#like oh what’s the occassion

[film-bones]

Yeah, on top of my really shitty work day, none of my friends or family remembered I’m two years sober today. So…

Drink, anyone?

[spotaus]

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.” 

[retros-artandstuff]

vriska + a transmasc dave doodle

[termagax]

like ronnies wuest is ALSO really really good but you basically get to say to her everything i wanted to say. about it not being her fault and about how much i love her and want her to be free and live her own life and not tie herself to a sinking ship forever. girl i love you sometimes your family is determined to wallow in the mud but YOU dont have to. but like you get to tell her that straight up. the combo of not getting to say everything i want to say + arcade LEAVING ME FOREVER. SOMETHING I DID NOT KNOW WOULD HAPPEN. just leaves me with this big aching arcade gannon shaped hole in my heart that will never be filled by anything else as long as i am on this earth. i get to go back to my apartment every night and go HONEY IM HOME and kiss veronica on the mouth. i wont see arcade again for months and months and months of in game time. and i miss him dearly.

[25-worms-in-a-trenchcoat]

being in the pokemon fandom is so funny sometimes bc when ur in the fandom really deep and you got to other media sometimes youre just like. where are their pokemon? and just waiting to see what their team is and then youre like. oh.

[carnationcomplex]

top 5 movies!

this might be even harder than the flowers one because i blank so hard whenever anyone asks me about movies uhhhhhh

1. Moonlight

2. Princess Bride

3. Brokeback Mountain

4. Book of Life

5. Train to Busan

[ghostofhyuck]

NCT Dream when they received a flower bouquet from you!

Mark Lee

Mark would be eyes wide but confused because you handed him a bouquet of flowers. What's the occassion? Did he missed something??? Is it your anniversary because he's already mentally preparing an apology if he forgot it. "Mark it's nothing, I just want to give you a bouquet." "Oh. For what?" oh this poor boy is so endearing but you only gave him a smile and explained to him that you just want to. He'll probably let out a small chuckle and gives you a quick kiss as a thank you. 

Huang Renjun

OH the moment Renjun saw you holding a bouquet full of yellow flowers and you hands it over him, trust me he'll be all smiley about it!! He'll admire the way you thought about the bouquet carefully, even asking you where did you bought the flowers because it looks like it's freshly-picked. He'll give you a small kiss on the cheeks and thanks you. Trust that he'll definitely FLAUNT it on social media like...he has too!! oh and he picks a few petals and hides it on his notebook as a keepsake. 

Lee Jeno

He'll be so confused but in a endearingly samoyed-way when you hands him over flowers. He'll accept it nonetheless because it was a HUGE bouquet and he wonders why, "You did a good job on your work, you deserve flowers!" you told him, giggling at your boyfriend's reaction as he stares at the flowers. He'll be confused but the budding feeling of receiving flowers from his girlfriend surpassed it. He'll glance at you and hugs you, thanking you for the flowers because it was a gift from you!

Lee Donghyuck

Thinks that it was so sweet of you that you gave him a bouquet of sunflowers as a gift. He'll be surprised by it but he loves at how you know what flowers you should give him. He'll hug it and would admire it because it was a gift from you! He'll shower you with kisses too! Probably the type to brag it to his other members like,, "do you have a girlfriend that gives you flowers? none? exactly." 

Na Jaemin

Jaemin will be having the biggest smile out of all! He'll feel like a princess when you surprised him with a huge bouquet of pink roses! It's roses and it's pink!! He loves it! Showers you with kisses because you deserve it and he doesn't deserve a girlfriend like you!! Would buy a vase so that he can display it in his apartment and whenever he glances at the flowers, he'll unknowingly smile because of it!

Zhong Chenle

I think that Chenle would be appalled when you handed him over a bouquet. Would be the type to ask you what's the occassion, did he missed some holiday where a significant other is required to give their so a bouquet? You will laugh it off and would tell him that you just want to give him a flower. He'll be so ?? confused ?? with ?? your ?? sudden affection because you're not a gift-giving person but he couldn't help but to coo at how sweet that gesture is. 

Park Jisung

Oh he'll be eyes wide surprise too! It's a huge bouquet! a huge one that hovers on you completely and not even his huge hands can hold the end perfectly. He'll stare at it, probably stunned at the arrangement of the flowers and when it sinked into him that you gave him flowers, he'll ask why. And when you told him that you just feel like giving him one, he'll be so shy about it! But you know that he appreciates it by the way his gummy smile is showing! :<

[steddie-island]

Heartache to heartache

Second prompt fill for week 1 of @steddiesmuttyseptember - Makeup sex WC: 1,771 | Rating: E | Tags: Makeup sex, financial insecurity anxiety AO3 Divider credit

It was Eddie's fault that he was laying in bed alone, and he was kicking himself for it.

Mostly his fault. Maybe.

He'd overreacted. Maybe.

Fuck. Steve still didn't realize Eddie didn't just have money to throw around. He'd scrimped and saved (and on a couple of occassions stole) for the things he had. The Munsons didn't just get shit handed to them unless it was bad. Sometimes they'd done shit to deserve it, sure, but sometimes they were just in the wrong goddamn place at the wrong goddamn time and life decided to make them pay.

