so deep in this position, let alone the way he pressed you lower by gripping firmly on your waist. "Joong…it's too much…" "Oh dear, don't you want my seed?Huh?" "Ye…yes…" "Then fuck yourself harder and make me cum or I'll fuck you until you pass out." It wasn't a decision you could make; it was an order, and you had no option but to obey him. A quiet whimper escaped your trembling form as you started to move rhythmically, letting him penetrate as deeply as possible.

"Oh fuck, Y/N. That's so good." He leaned his head against the pillow, a deep moan escaping his lips, enjoying how your velvet wall was tightening around his cock. There was something intoxicating about witnessing his blissed-out expression; it felt like you had finally brought him joy. Yet, this moment felt altered. A nagging sensation crept in, making you feel like nothing more than an object, a plaything. Why?What happened to your mind? 

"Baby, cum for me. I need to feel you." 

But you couldn't as the pain had already replaced the pleasure. He sensed your uneasiness so he pulled you down without a word, making you laid on him completely. 

"What's wrong?" 

"No-nothing." 

"You worry about the mission?" 

"Huh?" You raised your eyebrow but soon nodded. But you knew that's a lie.

"Don't fret, darling." He brushed his lips against your forehead, a playful smile dancing across his face. "It's a piece of cake. I'll lend my power to you, and you'll take them down effortlessly. After that, no one will disturb us, and you'll be my wife, my queen."

He vowed once more, fully aware of your longing, your weakness. You craved more than just a physical connection; you yearned to be his true partner, his other half. Yet, he kept your bond a secret from the world, merely whispering that he would marry you someday. Each time, you found yourself softening, placing your trust in him. Perhaps love truly was blind.

"You promise?" 

"Of course, sweetheart. I would never deceive you. He wriggled you to the bed, his lips capturing yours in a passionate embrace. "Let's finish what we started," he murmured between kisses, effortlessly erasing any lingering uncertainty from your mind.

—-----

Y/N, what are you doing?!” your partner yelled, agony etched across his face as he pressed his hand against the gaping wound, desperately trying to halt the blood that seeped through his fingers. “Are you…trying to kill…us?!” His sword fell from his grasp, clattering to the ground as he gasped for air.

With your blade, stained with his blood, you pointed menacingly at him. “Just following orders.” In a swift motion, you lunged forward, your sword gleaming in the sunlight as you aimed to strike.

Just as you were about to slice through his throat, a massive beam struck you from the side. “Damn it!” There was no time to evade the blow. An earth-shattering explosion erupted the instant the beam made contact, engulfing you in a cloud of smoke that choked the air with its acrid stench.

“Did I do it…?” your partner whispered, the glow at his fingertip dimming as he crumpled to the ground, lifeless. The smoke gradually cleared, revealing the heartbreaking scene before you, yet you stood there, unmoved. The recent assault had been devastating, but Hongjoong's strength had mended your wounds and lifted the "curse" that had plagued you.

"What have I done...?" you whispered, your voice trembling with the weight of your thoughts. A rush of memories surged through your mind like a relentless wave, momentarily paralyzing you in its wake.

“Hands up!Put down the weapon!” You spun around in terror, your heart racing as you beheld a squad of angels, their weapons drawn and aimed directly at you in perfect synchrony. You recognized the armor they wear and their roles─the army of the King of Gods. 

“Get her!” Before you could react, darkness enveloped you as they pulled the triggers and stole your power. 

—----

Hongjoong stared out the window, savoring a sip of wine while he awaited your return. Once you completed the last elimination, he could leverage your involvement to restore his tarnished reputation in court. By shifting all the blame onto you, he believed everything would finally revert to the way it once was: The archangel's strength had diminished with the departure of his followers, leaving him unchallenged; soon, he would gain renown for his pursuit of justice.

And the wound left by Cupid's arrow….?Well, he would heal it. Maybe. His understanding of his own heart was murky, clouded by the belief that everything stemmed from that fateful shot. True love seemed an impossibility for him; to him, you were merely a means to an end, a plaything. As long as you served his needs and followed his lead, he would reciprocate. This was the narrative he spun for himself, blind to the way his heart ached at the mere thought of your leaving. 

"Finally, no one can bother me anymore." An evil-like laugh echoed in the chamber. 

—---

Upon discovering the massacre of countless angels at your hands, he feigned outrage, wrongfully charged you with insurrection, and swiftly took you into custody. As you knelt before the temple, your wings draping beside you, you lowered your head in submission to Hongjoong's decree.

"Do you know what you have done?" Hongjoong asked.

You lifted your chin, locking eyes with him. There was no warmth in his expression, just the thrill of imminent victory. As you averted your gaze, a weight settled in your chest under his stare. You knew you had to utter the words Hongjoong longed to hear. "I sacrificed the lives of soldiers to eliminate the demons," you declared coolly, betraying no hint of regret.

"They were not just soldiers, but your brethren, your fellow warriors!" The archangel on the judgment seat curses loudly, heartbroken for the companions you sacrificed. 

"I apologize for being direct. Angels chosen to defeat demons are destined to become martyrs. From the moment we were created, we have been ready for a noble death in combat..." You followed all the words Hongjoong taught you before. 

"Absurd!" The archangel's booming voice interrupts your explanation. "Y/N! As an angel, you are meant to hold life sacred and not justify such careless disregard for it with false reasoning! Merely being born as warriors does not give you the right to treat life so frivolously!" 

"Silence!" Hongjoong's cold voice cut through the archangel's roar. "Y/N, I once saw you as a loyal and formidable angel. Your unorthodox methods were accepted by me. But I never anticipated that you would overstep boundaries and disregard life for your own ambitions."

"No…I…" "Y/N, for betraying the divine, you shall be stripped of your angelic status and condemned to live on Earth until you reform yourself."

"No!!" Your cries fell on deaf ears as no one heeded your pleas. "Take her away to prison and set a date for her execution," the heartless judgment sealed your fate, and despite your frantic denials, it was all for naught.

—---

 Hongjoong returned to his chamber with a heart full of joy, having finally achieved his dream. Yet, as he swung the door open, he was met with an empty room, devoid of any warm welcomes or affectionate kisses. How could he have overlooked your absence? You were supposed to be there, weren't you? He shed his clothes and sank into the sofa, yearning to pull you close, to feel your presence beside him. But all he grasped was the emptiness of the air. No one was there. 

"Tsk…"He sighed softly, glancing at the cut on his finger with a hint of irritation. Flopping onto the sofa, he tried to shake off the nagging thought. Yet, a chill crept over him, and instinctively, he called out for you, "Y/N. Cuddle." He longed for your comforting presence, just like always. He soon realized he missed your existence again, feeling more annoyed. Why? He shouldn't behave that way. The truth is, he didn't have feelings for you. Or did he? If that's the case, why did he long for your presence and feel a deep ache in your absence?

