#these people have convinced themselves this is The Big Thing and right now in its current state. it’s not

[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.” 

[crowcryptid]

do u think people would be less stupid about ai if it was called something else

Like if they knew it wasn’t “smart” and is instead plagiarizing would they stop worshiping it so much

Then again the people who are into it are nft cryptobros and very real business™️ people with real jobs that definitely aren’t fake (cough) who just want to fire anyone to save .1% of the company budget

so they’d probably fall for it anyway

It just seems like people are getting the wrong idea :p

[taiyaakii]

⋆. 𐙚 ˚ Busy schedule ! . . . ( 西村力 )

— pairing: 西村力 x reader — contains: angst, readers a lonely clingy loser, mean ki, fluff — now playing: 一子青葉

"She became a victim of my busy schedule though, and I know that it's not fair that don't mean that I don't care."

Riki was always busy. He had a bunch of extracurriculars he did for school on top of dance, so you never really got the chance to see him anymore.

He'd always apologize, saying he knew it sucked never getting any of his attention but in the end, nothing ever changed. He was still busy and you still rode the train home alone every day.

Riding the train by yourself wasn't a new concept, lonely yeah but you got used to it eventually.

People on the train were usually either elders coming home from work or students huddling in groups of themselves, and it sounds depressing but beyond Riki, you didn't really have friends, which was okay. Until Riki joined a bunch of extracurriculars beyond his daily dance practice, which left him no time for you.

And it's bad to think about but the thought eventually got a hold of you and you started wondering if Riki enjoyed not being around you as often. You were clingy so it was understandable wanting some space from you, it still made you upset to think about though.

This thought alone has caused you to distance yourself from Riki subconsciously, which despite how busy he is he noticed because you're still his girlfriend after all.

-

The train was often packed with teenagers on the way home, you'd think you'd bump into someone and make friends for once but not once has it happened. You've begun to lose hope in talking to people.

Sure you could strike up a conversation but that's terrifying so you choose not to, which is probably one of the reasons you don't have any friends. How you started knowing Riki on the other hand was a grace from god.

In middle school, Riki came up to you rather then the other way around and asked to be friend's.

Spacing out on the train, thinking to yourself made you realize just how lonely you were when he was he wasn't around. Considering he's been your only friend since you guys were 12, being 18 in high school now. You've become slightly dependent on him, and it's another thing you've added to the long list of your lonely life.

Long lost in thought you feel a head hit your shoulder, you jump slightly cause it startled you but when you look to your right its a boy. Probably fell asleep, why else would he put his head on a stranger's shoulder.

Your body tensed up a bit, it was kinda hard to not be tense with someone resting on you.

You wanted to wake him and ask him to move but disrupting him wasn't in your best interest so you left him alone. On the plus side his hair smelled really nice.

-

The train came to an abrupt stop which shook the boy awake

Realizing he had fallen asleep on a stranger, he stood up and started apologizing profusely like a scolded child.

You followed in his steps and stood up, letting out shaky reassurance and telling him not to worry about it. It was overwhelming with people around looking at the two of you but eventually, he calmed down and explained himself "I really didn't mean to fall asleep on you like that, let me make it up to you!"

He was enthusiastic and energetic, especially for someone who was just freaking out.

"Oh oh no need! Really it's not a big deal." Still shaky you tried to convince him he was blowing it out of proportion. He wasn't taking no for an answer and he even managed to get your number so he could apologize more properly later.

After that he said goodbye and ran off the train, leaving you dumbfounded. You kind of just spaced out the rest of the way home, the whole situation was so dumb it was kind of funny.

So funny you wanted to tell Riki which you planned to do when you guys called tonight, you guys always called sometime before bed.

It was a point he made. No matter how busy he was and how little time he had for you, he'd always call.

You laid in bed waiting, and waiting, and waiting.

12am and no call. You weren't mad at him, you understood he couldn't always be there but you thought some notice would've been nice, instead of just laying there for hours on your phone.

Time passed and you gave up on waiting for a call. You placed your phone on your nightstand and got in bed.

Your mind started to wander, what was he doing that was so important? All of his activities end before 5 so why couldn't he call you? Was he okay? Was it a family thing? Did you do something?

In the midst of thinking you fell asleep.

-

In English the next day, during break time. It was your 4th period and Riki had yet to even mutter a word to you. As time passed, it was getting more upsetting and even more nerve-wracking.

You scanned over everything that's happened the past few days and you couldn't think of anything you've done.