Eddie had been ready to pay this time. It'd taken him months to save up the money to fix his van. Months of borrowing Wayne's truck, hitching rides from the band, from Steve when he was available. Months of cutting corners, buying the cheaper deodorant (his shampoo and conditioner couldn't really get any cheaper) and forgoing snacks he wanted, choosing instead to shove the pennies and the small bills into the coffee container hidden in the back of his underwear drawer.

When the day came for him to finally pay, when he could get his van (and his independence) back, he pulled up only to be told it'd been taken care of.

Just like that.

Eddie could've credited it to the government, to Hopper, to the generosity of the guys who ran the garage. One look at Steve and he had his answer.

"I wanted to surprise you," Steve said. His face had flushed, he'd run a hand nervously over the back of his neck, had turned on that goddamn smile that he knew melted Eddie's heart.

Not this time.

Eddie had been furious. Beyond, even.

He'd yanked the keys out of the mechanic's hand and stormed to his van, letting his quiet fury engulf him. How dare Steve take this away from him. How dare Steve make his months of scrimping be for nothing. How dare he throw that Harrington money around to try to solve Eddie's problems.

Eddie didn't explode until they were in the trailer together.

"Hey—"

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?" Eddie had asked. His hands shook with his anger, his frustration, with the desire to grab this stupid beautiful boy by the shoulders. "What the fuck, Steve?"

"I was helping," Steve said, clearly confused. "I just wanted to help—"

"No, you were just using Daddy's money to make problems go away again."

Steve had winced at that, but then he'd straightened his spine. "Yeah, I used my dad's money. So what? Why does it matter how it got paid for?"

Eddie had tipped his head back, laughed without any humor in his voice. "Right, what does it matter when pretty rich boys can just wave their fucking magic wand and throw their name around and make everyone do whatever the fuck they want."

"Last I checked I didn't have to do that with you. You just do it." Steve's eyes were steely, his jaw set.

"Fuck you, Harrington."

In his bedroom Eddie winced as the rest of the argument played out in his mind. He'd been fucking stupid and now he was sulking.

And Steve wasn't around for him to try to fix things.

"Motherfucker." The heels of his hands pressed into his eyes firmly, as if that would turn off the replying looping again and again. Every cruel thing he'd said that had brought the bitchiness out in Steve, too.

Eddie loved that bitchiness when it wasn't aimed at him. Hell, he'd liked the bitchiness even when Steve had been King Steve, when he was turning it on Tommy or Carol or Billy.

But now he couldn't even watch from the sidelines. He'd fucked it all up, had overreacted, and Steve was gone.

"Fuck this."

Eddie sat up and stuffed both feet into his combat boots. He had his jacket half on and a lit cigarette dangling from his mouth when he opened the front door—

"Oh—"

Steve stood there on the front porch, hand raised like he was poised to knock. His hair was a mess, the collar of his polo was wrinkled. It wouldn't mean much to anyone else but Eddie knew better.

"Steve." Eddie nearly dropped his cigarette. He grabbed it between his fingers and stubbed it out in the ashtray by the door. "Uh— hey."

"Can I come in?" Steve asked.

Fuck. How long since he'd had to ask to come in? How long since he'd had to knock, and not just use the key Eddie had given him when they'd been together three months?

Eddie stepped back, opening the door wider so Steve could slip by him.

"Sorry if this is a bad time. I can come back—"

"I was coming to see you—"

They stopped at the same time. Eddie cleared his throat, pushed a hand through his frizzy curls.

"I'm sorry." Steve wasn't looking at him, was looking at a spot over Eddie's shoulder instead. "That's all I wanted to say. I should've checked with you and I didn't."

Eddie shook his head, and then he was pulling Steve into his arms. "Hey— I'm sorry. You were helping me out, and I just fucking lost it. I'm sorry, Steve."

"No, it's my fault—"

"It's my fault," Eddie said. "Fuck, you were doing something nice and I threw it back in your face."

"I was just thinking you already had to replace so much, I could do that for you," Steve continued. "It wasn't fucking fair, none of what happened was your fault. You didn't deserve any of that shit—"

"Stevie." Eddie caught Steve's face in his hands. "Baby, it wasn't your fault, either. It wasn't your problem to solve—"

"I know!" Steve shook his head. "I know. I'm sorry, I overstepped and I fucked up so bad, you have every right to be upset."

"Not the way I was." Eddie tipped Steve's face up towards him. "I had no right to yell at you the way I did."

"You did—"

"No. I didn't." Eddie rested his hands on either side of Steve's neck and rested their foreheads together. "I'm sorry."

The tension leeched out of Steve's body, and he practically swayed towards Eddie. Eddie was happy to catch him, to help hold him up. Was happy to return the kiss Steve was pressing against his lips.

"I'm sorry," Steve breathed. Eddie just shook his head, went in for another kiss. His hands dropped from Steve's neck to trail down his body, to his thighs.

Physical therapy had at least given him this. Eddie lifted Steve into his arms and started for his bedroom. He kicked the door closed behind him, dropped Steve carefully to the bed before kneeling between his thighs.

Steve's eyes were dark and heavy. He tugged his own shirt off then sat up to help with Eddie's shirt, too.

"Fuck…" Eddie tangled a hand into Steve's hair as the other man nipped and bit carefully at his stomach. "Fucking love you."