He straightened his posture, his fingers weaving through his hair as he pondered for a moment. Perhaps it wasn't so painful to have you close by. After all, having a compliant angel by his side wasn't a bad thing at all. He could still rely on you to fulfill his desires. Yes, it was perfectly fine that he wished for you to remain. 

As he made his way to your cell, a sense of conviction washed over him. He dismissed everyone else, feeling a thrill of anticipation at the thought of being embraced by you once more, just like before.

The door creaked open but you didn't come out.

"Y/N?" He felt a twinge of disappointment when you didn't envelop him in kisses. Little did he know just how deeply he had missed you. 

You reclined in the cell, your eyes fixed on the moon's glow. Upon seeing him, you sank to your knees, the sharp clatter of metal resonating through the space.

"Your Majesty." Your tone was icy, sending a shiver through the air. Hongjoong's brow furrowed, struggling to adapt to the chill in your demeanor. 

"We're alone here, my dear." 

"No. Your Majesty. I beg you, don't address me that way." 

Hongjoong's heart sank as he realized the change. He stepped closer, trying to read the emotions in your eyes. "Y/N, what's wrong?Why are you so distant from me?" 

You looked up at him, your eyes filled with a mix of sadness and resignation. "Your Majesty, I cannot bear the weight of your expectations any longer. I'm not the obedient angel you seek." 

"What're you talking about?" 

"I've wanted to be more than just a pawn in your game. But I was wrong. No matter what I did, you just saw me as a tool." 

"Who told you that?" He let out a nervous chuckle, looking guilty.

"Cupid's arrow." 

"What?You…?" Hongjoong's heart contracted as he took in your words. He didn't expect you to know the truth. 

"How did I know that? Do you want to ask?" Your eyes filled with pain and a hint of defiance, tears streaming down your face. "Thanks to your power. It heals the wound left by the arrow." 

"No, I…Y/N…don't be like this." Hongjoong stumbled over his words, his voice a mere breath against the silence. His heart twisted painfully, overshadowing any joy he felt upon achieving his aim. Could a mere scratch evoke such torment? Certainly not. He had been captivated by you for ages, yet he had been too oblivious to see it. 

"You don't have to pretend to love me anymore. It's over." 

"That's not acting." Hongjoong took a step forward, his hand reaching out to you but you flinching away. 

"Yeah, you're right. You're not acting as it's what you want to do." You let out a bitter laugh, shaking your head and your tears falling faster. ""You manipulated me to eliminate anyone who stood in your way. You made endless promises to earn my trust, yet not a single one has been fulfilled because you never intended to let them into your heart."

"No, Y/N." He pulled your hands into his, gripping tightly as if he feared you might slip away. "I can make you my queen, my wife. I haven't forgotten any of the promises we made. Just please, don't act like this, alright?"

"Why can't you understand?Hongjoong?" You took your hands back, letting out a heavy sigh. "I can't be with you the way you want me to be. I can't be your obedient angel anymore." 

Hongjoong's heart sank as he realized that you were leaving him. He had never felt this way before─the fear of losing you was consuming him. 

"Y/N, please stay with me. I need you." 

"You just need a slave, not me." 

Hongjoong watched you sit down on the chair with your eyes closed. His heart was heavy with loss. He had never realized how much he needed you until now. "I understand." He stepped backward, tears filling his eyes. His sad voice made your heart sink, you shouldn't though. 

"I know what I need to do now." He let out a bitter smirk before walking away from you, leaving you alone in the cell. 

—----

From that moment on, Hongjoong slipped away from your world. Even after mending the ache left by Cupid's arrow, he struggled to let go. His days blurred into a monotonous routine within the confines of his room, where he gazed at the familiar walls, lost in memories of the moments you shared. He sought someone to fill the void you left behind, but no one could ever occupy the special place you held in his heart. He longed for your presence, for your touch, for your warmth. But all he had was the memory of your final words and the emptiness of his chamber. 

It pushed him to the brink of madness, leaving him in a constant state of irritation. He felt utterly misunderstood, with no one to offer him solace. Despite the pleas for compassion from those around him, he stood unmoved. The once-familiar feelings of superiority and joy he had derived from this situation had long since faded away.

There was only one way to deal with this problem─Make everything go back to the past. 

The moment of reckoning has finally come, and you find yourself bound to a pillar at the heart of the execution ground, staring at Hongjoong, who presides over the judgment from his elevated seat, flanked by angels and deities who harbor a deep loathing for you. 

A chilling breeze caresses your cheeks, making the hem of your white skirt flutter softly; your disheveled hair obscures part of your face, yet it cannot shield you from Hongjoong's piercing gaze. Perhaps the pain has dulled your senses, and while fear should grip your heart, you feel nothing but a profound stillness. All you desire is to escape this torment and leave the haunting memories behind.

The judge's voice echoed in the courtroom as he started to deliver the verdict. You shut your eyes tightly, indifferent to the portrayal of you as a monster, a devil steeped in vile deeds, with some even daring to claim you were in league with the devil himself. Meanwhile, Hongjoong, perched on the elevated platform, gripped his fists in silence, each word striking at his composure. Though his expression remained impassive, the tension in his hands betrayed him, veins standing out starkly against his skin.

"Y/N has committed a heinous crime and should be executed upon questioning!"

Hongjoong rose from his seat, striding purposefully toward the execution platform. The gods gazed at him, their expressions a mix of reverence and disbelief. Wasn't this he yearned for so long? Yet, it felt wrong. Instead of triumph, his heart ached as if it were being ripped apart, and no amount of admiration could fill the void of sorrow within him. Especially when he met your calm gaze; it was as if his heart was ensnared by thorny vines, leaving him breathless. Perhaps he didn't truly understand love; all he knew was that the agony of loss eclipsed any pain he had endured before.

Thus, he yearned for your return, for you to stay by his side forever.

With a fierce determination, he raised the long sword, its blade crackling with the energy of lightning, pointing it skyward. Dark clouds gathered ominously overhead, and a thunderous roar echoed through the air. Lightning danced across the heavens, illuminating the swirling storm, causing gasps of terror to erupt from the onlookers. 

His eyes blazed with a brilliant light as he felt every ounce of his power converge at the sword's tip. With a swift motion, he brought the sword down, unleashing a torrent of lightning that struck the unsuspecting gods around him. The explosive force sent shockwaves through the air, and you could only watch in horror as the once-sacred temple transformed into a nightmarish battleground.

Paralyzed by fear, words escaped you. Before you stood a figure descending slowly, a bloodied bow and arrow in his grasp—Cupid's arrow.