You looked back at Riki to see him sitting at his desk analyzing his work, but you turned back around when you got a text.

Some random number that you didn't have saved.

"You're in English rn right?" The text creeped you out a bit, so you pressed to know who it was "Oh shit sorry! Just realizing I never gave you my name yesterday! It's Akio from the train. I wanted to come say hi if you were in English :)" Knowing it was him made it sorta less creepy feeling, he was still technically a stranger though.

You hesitated on replying but gave in "Ohh right haha, yeah I'm in English"

He liked the message but didn't actually say anything back.

Eventually, he came swinging in loudly with a booming "HI" as soon as he opened the door. It shocked not only you but everyone.

Riki who was staring at the boy in confusion.

Riki's eyebrows furrowed even more as he saw the boy walk up to you and hug you like you'd known him forever, slightly glaring at the boy. He sit's down in the chair next to you "What class do you have next?" His voice still much too loud for the atmosphere, the girl next to us shushed him, in which he apologized quietly and turned back to you.

"Uh math." You said quietly, shaken up by the boys incredibly friendly demeanor.

The boy started rambling on about how that was his next class too and how it's surprising you guys hadn't become friends sooner, all while you look back at Riki to see him still eyeing the boy down.

Riki got easily jealous, and he was possessive, but this looked more like confusion and annoyance then anything.

While on the other hand luckily for you the boy tended to talk more then he listened which was good as you were still too nervous to talk to him like a normal person.

Once Riki realized you weren't all that invested in what the boy had to say he finally took his eyes off of the boy and returned to his work.

After what felt like forever of Akio rambling and you silently smiling and nodding, it was time for Math.

Besides Math and English, you and the boy didn't have any other classes together, so the rest of the day went as normal, besides the fact that Riki seemed busier than usual and wasn't talking to you.

But the way home from school was different.

On the train ride home, you were walking to sit where you usually do when a familiar voice started to yell for you, you turned around, and it was Akio.

He grabbed your wrist and pulled you to a seat, exclaiming that now you had someone to ride the train with. Before you could get a word in, he continued, once again going on about anything and everything.

He was a bit over the top for you, but you had to admit, he was nice, and the company was nice too.

-

The train came to a stop, and you said your goodbyes, he offered to walk you home, but you declined. You told him you lived a bit from the station, and he left it at that. Getting home you got into some comfy clothes and passed out.

Asleep for about an hour and a half, you were awoken by a text from Riki

All it read was "I'm coming over" Don't get me wrong you were excited he was coming over; this was the first time in a while, but you were still upset with him for not only not calling you but also ignoring you all day. So you just texted back a simple "ok" and started your homework while waiting for him to arrive.

He didn't live very far so it didn't take long, as soon as he got there, he plopped on your bed and gave you a look.

You asked him what it was for, and he stayed silent for a few seconds followed by a contemplating hum, "Who was he? The guy in English that was acting all buddy-buddy with you?" He said it so calmly as if he didn't care if he got an answer.

"Ohh I met him on the train" You turned back to the homework on your desk "He fell asleep on me and asked for my number so he could apologize later!" his brows furrowed and his eyes creased a bit, "Seriously?"

You nodded and he continued "He gave you his number so he could 'apologize later'?" You again nodded at his very sarcastic question.

His tongue played with the inside of his cheek "Has he apologized yet?" He sounded almost annoyed

You chuckled nervously, his gaze was strong and intimidating.

"No, not yet.." He let out a 'psh' sound, he was clearly annoyed but not with you. More so with the situation. "He gave you his number cause he thought you were cute. Not cause he wanted to apologize." His voice was deeper

You didn't believe it so you rebutted "That's not true ki, I'm sure he'll apologize soon!" He continued to look at you, almost like he was trying to analyze what you were thinking. "Block him" He sits up on your bed

"What??"

He repeats himself "Block him"

"Why Riki."

"Are you dumb? He clearly doesn't want to just apologize. Does he know you have a boyfriend?" He started to sound angry, almost a little sad sounding. "How do you know that? You've never met him."

"I've met guys like him and you didn't answer my question, does he know you have a boyfriend? Me? Does he know you have me?"

You opened your mouth but nothing came out for a second, "I don't know? I mean I didn't mention it" Before you can finish, he tsk's and looks away "But the only reason I didn't mention it was cause he didn't ask Riki. I really don't think he's trying to get with me."

