#i'm gonna go now before i start spiraling

[middlingmay]

“come on just . . . talk to me.” for clegan could be so good!

This has been sitting in my inbox for moonths. I'm sorry it's taken me so long, but I hope you like it anon :)

Continues from my wee ficlet where Gale suspects there's something happening between John and one of his buddies, and he's both wrong and correct about it.

"Come on just…talk to me!"

John trailed after Gale in a hurried two-step. Although John had the advantage in height, that felt all for nothing now as Gale's stride swallowed up ground.

John had barely managed to stutter out an explanation of what had happened with Harry before any promises Gale had made him about keeping his head had been fast forgotten and he had near upended John fishing the car keys from his pockets.

Normally such a thorough going over would have John reclining back with his hands behind his head, but this time he clawed at Gale's arms, fruitlessly trying to keep Gale with him.

Gale had kicked the door open and was gunning for the car. He got as far as the key in the lock before John bulldozed into his side and brought him down hard onto the ground.

In a far more violent echo of their fight earlier that day, before Harry lost his absolute mind, Gale and John rolled around on the hard ground in the barely-lit evening. Gale bucked and thrashed and kicked, and John was going to be sporting some cracking bruises tomorrow. He held on by the strength of his legs alone, and when Gale managed to get his legs under him and tried to stand, John clamped tighter and dragged Gale right back down. He reached for the keys clutched fiercely in Gale's hands, but Gale saw him coming. He shoved the keys down his shirt and started to use those long and dexterous fingers to poke at all of John's soft and sensitive and vulnerable bits to try and loosen his grip.

But John rode it out and finally managed to wrap Gale's arms up tight against his own chest, pinned by John's arms locked around his torso.

"Get off me, John," Gale warned, low and spitting.

"Nuh-uh. Not a chance."

Gale made a frustrated, impotent noise.

"What're you gonna do, huh?"

Gale thrashed and twisted, and managed to roll them so John was on his bag, groaning and his breath was squeezed out of him under Gale's weight.

"I'm going to sink my boot into that skinny bastard's ass, that's what I'm gonna do! Thinks he can just kiss you and get away with it? Whilst I'm breathing?!"

"You—fuck." John had to brace and hold on with all his might as Gale managed to leverage himself onto his knees. But hold on he did. Like a damn spider monkey. "You promised!"

Gale was panting, sucking down air like John did carcinogens. Whether due to wrestling with John's weight on his back, or the anger that still had him trembling underneath all the points where John touched him, he wasn't sure. But he wasn't about to make the shittiest bet of his life that Gale was through working his way up to manslaughter.

John used his extra weight to his advantage and rocked forward hard and fast, sending Gale back down to the ground under him again.

Gale hissed and foamy spittle splattered on to the ground, and John worked one hand through Gale's hair, shushing and soothing.

"What did I say, hm? Before I left what did I say? Where am I lookin'?"

Gale tried to jerk his head out of from underneath John's pressing and prodding and scraping fingers but got nowhere. "It's not about you lookin' elsewhere, Bucky," he warned. "He's got no right to put hands or…any other part of him on you like that!"

"I know. I know. And I set him straight. I told you, I set him straight. You believe me? You trust me?"

The fight started to seep out of Gale. Because he did. He trusted Bucky with his life, with his whole entire future. And wasn't that terrifying, putting all of that on one man and expecting him to bear the load? But Bucky did, without a single missed step. Even when Buck missed a whole bunch of them himself and went spiralling down the stairs.

He'd warned Bucky he was a mess at relationships. Didn't matter what kind, he'd been a mess at them his whole life. Not a one of them had lasted. Not till Bucky.

And the thought of someone else showing Bucky what it could be like with someone else? Without so much shit to carry? That wasn't going to fly with him at all.

But Bucky was a grown man. He could handle his own business. Gale had to let him handle his own business. Take responsibility for yourselves, the head doc had said. Try to ease off the co-dependency.

Well, if this was what independence looked like, Gale was not a fan.

But still. They'd promised to do right by each other and try.

"Alright." It was quiet and begrudging but he said it. "Alright. You're right, I…I don't know what I was thinkin'."

John huffed and Gale felt him knock his head against the back of Gale's. Felt the muscles of his arms and legs ease off. His hands spasmed like they wanted the snatch all John's limbs back up and keep them there. See how long they could hold on.

"You were thinking you're a jealous bastard with a mean streak no one sees coming. That's what you were thinking. Like I don't know you, Buck, Christ."

John released him finally and rolled onto his back in a wide-armed, open-legged sprawl. it was a tempting, inviting space built perfectly for Gale's wide shoulders.

John propped himself up on his elbows. It stuck his chest out and Gale watched as John still tried to catch his breath. His curls were unruly and springing their way to freedom, apart from the wisps at his hairline that got caught up in his sweat. It made his face glow with the light it caught.

"Can't say I blame you, though. If some guy came on to you, I'd—"

Gale threw himself on top of John, claiming his mouth. Maybe his blood was hot. Maybe he couldn't stand the thought of anymore someone's trying to come between him and John. Maybe the sight of John laid out and breathless because of him was too much to bear, but Gale had one hand around the back of John's neck and was tipping his head up to lave his tongue over the dexterous stretch of John's own. They still couldn't breathe. Each kiss was punctuated by gasping inhales, cut off by dip of a tongue or the nip of their teeth.

Gale hauled them upright and, wrenching the hem of his shirt out from his pants, and caught the key that came tumbling out.

"What—?"

"Car," Gale kissed the sound into John's mouth. "Now."

John dropped his hands to Gale's belt and shifted just enough so Gale could reach the lock on the car door. Gale's hands shook as the clink of his belt opening split the air and John thumbed the buttons of his pants open. His large, calloused hand, warmed by a body that always ran hot, slipped inside and covered Gale with a hard press that had him nearly biting through his lip.

John's kisses whispered up the nape of his neck. "Get in the car, Gale."

He finally popped open the door and grabbed the collar of John's shirt. Gale flipped them around and, hands under John's thighs, nearly threw him inside. He watched as John crawled backwards on the bench seat, straining at the front of his pants. One look from Gale was he crawled in after him, and John was frantically flailing trying to remove whatever layers he could to expedite Gale getting on him.

"Fuck, baby," he said with an awe he reserved for B-17s and Gale. "How could anyone else even come close? Not never."

Never. There might be others out there who could show John how to build a healthier relationship. There might be others out there who would know how to de-escalate things and solve disagreements without pushing each other around a little until they got hot from it.

But all those jag offs would have to go through Gale and his cold, dead body before they got to John.

He saw him first and he wasn't giving him up. Fuck what the head headshrinker said.

As he looked down at John, who just looked pleased as punch to be there, Gale thought. Yeah. No one else. Not never.

-

Harry worked the counter at the tailor's Fridays through Sundays.

The owner was getting on in years, and wanted to spend his weekends with his wife and their grandchildren. So, the weekends were reserved for measurements and drop offs only, which Harry could take, and he'd make appointments for them to follow up with with Mr Flaherty later in the week.

The shop was never quieter than that last half hour to closing on a Sunday. By 5.30pm, most people were at home with their families enjoying the last of their quality time together before work and school, or they were out enjoying the final vestiges of freedom provided by the weekend.

So, when the bell over the door went at 5.50pm, ten minutes before closing, Harry didn't think nothing of calling out over his shoulder without looking, "Sorry, we're closing. Come back at nine tomorrow."

He expected to hear shuffling, maybe a mumbling sorry, and certainly the ding of the bell as the door was opened and closed again, But he heard none of that.

Instead, when he spun round, he was greeted with the sight of the always impeccably dressed Major Gale Cleven sitting cross-legged in one of the waiting chairs, staring at him.

Whilst Harry thought John was easy to read—or had though until his gross miscalculation—he'd never been able to get any kind of grasp on his more enigmatic friend.

Well, not his friend, clearly. God, he'd been blind not to see it before. Several of the townsfolk had mentioned how close they were, but Harry hadn't thought anything of it, too laser-focused on the way John smiled at him and the way he smelled and how he touched so easy…

"Harry." Even his voice gave nothing away. A low rumble with barely any inflection.

Had John told him? Harry stared, trying to see through even the slightest crack in Cleven's veneer.

"Do you know why I'm here?"

He was starting to suspect. Harry glanced towards the door.

Gale followed his gaze, and slowly reach out and flicked the snib above the lock.

Fuck. John definitely told him. "Uh…"

"I think you and I need to have a talk."

[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.” 

[soaps-mohawk]

You know when you're too normal and suddenly you need to be weird? (Cut to the guys omega doing Michael Jackson moves in public)

Me rn

[born-to-lose]

[flightfoot]

From @pomegranate29: #very well deserved#but not super helpful#im already subscribed#seriously echo is amazing

Agreed!