"Y/N," he murmured your name softly, but it sent a shiver down your spine. He advanced toward you, each step drawing closer, and you could only stand frozen as his shadow enveloped you, tightening its grip.

"I said I never forgot my promise." 

"What're…you doing…?" 

"I can make you my queen now." He pressed the arrow firmly against your chest. As you gazed into his eyes, reason slipped away, leaving only confusion. Yes, you felt utterly foolish. How could he possibly let you escape? He was determined to seize everything and everyone he valued, regardless of the cost.

"Hongjoong…" 

He ignored your words. 

"You belong to me, now and always. You know you love me, and there's no escaping this." His voice was a soft whisper against your ear, punctuated by a tender kiss.

"And no one will bother us anymore." He struck at your heart like an arrow, causing a sharp gasp to escape your lips. His arms enveloped you, his touch a soothing balm against the ache.

"Will you stay with me forever, Y/N?" 

With a slow, deliberate motion, your hands found their way to his waist as Hongjoong broke your handcuffs, pulling you closer. 

"Yes, my lord." 

A warm smile spread across his face as he tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, his fingers trailing down to caress your cheek before resting gently under your chin. 

"That's my good girl." 

You were his, again.  

[littlestpersimmon]

Talking

The truth is that I am also very scared. As far as I know I have been the only person in my synagogue to be antizionist. Almost every jewish person I have been friends with, people I admired and befriended, they have all become zionists. Obviously this is only my experience, but in saying that, the truth to me is that Israel has succeeded in making every jewish person feel like the loneliest people in the world- though I would literally sooner take my own life than ever be associated with such an incomprehensibly vile regime.. aside from that, ever since Elon has bought Twitter, it has been getting worse and worse. That it is impossible to find work for people like me.

I have found myself moving my goalposts- It had gone from me getting top surgery someday, getting back to university to finish the degree I actually wanted, being able to focus on organizing .. starting my personal comic.. to just me every day trying to live and survive. Tell me honestly you guys, for someone like me, who is a caretaker to three disabled people, in a crumbling house, what are my chances of surviving in the next 5 years? What am I supposed to do. I work 3 jobs + do nearly all the housework at our house, and it's not enough. My work contract ends next year. Where will I find freelance work if Elon jas effectively destroyed Twitter? Apple is strangling Patreon so everyone is quitting there too. I live in the global south where support for the homeless is nonexistent, my paternal family hates me for talking about how my uncle sexually abused me. And my maternal family is also incredibly poor. Someone give me a direction to walk in. I feel absolutely crushed and lost.

[brainddeadd]

He Never Will

the song

Luke watched her from across the table, his heart sinking as she recounted yet another story of how her boyfriend had let her down. He’d lost count of how many times he’d been here, listening to her vent about another guy who didn’t see her for who she really was. Luke knew he wasn’t perfect, but it tore him up every time she looked at him with those sad eyes, asking him why things never seemed to work out.

Tonight, he couldn’t hold back his frustration any longer.

“Why do you even put up with this, Y/N?” he asked, his voice low but steady. “I mean, if he doesn’t know what he’s got by now… he never will.”

She sighed, picking at the edge of her napkin. “It’s not that simple, Luke. I just keep thinking… maybe he’ll change, you know? Maybe he’ll finally realize what he has.”

Luke clenched his jaw, the words he’d been holding back slipping out. “If he doesn’t know what he wants by now, he won’t until it’s too late. And you deserve so much more than waiting around for someone who might never get it.”

She looked up at him, a little surprised at the intensity in his tone. He took a deep breath, forcing himself to calm down, but he couldn’t stop. Not this time.

“Y/N,” he said gently, “why are you settling for somebody who treats you like… like you’re just someone he can live without? Don’t you see that you deserve someone who would never be able to let you go?”

She stared at him, a flicker of realization crossing her face, but she quickly looked away, as if afraid of what she might see in his eyes.

“It’s just… it’s complicated, Luke,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

“It’s not that complicated.” His voice softened as he leaned closer. “He’ll only know what he’s lost when he’s all alone. And by then, it’ll be too late. You don’t have to try so hard for someone who doesn’t even see how lucky he is to have you.”

She swallowed hard, her eyes glistening, but she didn’t pull away. “I guess… I guess I just keep hoping he’ll change.”

Luke’s heart ached, but he pushed down the frustration, focusing instead on her. “Maybe you’re just holding on to the idea of who you want him to be, not who he actually is.”

Silence hung between them, the weight of his words settling around them. She looked at him, and he could see the hurt, the hope, and maybe—just maybe—a hint of something he’d been longing to see for so long.

“Why do you even care so much, Luke?” she asked softly.

His heart raced, but he didn’t look away. “Because I’m sick of seeing you get hurt. Because… you deserve someone who’ll see you for who you are and treat you right. Not somebody who keeps making you wonder if you’re good enough.”

Her lips parted slightly, and for the first time, he saw the spark of understanding in her eyes. The truth he’d kept hidden for so long was right there between them, finally exposed.

“Luke…” she whispered, her voice trembling. “Why didn’t you say anything sooner?”

“I didn’t want to push you into anything you weren’t ready for,” he admitted, voice thick with emotion. “But I can’t keep watching you wait for someone who won’t change. You don’t have to settle for that. Not when there’s someone who already sees everything that makes you… you.”

She blinked, a tear slipping down her cheek, and he reached out, gently brushing it away. In that moment, the distance between them disappeared. She leaned into his touch, and he saw it—the realization, the acceptance, and the spark he’d been waiting for.

“Luke,” she said softly, her voice barely a whisper. “I think… I’ve been waiting for you all along.”

He smiled, a mix of relief and joy flooding him as he gently cupped her face, drawing her close. “Then don’t wait anymore,” he murmured before closing the distance between them, his lips finally meeting hers in a kiss that felt like home.

In that moment, he knew—she’d finally let go of the ones who couldn’t see her, and he’d finally found the courage to show her that he had seen her all along.

[citrusotakutea]

Didn't read half of this shit as Grandma here blacked out while spouting ship nonsense as if that was even close to my point lmao. I guess I could have made "I am the ship police" more sarcastic. Also, you're sooo late bro someone sent me an ask like a milisecond after the OG post pointing my age out and I said I was also, in fact, being sarcastic about being a fandom elder because it's funny. Nowhere did I frame Integra and Rip being (they are completely indistinguishable from any other character, male or female, of their style, regardless of Hirano's kinks lmao) androgynous with "authorial intent". You probably cited me supposedly not knowing facts for being the reason for your anger and "not claiming me" when that's literally the main issue I had with new fans ijbol.

I am the Sir Integra Hellsing fangirl, I am claiming her. The future is now, old man.