He ignored you "What's so good about him anyway?" He was starting to get fed up "He's nice Riki. I mean he made time to see me in English today despite being busy himself." You emphasized the 'made time to see me' part which Riki took as a jab.

You didn't necessarily mean it as one but you were tired of never seeing your boyfriend and so it just kinda came out. "You know I try to make time for you." Instead of sounding annoyed, he sounded genuinely hurt and tired, he looked down a bit as he continued "And I know that you don't really have friends besides me but you shouldn't befriend the first person that talks to you." He gets off your bed and heads to the door, "It's stupid and pathetic." He finishes before he shuts the door, harder than he should have.

His voice was laced with venom, almost like the sadness from before completely desecrated. And it left you dumbfounded too.

You weren't one to cry, you didn't cry about anything.

Not that you couldn't, but you made a point not to. It's pathetic and embarrassing, but despite that, you felt your eyes well up. You wiped them before anything could come out and decided to head to bed early. Couldn't cry if you weren't awake!

Granted it took forever to get to sleep, but you kept replaying what Riki said non-stop. 'Stupid and pathetic' weren't new words to you, but when they came out of Riki's mouth they felt a million times worse.

-

Going to School was dreadful, more than before.

Riki was avoiding you and so you were avoiding him back. You continued to hang out with Akio, it probably wasn't the best idea but you rather hang out with someone Riki doesn't like than be lonely again.

A whole week of this pettiness has gone by, nightly phone calls have stopped, goodnight and good morning texts, walking you to and from school whenever he had the chance, all of it stopped.

You know you shouldn't totally blame Ki, it wasn't completely his fault. You said some mean stuff too, but you couldn't help but be so angry at him despite it all.

Of course, you guys have gotten into arguments, and of course, with those arguments came insults but he'd never said something so cruel to you, something you confided in him he used against you, which hurt the most.

Everything was too much to think about so you dove into your studies, more than you already were. Not only studies but other things too, anything to get your mind off of it. Throwing yourself into things isn't a new concept for you, you did it whenever you got overly anxious. It would cause you to eat less, go outside less, and socialize even less than you usually do. Now the difference between then and now is you'd usually have Riki to make you feel better, but you don't so sitting in your dark room all day will continue.

Riki on the other hand, doesn't know what he's feeling. Though he's noticed you not taking care of yourself properly which is making him feel crazy guilty, he knows it's because of him.

Riki's so mad at you for choosing some other guy but he feels so bad for the things he said.

He didn't mean it, he knew you knew that, at least he hoped.

He just wanted to apologize and make it all better but he couldn't. His pride mixed with not having a lot of time made it hard to talk to you so he just didn't bother. Plus he wanted to truly work out what he was going to say before he attempted to talk to you.

He'd catch your eyes in every class, in the lunchroom, in the auditorium, everywhere. He wanted to see your face, he wanted to see you and hold you but he just couldn't let himself be vulnerable and admit he misses you. He's hoping you'd do that but you were just as 'non-vulnerable' as he was, maybe even more.

Which meant he'd either have to make it up to you or lose you over some random boy you met a few weeks ago. Luckily for you, he's sickly in love with you whether he'd admit it or not so he chose the former.

-

It wasn't spontaneous, Riki thought it over.

He planned when it would happen, how it would happen, where it would happen, and what he thought the outcome would be. He wanted to start it all off by making sure to spend the whole day with you.

So he went to your house before school, he loved walking you to school but he rarely got to do it since he had to be at school so early. But the way you get all giddy when you see him at the door makes him happy so he canceled morning activities to walk you.

Seeing him at the door was a little surprising, especially cause he didn't knock, you opened it before he could and the walk to school was uneventful. Silent, but not awkward.

Riki didn't try to hold your hand. He didn't want to make you upset by acting like nothing was wrong, but when passing by a little shop he grabbed your wrist and pulled you inside.

At the rate you two were going you would've been early to school, and he saw something in the window he knows you've been eyeing so why not.

He didn't say anything as he pulled you through the shop up to where the display was.

A large stand with matching phone charms.

It was a niche interest you had, and you had tons of them at home but the thing about these ones is that they're matching.

Two long chains, decorated with beads that had small charms on the end. One with black beads and a white star on the end, the other with white beads and a black star on the end.

Riki knew you had been looking at them for a while, thinking it was cute considering his favorite color is black and yours is white.

He found matching things cute, he found it even cuter when you'd get a tint of rose on your cheeks and try to hide your smile as you showed him a new piece of matching items you bought for the two of you.