Okay so I'm guessing this is an invitation for more recommendations for authors who need more attention? There's definitely some more, though I'm gonna try and avoid authors I've already recced on underappreciated authors lists. Honestly the authors I want to rec right now are really just for single fics. Still, I think they could use more attention. These are all ongoing fics, btw.

The Queens Requiem by TinyTulip

Chloe Bourgeois fled Paris hoping to escape the wreckage of her past, but New York isn't offering the fresh start she envisioned. Her mother is pushing her relentlessly into the spotlight, determined to mold Chloe into a star, despite her resistance. Meanwhile, mysterious ghost attacks plague the city. Chloe finds herself drawn into a web of supernatural chaos—and an unexpected encounter with two stolen Miraculous. In a city where heroes rise and fall, can she find her own path to redemption or will the shadows of her past keep her trapped? Before she could process what was happening, two swirling balls of light zipped past her, transforming in mid-air. In an instant, two small creatures materialized before her—a bear and a raven, their eyes gleaming with mischief. “Greetings! I am Mato, kwami of the bear,” “And I am Kalanv, kwami of the raven,” Chloe’s heart raced, her mind spiraling into panic. “What the—?!” “Surprise!” Mato beamed, grinning broadly. Chloe stumbled back, “What is going on?!” “Welcome to your new destiny!” Kalanv chirped, unfurling its wings. *Lots of angst before main plot kicks off*

This might just end up being the greatest Chloedemption fic I've ever read, if it continues being this good. It's set post-season 5, with Chloe being dragged to New York City by her mom and being forced through a grueling set of media appearances and lessons in order to rehabilitate her image. She ends up thoroughly regretting wanting her mother's attention.

She does, however, end up desiring the attention of Zoe's father, David. He's willing to make deals with her and try to help her with what she needs... but there's going to be strings attached that she doesn't understand. She even hears him threatening Zoe at one point, so she has some clue about what sort of person he is, but she desperately wants to believe that he genuinely cares for her, for her own psychological wellbeing. Chloe isn't solely surrounded by horrible people though. She runs into the Ghostforce crew and ends up making friends with them, getting a fresh start, though she has to learn how to actually do that.

I just really love how this fic is delving in-depth into Chloe's thoughts and feelings, while also setting up this large-scale conflict between David Lee's machinations and those of the heroes', with Chloe likely being the deciding factor on who "wins" this war.

---

Tales of Mamba Verte and Yamata by YukiEden

In a universe ruled by the self-proclaimed divine being called the Supreme, the world is repeatedly divided into two factions. Those who side with the Supreme and those who are against him. This is the story of both sides clashing and overlapping...

This is the most in-depth worldbuilding I've seen for the Reverse world, with getting to actually see the Supreme and getting an idea of how he sets up his followers, how he pits them against each other, and a bit about how the world runs.

What I really love, though, is the focus on Luka. This fic mainly revolves around Luka and Kagami, but moreso on Luka. I have trouble connecting with the guy normally, but here? YukiEden does a good job of showcasing his reasoning, his ideals, in such a way that he feels in line with canon!Luka, while still being his own unique entity. I always appreciate when a fic lets me connect with the guy, since he's one I tend to have trouble doing that with.

---

The Beauty Of A Rose by properjitterbug

Welcome to the Roaring 1920's! In the small town of Bellerose, Marinette and Adrien are childhood friends while secretly pining for each other. They lead happy lives until one day a long, forgotten promise is stirred awake; changing their lives in ways they couldn't imagine. Forced to become a beast from legend, Adrien vanishes overnight, leaving his loved ones with no explanation, and Marinette to tend a broken heart. With time marching on, Marinette is left to chase after ghosts of her past, while Adrien learns to accept his inner beast, and the courage to free himself from his enchanted isolation. But their trials are far from over—a mysterious illness sweeps through Bellerose, forcing them to embrace their powers in a desperate fight for their loved ones. HEA. Arc 1: Chapters 1-11: Complete Arc 2: Chapters 12-?: In Progress -- Werecat!Adrien x Marinette

This one's rated M for smut, so keep that in mind.

It's a fantastic Fantasy AU, which I'm a sucker for. I love Adrien slowly learning how to cope with his new circumstances, all while Marinette gets to know this mysterious Beast that frightens everyone else. I appreciate that while there's some light inspiration from Beauty and the Beast, it's very much its own plotline, and that "inspiration" is more along the lines of references than anything else. It's nice to see a new sort of fairy tale, and while I don't think the story will surprise a lot of people, it's executed very well and I think it deserves more attention.

Who is an underrated writer who deserves more attention?

Hmmm... I think I'll shine a spotlight on @echo-has-queries, or on AO3, Echo_elates. They've only written an handful of fics, but I've loved them, and they don't get nearly enough attention relative to how good they are. Seriously, the Lovecraftian sort of horror of Through Yellow Eyes is great to read, and I adored getting Kagami's perspective as she got to know robot!Adrien and dealt with getting back into contact with her ex, Marinette, in Each Hum And Click. The prose in both fics is really good, and it's a shame that neither fic has broken the 50 kudos barrier yet.

I'd love for that to change, so go check out Echo's fics!

[hollowflight-propaganda]

Me: has my sixth sudden crying spell of the week

Also me: "yeah but I'm probably not ACTUALLY depressed"

[verareids]

feel the same - s.r. x bau!reader

spencer misunderstands a conversation he overhears between reader and derek. tags/cws: misunderstandings, confessions of feelings, use of 'y/n', gn!reader, fluff, mild angst, derek morgan has big brother energy wc: 1708 (much longer than I thought lmao) a/n: I'm truly obsessed with season 1 spencer as of late so I HAD to write a fic with him in mind. <3

also posted on ao3

“You know Pretty Boy likes you, don’t you?”

Spencer had been trying to get some sleep on the flight back after working a case that had drained all his energy when the sound of Morgan’s voice caught his attention. Without opening his eyes, he knew exactly who he was talking to. Spencer had never outright admitted to anyone that he had developed feelings for you but it was getting harder to deny. Once Derek had started pointing out the way he’d look up when you entered a room or the way his eyes lingered as you walked away, he was becoming concerned that this crush was more obvious than he’d like it to be. 

He’s been trying to ignore it, telling himself it’s unprofessional when really it’s because he believes there’s no way you could possibly feel the same. There’s a myriad of reasons why he wished Derek would keep his big mouth shut but honestly – that was probably the biggest.

“Likes me? How old are we?” The smooth sound of your response makes Spencer smile to himself in spite of the current situation. 

“(Y/N), come on…” Derek chuckles and is immediately met with a long stretch of silence. Spencer can picture the death glare he knows he’d see on your face if he were to look at you in this moment. “Look, you know he’s never gonna ask you out himself so maybe you should just–”

“Derek.” You interrupt with an evident sternness in your tone. “I’m not having this conversation with you. I’ve told you, it’s not happening.” Ouch. Spencer had never allowed himself to dream that you would reciprocate his feelings but he definitely wishes he had been asleep for that one. With that, he forces his eyes shut tighter than before and takes in one deep, slightly shaky breath and decides to try to go back to sleep, if only so that he doesn’t have to hear you reject him even harder.

~

Spencer wakes up as the jet is landing and he quickly gathers all of his things, walking out and across the strip with much more urgency than usual. This detail doesn’t go unnoticed by you, not much does – especially where Spencer is concerned – and you make a mental note to check in with him later. He had caught your eye the first day you met him which must be, what? Half a year ago now? And he had been on your mind ever since. You had bonded quickly as friends, being the two youngest members on the team. About a month ago you had finally allowed yourself to acknowledge the fact that you had developed feelings for him. You’d sit next to him at any given opportunity, listen to his infamously long rants much longer than anyone else would, spend just a little too long staring at his lips as he talked you through his theories. It didn’t take long for people to notice. Elle had her suspicions, JJ made a comment every now and then, but Derek – he wouldn’t let it go. He teases you about it constantly. You haven’t given him the satisfaction of admitting it, you haven’t been able to deny it either.

When you eventually make your way into the building along with the rest of the team you notice that Spencer had already left. It’s only then you start to be concerned. It’s unlike him to leave in such a hurry, even more so to not even say goodbye. You rack your brain trying to come up for a reason for this strange behavior. Is he sick? Upset about something? Was it you? You begin to go over every interaction you’d had with him recently when you have to stop yourself before you spiral. He’s just tired. If it was serious he’d tell you… right?

~

The next morning you walk in to find Spencer at his desk working on the report he didn’t write last night before he had basically ran away.

“Morning, Spence!” You greet him, making an effort to sound cheerful as you lean on his desk. He doesn’t look up, like he’s trying extra hard to look busy.

“Morning, (Y/L/N).” He replies without looking up. His tone seems normal, his use of your last name is what sounds the alarms in your head.