Steve let out a soft sound, and then Eddie was on him, over him. There were more whispered apologies that were cut off as teeth dug into the skin of a throat, as hands pushed desperately at fabric until they were naked from the waist down, too.

Eddie had lost count of how many times they'd done this, but each time felt like the first. Steve always opened up so beautifully for him. Every moan and whine, the way those big hands gripped at Eddie's shoulders, then his hair when that was all he could reach because Eddie was using his tongue, too.

"Fuck, please—"

Eddie loved the way Steve begged, loved the way he arched towards the touches and used a heel to guide Eddie just where he wanted him.

When Eddie was sure he was open enough he moved over Steve again. "I love you," he whispered.

Steve's response was a moan, to dig his hands into Eddie's back as he was filled. "Eddie, fuck—"

Normally Eddie would make a joke, but it didn't feel like the moment to do that. Instead he threaded a hand with Steve's and brought it up over their heads before he started moving harder. Not fast, but hard, deep, in a rhythm that made Steve's body clench around him and brought out more of those beautiful sounds.

Eddie wanted to commit those sounds to memory. He wanted to record them for the nights they had to be apart, so he could play them on a loop and try to pretend Steve was right there with him.

"More," Steve urged. His voice was breathy, had the edge that Eddie had learned to know meant he was close.

"Love you," Eddie repeated. He drove home again and again. Steve's nails caught against his ass in encouragement. "Mine— mine—"

"Yours, Eddie, fuck don't stop—" Steve met each of Eddie's movements with desperate little rolls of his hips.

When he came it was with a cry, with those strong legs around Eddie's hips, holding him in place and keeping him inside. Eddie followed right after him, spilling deep into the clutch of Steve's body.

Eddie kissed at Steve's jaw as the sweat cooled on their skin. He still had their hands threaded together, was still buried in Steve's body— still had Steve's legs around him, locking him there for the time being.

"I'm sorry," Eddie said again.

"I love you." Steve kissed his hair, then his forehead. "I was afraid I messed up too bad, that I'd lost you for real."

"Never." Eddie kissed Steve's chest. "You'll never lose me, sunshine. No matter what happens."

There was a soft hitch in Steve's breathing. "That's not how it usually works for me."

"Maybe not. But it's how it works for us." Eddie rose up to kiss Steve. There was no heat behind it this time. He poured all of his love and affection and as much reassurance as he could into it, until he could feel Steve practically shaking with it.

"That okay?" Eddie murmured.

Steve sniffed softly. "Yeah. Yeah, I'm more than okay with that."

Eddie hid his face in Steve's neck again and breathed in the scent of salt and cologne. They would have to talk about it more later, talk about boundaries and the way to try to prevent something else like this happening. But for now Eddie was happy to just hold and be held by Steve. "Good. 'Cause I wasn't really asking."

"Guess I deserve that," Steve joked. His fingers came up to stroke through Eddie's hair gently.

Eddie found that he couldn't agree more.

[thateclecticbitch]

"the placement is fine, your protected. You know, maybe this method just isn't for you." FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU

Barking and biting at my gynecologist <negative>

[ayyyez]

What are the MOST random headcanons you have for Itachi, Neji and Sasuke?

👀👀👀👀

A/N: oh this is fun it gives me lots to think about. Thanks for the request.

TAGS: general headcanons, some get a little suggestive but nothing too descriptive, mentions of kissing, cuddling, fluff

CHARACTERS: Itachi Uchiha, Neji Hyuga, Sasuke Uchiha

ITACHI UCHIHA

When he finally manages to get glasses he is notorious for forgetting to wear them at first.

He had grown so accustomed to not wearing them and squinting at everthing he forgets he doesn't need to anymore lol.

Is that person who drinks water over other beverages.

Enjoys reading for long periods of time. Like could just spend the whole day reading away. Is the type to read books in one sitting, taking breaks to make tea and snack only.

Enjoys having company while reading though.

A nice cuddle. A thigh touching or even just one of you splayed over the other. The warmth and touch is nice.

Secretly likes being fussed over by a s/o since he spends a lot of time fussing over his loved ones.

NEJI HYUGA

Gets a bit stressed when things aren't done a certain way but he's grown up in an evironment where he's learnt he needs to internalise everything.

Voicing his opinions even when they come across kind of harsh actually mean Neji is comfortable enough to voice his concerns with you.

Even if it is 'How can you just leave all of your dirty laundry on the floor?' completely exasperated. He's not trying to judge you or be rude he's just- he can't leave it like this.

He can't have things out of place, they have to go where they belong which is the laundry basket.

His ears a sensitive. Not necessarily in a sexual way (it can be though) even brushing a finger against them and he flinches and shivers.

If you whisper into his ear or kiss it and you two are intimate and you're getting a shiver and blush from him immediately. Maybe a gasp too.

SASUKE UCHIHA

Naturally runs cold—I'm talking his hands, his feet, all naturally are colder to the touch.

This only changes when he actively infuses chakra and perfroms jutsu which warms him some. It's very interesting notice when you touch his hands those different times.

It's likely you run warmer (even if you run cold too. He's real cold).