He thought about this as he walked to the register, making his own cheeks turn a slight shade of pink as he looked at you. You weren't looking at him but it didn't go unnoticed.

Walking out of the store, chains in hand, without letting go of your wrist Riki asks for your phone and puts the charm on.

He does the same for his phone and then holds them up together in his hand to show them off.

You tried to act non-cholent but your dumb little smile made its way onto your face and made Riki smile even harder as he handed you your phone back, and you guys continued walking.

You hated your smile. You felt it was too... cheeky. Too wide, and it made your cheeks all big.

But Riki adored it. The way your eyes would light up and close a little every time something made you happy, or how you'd cover your mouth if you felt you were smiling too much, just for him to pull your hand down and hold it in his. He loved your smile, he always looked for it everywhere he was, he especially loved it when it was he who was the one causing it.

He knew he couldn't always be the reason you were smiling but as long as you were happy it didn't matter to him.

He kept on glancing at you just to see you smiling and looking at the phone charm, you saw him doing it but didn't say anything. You thought it was cute how cheesy he acted when he thought no one was looking.

-

The rest of the school day was normal for the most part; the assigned seats of each class were fumbling with Riki's plans to be by your side all day, which he knew would happen.

Tables in your class were set in pairs of two, you were at the front of the class seated with a girl you barely knew and Riki was a few seats behind.

As break time started, Riki used his height to his advantage and threw a piece of paper above the guy in front of him and it landed perfectly on your desk. You looked back to see who it was, despite already knowing. You gave him a small smile which made him melt, and as you opened it you saw two stick figures holding hands in a flower field.

It was cheesy, yeah but it was cute. Cuter coming from Riki as he wasn't one for cutesy things.

He would write cute little notes and letters to stick in your locker but that was rare, so this act made you blush so bad you had to hide your face slightly.

You went to draw a cute photo back but before you could even get your pen out Akio spotted you and caught your attention.

Riki tried to ignore it, he didn't like the guy yeah but he also knew he was your first friend besides himself so he wanted to attempt to become friends with him for your sake.

Looking at Akio you saw Riki come up behind him. They had never stood side by side so you never realized how much taller Riki was in comparison and it shocked Akio too as he let out a child-like yelp when he turned around and saw Riki behind him.

You could tell Akio put his guard up a little.

-

During Riki and your petty silent treatment towards each other, you talked to Akio about how you were dating Riki and that you still wanted to be his friend but there needed to be a bit of distance.

He took it really well which was lucky for you as you had a hard time confronting people.

-

Akio backed up a little from Riki who was giving him a slightly annoyed-confused look, and bumped into your desk.

He wasn't scared of Riki per se, but Riki was intimidating. Tall, broad, cold stare, etc.

But in the moment of silence, Riki begrudgingly introduced himself.

Akio stood up a bit and introduced himself back, voice kinda shaky which made Riki chuckle. Akio, who has proved himself to make friends easily, quickly got comfortable with Riki and started talking about anything and everything.

As the conversation went on, Riki took the seat next to you as the girl had left a bit ago.

Riki grabbed your hand under the table, another thing he didn't often do as PDA wasn't something he enjoyed.

Eventually, the break was over, and it was time for the next class.

Akio said his goodbyes and ran off, Riki on the other hand wanted to walk you to your next class.

Walking to class, Riki had yet to let go of your hand, rubbing his thumb back and forth here and there.

And luckily the class was on the other side of the building which left you guys some time to talk, or more specifically some time for him to apologize.

He looked over at you almost nervously and squeezed your hand the tiniest bit before starting.

"I didn't mean it." He wasn't the greatest at starting apologies or apologizing in general, and although you were pretty sure you knew what he was talking about, you still asked. "Didn't mean what?"

He took a sharp breath in "When I said you were stupid and pathetic, just overall being a jerk..." he paused and looked at you before continuing.

"But that's not even all, I haven't been making any time for you, I was petty and ignored you, I got overly jealous and possessive, and I have just been a huge asshole." You were so focused on him apologizing that you hadn't even realized you guys weren't in the school building anymore, you were outside behind the school, in the small garden the school had created not too long ago.

"What are we doing out here?" You looked at him with confusion "I wanted to talk with you more privately."

"We're gonna get in trouble for skipping class, Ki."

"Don't worry about it, okay? I'll take all the blame." You looked at him, debating if you should stay out here or convince him to talk later but his eyes were almost pleading for you to stay out there, and so you listened. "Fine," you said with a slight smile.