“Hey… are you feeling alright?” You ask tentatively, not wanting to pry too much in case you really had done something wrong that you clearly weren’t aware of. “I noticed you kind of left in a hurry last night.” He finally looks up and meets your eyes, easing your nerves slightly. His eyes shift away and then back to yours before a soft smile graces his lips, one that doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

“I’m okay.” He responds after a while in a way that sounds like that’s not all he wants to say. You go to reassure him, make sure he knows he can tell you anything, but stop yourself when you notice the way he tenses when you place a hand on his shoulder. Retracting your hand quickly, you begin to fidget with your fingers before running them through your hair nervously.

“Spencer… I–” You start and stop and Spencer feels a little guilty as you seem to stumble over your words anxiously. “Is it me? Did I do something? Because if I did I–”.

“(Y/N).” Spencer cuts off your panicked rambling. You take a steadying breath as he slowly rises to stand in front of you, your eyes trailing up when he towers over you. He looks around the room and sighs before focusing back on you. “Can we go somewhere to talk?” You nod and begin walking towards a storage room with Spencer following close behind, quickly checking that there's no one in there before stepping inside.

“What’s going on with you?” You break the silence as Spencer closes the door behind him. “You know you can talk to me about anything.”

“I’m sorry if I’ve been acting weird.” You notice the way he dodges the question. He can’t meet your eyes anymore, his gaze shifts around the room and he smiles awkwardly at you.

“Spence, that’s not–” You interrupt yourself, trying to find a way to put your thoughts to words without overwhelming him. “I only want you to be okay. You’ve been acting differently since last night… If there’s something going on I want to be there for you.” When you say that he smiles sadly. He looks down in thought as if he’s considering something.

“I heard you talking to Morgan…” He mumbles, still staring at his feet – wringing his hands together. You furrow your brows in confusion. Talking to Morgan? “On the jet on the way home…”

“Oh.” This isn’t happening. You figure you should’ve known Derek’s relentless teasing would be your downfall. He must know you like him now. There’s a reason you never wanted him to know how you felt. You couldn’t stand the thought of anything ruining your friendship. Spencer visibly deflates even more in front of you at your lack of response. You begin scrambling to come up with a way to get out of this horrifically embarrassing situation.

“Look, I– I didn’t mean to make this awkward…” Oh god. The way he’s stuttering and tripping over his words. You stare blankly at him, then duck your head, bracing for the impact of his rejection. “It’s not like I thought you would feel the same way I just–” Wait what? Your head snaps back up to see his face, eyes widened, which seems to startle him a little. “I wasn’t going to say anything but I guess I just got really in my head about it.” He begins to look a little panicked. “I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable, I’m sorry if I did.” You just keep staring up at him, mouth agape in disbelief. “(Y/N)?” He says your name with a sad desperation and it reminds you that you should respond.

“Sorry, I–” You say slowly while shaking your head. “Are you saying that – Do you like me?” Now it’s Spencer’s turn to look confused, but it was all starting to make sense to you. You had thought he was acting weird because he had found out about your feelings, when in reality, it was the other way around.

“Yes?” He replies hesitantly.

“I like you too.” You say simply with a shy smile but Spencer looks completely taken aback. 

“You do?” The way his eyes light up with a subtle excitement was adorable. Soon after, that look was replaced with skepticism. “But I thought— you told Morgan you didn’t like me.”

“I told Morgan to stop teasing me about you because I didn’t think this…” You gesture between the two of you. “Was ever going to happen.” Spencer let out a sigh of relief and smiled bashfully.

“You could have just told me.” You feel his eyes scanning your face as if he were still looking for proof that you weren’t messing with him.

“You didn’t tell me either.”

“I thought there was no way…” You make eye contact as he trails off in thought. “I guess it doesn’t matter now.” Spencer takes a tentative step closer to you but doesn’t move to touch you in any way, so you reach out to take his hands in yours, lacing your fingers together.

“Well… maybe if we don’t have to fly out for a case today, we could go to dinner tonight?” You’re staring down at your intertwined hands, squeezing once before looking back up. When you see his face he’s still looking down with a big dopey grin on his face and you can’t help but smile right back.

“Yes— definitely.” You giggle at his obvious enthusiasm. 

You both stay in the storage room for another couple minutes, mostly just staring starry eyed at each other. Eventually you both decide that you should get back to work. You try to hide whatever was now going between you as much as you can but like always, Derek Morgan figures you out within minutes and he, along with the rest of the team, teases you relentlessly. (You wouldn’t have it any other way.)

[alchemistc]

"Evan's not here," Tommy says, and Eddie scowls at him as he pushes past Tommy, already aiming for the kitchen as he hitches the six pack he'd brought with him up under his armpit. It'd been a - a thing. A 'my best friend and my new friend are too busy sucking face to spend every spare moment distracting me from my problems' thing, a thing where Eddie sort of finally understood exactly why Buck had hip checked him on the basketball court months ago. He wants his best friend back. He wants the ease of his friendship with Tommy back.

Which is - Christ, he's selfish, is the thing. A month without Chris there to keep him occupied and Eddie has had some startling realizations about himself. ("You're not selfish, Eddie, you're the most selfless person I know." from Buck and "So fix it," from Tommy, a rare night out with the both of them because he'd headed date night off at the pass by asking Tommy to go out for drinks before he and Buck could make plans without him).

"My world doesn't revolve around Buck," Eddie tells him, and screws the cap off a beer to hand it to Tommy. Tommy's doing that judgmental face he gets when he wants to say something bitchy but hasn't put the words in the right order yet. And - Eddie's not lying. Buck is a fixed point, an ever present life-line, but he's not the fucking sun.

Neither is Chris, apparently, which is news to Eddie and he's - spiralling, still. Quietly, calmly, and he's only punched one hole in the wall on a bad night.

"You ever go to Frank?" Eddie asks, like Frank is the only therapist in the greater LA area, and Tommy rolls his eyes, disappears long enough for the muted sound of the television to go quiet.

When he comes back Eddie's reading the label on his beer bottle

"Apparently I resent you," Eddie says, and Tommy chuffs a laugh.

"Apparently?"

"No, I -." The words had been just as hard two hours ago. This little trip was his own design, he'd been told specifically to sit in it for a while but Christ, an hour a week isn't enough time to talk through his issues and it's not like he can tell Buck he resents him for finding something he's happy and stable and solid in. So. Tommy it is. "You and Buck are good together. I'm happy for you both. I am."

Tommy settles against a countertop with his hip digging into the Formica. His kitchen has gained a dutch oven that looks suspiciously like the one Buck has been showing Eddie for like six months that he couldn't justify the cost of because he's not around enough to use it as much as he'd like.

"I'm not usually the one without his shit together," Eddie says.

"No offense, Eddie, but I thought the whole point of therapy was you realizing you rarely have your shit together."

Also true. He's - usually better at hiding it though. Kim was a joker stacked up on a wobbly house of cards and he'd known, somewhere in the back of his mind, that she'd bring the whole thing tumbling to the ground. Mass casualty event. No survivors.

"You make each other better people," Eddie says, which is the wrong thing to say apparently because Tommy scowls.

"If you wanna completely ignore all the work we've both put into ourselves," he snipes, and - yeah. Fair. Buck's been in therapy for years now. Every once in a while he'll pull something out of his ass that makes Eddie's skin itch - something so mystifyingly self-aware that it makes Eddie want to claw into his chest cavity and rip out his fucking heart. And Tommy - well, he doesn't know much but it's not like Tommy's the paragon of perfection. He's worked through some shit. Is still working through shit, if the aftermath of his and Buck's first real fight is any indication.

"I've never been with someone who makes me want to work on myself," Eddie admits, and the lines around Tommy's eyes shift. He sighs.

"Never gonna find that if you don't want it for yourself."

Yeah. Frank's said as much. It's just - Eddie doesn't have a starting point. Tommy had the whole hiding his true self thing, and Buck had the dead-brother-shitty-parents thing, and he's whittling them both down to the sharp edges of themselves in his mind, which isn't entirely fair but it's easier than trying to confront what the fuck his own problem is. Dead wife, his kid in another state, a contentious relationship with his father, a whole backlog of PTSD he's never really confronted head on. Weird feelings cropping up about a religion he thought he'd left in the dust and sand of Afghanistan and a hole he's been trying to fill up with other people since - well, he doesn't even know since when.

Tommy's got his dog tags laying in the bottom of an empty fruit bowl on his kitchen table. Eddie's never seen them before, and some part of him knows Tommy'd brought them out for a conversation with Buck he'll never hear himself, and he aches. He doesn't want them, but he wants what they have, wants to be able to talk about the difficult shit without closing in on himself, wants to have someone to come home to, wants -

"I spent six months imagining my therapist's head exploding every time she made me talk about something uncomfortable," Tommy tells him, and takes a long drag off his beer. For the first time since he'd knocked on Tommy's door, Eddie actually feels a little bad about interrupting his night, but that just leaves him spiralling some more because Eddie usually feels bad about everything, all the time, so why hadn't he felt guilty about this until now? And why does he feel guilty about not feeling guilty?