Hey op just curious what makes you hate the new Hellsing fanbase. As a fellow Hellsing fan I was wondering if I’ve completely missed something strange going on lately.

The new Hellsing fandom honestly irks me because of the surface level probing of the source material*. Yes, to most it's a hard core, dark, violent, mad and bad-ass anime but, like I've said so often, for so long on this dumb blog, it has the BEST female characters I've ever seen, recently rivaled by Arcane. Incredible depiction of platonic relationships and morally grey characters. To me, it's primarily a found family story, among other things.

The side characters are incredible, Yumi and Heinkel are the most underrated of the show. I mean come on priest and nun lesbians (lesbian used liberally). Heinkel is confirmed by the author to be an INTERSEX HUMAN. Alucard shapeshifts into a female (which, looking at the Devilman fandom, everyone took for an obvious trans metaphor, why not here?). The source material is as homoerotic as it can get between a lot of the characters (the tension between Sir Integra and Seras during the blood scene). Let's not forget Rip van Winkle, Pip, Walter, and Alexander. Alucard's teasing, Seras' naivety and subsequent maturity, Pip's endurance and playful wittiness. These characters and relationships are stuck in my head forever, they're all incredibly unique, fleshed out and worth remembering, no matter how short a time they spent on screen. And the character designs? As a long-time vampyr and catholic guilt fan, can I just say. Rawr. This show shaped how I dress like irl and my own shitty characters, as well.

Sir Integra is my favorite character of the show and one of all time. Sir Integra Fairbrook Wingates Hellsing. Like, an actually good depiction of a no-nonsense, androgynous as hell, unabashedly commanding (dare I say) woman? And it's played completely straight? No "Whaaa that's a woman?" every 2 seconds or "heh, you will listen to me despite my womanhood" from her. Powerful in her own right despite being the few "magic"-less humans of the series. 0 sexualized Ultimate scenes (sorry Seras and the "hot down there" comment doesn't count, that was banter). She was fucking knighted by the Queen of England before she was even 25, hence Sir Integra. Canonically bi-racial and South-Asian. I'm not even going to go into her character's willpower and values but. Hellloooo??? 

Not to mention, something noteworthy about the series, but Hellsing works because Hirano made time for silly moments. I mean, hell, one of the scenes I remember most vivdly was the gag of Heinkel lighting Sir Integra's cigar and being mega-pissed about it during the final battle, it's funny yet in character, despite many fans saying the humor throws you out of the "reality" of the show.

Oh no, but what do the new fandom gremlins talk about? "Alufart rails Y/A" "OMG VLADCARD'S BARA HAIRY TIDDIES I WANNA RUB MY FACE AGAINST THEM" (you know who you are) “I drew the most fucked up version of Alucard I could think of in my twisted mind”

and my personal "favorite":

"omg 🥺 what if intewa and alucard kisswdd", it's almost as bad as Seras x Alucard.

Unfortunately, I am a part of the ship police, so I'm gonna say right now that these two are my most hated ships:

1) Sir Integra and Alucard's relationship goes beyond romance to me. Since none of the new fans know the lore, Sir Integra is and will die a virgin (canon), it's literally plot relevant because by having sex, if she gets bit she will become a zombie slave (obvious but apparently needed to be said) and, taking a note from the 2001 anime, gone is any chance to continue the Hellsing mission. If she was bitten, plot armor aside, she'd have to off herself instead of becoming a vampire. (and for you freaks out there/pos, dare I say… ace representation? you can argue about desire and subtext later)

2) Seras and Alucard's relationship was specifically noted by the author to be a father/daughter dynamic, which is kind of obvious in the show. Like I said, fundamentally a found family series. Yeah, you don't need to treat found family like family family but I gen can't stand this ship.

I know that people will ship characters who've never been in a room together before. I can't stop people from shipping them and these two ships have ALWAYS been popular in the fandom. I typically ignore this and, yes, "don't like, don't interact" is my main rule. However, new fans ONLY talk about this stuff. None of the rest of the show seems to matter, just Alucard's hairy mustached tig bitties and him fucking one of the two women in the main cast. Or someone's self insert.

((tangent but personally my favorite ships are Alexander x Alucard (obviously in an enemies to enemies way), Heinkel x Yumi, and a romance only Seras x s.Integra. Like, you want old women yuri??? There ya go! They were in a mansion for like 30 years (I forgot) together, probably going missions alone and sharing their grief over Alucard and their unique experience/history. Like I said, I can't help who people ship, I'm not trying to say the source material is in favor of my ships or "how dare people interpret these obviously gay characters as straight". like no, that's not why I'm upset and ik alucard and alexander weren't yaoi-ing it up but like. alucard and s.integra shippers dni /j))

Not to mention, I couldn't help but notice, despite this information being readily available to my middle school self, no one knows the fckn lore or background of this show?? I honest to god saw someone comment that Hellsing Ultimate™ was a bad “remake” because it diverged from the original anime.

Here's SOME fun facts:

-the 2001 version of the show has a different ending than the manga because it wasn't finished yet (duh). Hellsing Ultimate is "soooo short" because production took almost a decade and it was trying to be a faithful, well-animated (that takes time bruv) adaptation. Oh, and a bunch of directional changes that I won't get into.

-there are multiple OVAs following Walter's youth in WW2 (Hellsing: The Dawn). Young Walter's design honestly was one of my favorites from the series so. Walter enjoyers. Check it out.

-there is a bonus book explaining a lot about the characters and process of creating Hellsing written by Hirano himself. whenever I got a hold of it, though (8+ years ago) there was no English translation.

-Alucard didn't just transform into a girl that one time, he was in his girl form the entire time during WW2 (hence why when people mention his possible affair with the Queen it might've been a sapphic thing but I think that mostly stems from the abridged series. the queen thing not the girl thing)

-Hirano used to be a Hentai mangaka and actually designed many of Hellsing's characters in said hentai or in short stories (such as Crossfire, it's basically extra, non-canonical Hellsing content) beforehand. Which, this used to be the most popular "fun fact" but has been lost to the sands of time now, so prepare for a lot of people rediscovering this.

-personal lore is I almost named myself Rip van Winkle bc of this show (quirked up Portal, Grell Sutcliff, queer-coded, rifle-wielding shawty)

Anyway, to sum it up, I hate when people don't interpret characters in the same way I do. Yes, I am a bad “fandom elder”, idgaf I am fundamentally a hater.

*I keep seeing this happen with old shows that resurface. Unlike newer or more popular shows where every scene gets scoured, characters who showed up for one scene get analyzed, and endless cafe AUs are made- older shows mostly get fan art of the main charas and the ships of the two hottest characters and that's it. Discussion of lore and themes are completely off the table. So I'm not surprised, just disappointed.