He took a second to collect his thoughts and how he was going to go about this but eventually, he got it and started.

"I'm sorry I've left you alone so long. And I'm truly so sorry that I never made time for you, a busy schedule isn't an excuse to be distant, and I need to learn that."

"Rik-" You tried to cut him off and say it wasn't his fault but he didn't let you. "Wait just, wait okay." You shut up

"I care about you so much, you're truly the only one for me, and you mean the world to me. What I said during our fight was so fucked up, and I need you to know I didn't mean any of it. I want to be around you all the time, but I know I can't, and I'm glad you found someone you can be with when I'm not around.

I want you to know that I want to make all of this up to you. All the lost time, the phone calls I missed, the dates, just hanging out together, I want to make up for all of it. And I will, I promise.

I love you. A lot, and I'm gonna prove it this time. I'm going to be the best boyfriend you can ask for and I'm going to be your best friend again. Okay? I'm going to spend as much time as I possibly can with you. I love you so much. You don't have to forgive me now but I-"

"Riki." You successfully cut him off this time as he was starting to run out of breath and his cheeks were all pink.

He looks at you like a scolded puppy, catching his breath a little, Pure word vomit he thought.

"I love you too, so much. And I promise I'm not mad. It hurt never seeing you, yeah, and we definitely have distanced, ourselves as both a couple and friend but it's not your fault. You're busy and I understand okay?" He gave you an apologetic small smile before bringing you into a hug

It was warm and loving, just as all of Riki's hugs were.

He put his head into the crook of your neck, "I missed this so much" He mumbled, squeezing his arms around you tighter. "I'll do better. I promise." You smiled and softly caressed his hair. "I love you Ki."

"I love you too baby. So much."

-

Later throughout the day Riki walked you to every class, smiled at you whenever your eyes met, and was friendly with Akio whenever he came around.

After school, he came to your house and you guys just laid with each other. Something you hadn't done in ages, and although you knew he wouldn't be able to do this every day, you were just happy he was trying to make more time for you, and he was just happy to have his girlfriend back.

@ featki

Note: Sorry if the ending is bad or rushed, iv been working on this for like 2-3 weeks now and just wanted it out. But this is definitely my longest fic and I hope u guys like it :)) also I think I made Akio seem like a bigger character than he actually was... srry

[rosesdrop]

A general pick a pile

Your person of interest:

Do they share the same feelings towards you?

1.

For those of you who don't know, this person watches you from a distance. They don't necessarily feel overwhelmingly romantic towards you; they see this connection from a different perspective, and they think you two find it hard to get along with each other. So here's the thing: they see the value of this connection and its potential, but they're waiting for the right moment to propose the idea to you. Both of you are fierce in character, and they feel a resemblance to you. They see this as a great opportunity. It's hard for them to say anything currently because they think you're sharp and that you would turn them down. This person goes hot and cold about you; one minute they're all in, and another minute they just want to focus on their casual connection with you and keep things formal. This person fears conflict with you and your disagreement; that's what stops them from deciding what to make of this. For some, they want to approach you, but their feelings are not serious. They see this connection as an opportunity; they're not coming from a place of heart; they want it for what it has to offer.

2.

You are on this person's mind 24/7; this isn't a new connection as far as I'm seeing here; you two seem to know each other for quite some time; you could even be asking about someone you used to be with. They think about all the good times you shared together, and they're reminiscing about them. Even though there's zero to minimal contact here, this person still feels passionate about you. They haven't seen you in a while; they miss seeing you, I'm getting, but they see that this connection isn't going anywhere; this person is very troubled. In their minds, they have a lot of friction; they're dealing with their own stuff, so they don't even have the energy to pursue this; their thinking is self-focused right now.

3.

This person thinks you're theirs. They love every bit of the time they spend with you. You may recognise them as someone who doesn't say what's on their mind, but they're a very intense person. They feel fresh and new around you. They're not the type to be all lovey-dovey around you when showing you their feelings; they keep to themselves how they're convinced that you're the one for them. When they're sure about someone's place in their heart, that's the big deal for them. This person is not good with words at all, and it's a bit of a struggle for them; they don't know how to say the right things to you. Your preciousness for them is buried deep in their hearts. Their intentions are good for you, and they want you to know that. Pile 3 I really like your people's energy; they're really genuine and unbiased people.

[safarigirlsp]

Never Whistle in the Woods

Flip Zimmerman x OC

Word Count: 7.5k

Warnings: NSFW. Smut. Horror. Violence. Monster Action. Cryptids. Creepy things that happen in the woods. Backcountry flavor. Just a nice getaway with Flip. Those never go according to plan. I’m willing to continue this and write more if people like it!