"I just want him to fix me," Eddie says, and Tommy laughs. Laughs hard and long enough that Eddie's feeling offended. Off kilter and pissed off and -

"You're not a single loose wire, Eddie. Can't just replace a cable and have a clean slate. You gotta change your oil and replace the spark plugs and top up the coolant, over and over again until you die."

It's the sort of metaphor Eddie'd like to lob across the field of engagement just to watch it get shot to pieces. It's apt, though.

"Feels like the whole engines gotta go," Eddie tells him "Transmission's shot and my catalytic converter keeps getting stolen and the mufflers been welded back on so many times that it's half-solder."

"Christ," Tommy says, which. Yeah. Exactly. "Well you can't exactly send yourself to the junk yard for scrap and buy a newer model."

"Buck does," Eddie snaps, and Tommy rolls his eyes. He'd been there the last time Buck brought up his 1.0 days.

"Half the time a system update patches ten bugs and creates twenty more."

"So Buck's buggy, is what you're saying."

He rolls his tongue over his teeth. "You are running off faulty software and you've been refusing to update to the new version because you heard it'd burn the battery faster, is what I'm saying."

Eddie doesn't have a whole lot of charge to begin with. And the metaphors are starting to muddle in his brain, too many different ideas battling around when he's already spent an ornery hour talking to Frank and another trying to convince himself he doesn't resent his best friend for accepting his own fucking flaws and working on them.

Tommy sets the beer bottle down. Eyes Eddie for a moment, and Eddie wonders how often he levels that look on Buck, how Buck feels when Tommy flays him open and digs through his insides. "You wanna go hit something for a bit?" he asks, and Eddie nods so quickly he nearly smacks his nose into the brim of the bottle in his own hand. He's about done feeling his feelings, for the moment. He'll probably end up being annoyed that Tommy makes him wrap his hands before he takes some aggression out on the bag hung up in the corner of Tommy's garage, but maybe when Tommy gets annoyed with him and does that takedown maneuver that knocks the wind out of Eddie's lungs when they're sparring he'll let that go.

Tommy flicks his forehead on the way to grab him something to wear. "That's for calling my boyfriend buggy, jackass," he says, and laughs himself all the way down the hall when Eddie splutters after him.

His bedroom door snicks shut by the time Eddie's recovered enough to remind him that he'd been Eddie's friend first.

[luludeluluramblings]

dream team duo rambling again (our bad 4 tha spam but we luvvvvv ur stuff!!)

gyaru or influencer reader or even normal reader who intentionally has a specific way of speaking (valley girl, southern accent, Cajun accent, etc.) and then completely drops it to go off the grid??? that just seems so cool

Neglected!Influencer!Reader x Yandere!Batfam

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

A/N: Okay, buckle up! Cause y'all are adding the spin to my spiraling and I'm living for it!

A/N: Adding this to the concept list because I got carried away with this and will probably want to add to it at some point. Calling this Influencer!Reader.

Warnings: GN!Reader, subtle yandere themes

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

Neglected!Reader that starts filming Youtube videos or streaming in their room in the manor to cope with the loneliness. Only, rather than putting on a persona or costume, they just act like their genuine self.

They wear a certain style that they love and feel their best in. They have a distinct accent that they don't bother to hide when filming. They talk as loud or as soft as they want. They ramble and rave about their favorite things. And, people adore them for it.

Including the Bat Family.

But, no one makes the connection.

Outside of streaming, they were typical ordinary clothes that they don't feel like themselves in and try to hide their accent to sound more normal. All in the hopes of fitting in with the family and the Gotham.

The irony of trying so hard to make people like you only for you to fail to realize they already like you. Just not when you hide who you are.

Being blown off by members of the family, only because you have a video scheduled to post and for them to literally cut out time from their day just to watch it and be the first to comment.

Watching the usernames send you donations for your running away fund, only for them to be from the very people you want to run from.

It's not like the Bats realize who you are. They never spend time with you. They never notice you when you try to fit in with them. They've never even been in your room before. How could they know that their favorite person was literally right down the hall.

It isn't until you take a hiatus, telling your followers your finally moving and getting out of your hell hole that the pieces click.

Lets say, Tim gets itchy. (Going back to the idea of him using your videos to fall asleep.) He wants your voice back to soothe him. He needs his fix. And, lets face it, the others would only encourage it when they find out he's trying to track you down.

Imagine their horror when the puzzle comes together. That your their sibling. The one they've ignored. You live in the manor with them. But, wait. You said in your last video your moving? Wait! NO!

The rush down the hall to your empty room. Realizing they had seen the inside of it so many times, but had never actually been in it. Finding some of your old things left behind that had been in previous videos that you didn't bother to take. (They fight over them. They're sacred now.)

The had you. They had you right there in arms reach and they didn't hold you.

And, then you finally post another video. Thanking your fans for loving you when they couldn't. (But, their your fans too.)

They're gonna get you back though. Their you're biggest fans after all.

[riansdiary]

IT'S NOT MANIFESTING, IT'S HAVING AND BEING NOW!

Hello my dearest gentle readers! 💎

Did you miss me? I am back with another epiphany! I had it last few weeks ago and it was when I realized that we f*cking over complicated the law of assumption too much. When I started manifesting with the help of Hyler's videos, there was no stress or worrying or over complication about it at least for me. That is because I knew that all I needed to do was assume that I have it now, there was not too much focus on the 3d because why would we identify with the old story?

Let me give you a simple analogy for this. It's just like changing batteries or having a new phone or erasing the board for a new lesson. When you need to change the batteries of your remote, you just put in the new ones (new story) and that's it. You forget and toss the old ones (old story) in the trash! That's how simple it is. There's no "why is it still not working?" or "what if it doesn't work?" when manifesting because that is being in the middle!

You're hanging in the balance and your subconscious is gonna be confused so go straight to the end. Manifesting is that simple. You either have it or you don't but you're not just pretending you have it either. You know you have it. I don't even like calling it manifesting that much because that implies a process or waiting time. It's just having it or being it now and not looking or identifying with the 3d or the old story.

You just choose a story and stick to it. Heck, I didn't even affirm that much before to manifest things. I wanted to make the two vaccines I'm getting to be completely painless, what did I do? I relaxed and affirmed only a few times and lived in the end. I didn't worry because I knew it was done. I wanted a specific food I'm craving? I affirmed a few times in the state of the wish fulfilled and forgot about it. Later on, I get the very thing I affirmed for. We must remember that the 3d follows us. Okay so what do you think will happen if you're saying stuff like "Where is it? I've been affirming for x amount of time!" or "I've been listening for so long to subliminals but there's no results!"

You are now reacting and you're pulling yourself back to the old story. There's no problem if you rant or cry it all out. We're human and we can do that but we keep staying in the new story. The problem is if we give up. The only thing that is stopping you from having it is exactly those thoughts about the 3d. That is keeping you in the old story. If you're really living in the end then why oh why do you spiral and think thoughts like that? If this ever happened to you, you can just go back to the new story. Reject and cancel your reaction. I reject negative thoughts or anything I don't want. Yes, you can do that. Do not forget that you are the operant power.

Let me tell you how to really do it in the easiest and simplest way possible. This is how I used to manifest effortlessly when I started learning about the law. Now I over consumed and yeah you know, took too much info when I already knew what worked for me even before. Now, I'm not saying that this is the only way or the best way to manifest. I'm just recommending this. What works for me might not work for you but that's okay. We all have our own special way.

Now without further ado, let me tell you how to do it. Try it for two weeks or however long or short you want. Just trust me and try this out.

1. Think of what you want to manifest. Anything you want. Go crazy.

2. Either pick an affirmation or multiple ones to say in your mind when you think of it. That's option A.

Option B: Rampage a.k.a just say whatever you think if you have that already. It's just naturally whatever comes to your mind about it that is in the past, present or future tense. You pick what you want but personally I like the present tense the best. Let me give you an example and yes, this is what I used to affirm for the things I mentioned above. Let me link the video I got this from!

Example 1: For my painless vaccines, these are the thoughts I had. All in the wish fulfilled state.

"Oh goodie the line's moving so fast now! The vaccines I'm getting are gonna be painless. Yup it was painless, it felt like an ant bit me. That was nothing! I literally finished so fast and I'm ready to go home with Mom!"

This is what I thought to make the lines go faster which honestly helped so much because the line was so long but it started moving faster and faster after I affirmed. I also thought in my favor about making the vaccine painless. I made sure to affirm that I won't have the side effects that people are talking about. I did it like that, very naturally but I also repeated each sentence at least just three or five times. It changes a bit as I think but it's just the same sentence simplified or just another form of it. Let me show you what I mean.