He seeks out physical touch. Boys touch starved. But won't ask for it. Doesn't know how to unless there's been years of patience, teaching and allowing him to go at his own pace.

Likes to sit up high in trees on the branches. One rare occassions he'll let his legs dangle over the edge because it reminds him of being a kid again. Won't tell anyone that though.

Tried using styling products in his hair once (ones with a wax consistancy) but he hated how it felt in his hands. His face cringed so hard that by the time he smeared it through his hair and tried to do something with it he had given up completely. BIG POUTY FACE IN THE MIRROR.

Secretly likes having his cheeks squished and kissed by you if you're intimate but in private, not in public.

[leclercsbunny]

changed like midnight rain ‣ m. verstappen

Summary: He held her so tenderly- a touch that you thought was reserved only for you. Kissed her with his eyes closed, lost to the rest of the world and into their own. There was a familiar look in his eyes, one that had looked at you the same way, but your memory had been hazy with his distance.

warnings ; angst, cheating, general asshole behavior. unhappy ending (?) multichaptered, kids, established relationships.

words: 1.1 k // pairings: max verstappen x reader

You wished you had realized sooner, rather than later Max's change of heart. The dramatic shift in his behavior had been difficult to deal with, but his infidelity was entirely different.

Monaco was supposed to be just like any other race week, but it had proven to be a pivotal occassion into finally unravelling the tattered pieces of your relationship.

He held her so tenderly- a touch that you thought was reserved only for you. Kissed her with his eyes closed, lost to the rest of the world and into their own. There was a familiar look in his eyes, one that had looked at you the same way, but your memory had been hazy with his distance.

Months. Literal, fucking months had passed where he even acknowledged you in the way he used to. He was fleeting, civil at most, making up excuses after another of his absence. No longer needing to feel your skin on his, nor communicating with you in a meaningful way.

You'd somehow tricked Horner into telling you the truth. That there weren't late night meetings, nor conference calls in the crack ass off dawn. Meaning, during those stolen moments, Max was in the arms of another woman content with his sinful little relationship.

Still, you needed to see for yourself. Scourring through internet and socials to pinpoint where exactly he had been in the middle of the night, and finding yourself at an exclusive club where he was having the time of his life.

You wished you could say you were crying, but the tears had truthfully gone dry. Or had the gravity of the situation not translate for you yet? That after this... Mistake. After his blant disregard for you and your children- oh your sweet boys, your twin boys who were monikers of their father. Nothing would ever be the same.

It was not like you were raising them by yourself eitherway. Always having to be the strong and composed parent, the one put together for the children while he was travelling all over the world for his dream.

Your throat welled with emotions, inhaling a deep breath in order to keep yourself calm, lest you become hysterical in front of, what you were now realizing, his friends.

How long has this been going on, exactly? You were none the wiser, but you thought you had made the mature decision, to turn around and headed back to your vehicle.

You took a few moments to make the necessary arrangements, booking flights, contacting lawyers and making sure everything was orderly. You made sure to come home to your children who were sleeping in their respective beds, before you went up to the master's; changing and laying down.

And then.. you finally broke down in tears.

______

Max was no different, the next time you saw him. He had chanced upon breakfast, placing a kiss on both your children's head and yours and acting as if he had not just spent the night with another person.

Your tried hard to ignore him, while the kids chatted happily to their surprisingly, pleasant father. He was in a good mood whereas you felt like you'd wanted to throw up.

The meal finished, and the children were ushered outside by their nanny, awaiting the soccer teacher you've recently hired to keep them active.

Wordlessly, you went to your shared room, Max following. He made a show of stretching, taking off his clothes and going straight to the bathroom.

Neither of you spoke, and the situation in itself made you want to cry. You weren't supposed to beg for scraps of his attention... Your marriage was never supposed to be like this.

Now you were estranged, walking past eachother as if you meant nothing.

Your lower lip quivered, but you fought the urge to sob. Silently, you picked up his discarded shirt and faintly smelled the perfume of another woman. You clutched the fabric between your fingers, seeing a bright red lipstick mark on his collar.

You stormed inside the bathroom, tossing the clothing his way, "You wanna tell me why there's lipstick all over your clothes?"

Max looked taken aback for a moment, towel hanging on his waist, before a resolute frown emerged in his face. "I don't know, maybe someone bumped into me?"

"Bullshit," at this point you were tethering on the edge of hysterics, tears clouding your vision. "I saw you with her last night. I know you've been cheating on me."

He paused, finally turning off the shower knob and faced you. "You followed me?" But he seemed entirely baffled at the prospect you could have followed him.

"That's what you're worried about?" you balked at the irritation in his tone, "I can't believe you." your words were shaky with disbelief. He wasn't even trying to hide, or deny it. Fuck, it seemed as if he didn't care.

Like he was expecting you to figure out sooner or later. As if he was just waiting on you, to finally realize why he'd been unbelievably distant.

"I don't know what you want me to say," his shoulders sag, eyes becoming wary. "I.. i no longer feel the same way about us."

"And you decided the best way to let me know is by being with another woman?" you couldn't mask the utter heartbreak in your voice. "I wish you'd been man enough to tell me."

"I- i'm sorry." His voice breaks, hand reaching out to touch you but you evaded his touch. Max was not expecting the reaction, and it was very clear by the way his eyes clouded over.