[pygmi-cygni]

Lucky Number Seven (2)

goin' strong, y'all. woohoo.

cw: arguing, flashbacks, Angst

pt one here

He was fine. Somebody dragged him to a tent and gave him some water. You, however, were thrown into a room with a scowling officer who had some choice words.

Harassing a senior officer....stepping out of line...acting like a fucking child...your skin crawled with the urge to deck him too.

After your reaming was complete, you stomped back to the main area for a debrief.

And found this.

Rage burned your toes numb. You felt so overwhelmed with adrenaline, your physical body started to melt at the edges. If this was what exploding felt like, you were a supernova.

Poe's mouth was moving a mile a minute but you were having none of it. Famously verbose but equally as arrogant, Black Leader plowed through a hack-job retelling of your arrival. He wanted you gone within the day, he demanded, to the stoic chagrin of the answering Sergeant.

There were three other pilots in the tent, exchanging embarrassed glances. You'd felt shame, initially, before realizing what was happening.

"Sergeant, if I may," you seethed, cutting off another bout of complaints. Dameron's gaze lasered into your temple.

The flickering holograph raised his eyebrow.

"Whatever Dameron is upset about," your words sliced like blades through the smog, "is not in any way relevant to the current mission. We have a personal history and this issue does not extend beyond those limits. None of this impacts my work-"

"I don't know what this officer is referencing-" Dameron barged in, cutting off the snickering behind you.

"Enough."

Leia's face replaced the Sergeant's, looking steely-eyed and determined. The tent fell silent, everyone's faces drawn and hesitant. You swallowed down the tail end of your outburst, patting away the flames. Anger still smoldered, but you could keep it tucked away.

"I don't care how you feel, Poe," she said, with the sternness of a mother, "nor you, cadet," her gaze flickered to you. "I have assigned everyone in this program for a reason, and unless you are calling my judgement into question, I want to hear nothing about it."

Nobody dared speak. Nodding primly, she murmured a farewell and the tent was thrown into cavernous silence.

The tension was palpable. The sludgy ground had glued you in place, iron rods replacing your bones. Dameron burst out of the meeting as soon as it was adjourned, leaving you to fend off stares alone.

Personal history was a bit of a stretch, and perhaps conveyed a sultriness that was far from the truth. Tumultuous history might be a better term, one that conveyed the friction rife between you. It was a thorn you'd nursed for years, and one that never seemed to leave.

It never ceased to confuse your crew. Everybody liked Dameron. Truly, you saw the appeal - looks, charm, easy smile. And he was by definition, a good guy. But everybody had somebody to poke at, and for him it just happened to be you.

well, that wasn't the whole problem.

You tried to fade into the background of the gathering crowd. Any hopes of anonymity were shot dead in those few minutes online. The quizzical stares burned familiar scars in your back, until you collided with a bony face.

"Oh shi- you okay?" You righted Tonks, seconds from biting it. They chuckled, shoving you off.

"Yeah, yeah. What's up with Dameron? You guys seemed-"

Speak of the devil, he'd climbed atop a stack of crates, tablet and holopad in hand.

The debrief had begun.

The mission was 'simple:' have a few posing smugglers get a lay of the land whilst the home base soldiers mapped out the Imp hangar hidden a few clicks away. Once all the intel had been gathered, you'd reevaluate the plan and move in. No prisoners, no hostages.

Thirteen groups total (a number that made your stomach twist) and every group had a 'sister' group they were to be in contact with all the time.

"This is to ensure safety and support," Dameron explained, "no group gets left behind."

Ha fucking ha. You tried not to let your gaze burn his hair off.

Groups 1-4 were going to be the smugglers, a total of eleven people. 5-11 were tactical, and the last two were strictly intelligence and communication. You let out a sigh of relief when Tonks raised their hand for twelve. That was probably for the best.

Dameron's cold gaze flickered over you for a moment as he listed off your group - seven, how funny - and you were dismissed to brief with your groups.

Seven...tactical?

"Wait a minute, I'm intelligence division," you called out, "I'm not supposed to be tactically assigned-"

"Do you have your field training?" One of the superior offices looked you up and down.

"Yes, but-"

"Then you're qualified for tactical. Alright, quickly, let's get this done!"

Confused, you were swept into a tactical suit, headset, and gear pack and bunched with eight other people you'd never met in your life.

A harsh, muggy rain had begun to fall. Several tents were sinking into the mud and more than a few people were having difficulty digging their boots out of the slop. You held a booklet over your brow to stop any mudfall into your eyes.

"So," the head? Superior? Leader? of your group shouted over the din of thunder, "We're gonna chart the geography around the hangar, and then find the best entrances and exits. Once the undercover operatives we have get back, we'll send them off with a coupla you's to go and lay the explosives. Got it?"

A chorus of agreement, which you begrudgingly followed along with. Something distinctly sour was clouding the back of your mouth. One of your strengths was cartography and surveillance, but Dameron or whoever was running this shitshow had specifically pulled you out of the surveillance group and into...whatever this was.

Six hours until the first checkpoint. Teams 2 and 3 would be comming in with an update, and you needed to be at your post by then.

Perfect. Just enough time to beat Dameron's ass.

He was eating soup out of a tureen when you threw open the door to his tent. You didn't miss the tightening of his jaw when he turned to stare at you, eyebrow raised.

"Why the hell am I on tactical?" You hissed, ripping off your headset, "you know that I'm the best fucking spy on this crew, and I'm stuck on tactical?" The set made a satisfying thunk against the holoprojector as it toppled into the mud.

Poe leaned back, folding his arms. "Leia-"

"No. No, no, no, this was not Leia, this was you, Black Leader. You fucking put me there."

The muscles in his jaw were working overtime. Your steely gazes met in a clash rivaling Jedi battles. If he dares, I'll kill him. He'd better not even try.

"Well," he began slowly. "You can't deny the last time. How it...went."

He did.

The fucker.

"What?" You exploded, hauling him up by his collar, "What, what did I do? How did "the last one" go? Huh? Were you there? That one mission three fucking years ago that had a screwy plan and yeah, okay, something went wrong,and we lost some people, I'm sorry, but you weren't there, you don't get to tell me how it went!"

Your shouting had attracted a crowd outside. Poe winced when you pressed on his sore cheek, eyes aflame.

"Cadet," the word stung your heart, "why don't we continue this conversation later, okay? I've got a crew to run," he whispered, teeth glittering in the dingy light.

For the second time that day, you watched the retreating form of your Commander with a sense of defeat souring in your belly.

T-minus five hours.