"I got the vaccine and it was painless. It didn't even hurt. I got the vaccine so fast and we can go home now. Oh the line's going faster. Why is the line suddenly moving so fast? Oh that was fast!"

Something like that! It's just like my natural way of thinking!

Option C: Just decide you have it and keep deciding whenever you think of it and know that your words are law. That means that when you decide, it is instantly done.

3. Always replace the old story with the new story. Take the old story and chuck it in the trash. It's in the past. You now have whatever it is that you want. That means whether you see it or not, think that it is done and it is here now. Yes, full on delulu mode but not really delulu because it's just being in that mindset of having it. That also means that you don't need to find it in the 3d. Why would you? That's the old story and it's trash. Do not even think about it. Aha, do not even try. You accept that it is here now and it is done. Remember that what you focus on stays in your reality. It is that easy. You don't want to be broke? Okay forget about that. It's in the past and it's not true anymore. Accept that you're rich now whether you see it or not. Have faith in the law of assumption. Acknowledge your desire to be in your reality now. Acknowledge that money you now have in your bank account. I acknowledged that croissant that I wanted. Yup I know the croissant is right in front of me now. Instead of finding your desire in the 3d, SPAWN THAT SH*T! MAGICALLY MANIFEST IT OUT OF THIN AIR. Um, excuse my french 🤭

4. All you need to do now is to know that it's done. RELAX. Why would you worry about it when you have it now? Be in the reality where you have it now. What would you think now that you have it? How would you feel? You'd feel relaxed and you can kick back and watch movies! Know that it is truly done. Would you count how many times you affirmed if you had it already? No. Would you worry about it if it's already here? No. That is still being stuck in the middle and making it a process! What would you do if it's already here? Do that. Do what makes you happy. Watch some Disney or Ghibli movies and just chill because you have it now whatever it is you desire. Let go of the 3d and the old story because it's in the past. Please. Manifesting doesn't really include the 3d. It's just a mere reflection of your thoughts or state. That's all it is. And please do not wait for it. There's no waiting. You just need to know and acknowledge that your desire is here, you have it now and it's done.

Here's a little summary of that:

1. What do you want? Okay you have it now. Congrats! 🎉

2. Affirm in whatever way you want for a few times or whenever you think of it.

3. Live in the end/state of the wish fulfilled. The old story is in the past. Focus on the new story. What you focus on sticks/stays in your reality.

4. Know it's done now. Do what makes you happy. Acknowledge your desire being here now.

Before I end this post, let's do a little fun exercise. Shall we proceed? Just a little extra thing!

Okay this is the situation: You were rich all your life. You've always lived a lavish life and you are spoiled with gifts on the daily. You literally can always afford and get the latest Iphone or whatever else you wanted. You have always gotten whatever the heck you want.

For the first two, it's gonna be an acting exercise. More like try being this character and embodying them.

First is improv acting. Be this character and rampage or naturally say lines that you think they would always be saying. Think Audrey Hope, Blair Waldorf, Nate Archibald or any rich spoiled characters you know!

Fun fact: Audrey is my fave character in the Gossip Girl reboot! She's so cute! My inspo when it comes to being classy and demure! Idk I also really like her personality! That's why I used her gifs!

Something like: "Oh I really want those compact mirror cameras! It's small so it's easy to put in my bag and it looks like makeup! It gives Totally Spies vibes so you know what... I'm gonna place my order now! I always have money anyway and it's so cheap so why not?"

The next thing is a line that you can say. I asked Chatgpt to make me a random rich character monologue. It's like a vaunt basically! Imagine it's Blair Waldorf's opening narration line. Be it, Embody it and say it in your mind like it's just normal for you. You can read it everyday if you want to!

"I always get what I want. That’s just how it works for me. I don’t even have to think about it—if I want something, it’s mine. No questions, no doubts. It’s like the world bends a little to make sure I have exactly what I need, when I need it. And why wouldn’t it? That’s just how my life goes.

I walk into any room, and I know I belong there. I don’t have to prove myself or explain why I deserve it. I just do. Everything I touch turns into something special. When I want something—whether it’s an invitation to the most exclusive event or a last-minute trip halfway around the world—I make a call, and it’s done. Effortless.

People think money changes things, but it’s not really about that. It’s about knowing that everything is always within reach. I don’t chase after things—I attract them. Opportunities, people, experiences—they all come to me naturally. It’s just how my life flows.

And the best part? I don’t even have to try. It’s just who I am. I live on my own terms, and the world just fits itself around that. Everything always works out for me."

Here's the next exercise. This is something more specific. This is inspired by one of Hyler's videos that I will link here.

Think of a thing you're manifesting right now and imagine it right in front of you. For people who can't visualize, find a picture of the thing (if possible) in Pinterest or Google and look at it as if it's in front of you.

If it was right here in front of you, what would you think, how would you feel and how would you act? This has helped me immensely after I watched Hyler's video. I realized that I would feel relaxed now that it's here and my thoughts would align with it being here now. I would take a deep breath and feel relieved.

Now I want you to do this for your desire. I want you to always ask yourself these questions to remind yourself that it's here now and it's done. Whatever is in the 3d is old news. What you focus on sticks so focus on only what you want. The 3d is not included in manifesting. It's just the effect while the 4d a.k.a your mind is the cause. Live in the reality where you have it now, live in the 4d and embody the version of you who already has it. Don't do things to manifest or get things. That will happen naturally but that should not be our focus. The basics are to assume/decide/know you have it now. If you have it now then why would you identify with the old story? Do not identify with the old story. You're not there anymore. It will just stay in your reality if you pay attention to it and give it power.

That's all I have for you in today's post but I know or at least I am now assuming that this will help everyone and make it easier for you! I hope you're having a good day or night!

Yours Truly,

Lady Rian Whistledown 💋

[delphi-shield]

SAY IT BACK ↪ letting them leave without an ily

finishing up some smaller things from my wip folder before i buckle down and work on the big stuff again. here's this doofy little fluff piece.

characters included: chris redfield, leon kennedy, jill valentine, ada wong

content: fluff. just fluff. established relationship. mildly ooc behavior for the sake of fluff (also known as being in a relationship and acting stupid)

You found it on TikTok - or maybe it was Instagram, or Facebook - doesn't matter. One of the media conglomerates had given you a horrible idea about how to tease your loving, devoted partner.

It's simple - when they said 'I love you' before they left for work, you just wouldn't say it back. What could go wrong?

Chris Redfield ↪

Did not notice. Secure. In his lane. Unbothered. Probably not moisturized. (Get him a nice oil, fragrance free. He'll like it more if you massage it into his muscles for him, spend a little extra time smoothing along the curve of his spine, up and over the tightness of his shoulders.)

If you're at the point with Chris where he's saying “I love you” in place of a goodbye, he doesn't need to hear you say it back. He's confident in your relationship. Hearing it is just a nice bonus.

You're going to get your own feelings hurt here. Sent yourself into a spiral. Like, damn, does he not listen? Does he not care? What the fuck is his deal?

Chris is legitimately confused when you bring it up to him later. Doesn't get the point of the whole thing. “Why wouldn't you just say you love me?” Head cocked to the side, so puppy-like you can practically see the velvety ears flopping over.

Really doesn't do the whole social media thing. Even when you show him videos as an example, he's just shrugging. "I'm pretty sure those are skits, honey. No one really reacts like that."

If only he knew. Hey - at least now you know that Chris is perfectly content in your relationship and won't let anything silly like this bother him. It's just a sign to ramp up the pranks - more practical jokes, less subtle, harmless emotional manipulation.

That's what you thought, at least, but when Chris flips the light off that night and sidles up behind you in bed, strong arms slipping around your middle and tugging you back to him, his voice rumbles in your ear - "You gonna tell me you love me, or is this gonna be a problem?"

And Chris is really good at extracting confessions. How badly do you actually want to get some sleep tonight?

Jill Valentine ↪

Doesn't seem to have noticed that you ignored her. Walked right out the door without missing a step, didn't even glance back. Her car pulls out of the garage, her sunglasses on - she seems entirely unbothered.

Oh, she’s bothered.

Jill Valentine is Not Petty™️. And she does not pout when her partner doesn't say ‘I love you’ back. She's in a pissy mood at work for a completely unrelated reason. She's not returning your texts because she's busy at work, not because she's trying (and failing) to give you a taste of your own medicine.

She definitely doesn't carry that storm cloud all the way home with her, doesn't rain on your parade when you cheerfully announce that dinner's ready and on the table.

You're trying everything you can think of to cheer her up. Asking about work got you a noncommittal shrug. You'd offered to draw a bath for her - or (preferably) for the both of you, but she'd dismissed the idea, talking about how it would take up too much time.