Note: Going forward, I'm going to write characters from now on instead of Readers just because it's really annoying trying to switch back and forth for the non-fic writing I do. However, the female characters will be totally physically vague aside from having a name, so they can still easily be read as an insert by anyone who chooses to insert themselves.

Based on two requests I combined then butchered from rynwritestuff and @lumberjack00fantasies

AO3 Link

One of Flip’s favorite things was spending a secluded weekend out at his cabin, nestled in the forested mountains, away from the noise and mayhem of town. And away from people. Nothing cured a man’s love of humanity better than working with them. He enjoyed having a beer and a burger with his friends after work and he enjoyed taking his girl out to dinner. But he liked it a helluva lot more to take her with him into the mountains and not see or hear from another person for a couple days. Actually, it had become his favorite thing.

Knowing this, his girl, Kate, had booked him a nice getaway right up his alley. A solid week squirreled away in a truly remote cabin about as far away from humanity as he could get. It had taken a little online spelunking for her to land on the small town of Kitwanga, British Columbia, but its selling points of having a population of less than five-hundred, being a prime location for hunting and fishing, and being a true gateway to the wilderness with scarcely an outpost North between the little town and the Yukon, had sealed the deal. Besides, for the shrewd outdoorsman who wanted a less touristy experience with a friendlier populace for about a third of the money, British Columbia was a superior option to Alaska with all the same appeal.

Over-the-counter hunting licenses were available for all sorts of game that required a lottery draw or exorbitant fee in the States. Flip laughed when he read in the game regulations that it was strictly prohibited to shoot Bigfoot and that, should a sportsman encounter him, he was to be considered a protected species.

“How many big, hairy Canadians do you reckon had to get shot in the ass before they added that regulation?” He grinned at Kate, sitting with her legs curled under her on the seat of his rented truck as they bounced down the terrible excuse for a dirt road, sloshing in the mud and hitting potholes by the hundreds. Flip had twice hit his head on the bolt of the rifle secured in the headache rack above his head on the ceiling of the truck’s cab. He would have left the rifle inside their cabin, but they had been stringently warned not to take a step outside without it. Bears were a real threat and the animals here had little experience with humans, which meant little fear of them.

“Sounds like you better watch your own ass if you’re out wandering around in low light,” she teased back. “You’re big and lumbering enough to be mistaken for Bigfoot.”

“Yeah, but I’m a lot better lookin,’” he winked at her as he pulled into the only gas station in the tiny town. He filled up every day on their return in case the owner decided to take a day off. Electric pumps were a novelty that hadn’t reached this far north, it seemed. He was in a teasing mood, returning from a day of hiking and, as he put it, takin’ pictures of every goddamn thing in Canada.

“Depends on who you ask,” Kate laughed warmly. “I’ve waged a losing battle for quite a while trying to convince my friends you’re handsome. They tell me I’m blind or brainwashed.”

Five businesses in the tiny town were booming, frequented by most if not all of its citizens on a regular basis: the grocery store, post office, church, bar, and the gas station. Actually, Kitwanga boasted two bars. Flip figured this was a good insight as to the favorite pastime of the locals, especially since it doubled the churchgoers. There were no restaurants, but the bars had all the haute cuisine a man could want, so long as what he wanted was a cheeseburger or a sandwich or some chicken fried steak. However, one bar generously offered to cook anything a person brought in, provided the thing was somewhere between alive and kicking and starting to turn, and provided that gastronome paid in cash. Flip had already taken the owner and bartender up on this offer and handed over several trout he had caught that day to the owner’s wife and cook to fry for dinner. He had to admit it was some of the best fried fish he had ever had, and it paired wonderfully with the potent Moose Knuckle stout beer on tap.

The sign at the gas station read, Headed north? Need gas? It’s now or never. Two lonely gas pumps sat on a rectangle of cement on the otherwise muddy ground – the kind of pumps a person usually only saw on postcards from the fifties, with the rounded tops and numbers for cost and gallons that ticked by on a dial like an old one-armed-bandit style slot machine. A hand-scrawled sign in the window listed the hours vaguely as open from dawn ‘til dusk. An uninformed observer could easily mistake the business for being abandoned, or even condemned, a relic lingering in a ghost town. But for the metropolis of Kitwanga, it was a thriving business. There was even another vehicle at the pumps, a ’79 Ford truck with a lift and a winch on its bumper and a fat man in overalls leaning against the bed, pumping gas.