“I want a divorce.” You hoped to sound resolute, sure with your decision. As if you didn't sob in your pillow last night at the mere prospect of losing him. Like Max was not the man to whom you have chosen to live the rest of your life with, as if he was not the same person you would give up everything for.

It was not a mere question of wether you loved him, or even loved him enough. Because you do, and you still do despite the hurt and heartbreak you're feeling right now; it could not vanish in one night. You cannot heal your wounded heart after a barely restful sleep.

Rather it was the reality you have to consider. You cannot stay to fix what has been stepped and run over on. Not with a man who's heart was no longer yours.

His jaw clenched, but he didn't refute you. Resigned. Uncomfortable that it had to end like this, but there was some relief to his stature. “I understand.”

[junnieverse]

— DRUNK BOYFRIEND JUNGWON ! 💭

➙ drunk boyfriend jungwon thoughts

pairing: yang jungwon x gn!reader

genre: fluff, crack

request: " Um hi!! Im jst here to tell u that i absolutely love ur drunk bfs hcs, ur an amazing writer and person, take care of urself and drink water too! also can u pls do drunk jungwon hcs im so soft for him "

warnings: lowercase intended, mentions of alcohol/drinking ofc, not proofread, jungwon's crying

a/n: hi anon, you're so sweet, thank you so much angel, I hope this hc makes you go even softer and maybe laugh a little too haha. I imagined jungwon being a little like j-hope drunk, start off super energetic and then you're all quiet and sad after a while for no reason (sorry this is a little late)

jungwon was someone who never really enjoyed drinking much and preferred to just have a cola or some water during occassions where his friends were drinking

having been informed by him that he would be having a little birthday celebration for heeseung back at their dorms, you thought nothing of it

what you hadn't expected was a text from jake informing you of your now drunk boyfriend

having arrived at the dorms you find your boyfriend next to jay, seemingly sober?

"Well he looks completely fine to me." you tell jake looking at your allegedly drunk boyfriend

"Oh that's when you know he is completely wasted. He looks okay, but a few minutes ago he was crying talking about how worthless his life would feel without you."

upon hearing that the young man actually cried soon raised some concerns

having seen you, the once quiet jungwon became lively and ran up to you squeezing you in a tight hug

"(Y/n)! You're here! See I told you they still love me." jungwon says to his older member

"All I said was they're gonna be late-" jay mumbles rolling his eyes at jungwon

cupping his face, you check to make sure he was okay and his eyes did happen to be red from crying as previously mentioned

"Wonnie, why were you crying sweetie?" you ask him softly as he suddenly sulks

"I got sad because I thought of what would happen to me if I didn't have you." he briefly explains holding back more tears

the members tried to fill you in with the events of the night leading up to your arrival

jungwon had had a few shots to drink and was acting his normal self, singing to the songs and dancing

soon after he got far more quiet after a few more shots where he silently watched the members enjoy themselves and he looked like the life was sucked out of him

jay happened to notice his friend was more quiet than usual and when he asked him what was wrong he just bursted out crying catching everyone off guard

they weren't used to seeing jungwon get overly emotional like this, let alone crying about how much he loved you and you meant everything to him

jake knew you were the best person to call, just to reassure his drunk friend that you would always be with him

your presence definitely did the trick because jungwon was starting to cheer up

ofcourse he wanted to drink more but you made sure to give him water instead to drink

he spent the rest of his night cuddled up with you up until he passed out

waking up the next morning, jungwon notices the the groupchat bombarded with videos of him crying while singing to Let It Go from Frozen

the first and last time he cries in front of them he thinks to himself

[kingkatsuki]

— when he almost gets caught

Masterlist.

Bakugou is a bit of a creep in this one, but I promise it’s just because he’s so obsessed with reader okay?

Warnings: 18+, dubconish, pervy photographs, male masturbation.

Pairing: Bakugou Katsuki x f!reader.

Word Count: 1.5k.

One of the first things Bakugou did once he started to like you was search for your social media profiles. He knew he shouldn’t have done it, that it was wrong. As your boss he should’ve granted you the privacy that you deserve in your personal life, a side of you that he really had no right to see. But this is what you do to him, he just can’t seem to help himself around you. And your internet footprint wasn’t exactly Fort Knox. 

With a few clicks Bakugou could easily access your entire social media footprint, no passwords or accounts required to satiate the itch of missing you when he’s in his large studio apartment late at night, painfully alone. After discovering your extremely public Instagram (he’d have to talk to you about internet security, any pervert could find them!) he’d spent hours scrolling through and admiring each photograph of you. Trying to ignore the ache in his chest whenever he’d see you a little too close to one of your friends, clicking into their profiles to ensure you weren’t actually dating them.

Bakugou had given himself a heart attack on more than one occassion when he thought he’d accidentally double clicked one of your photos to like it, or followed you by mistake. Something he’d foolishly done before, and something he did not want to repeat. One morning he’d been so tired after a grueling night patrol, collapsing into his bed at four in the morning he’d accidentally done the unthinkable and liked his favourite photograph of you. Feeling so lethargic, his fingers had double tapped the screen instead of pinched to enlarge it. Quickly unliking it as he tried to reason with himself that you wouldn’t see it. Not wanting to seem like the shameless creep he was acting like, stalking his employees like this.