That smell, what was it? Expensive, yes, but astringent. Burning roses, sickly sweet and singed with ash. It grew stronger every minute, as did the red glow under the door. Your hands were sticky with a thick crimson paste. Blood. It had been blood, which had been a body, who had been-

no. not them anymore. just sticky.

Hot. Your shirt was soaked to your skin with sweat. An orange light blinked on your radio. SOS. Help.

No response.

You watched the door shimmer and wriggle in the rising heat. Fire. And screaming. Who was screaming? Tell them to cut it out, it’s too l-

The shutter flicked, and you jolted awake. A deep, cavernous feeling of terror flitted through you so intensely your teeth rattled. Once the essence of paranoia faded, you huddled deeper in your jacket. It had been a while since your mind had slipped back into memory. You didn’t miss it.

The blinking holopad said three hours had passed. On autopilot, you packed your things, hands robotically cataloguing everything in its place. The safest thing to do right now was shut your brain off and let instinct do the talking. Wallowing would do no good in the field.

Your tent shuddered with the movement of somebody crossing the threshold. You were dimly aware of this but paid it no mind, focusing only on the rough fabric under your palms.

“Hey.”

Barbs littered your skin, raised and ready for battle. Steeling yourself, you turned to face him.

Poe, to his credit, stood a respectful distance away and met your gaze with patient neutrality. He took in your defensive scowl and the tension in your shoulders and held up a hand.

"I kinda screwed that up earlier," he said, with a strangely forced tone. "My apologies. I understand the last situation was complicated. But I can only access what's in the mission report, so-"

"So you just skipped the parts that didn't fit your narrative? Fuck off, I've got a crew to run." You shoved past him and rejoined your new squad. Poe yelled something after you, but you ignored it.

Thankfully the other members caught the drift, and you were on your way without a single glance back.

The moment your boots left the ring of lights surrounding the base, swampy smog enveloped you like a fist. It was hard to see in front of you, and you appreciated whose idea it was to clip fluorescent bulbs onto the back of your helmets.

In total there were eight of you, but the only names that stuck were the cartographer - Hana - and the weapons expert - Duke. There was a mute comms officer, which would have made for a great stand-up skit, but his searing gaze prompted no joking. You made your silent acknowledgements of each other and moved on.

As you hiked, a thrilling shiver ran down your back. It felt like a layer of bacta, soothing away the sore spots of your heart and returning a fire to your veins. Any distractions of the day melted away and left your mind startlingly clear. This was where you were supposed to be. You'd been folded for too long, crammed in the protective womb of drills and safety checks. You longed to stretch your fighting legs and run.

There was a reason you were the best on the team. Nothing Dameron said could change that.

The dark undergrowth of the swampy jungle slowly calibrated to your eyes. Snapping twigs sounded like gunshots and your hair prickled with caution. A certain air of insignificance swept over the group as you waded through marshes deep enough to swallow you whole. You kept that feeling close to your chest. Best to be aware of your weakness than to let it blind you. A common mistake, assuming you were the top of the food chain.

Though you’d never stepped foot on the planet before, the terrain seemed almost familiar. Nal Hutta’s geography wasn’t complicated. Hilly but nothing unclimbable, and the same marshy consistency across the surface. It was easy to get lost with nothing memorable to mark.

Hana quietly recited the map as you went, annotating any notable regions. It was a quick journey, relatively speaking, and you soon found the cleared-out trench designated for the first stop. As instructed, a few soldiers dug up the cargo hidden in the brush. The canvas bags contained kilos of explosives, which Duke took gingerly from their hiding place.

A shiver ran through you at the sight.

Fire, hot and stinging. Red cloth burning, the smell of roses-

You blinked rapidly and took a swig of water. Not now.

The comms officer spoke quickly and quietly into the accompanying receiver, jotting down whatever Poe was communicating on the other line. You felt strangely affronted, irritated that you couldn’t listen in. It was a strange sense of paranoia that made your throat close up. You forced yourself to step away, peering into the shady woods.

A cough behind you grabbed your attention. The comms officer looked up, receiver in his hand. It took you a moment to realize he was handing it to you. Dread settling, you took the device and held it to your ear.

“Yes?”

“New plan,” came Poe’s voice from the other end. He sounded strained, and you realized the change wasn’t going to be good. “I need you to go in.”

“What?”

A crackly sigh. “I need you to go in and get the access key by yourself. The security is tighter than we expected and a crew this size will be suspicious. You’re….the one with enough experience.” A resigned edge laced his tone. This wasn’t an easy admission.

You’d be glib at the compliment, but in truth the idea filled you with terror.

You hadn’t done it since. This was the first time you’d gone alone, and the thought of last time made you nauseous.

“Still with me?”

“Yes,” you said hoarsely, clearing the tension from your throat. “Yes, yeah, I’m…I’m here. That’s fine, but…”

“But?”

“Nothing. I’ll proceed.” You wanted to cry.

“Copy. And, cadet?”

You wiped your eyes, hiding from the rest of the group. “Mhm?”

“We’ll be in your ear the whole time.”

Your fist clenched around the comm long after he disconnected, knuckles paling.

Burning roses, singed cloth, screaming-

auck I hate the exposition chapters.

@krakenkitty @ominoose @bulletgoth @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @justsomeonecalledemma

@iolaussharpe-24 @rosegnome @twwcs @heeheehoohoofictimr @steven-grants-world

@ael-xander @to-be-a-sunshine @weasleyswizarding-wheezes @silvernight-m @lonelyisamyw-0love 

@unear7hly @chaithetics @thecraziestcrayon @lilacspider @whisperofthewild

[ionlyeverwantedtobeyourequal]

Don’t ever tell yourself that you’re not enough, I am certain that you’re truly fine

PART FIVE

Ot8 x reader

Word Count: 812

Just a warning, this is my first fanfic! Does have age regression themes so if you’re not a fan, I ask that you respectfully just don’t read <3 also this will definitely have some angst

!THIS IS A WORK OF FICTION!

Days passed and everytime you hung out with them, they seemed more affectionate than usual.

“Is something going on?” You asked suddenly after Seungmin wrapped a fluffy blanket around you the second you sat down on the couch.

The guys look at eachother as if silently communicating then Seungmin chuckles a bit and playfully scoffs. “There is nothing going on,” he says, not being able to make up an excuse otherwise.

You look at Seungmin curiously, not believing him for a second. “All of you have me basically catering to my every need for days now.”

“Oh please, you’re just delusional,” Seungmin tries to play it off, crossing his arms over his chest.

Looking at the guys again, you notice Felix avoiding eye contact. You look at him for a few more seconds before trying to get information from him, knowing he would most likely be the person to tell you the truth. “Lixie? Is there something that y’all aren’t telling me?”