She didn't have the heart to shrug you off when you started massaging her shoulders. Despite your silence in the morning, you were clearly intent on taking care of her. Maybe nothing was wrong. Maybe you just hadn't heard her.

Her palm presses against your cheek, turns you to face her. She searches your eyes for a moment, her gaze unreadable. "Thanks for dinner. I love you."

Nothing. Fucking nothing. "You're welcome."

Jill knows that look on your face, that shit-eating grin that you're trying to cover up by glancing down, by pretending to be flustered. Her hands grip your hips. She manhandles you into her lap, chair scraping against the floor to make room for the both of you.

"Okay - spill. What's up with you?"

Once you explain, she's not mad about the whole thing, not really. But you can't help but notice that she's been withholding kisses lately, and-- wait.

Fuck. Now she's turned the tables on you.

Leon Kennedy ↪

Keeps finding new and inventive ways to double back inside the house. He's not going to outright ask you what's up - that would make him look desperate, which he’s totally not. He’s definitely not concerned at all that you didn’t complete your morning ritual and send him out the door with an ‘I love you’. He’s a big boy - this isn’t high school, this is his very mature, very adult relationship.

Excuse number one: “Sorry, forgot my keys,” as he makes a show of dropping his keys out of his pocket, onto the living room floor. His eyes are on you when he reaches to grab them. Leon tosses them in his hand, making as much noise as he possibly can. “All right, love you.”

You hold strong. Still no ‘love you’ back. He’s gone for all of 60 seconds when he comes back with excuse number two: “Ah, damn, forgot my badge. I’d lose my head if it wasn’t attached.”

His badge is attached to his belt. You can literally see it. When you point that out to him, he makes a show of being relieved, goes so far as to press a kiss to your temple, and says, “God, what would I do without you? Love ya. Have a good day.”

But you hold strong. Until excuse number three:

“Babe, have you seen my gun?”

You laugh, which only makes him laugh - and then he hits you with ‘no, seriously’ while he leans against the doorway, hip cocked. He’s got you figured out by now, knows that if he can make you laugh then you’re not doing this because you’re mad at him or anything. He can't even be mad when you explain it to him. He can only warn you:

"I'm gonna get you for this. Now, c'mon - say it."

Ada Wong ↪

I don't know why you would do this to her to be honest. She just said ‘I love you’. You should be marking your calendar and turning this into a holiday.

She doesn't say it often, at least not while you're conscious. Whether she presses her sentiments into your hair while you sleep against her, drooling against her collar bone, is up for debate. You have no hard evidence and she'll deny the allegations.

It simultaneously is and is not a big deal. She didn't say it because she craved the validation of having you repeat it to her. She said it because she meant it. There's so few concrete truths about herself that she can share with you, but that was one of them. Does it sting a little not to have it returned? Maybe.

She turns the moment over and over in her head, letting it haunt her. You had given her time, she thinks, why can't she give you yours? But your silence is a specter that tinges every moment. It creeps at the edges of every thought, it–

“Hey, you forgot your coffee.”

She turns to see you in the door of your apartment, hanging from the frame with one hand, her cup extended to her in the other. She clicks back to you in her stilettos, and your press a kiss to her cheek when she claims her drink. The guilt of it all ate at you before you could let her leave your sight. “Love you. Be safe.”

She'd spiraled before she even got down to the parking lot. Total loser in love.

[frogskinkhole]

You're daughter has been restless recently, and despite starting to get too old for it, she's started asking to sleep in your bed with you. Of course, you want to take care of your darling little girl so you let her.

The two of you have always been confortable with each others bodies, after all, why shouldnt you be, you raised her. Since its been so hot, the two of you have been sleeping in the nude. The only thing is, she's started to rub her ass against your cock at night while you hold her. You know it's not her fault, and she's just a growing girl, and you know it's wrong but you can't help but get rock hard every time it happens.

One night, she's rubbing her little pussy against your cock, getting harder by the moment, and you can't take it any more. You know it's wrong, but you're so fucking horny and you know you can manipulate her into doing more for you.

"My baby, are you ok? You're moving funny, is everything ok my sweet?" You ask her.

"I'm sorry mommy, my princess parts just feel funny, they feel all warm." she whines.

You know this is your opportunity, "I'm sorry my baby, but dont worry, thats perfectly normal for growing girls like you. You know, mommy actually knows a way that lots of mommy's help their daughters with this"

"Ok mommy, thank you mommy," she replies.

You take your rock hard cock, and position it between your baby's legs, pressing it between her pussy lips, almost kissing her clit. "Ok baby, I'm just gonna move my cock, just like that. Now you can keep rocking yourself ok?"

Your beautiful little girl starts rocking her hips back and forth into you, her tight little pussy rubbing against your cock. You can feel her pussy getting wetter, starting to leak slick onto your cock, lubricating you and making it feel so much fucking better.

"Mff my baby how is that? Are you feeling any better my love?" You ask, knowing full well all you've done is made your little girl hornier.

"I don't know mommy," she says, small moans breaking her words, "I still feel funny down there, and now I feel all wet like I peed, but I know I didnt mommy."

"Well," you say, coyly, "mommy knows something that helps with that. It might be a little weird at first, but I promise all mommy's do this for their babies." You grab your daughters hips, stopping her from grinding. She whines softly, not even fully understanding why. You slide your already slick cock back, and find the entrance to her soft, tight pussy. You hesitate a moment. If you do this, there's no going back. You do this, and you'll be having incestuous sex with your own daughter, raping her before she even knows what sex is. You can't help it. Slowly, you slide your cock into her wet pussy.

"Mommyyyy" your daughter whines, "what are you doing, that hurtsss"

"I know baby, I know. Just wait a little while it'll be ok I promise. Little girls do this with their mommies all the time, you'll be ok" you reassure her, slipping deeper and deeper into her fresh, wet cunt. Soon, you bottom out in your daughter, your whole length buried in her slit. This promps your baby to whine again. Despite the pain, she starts to rock her hips again, fucking herself onto your cock. You're hit with waves of pleasure and shame, knowing that you're raping your little girl that treats you completely, while manipulating her into thinking it's right and normal.

"Mommyyy" your daughter whines, breaking you out of your spiraling thoughts "I still feel funny down there, I need help" she cries.

"Shhh shh sh don't worry baby don't worry I got you baby" you coo back, giving her little kisses on the back of her head, "just hold still baby, let mommy take care of it."

Youre past the point of no return. Past the point of caring. Your daughter is begging you for help, and you've deluded even yourself into thinking what comes next is ok. You grab your daughters hips, and start fucking her. Slow at first, you pull your cock out nearly all the way, before slowly edging it back in. With every thrust you get faster, and every thrust elicits a new moan from your little girl. Soon enough, your fucking your daughter hard and fast, raping her little cunt for your pleasure while she moans under you. Completely out of control now, you grab one of your daughters tits, rolling her nipple in your hand as you keep fucking into her. You treat her body like your personal toy, pent up after days of feeling her rubbing her fat ass against your rock hard cock.

Over and over you thrust into her, hearing her moan with every thrust. "Mommy, mommy, mommy!" She cries, moans interrupting her words "Mommy I feel funny, uhmf, something is happening"

"It's ok baby just let it happen, just let it pass it'll be ok I promise you'll like it," you tell her. Your little girls first orgasm, and it will be from her own mothers cock. The thought is too much to bear, prompting your own orgasm to approach. You feel your baby's pussy tightening around your cock, knowing her orgasm is about to arrive.

"Mommyyyyy!!" Your daughter shouts, her cunt clenching onto your cock as her body is wracked with her first orgasm.

"Fuck!" you grunt out, before you unload into your own daughters womb, impregnating her with her own siblings.

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

Playful prompts for tadc cast playing hide and seek with hider reader?

Awe this is a cute idea! (not including Caine bc I see him as the one organizing this game).

.........

Pomni

During her first week inside the Digital Circus, she's slowly adapting to everything...although she refuses to give up on finding an exit.

But when Caine forced everybody to play some hide n' seek, with you being the hider, she really doesn't want any part of it.

However you convinced her to play along, whispering that if she found you first, you'll share what you remembered from your old life as a "prize".

Although initially annoyed you wouldn't just tell her, she becomes motivated searching high and low, opening doors, looking down barrels, etc.

When she finally finds you (courtesy of a glitching object), she's anxious to hear what you had to say-

Unfortunately Caine decides to pop in and put on a big celebration for Pomni winning the game...which goes on the whole damn day up until everybody goes to bed that night.

You seemingly forgot what you were gonna tell her, to which she gets upset and angry that you gave her false hope, sulking in her room.

But you slide a note under her door, explaining that you only recently remembered your real name.

Suddenly she realizes that maybe her memories weren't 100% gone.

If you could suddenly remember your name, then....surely she can, too!