Flip stepped out of his truck and lifted the nozzle of the gas pump with a rusty squeal. He admired the view of his girl as she trotted into the gas station to forage for supplies. A brisk wind rustled his hair, tinged with chilled moisture. Above, low clouds in a grayscale palette churned in the sky. The snowy tops of the mountains were hidden inside the clouds and rain slashed across their facades in a grey haze. The rain hadn’t yet reached the foothills where the town and Flip’s rented cabin were nestled, but fog was creeping in from the base of the mountains and off a nearby river. Between the thunderclouds and the fog, it was as if the world was slowly closing in, like the vignette on a Bogart movie narrowing in on the dramatic eyes of a starlet.

Tilting his face up into the chilly air, Flip smiled. He loved rain and thunderstorms, and found peace in their chaos. Mainly, he loved holding his girl while a storm raged outside, or having a drink with her while they sat on the porch and felt the electricity in the air, and making love to her and feeling her shudder thunderously beneath him. His smile widened as he anticipated the evening ahead.

“Storm’s comin,’” the man at the pump said to Flip as he spat a string of brown tobacco into the mud. “You here for huntin’ or fishin?’”

“I’m mostly just here to take a break from everyday bullshit,” Flip replied in a friendly tone. “But I have tags for fishing and tags for bear and moose in case one happens to wander in front of me.”

“Storms are bad for fishin,’” the man said, nodding knowingly. “But they can be good for huntin.’ Storms bring the animals down from the big mountains. Moose especially like the mist and bears like to hunt in the rain when their prey can’t hear and see ‘em as good.”

“Good to know.” Flip smiled as he replaced the nozzle and turned to go inside and pay his tab.

“That your girl?” the man asked with a suggestive nod toward the gas station.

“That she is.” Flip turned to face the man, wondering if he’d end up getting in a fist fight while on vacation.

Not taking the hint, the man whistled appreciatively.

Flip decided the rube meant it as a compliment, so he simply agreed with a “Yup,” and went into the gas station. Kate had been suspiciously long inside anyway, something that nagged at the part of his mind that was always an officer on duty.

Inside the dingy little gas station, Flip saw his girl leaning against the counter engaged in an affable conversation with the attendant behind the counter, a squat older man with a heavily lined face and long silver hair in a braid hanging over his shoulder down to his gut. Flip wandered through the store, grabbing a few items that struck his fancy, some beef jerky, chips, candy bars, and other assorted junk food. At the back of the store, a menagerie of terrible taxidermy watched him with glassy eyes. Above the beverage coolers that lined the wall hung several deer and caribou and two enormous moose. A life-size grizzly bear stood on its hind feet in a corner, frozen mid-snarl, its head a solid three feet above Flip’s. He looked at its paws that were larger than his head and vicious curling claws, longer and thicker than his fingers. Facing such a beast, the gun he had in his truck now seemed very feeble. He grabbed a six-pack of stout beer bottles and an over-sized bottle of cheap wine and took his loot to the counter to pile it alongside Kate’s items.

“Have you heard about the wendigo?” Kate asked Flip when he joined her at the counter. The lilt in her voice told him she was highly amused. “My new friend was just telling me about it.”

“Yeah, wasn’t that the name of that stripper I arrested last year for blackmailing the mayor?” Flip smirked. “Wendy-Go?”

“He’s an idiot, I’m sorry,” Kate apologized to the man behind the counter, simultaneously elbowing Flip in the ribs. “Please ignore him and continue.”

The attendant gave Flip a sideways look and continued talking to Kate in a slow, backcountry drawl, “It is said the wendigo were people once, but now they are cursed. A wendigo is born during times of famine or in the harshest winter. When men are starving to death in the cold. When a man is weak, and he chooses the black path of cannibalism over death, butchering his fellows to save himself. When a man eats the flesh of another, he takes a curse upon himself. The wendigo lives in constant starvation, its body emaciated and rotting, only growing hungrier the more it eats. Its hunger can never be sated and it becomes a crazed beast with an insatiable bloodlust.”

“Is this insatiable bloodlust specific to tourists?” Flip asked sarcastically.

“Sometimes,” the man shrugged, unbothered. “It looks to punish those with greed in their hearts. Or, depending on which stories you believe, it seeks people who are like-minded to itself to build its own tribe.” He eyed Flip narrowly. “So, if a tourist is out greedily mining or wantonly slaughtering game, then yes, the wendigo will come for him.”