Before Felix can open his mouth, Changbin speaks. “Oh I can’t take it anymore. This is eating me alive!” He says dramatically, before turning to you “We know about your age regression.”

Your face drops in shock with his sudden outburst, hearing Han, Seungmin, Hyunjin and Chris give Changbin a collective “really dude”.

“How…” seems to be the only thing you could say, your eyes looking between each of the guys.

Chris clears his throat before explaining quietly as if he is scared for the outcome of his sentence, “the other night… the night you wanted to leave suddenly… you showed signs of being a little…” He trails off, looking at you genuinely.

“Before you say anything or try to deny it, we think it’s cute.” Hyunjin says quickly, his eyes wide to try and get his point across.

Felix looks at Hyunjin and chuckles, “Hyung, if you keep looking at her like that, you’ll probably freak her out.” He says, trying to lighten the situation, causing a few of the guys to chuckle.

“I-I just… how do you guys know what that is? Or how to look for signs of it?” You ask, curious how they all caught on.

“The old guy knows about it… but don’t ask him how because it’s the most depressing story you’ll ever hear!” Seungmin explains, causing Chris to playfully shove him, saying a quick “it’s not depressing… and im not old!”

You look at Chris, as if observing him. A part of you always seen Chris as some type of caregiver, but now you don’t know if he knows about it in that sense or if he is possibly a little himself. “I want to know the story…” You blurt out, wanting to know the explanation which causes seungmin to playfully groan.

So Chris explains, and your eyes soften as he does. “You were a caregiver to littles online who didn’t have one because you always wanted to be a caregiver?” You ask softly, causing Seungmin to say “See! Depressing!”

“After Hyung told us about how he suspected you as a little, we wanted to learn how to be a caregiver,” Minho speaks up, his eyes looking at you softly. “We wanted you to feel comfortable around us enough so if you ever wanted or needed to regress… you can.”

This explanation makes you tear up. Knowing the guys went out their way to want to learn how to properly be a caregiver… no one has ever done that before. “You wanted to do that… for me?” You ask, your voice just above a whisper.

“We would move mountains for you, Sunbeam, if it meant seeing you carefree and happy.” Felix reassured you, smiling gently.

The petname made you blush, your cheeks now covered a pinkish red. “I don’t know what I ever did to deserve you guys.”

“Okay, back up!” Han says, standing up from the couch. “Why hasn’t anyone informed me of this information?!?! Where was I when all of you had this important discussion of our princess?” He expresses playfully, though he is very serious.

The guys looks at one another, forgetting to tell Han any of this. “In our defense, you were sleeping next to her when we talked about it!” Jeongin informs, raising his hands up defensively.

“Wait, Hannie, you didn’t know? Then why were you so affectiante with me as well?” You ask curiously.

Han’s mouth pratcially drops in shock, “I am always affectionate with you!” He says in a desperate voice. “You’re my whole world, I always treat you like you’re the most delicate thing in the world!”

“Okay, yeah you make a good point.” I say, chuckling a bit.

Changbin stands up and goes to crouch infront of you, looking up at you. “Since the cat is now out the bag… maybe now you can help us know how to properly take care of you.”

TAGLIST: @puppyminnnie

[bitchface24-7]

I literally just reblogged a post like this but… Jason and Dick look super similar (ignoring the run with redhead Jason… it never looked right to me)

Yet in a multitude of comics we see Jason drawn horrendously. He looks ugly, point blank. Even sometimes uncanny valley-esque with the way these artists draw him. Yet, he’s canonically very similar looking to Dick Grayson. Dick who is also considered to be one of if not the most handsome guy in all of DCs characters. Down below are some examples of Dick and Jason looking similar:

Superman Annual 11 - For the Man who has Everything

Here we have Diana Prince mistaking Jason as Dick, the two looking so similar that she forgot for a moment that Dick was no longer Robin. That’s honestly crazy. Wonder Woman must’ve been around Dick enough to recognize him instantly, yet she mistakes Jason as him.

Titans: Titans Together 1

This can just be simple friendly banter/teasing but I and many others know that banter and teasing comes from the truth; no matter how small. Of course two adoptive brothers aren’t gonna see similarities between themselves. But their friends certainly can.

But there are small differences. Jason is much smaller due to malnutrition, his eyes are a different shade of blue and his hair is a wavy mess. Dick is tall, lean, and fairly muscular due to his upbringing in Haley’s Circus. His complexion is darker due to his Romani heritage. But they’re both PRETTY!!! COMIC ARTISTS DRAW JASON PROPERLY OR ILL COME FOR YOU!! 👊👊👊

Like WHY DOES HE LOOK LIKE THIS?!?!

Thank you Dexter Soy and Dan Mora for these masterpieces 🙏🙏 (Dan Mora please make an official Jason image pls pls pls pls pls pl—)

(Both images and their citations about Jason and Dick’s similar looks come from Reddit - https://www.reddit.com/r/dccomicscirclejerk/comments/t5k4i5/jason_todd_is_canonically_ugly_yet_jason_also/)

[spotaus]

Okay-

Leaving this one as short as possible so I can write the Killer stuff before you clock out for the night- but!!!

Dude, absolutely canon that Killer had the idea first! He's such a goober and would absolutely be like, 'we gotta get you working on this!' but Killer and Nightmare both know Killer's got some obvious tells once you're around him long enough, and so it's only partially helpful. (killer's the kinda guy to do 2 lies in one round or smth just to throw Night off and give him a challenge). And!! night recognnizing that Ccino is probably the best bet for this sort of thing because of the whole Lied to Nim thing!! If he can parse out Ccino's lies, he can do it to any stranger!

(And yessss, Killer getting s better glimpse at Ccino through this too! And them all guessing with eachother- (Do you think Night participated as well? it's good 'team bonding', even if Ccino probably already knows all of Night's lies and truths lol-) Killer getting excited guessing for Ccino's rounds is so so cute and adorable-

he lil helmet for Error is So cute- And the idea that Night and Dust are just out horse-riding is such a nice idea. Cuz Nightmare would adore that, and Dust would have fun too!

(Good gods I forgot about Dream- But yeah, 3rd child, he can't be doing that again! The twins were already so much! And dang, him and Killer potentially having a kid? oh Ccino would be a wreck on SO many levels. I imagine that if that ever happened he would be a mess for the first time in a long time. Not because he has to raise another kid (though that is a worry) but because. What if something happens to him and Killer? What if what happened to him happens again? What if they die and leave their babybones all alone in the big wide world? Killer never fully recovered from the injury Dream dealt to him, and Ccino couldn't fight to save his life, should he start trying to train- Just this spiral of worry that something would go horribly wrong. I get the feeling if they ever had the conversation this is something Ccino would try to bring up non-chalantly but end up cradled and tucked in Killer's arms because. Well. he buried that childish fear when he was 7. he couldn't afford to really think on it until now, and it's all just crashing down on him- Sorry that got angsty quick- but yeah. i write Ccino as being so composed, but I think it's just because he doesn't ever give himself to really think about it until a long long long time after it happens, and then he goes weak in the knees and needs like 4 days straight of recovery <3)

Night's face was always going to be a big motif in the story! (masks and all) and ur right with Reaper too! Time crunch really puts that trust to the test!!!