But it did leave him wondering sometimes whether you’d mind if he followed you on your social media. You didn’t seem to mind his company, and you’d given him your personal phone number to talk to him about work matters so you couldn’t have been that adverse to it… But there was no way he’d be asking you, instead he was content to scroll through and get these little insights to your life, enjoying the aesthetic food photographs or the scenic ones he probably would have made fun of anyone else for posting— but it was different when it was you, because he loves everything about you.

Bakugou had an entire album in his cellphone dedicated to you now, screenshots of his favourite photographs from your social media so he could shamelessly admire you without the fear of an accidental follow. Pictures that he would be ashamed to admit to anyone that he’d spent many nights fucking his fist to the sight of. It didn’t matter that the pictures were sweet and innocent, it didn’t make him want you any less. The thought of what lay beneath the cosy sweaters and tight jeans had his mind reeling, the curiosity sending a rush of blood direct to his throbbing cock.

But these photographs weren’t enough, not when there are plenty of other eyes that get to admire them whenever and wherever they want. There’s something personal about having photographs of the people you love that are for your eyes only, photos that no one else gets to see.

Oh, Bakugou definitely knew it was wrong. But is it really his fault when you’re so damn beautiful?

It was early one afternoon when he took the chance to get his own candid photograph of you, the office floor deserted for lunch besides the both of you as you stood facing the copier. Bakugou was about to tell you that he was heading out on his patrol and that he probably wouldn’t be back in the office tonight. But that’s the exact moment that the printer decided to jam, a frustrated groan spilled from your lips as you hit the side of the machine roughly.

Bakugou couldn’t help but smirk at your reaction, sending your frustration a mile away as he took a step closer to come to your aid— but that’s when it happened.

You bent over to pull the small drawer out of the side of the machine, peering into the drawer as the fabric of your skirt began to stretch around your ass. Revealing more of your gorgeous thighs as he stopped dead in his tracks to revel at the sight of you.

“Stupid fucking report,” You growled as you began to tug at the papers that were stuck inside the machine, only causing your ass to shake as Bakugou had to bite back a groan.

Bakugou’s cock began to throb beneath his hero suit as he took the opportunity, ignoring the little voice at the back of his head that told him not to do it— aiming his phone camera towards you as he snapped a few photographs of your ass in quick succession.

He should’ve walked over to help you after that, but he couldn’t bring himself to approach you when his cock was painfully hard beneath his pants. Instead turning on booted heels as he made his way back towards his office, his phone clutched tight to his chest.

He was no better than Denki, no better than Mineta as he unlocked the phone to take a look at his bounty. Turning his screens brightness up as high as it would go as he zoomed in on the perfect curve of your ass. Groaning at the way the slit at the back of your pencil skirt rode up so he could see your bare thighs where your stockings ended, trying to see whether there was the print of a panty line against the material as he tried to guess what underwear lay beneath. But the fact that Bakugou couldn’t even see a line only had him speculating even more, wondering exactly what style of panties you were wearing, if you were even wearing any at all.

And god, now the thought of you completely bare inside his office, working so innocently beside him, had his head racing and his cock begging for attention. Palming himself with a soft groan as he pictured sliding the fabric of your skirt up your thighs himself to find out, calloused fingers warm against your skin as you spread those gorgeous thighs for him.

Bakugou couldn’t help it, forgetting about his patrol as he unbuckled his utility belt. Sitting himself down in his plush desk chair as he tugged his pants down just enough to free his aching cock. The head already an angry pink colour as pre oozed from the slit, his thumb smoothing over it to smear the moisture along his length as he hissed sharply through his teeth. Picturing you bent over in the same position as in the photograph across the width of his desk. Giving him the perfect position to slide his throbbing cock inside your tight, wet cunt as he wrapped his fist around his girth tightly. A feeble attempt at mimicking how you’d feel wrapped around him as he began to lazily stroke his cock, sitting back in his chair as half-lidded eyes gazed down at the photograph on his phone.

The photograph that was all for him, for his eyes only.

Gnawing on his lower lip to bite back a groan as he swiped his thumb across his leaky slit, his chest heaving as he continued to think of the most debauched positions with you. Feeling himself edging closer and closer to his release before there was a swift knock on the door.

Bakugou scrambled to fix himself, his phone now laying flat on his desk as he tugged his pants back up over his hips, sliding forward in his chair to hide his throbbing cock beneath the desk as you stepped inside the office. The sultry scent of your perfume immediately wafting into the air and making it difficult to think, his length twitched in response as you continued closer. Laying the hundred page report down onto his desk with a bright smile.

“‘m sorry it took so long, Dynamight.” You murmured sheepishly, “I had some problems with the copier.”

I know, Bakugou was already thinking of a hundred new ways to jam the copier just to have you like that again all for himself.

“S’fine.” Bakugou muttered, trying to push his depraved thoughts to the side, all too aware of his problem beneath the desk.

“Oh, are you heading out on your patrol now?” You surmised as you noticed his outfit, “I’m not keeping you, am I?”

“Nah,” He shook his head, trying to play it cool as though he wasn’t touching himself to an illicit picture of you seconds earlier, “Gonna head out now.”