Gangle

After Jax was mean to her during the last hide n' seek game, you try cheering her up by playing another one.

It didn't involve Caine or anybody else. Just you two.

She mopes about being a terrible seeker. But since you're her best friend (and you promised her a prize), she'll go along if it makes you happy.

You decide to hide in spots that she would 100% think to check, deliberately allowing her to win.

Since she's all ribbons, it's easy for her to slink around and squeeze into tight spaces.

After finding you three times, she gets suspicious that you're purposefully going easy on her-

But she stops her accusations as you finally present her prize:

It's a brand new comedy mask!! Except this one wasn't made of porcelain or ceramic, instead being unbreakable material (or at least material that's couldn't casually be broken by anyone, especially Jax).

Gangle sobs with happiness before putting the mask on, squealing over how perfectly it fits, and hugging you tightly.

Thanks to you, she can finally feel joyful again!

Zooble

They'd rather do anything else....

But since this little hide n' seek "adventure" was all Caine's idea, she has no choice but to go along with it.

Even so, she puts the least amount effort into the game.

When you're the hider and she's the seeker, they just pray to whatever god is in this world (besides Caine) that you aren't anywhere in the Gloink cavern.

She'd rather not get discombobulated again.

Sometimes, she'll throw parts of herself in the direction where she thinks you're hiding, hoping to startle you into giving away your location so this dumb game can finally end.

Lucky for you, you know their tricks and keep quiet.

She doesn't expect any prizes (unless it's a limb that makes her body not look like a hot mess).

If they find you, she'll be like "yay I win..now I'm going back to my room" and saunter off.

Kinger

Like Zooble, he'd much rather do something else.

But he goes along with Caine's game anyways after you enticed him into playing for a prize.

Whatever momentarily stops his sanity from spiraling, I guess.

He searches high and low, getting nervous when he can't find you anywhere in the places he'd 100% expect you to be.

Lowkey starts to wonder if something terrible actually happened to you--like if you were trapped and not even Caine could help you.

The last place he could think of was your room but.....he doesn't have your key.

At the same time, he knew you weren't a cheater. You wouldn't hide somewhere that nobody else (except Jax) could access!

In the end, he goes back to his fort to sulk, openly declaring that you've won the game.

As it turns out, you chose to hide in that same fort, and you jump out with a grin, feeling victorious.

Kinger just stares at you for a solid 10 seconds.....before he suddenly screams and asks why tf you were in there.

You feel bad for scaring him, so you reward him for at least trying: a jar with a caterpillar currently wrapped up in a chrysalis.

He LOVES it, but now he carries around the jar every second of the day, staring at it until the little bug hatches.

At least now he has a reason not to fall off the deep end just yet.

Jax

Hide n' seek is like child's play to him.

Somehow this cheeky bastard knows exactly where you're hiding no matter what, even if it's outside the tent (like at the lake or fair).

It's definitely tarnishing your reputation as the best "hider" out of all of the gang.

When you ask him how tf he knew, he just shrugs and says "you're too predictable, try a better spot next time".

Hiding in your room is definitely not an option, as he's stolen your key (and would point out that would be cheating if someone else was the seeker instead)--so there truly is no place to hide.

Like Zooble, he's not in it for some prize.

It is, however, quite rewarding seeing you get so frustrated when he effortlessly finds you.

And that's enough for him

If it's a game involving everyone, then he just straight-up mocks the others for not realizing the very obvious spot (or at least to him it was obvious) you were hiding in.

Ragatha

She's probably the most enthusiastic about Hide n' seek (like you have mentioned, it's a good distraction from the stresses of being stuck in this virtual world).

Is also a fair and honest player, never once peeking while she counts to 10.

Like Pomni, she does her best to find you first, searching places she knows you frequent--or mentioned liking in the past.

But you're definitely the best hider out of everyone, so it's a little challenging.

Still, she refuses to give up!

When she does successfully find you, you and Caine decided that she should get a prize for being such a great seeker.

It's her very own centipede-repellent spray bottle.

While it won't stop Jax from trying to sneak those little pests into her room, the mist will deter them from coming near her at all and help her conquer her fear.

She's forever grateful and sprays it around her bed every night before she sleeps.

Oh, and she'll definitely threaten Jax with it if he even mentioned centipedes around her.

[sim0nril3y]

Revenge

Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Civilian!Reader Scenario: I'm sorry for this one, but just a silly little imagine after writing that angst. So, after smacking Simon's bum playfully he decides to find his own revenge which spirals chaotically. Warnings: No mask Simon (It's my personal headcanon in his regular life he probably wouldn't wear it), playful spanking, oral (f receiving), orgasm denial, canon-typical swearing.

What was he going to prepare for dinner tonight? Simon was standing looking into the vast emptiness of the fridge, the empty shelves mocked him, the lonely jar of marmite smirked and jested whilst he stood there arms crossed, stance wide as if he was going to tackle the appliance any moment to try and find its secrets and hidden compartments.

From behind he heard you shuffling into the kitchen, placing down your long finished mug of tea and approaching him slowly. “Love-” Whack~ A rouge hand struck his butt making him jolt a little in surprise. It hadn’t hurt. The act alone had just shocked him into a stunned silence. From behind you cackled laughing, especially as he turned slowly to finally face you. “What?” You snickered, covering your mouth with your hand.

Those dark eyes of his narrowed, looking at you with a calculative glare, jaw set and muscles wound tight. “There’s nothing in the fridge.” He continued his long abandoned sentence before his rear had been struck. “I’m gonna order a take-away.” He bit out, before stepping around you. Realistically the only thing left on Simon’s mind was revenge.

It was a few evenings later after a steamy showered before bed when you were hanging up some clothes into the cupboard you shared. Now, shared was probably a loose term when it came to the cupboard, as a good portion of it was made up of your pretty dresses, skirts, trousers, blouses and jumpers a whole cascade of shoes beneath. Then shoved to the side was a measly bit of space for Simon’s clothing.

Thwhack! A sudden strike on your own rear sent you whole body hurdling forward into the cupboard, body pressed and clinging to the hanging clothes to keep your unbalanced body upright. “Ow!” You yelped; your voice muffled between the clothes. Turning your face and seeing Simon looming behind you, arms crossed and proud smirk on his face. “What the fuck?” You squeaked. “Just a little payback, love.”

As you leant there, your eyes widened. “For bloody what?!” You huffed, trying to push yourself up. “For smacking your bum like a week ago?!” You growled. “I didn’t send you headfirst into the fridge, Simon and I certainly didn’t smack you that hard…” You vented and this only caused him to chuckle. “It wasn’t that hard-” “It wasn’t soft either. I bet it’ll bruise…”

“Let me check.” The words came out quick and before you knew it Simon was tugging down your leggings and knickers to inspect your rear. “Simon!” You squeaked from inside the cupboard still, hands clinging to the fabric of your clothes, creasing them beneath your clenched fingers. “Simon…” You whimpered softly as you felt him kneel behind you, carefully taking the globes of your arse into his hands and stroking them softly. “You’ll be fine, love…” Simon mentioned, carefully pulling them apart, squeezing them, stroking them before placing a few stray kisses to the struck skin. “Want me to make it up to you, babe?”

From inside the cupboard you nodded, whimpering out a soft. “Yes, please.” “So polite…” Simon murmured, pulling carefully on your hips so that your arse stuck out a little further, placing a few kisses to the backs of your thighs, higher and higher causing you to squeak as his face dipped forward to find your soaked cunt, all pretty and leaking for him. “Fuck…” He growled, wanting to start slow and build up but simply unable to hold back as he got a taste of your wonderful juices. They were addictive to him. Once the first drop touched his tongue Simon craved more and more.

From where you were leaning awkwardly into the closet you could simply only cling to your clothes and accept the laps and presses of his tongue and mouth, moaning loudly as his hand slipped around your body to find your clit, massaging it beneath his fingers in tight circles. “Simon~ Simon~ Ohgod~” You cried in pleasure; it was like the air was thick as his hand smacked down playfully against your arse. “Please. Please. Fuck~”

The cry of his name only spurred him on more. Burying his face into your wonting cunt, growling and grunting as he sort to find your end. “There. There. Don’tstop. Don’t stop.” You panted, your body trembling as your end built and built. A second later Simon tugged away, smacking his hand against your rear and causing you to yelp in surprise. “Si, please. Please. Please… I’m sorry. I’m sorry for smacking your bum. I’m sorry. Please.” Without even having to press you for some sort of apology for your day old lapse in judgement you gifted him one, over and over. God, it was difficult to decide what sounded more pretty your beautiful moans or the sound of you succumbing to his will.

“Good girl. Good girl.” Simon smirked, spitting on your cunt and fucking a few fingers into your cunt, shunting the thick digits deep to find your special spot. “You won’t do it again, will you?” “Never. Neveragain. Never. Never.” You chanted, squirming as your knees knocked together from the sudden invasion. “Never. Promise. Pro-aghg…” The final promise caught in your throat your juices soaked his hand, something which Simon would happily clean up.