Borrowed time.... exactly.... Yeah he had the most caring family in the whole story, (and I LOVE stubborn denial Phantom-) and to not endanger and burden them anymore he left!

Omg omg omg the bits about his final reuniting with them?? I'm gonna sob- Phantom always looking out, hoping for his brother to come back every single storm?? hello??? I'm losing it over here?? And his little look to the sound of horses only forit to be Dust, and Phantom rushes over and sees he's real and really there and??? AND- HELLO?????? Okay. Sorry. I'm normal. BUt yeah, his family is so so so happy to see him again and there are a bunch of tears and hugs and Dust gets smothered by his mom and brother for like a solid 20 minutes. And after a bit, it's the most relaxed Nightmare has EVER seen Dust. Like. Ever. Just chilling, maybe even letting his little (big) bro carry him like old-times while he prepares some lunch, and Nightmare is sitting there in their family room with Dust's parents, lowkey feeling like an intruder. The little soft introduction (Dust is one of his big brothers) and the family greeting him warmly and even pride coming from them for Dust having, like you said, been able to trust himself around people again!! And Night is kinda pulled into the family a bit, as they wind down there's smalltalk and discussions and only when the question comes up for how they met does Dust look to Night for approval to explain. And Night gives it.

And ough. The idea that his parents would ask, 'Well now Dust, where did you find this polite young man?' And Dust looking to Nightmare, getting a go-ahead, before debating how much he wants his parents to have a heart attack. Then he explains that Night actually broke him out of prison, to which Night sputters a quick 'Wait, wait that's not-' before Dust laughs and apologizes, and then explains the whole thing. How he managed his magic, how he ended up working in the market, how that bit of time where he didn't send anything he was in jail because the royal guard caught him during a raid, then how Nightmare was the King and hired him on straight out of prison and helped him turn his life around again and find a place to call his own. How he's a Knight, and an oath to protect Nightmare always. How he lives there and won't be moving home, but he'll visit as often as he can. he's sorry for being away so long. There are mixed responses, ranging from his dad's face going pale, to his Mother gasping, to his Brother joking 'MY lazy brother?' at the more wild parts? But by the end they all agree they're just happy to see him alive and well, and thriving. Dust knows the doors are always open to him (and any of his new brothers if they get the chance). Dust (with an Okay from Night) offers them the same. Come visit the palace anytime. Please, do. More friendly faces would be nice. (Though he fears what would happen if he put Error and Phantom into a room together. or Killer, for that matter. It'd be a chaotic interaction to say the least. Jealous younger sibling moments-)

Yesyesyes you get me. You understand! He thinks his soul is SO weird!!! The first time he saw it he panicked and he hates bringing it out, even when he's on his own! And!!! You picked up what I was putting down with Reaper and Geno, haha! I think it'd take like 15 billion years (exaggeration) for him to finally trust them enough to let them see his soul or even look at theirs, to be so intimate and vulnerable, but I think it'd kill him even more to hear Geno call it beautiful. Like. beautiful, of all things? it's weird and gross and unnatural- and Geno hushes him and says again that he thinks it's beautiful, and lively, and unique, just like Dust. (And Reaper has to call a time-out for them because Dust looks like he's deciding if he's going to murder Geno or make a run for the exit, purely out of embarressment and being overwhelmed by the compliments, and Geno looks like he wants to start making out w/ Dust and that would Not end well lmao-) Okay okay-

On this same topic, when Killer's soul is just. out there? In the open? Like. All the time? Dust is... weirded out. Big time. Because Killer's soul doesn't even look like a monster's, and there's just something about it that's freaking him out (internalized bias from his own soul methinks-) but he gets used to it over time, and in combats he's ironically usually the first to cover Killer if he needs it. Because that soul is just. There. Literally a giant target- He just gets protective-

Yeah!! I think I changed the context for the meeting aorund a bit lol, my apologies- I'm thinking the reuniting with Fresh might be slightly more interesting if it was semi-planned. Like, Error knows it's someone important to meet with (Geno planned it out with Nightmare, even though he's on thin ice) but not Who (Fresh doesn't cross his mind) but Dust being there was a crucial piece because. Well. Dust is magically strong, and he looks out for both Error and Night so of course he's there!

And yeah, The parasite learning its lesson and Quick is smth I think could be cool. Because it was such a random occurance at just the right time to fix the problem. Like. It's a moment where narratively such a big burden having such a quick fix is more fun and interesting, because then it lets the characters understand how to deal with it in the future, and lament that it didn't happen way sooner.

Fresh and Error are both so so ready for this hug. Error, despite being mad at Fresh, is much more willing to forgive him after Geno explained his end of the story. That Fresh didn't know he'd be getting back early. That Fresh tried desperately to hunt him down. That he tried to fix his mistake, so Geno didn't know until long after Error was already fully missing? He knows Fresh, and having any hope that Fresh was even half as torn up as Geno was enough for him to give that second chance. (Also I'm very wishy-washy on what activates Error's touch/magic pains so I apologize, but basically it's that when he's younger it's really bad. When he's older he makes himself compression gear to wear over his bones so the touch of another monster's magic resonates less, but he doesn't always wear it, so sometimes (like here) it still tries to act up and make him 'glitch' basically!)

Ehehehe--- I love these sillies- OKAY off to write about Killer! We'll see how long it ends up being!

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.” 

[rainbowgod666]

So there are two options to this

Either seymour is WAY stronger than i am

OR: i have

Severely Underestimated

how much the average tumblr user wants to fuck an alternate

[hinamie]

looks at hair slicked back megu I Could Fix Him

[buckboi]

One day when i have time to deal with inevitable backlash I will write a post about how actually Taylor Kelly is one of the most compelling minor characters on 911 with a heartbreaking backstory that fully explains (but doesn’t excuse) why she does the things she does and ALSO that i think she & Lucy Donato should be in lesbians together

[turtleblogatlast]

Leo getting hit with a truth curse but instead of forcing him to admit to super sad or worrying things it’s things like “it was me who broke the remote” “I saw Mikey prank Donnie and helped hide it because it’s way funnier if he didn’t know who it was” “I rip my clothes to look more like Raph’s because he’s really cool” “my stripes aren’t even red they’re pink!”