“Well stay safe, and wrap up warm. I heard there might be snow tonight.”

“I’ll be fine,” Bakugou scoffed, but inside his heart was performing somersaults at the idea that you cared about him.

“I know, I just know you hate the cold.” You smiled as you turned to leave the room, and of course you had to sway that perfect fucking ass again. Bakugou tried to look anywhere else, but his eyes were completely transfixed, biting back a moan of pleasure as you finally shut the door. Leaving him completely alone in his office, late for patrol, with a raging hard on.

If you hadn’t of been so quick to dismiss your Instagram notifications one drunken night after work, as you’d climbed into your bed at four in the morning. Fighting with your charger as you tried to jab it into the port at the base of your phone, you would’ve noticed one of the banners that showed up said “DynamightOfficial liked your photo.”

[brittle-doughie]

Sooo, I want to make on my version of how Y/N Cookie would be like, and I like the result! Plus, the mask even resembles his anonymous appearance too.

Oh, for some facts about him:

His personality is quiet & shy, but he's a gentle soul, and it's all thanks to Cream Ferret on taking care of him when he was a baby dough.

The reason why he has a hammer is because that *some* cookie taught him on how to fight his weapon of choice, which was a hammer just in case he needs to defend himself. (well, on rare occassions because of the highly obsessions on protecting him at all costs-)

Most cookies (or probably ALL of them) asked him on what's beneath his mask, and he shook his head left and right and wanting to keep it secretive. Either way, some decided to go full force at taking his mask off, others try to keep trying and begging on taking his mask off, and others as well try to bribe with him something to convince him to take his mask off.

Mysterious and quiet as he is, most cookies try to stalk him without him noticing, and the more tension is built up, the more of his pressure increases which makes him feel anxious. But, Cream Ferret always told him that he should always be courageous and keep moving, even when Cream Ferret (aka Creamy) isn't around him.

Bonus: Here's him but without the mask! I do wonder why many cookies try to stalk him at most times?

Enough that leaves Cream Ferret worried. Just how many cookies are after their little one and what possible intentions for them could they hold?

[longing-for-rain]

regarding aang becoming offended bc of his portrayal as a woman in ember island players, i think his anger was justified on that specific occassion? I mean, the fire nation was mocking his gentle nature and pacifism by portraying him as a blithering naive idiot who never took things seriously and the belittling of his culture and beliefs. This is one of the worst episodes for him, dont get me wrong, but in this case, femininity was utilized as a source of derision and weakness imo. I dont say this with bad intentions, just thought i would write this bc i also condemned aang for the same thing before

If that was what Aang was upset about I might be inclined to agree, but everything he says and does throughout that episode points to the contrary. Aang doesn’t say anything about the incorrect portrayal of his culture and personal values. Here is what he does say:

[Note: the above expression is before the actress hardly says anything so he’s clearly just mad about the fact that she’s female]

Aang: [angrily] Is that a woman playing me?

Aang: I don't do that! That's not what I'm like! And I'm not a woman!

[Note: the official script includes the emphasis; again, it’s very obvious that he’s most bothered by being played by a woman]

Then this exchange:

Toph: I don't know, you are more in touch with your feminine side than most guys.

Aang: [Standing up, angrily] Argh!

Katara: Relax, Aang. They're not accurate portrayals. It's not like I'm a preachy crybaby who can't resist giving overemotional speeches about hope all the time. [Everyone looks at her] What?

Aang: [Turns around and sits down. Sarcastically.] Yeah, that's not you at all.

You know what I love about this conversation is that is proves two things at once. Firstly, yet again, it’s clear that being portrayed by a woman is what is most upsetting to Aang. Secondly, his reaction (and, honestly, insult) to Katara’s values here shows that he’s not thinking that deeply about this. It has nothing to do with values. Aang is offended at the idea that he is being portrayed by a woman and with more “feminine” qualities, which honestly plays well with his creepy, possessive behavior with Katara later this same episode.

And I actually do like the fact that you brought up femininity being used as “a source of derision and weakness” because guess what! That’s the definition of femininity itself. Femininity doesn’t mean simply being a woman; femininity is the social behaviors and roles that women are expected to fulfill. Which is why I don’t have any sympathy for a man who is offended by being called feminine or compared to a woman because it’s reflective of a deeply misogynistic attitude on his part. If Aang thinks femininity is so degrading and weak, what does that say about the fact he expects his crush to behave that way? I mean, this is what he thinks of Katara, through his own perspective:

So yeah, that’s my question. If being compared to a woman is so insulting and humiliating to Aang, what does that say about how he intuitively views actual women? Why does he think he’s above that treatment but women aren’t? People act like I’m crazy for saying that he exhibits toxic masculinity this episode but this only furthers that point.

Oh and before someone jumps in here and acts like this goes both ways, let me point you to this:

Toph’s reaction to finding out she’s being played by a big, buff, stereotypically-masculine man. She’s thrilled! Why? Because we are products of a misogynistic society and therefore intuitively view being compared to a man as a compliment and a woman as an insult. The respective roles assigned to each are not equal. Masculinity and femininity were never equal and the system was deliberately created that way. You can see this idea ingrained in the writing of this episode because it’s a bias we all hold to some degree, including the writing and creative team here.