“There’s my good girl.” Simon chuckled. “There we go…” He coaxed, rubbing your lower back soothingly to coax you through the overwhelming waves of your orgasm. “Good girl. My good fucking girl-”

Now, if he had been able to hear over the sound of your panting and crying out and moans then he probably could have heard an ominous noise from within the cupboard, however that hadn’t been the case and instead was startled when the beam holding up hangers of clothes up cracked from having you probably hanging off it too as you clung to the clothes. It sent you toppling to the ground, clothes burying you on top of the shoes that lay at the bottom.

For a moment he knelt there completely taken back by your half naked body sticking from the cupboard under all that mess, then he acted and quickly tugged it all out of the way, finding your body beneath. “You okay, babe?” He asked quickly. “I’m so bloody good.” You whimpered; face completely dazed with lust.

Masterlist | Ask | 13-04-2024

[bigification]

Careful What You Wish For

I lay the cheap looking lamp on my bathroom counter as I get ready for a bath. I can't believe I caved and bought it, it's obviously a scam. This stupid lamp isn't gonna grant any wishes, that old man just got some free cash out of me. It doesn't matter, I'll just take a relaxing bath and throw on some Netflix later.

I get undressed and run some hot water into the bath. Some scented candles set the mood for relaxation, and I throw on some music. I dip myself into the warm water, and lay back.

My relaxation doesn't last long however, as a rumbling catches my attention. It's the lamp. It's vibrating with enough force that I can feel it from across the bathroom. Suddenly a purple smoke emerges from the lamp.

"I may grant you one wish." A soft whisper echoes out of the smoke.

What the actual fuck. This isn't possible. Did that guy drug me? Maybe I should just say a wish to see if it's true.

"I wish to be a more mature looking guy who likes sports." I blurt out. I've always hated how much I look like a teenager despite being a full blown adult, so this could fix that. Also I wouldn't mind being a fit guy who likes sports, it wouldn't hurt.

The moment I say it, the smoke starts to travel towards me. All the smoke spirals into my mouth and nose. I should be scared, but it kinda feels nice. A warm feeling sprouts in the core of my body, making me feel relaxed again.

As the smoke fills my body, I feel my muscles twitching. It must be true, my body is changing. My twig like arms thicken, with bulging biceps and defined forearms. My soft hands grow twice as big and fill with rough callouses. My chest puffs out into two juicy pecs and my stomach flattens into a cut six pack. My thighs thicken as I feel my ass plump up. Even my feet look like they've grown a few sizes. I also have to start bending my legs, as Ive become too tall for the bath tub I'm sitting in.

I look at my reflection in the water and see a handsome man in his late twenties. Holy shit, I'm hot! I've got a chiselled jawline with a dark beard covering it. All my features seem more angular, more manly. As I'm observing my reflection, I notice a pelt of dark hair grow all over my body. My chest, my arms, my legs, everywhere is dusted in a coat of hair.

This is everything I wanted. Even the sports. Memories of playing sports all throughout school flood my mind. I especially liked soccer, though I also really liked weight lifting. More memories of my extensive sex life flood my mind, people are almost hypnotised by my good looks.

Just as I'm reminiscing about my past, I remember I should be working out right now. I can't skimp out on my workout routine. I go to get out of the bath and notice I've got my underwear on. Huh, I must have forgotten to take it off before getting in the bath.

As I'm stepping out of the bath, something feels wrong. A warm feeling once again fills my core. I look down and see my six pack fade under a belly of fat. It continues growing until it sags over my underwear. My pecs swell into a pair of man tits, though they still have a solid base of muscle. My arms double in size, though with a soft layer of fat now covering the muscles. My hands thicken until they look like stuffed sausages, as more rough features cover them.

I feel my underwear tighten around my waist as my ass fattens. My thighs thicken until there is no gap between them, and my feet grow many sizes. I even feel my perspective shift higher, as my height increases.

The dark hairs on my body fade to an almost white colour as the hair thickens around my body. As I'm looking down at my body, I notice hair on my head fall to the ground. I look in horror at my reflection in the mirror, I have to duck just to fully see my face. My hairline recedes all the way to the back of my head, leaving me practically bald. My once sharp facial features have softened under a layer of fat. And a double chin has formed under my beard. I look so old.

Though the more I stare at my body, the more familiar it becomes. Memories flood into my mind of my career in soccer. I was a high level player, and a popular one at that. But you age out of professional soccer in your late thirties. I started focusing more on the weight lifting and less on the cardio. There was only so long I could keep that six pack, and turning 50 certainly didn't help with that. I don't mind it though, it makes me feel more manly. And it makes the team I coach more afraid of me.

I snap out of my trance. I grab a towel and start to dry off. Damn I forgot to take off my underwear again, I should get rid of this one anyway, it doesn't fit me anymore. I duck and look at myself in the mirror.

"Lookin good coach." I say as I smile at myself.

I turn to the other side of the bathroom and step on my scale. It reads '350'.

"Damn, I've really let go of myself, huh." I say as I jiggle my gut.

I also measure my height, it reads 6"6. I should have gone into volleyball with the build I had.

I dry off and leave the bathroom. I grab a family sized bag of chips and lay my fat ass down on the couch. I open the tv and it's already on the world cup. I really wouldn't want it any other way.

[swordymacaroni]

A/N- Okay. So. Soft, sweet Konig who is nowhere near harsh and threatening as the tales tell. He's just so pookie.

@go-go-gadget-autism-I'm sorry I couldn't do the OC request, but here's Konig x Reader

Pairings- Konig x GN Reader

Warnings- Slight Body Dysmorphia/Diabetes Inducing Fluff/Author is sleep-deprived and unsure of her writing

Konig, whose salvation is his Liebling and no one else. As soon as he comes home from absolutely anywhere, he'll drop everything he has and sprint through the house to find you. Whether you're cooking dinner or doing laundry or just staring into space, he's barreling towards you, ignoring your surprised yelp as he turns you around and picks you up, holding you close, so close, listening to your breathing, leaning into your warmth, your softness, your love, that he's been deprived of for the last few days.

Konig, whose just big and awkward wherever he goes. He'll eagerly join you for a family reunion or friendly gathering, but boy, he has the social skills of a suitcase. He'll just walk behind you, head down, trying to shrivel into himself. You have to remind him constantly, that he can take up space, and everybody here loves him, especially you. Even after that, he manages to say hi to five people before his social battery dies out. Now he's tugging on the hem of your top like a befuddled puppy, eyes pleading as he asks ever so politely, if you can come home with him and cuddle for the rest of the night.

Konig, whose mostly silent, spiraling in his own thoughts, until they're too much for him to handle. Then he'll grab you sleeve, pull you to the couch, and lay his head down in your lap. If you're distracted, nose in a book or in a device, he'll nudge your stomach with his nose, wanting attention. When you start carding your fingers through his hair with a small smile, he finally relaxes in your lap, brain promptly shutting down. Yes, he'll fall asleep, and no, even in his sleep, he won't let you get up. You're gonna have to pass out on the couch with him. Sorry about the kinks in you neck the following morning, schatz. :(

Konig, whose seeking your touch as soon as something goes wrong. He'll be upset about the smallest of things, and nothing except your physical reassurance will fix it.

-He burned the pasta? He need you to take the spatula from him with a gentle smile and a kiss to his nose, or he won't eat for two days out of guilt.

-He knocked over a vase? You'll have to cup his face with your hands and declare that it's alright and mistakes happen before he finally calms down, blinking away tears and clutching your hand as you go to grab a broom.

Konig, whose constantly nitpicking his flaws. Everyday before he showers or takes a bath, he spends forever in front of the mirror, locating if he has chub or cellulite. If he sees any, calorie counting has started for the next three months. But that all changes when one day you walk in on him pinching his stomach in disgust. He whips around, blabbering something before you throw yourself onto him, maliciously kissing every part of him. His face, his arms, his chest, his stomach, and then finally his lips with a threatening, "You think you're not good enough ever again and I'm gonna start withholding kisses." Now Konig catches himself every time he starts to think negatively about his body. Your kisses are too precious.

Konig, whose eyes practically have hearts dancing in them when you emerge from the bathroom, hair damp and face devoid of makeup. His voice catches in his throat because you're so beautiful, so perfect. His feet are carrying him towards you, wrapping his arms around your waist, pressing his face into the crook of your neck. "Don't deserve you, liebling. You're to good fo' me."

Konig, whose heart beats in his body but beats for you. This big, burly military man, who has been trained to survive absolutely anywhere, cannot live without you.

You're his refuge,

his redemption,

his home,

his.

Likes and reblogs are appreciated <3