So I’m sorry, but considering the bias clearly present within the writing team and the way the characters behave this episode, it’s clear to me that Aang’s reaction has nothing to do with his culture and everything to do with his misogyny.

[dolliestfairy]

Dolliest 🎀

Vincent Sinclair, Jason Voorhees, Asa emory, & Patrick bateman with Chubby!fem!reader who dressed like a Doll! ʚ ₊˚ ᥀✿

Author Note ✿ : hello lovlies, sorry i have been on a break for like 3/4 days because i just like um.. really need some break and also i had a lot activities going on, but i still try to write something for you all, so please sit down and enjoy :). if you like my writings please give me reblogs and feedbacks. tysm! also we almost got 140 followers atp, Tysm for your support lovlies!!

Trigger Warning ✿ : insecurities, fluff, some murder stuff idk, blood & insect mentioned, and some comfort also :), and maybe some misspelled word. overall enjoy! Reader skin color is NOT announced.

Dividers from @v6que ꒰ঌ ໒꒱. Gifs are not mine.

✿ Vincent sinclair

- you're an Art, thats what Vincent think the first time he saw you.

- and oh my god... he freaking loves it watching you dressing yourself!!

- believe me, he would never let anyone take down your confidence, if the one who take down your confidence is his brother (take example : Bo Sinclair) he wouldnt be scared to defend you like it his life-priority.

- but if the one who takes down your confidence is his next victim?? they are dead. even if the victim was important bla bla bla, he doesnt give a fck. how dare they talk down to his beloved partner?? such a unforgivable act.

- Love, i mean﹍LOOVEE drawing you. you're gonna see THOUSANDS paper with a drawing that look Exactly like you, EVERYWHERE. he even had his own fav drawing that he's dedicated to you.

- he, drawing you, and protecting you from anyone who mocks you including his brother, is a way of how he show himself that he is truly in love with you.

- if you're feeling insecure? better be ready to be suffocate from his affection.

✿ Jason Voorhees

- Man is silently drooling behind his mask.

- kinda like a Mommy kink....

- love the way you dress yourself with those soft pink dress and accesories, those glam nails and hairs and those soft makeup... perfect.

- but theres a time where he felt himself is not appropriate for you.

- we know this man is a insecure boy, but if you manage to cheer him up with your own way, istg your life is going to be put into this big mans life-priority.

- like.. he'll do everything to keep you happy.

- sometimes he even steal accessories or clothes or even make up that he found from his victim, where he collect them all and give them all for you.

- you might feeling kinda nasty seeing those gift is still covered in blood and with like a rotting-corpse smell... but if you accept it brightly he's gonna die on that place & in that moment.

- really love you. if you're insecure, he's going to slit somebodys throat for making you that way, but if you're feeling insecure because your own self? well then, he's going to go to hunt some victim, to get some MORE AND MORE stuff that you may like, well i mean.. thats just how he shows his love for you. his chubby doll 🎀

✿ Asa emory

- didnt know how to feel....

- but he does somehow, loves the opposite vibes you both gave. like he's the bad murderer boy who likes insect and some nasty nasty stuff, life in a nasty place and then theres you! who brighten up the nasty place he live in, always dress like a doll, pink pink, Vanilla perfume n stuff..

- just perfect and balance combination.

- when his victim saw who he is and when they saw YOU who is behind him they're gonna find themself asking "y-you.. you-you didnt get k-killed?..." and only to get the answer of him "she's my Princess."

- BUT... thats on a rare occassion. sometimes he just called you "my partner" or something. but if he's feeling in a good & cocky mood then he's going to call you his princess.

- and just like jason, he likes to give you a beautiful beautiful stuff who is always & almost covered in blood.

- if he's sees you wearing the stuff he gave you he can feel his cold heart melting.

- jk.. he doesnt feel his cold heart melting, because you already melt him in the first place. he just can feel his cold & thick heart is being burned by your affection.

- and when i'm telling you this.. he's enjoying, every, single, one of it.

✿ Patrick bateman

- oh my god..

- he's a real cocky man. but let me tell you something..

- HE SPOILS YOU SOO MUCH LIKE OH MY GOD.

- like i'm not even joking. he spoils you... really really spoils you to the bone, to your soul like you feel like you're suffocating.

- because he's still a patrick bateman, he loves to suffocate everyone, you're no expectation. the only differences is that he suffocate other people with death.

- but with you?... oh he's going to suffocate you with.. LOVE, LOVE & LOVE!

- in which he doesnt even believe any of that.

- but he does, believe it with you.

- patrick is a aware man. he knew himself real well, so when he found himself on a one knee for you, he found himself surprised and well um.. unbelieveably.

- never in his wildest life he would ended up with someone like you.

- at first he tried to denied, but as times goes by, he cant help, but felt his cold and tough soul was slowly melting over your words and touch.

- you're so.. so.. precious. soft, and round.. need to be protected and loved.

- it has been Too long for patrick bateman since he have been feeling this type of.. feelings.

- but you manage to somehow make him feel it again! and he wont waste it!

- the way he suffocate you, choking you with his affection and love is just how he shows himself how madly he is in love with you..! please dont waste it darling, please dont..

- let your soft appereance burn his cold soul as he would burn this world for you.