“Slaughtering is one of the few things I never do wantonly,” Flip deadpanned and slapped some cash down on the counter.

“You should be careful, son,” the old man told Flip seriously. “There are many ways a man can be greedy. He can be greedy for his woman and covetous of her.” Then he shrugged again. “But these are nothing more than old tales.”

“So, you don’t believe in the wendigo?” Kate asked.

“Oh, there’s no doubt in my mind he’s real. I’ve seen a wendigo twice. He has antlers taller than a caribou and wider than a moose, teeth like a wolf, and only skull sockets for eyes. But they glow. It’s the glow I remember most,” the man said genuinely as he counted out change. “I just don’t know if he was once a man, or something that was never human at all. Maybe the people who first came here created a myth to explain the monster rather than created a mythical monster themselves.”

“Maybe it’s a convenient way to scare pretty, gullible girls.” Flip smirked at Kate. Then he returned his attention to the cashier. “Let me guess, there’s something that wards off the wendigo? A silver crucifix or whatever? I bet we can buy it right here.”

“Nothing wards off the wendigo,” the man scoffed. “And he is far older than your crucifix. Why would a forest god bow to a stranger on a cross? Fire can stall him, maybe even frighten him, but it can only buy you time.” He looked outside the window at the building storm. “Not good weather for making a fire if you need it.”

“Damn shame.” Flip shook his head and began collecting their provisions in his arms. There were no courtesy bags.

“We do have flares,” the man suggested innocently. “They burn in any kind of weather, even underwater. All the bush pilots carry them.”

“Probably inside their emergency monster-hunting kit alongside the stakes for vampires and silver bullets for werewolves,” Flip laughed. “Go ahead. Load us up with some flares. Consider it a tip for a good campfire story.”

“It’s always smart to be prepared,” the man agreed as he placed two bundles of six red flares apiece on the counter and rang them up. They looked like bundles of dynamite.

Kate took the flares because Flip’s arms were already overfilled. She thanked the attendant and turned to leave.

The old man grabbed her by the elbow, stopping her and causing Flip’s hackles to rise. He spoke seriously, “Don’t whistle when you’re out in the woods. Whistling will summon the wendigo. Sometimes people hear whistling too, before it comes for them.”

“And these people who hear the whistling before it gets them,” Flip said as he edged his body between Kate and the counter and nudged her toward the exit. “They walk out of the woods to tell their story, huh?”

*******************************************************************************************

Their log cabin for the week was almost an hour’s drive from the gas station. It wasn’t that far as the crow flies, but the road was serpentine with switchbacks as it climbed the foot of the mountains and made even slower by soupy mud. It was set deep in the forest, surrounded by old-growth trees with trunks as thick as the truck’s bed. The sun set on their drive back. As it dipped below the mountainous horizon, the landscape glowed a shade of hazy purple only seen in the alpine. The clouds were the color of gunpowder and the rainy vapor was periwinkle. The spruce turned into an army of nearly black silhouettes with a light mist writhing among them as moisture rose from the damp ground as well as drizzled gently from the sky. The drifting mist made everything look as though it were moving. It gave the illusion of eldritch shapes in the trees creeping along the edges of vision and tree limbs grasping like clawed fingers as they swayed in the breeze.

Flip hit the brakes suddenly, slamming Kate forward in her seat and knocking her out of the reverie the gloaming forest had cast over her. A black shape froze in the muddy road a few yards ahead of them. Its eyes sparked cold white in the headlights and the fur on its back was raised aggressively.

“A wolf!” Flip said excitedly. “I’ve never seen one this close.”

The huge animal was coal black, its amber eyes reflecting white in the headlights in the way wolves eyes do. It stood frozen, staring down the vehicle, acting like the truck was a new creature intruding into the wolf’s territory. Something was wrong with its silhouette. Something with its mouth. It took several seconds for Kate to realize what it was. The wolf turned its head uncertainly, deciding whether it should continue on its way across the road or turn around from the metal beast with offense headlights. A dead rabbit dangled from its jaws, its legs swinging lifelessly and ears flopping limply. Its lifeless eyes glinted a dull red.

The simple reminder of nature’s brutality unnerved Kate unexpectedly and her hands felt suddenly cold. She gripped Flip’s hand, digging her nails into his palm with irrational harshness.

“Nature, red in tooth and claw,” he teased and grinned at her, but he laced his fingers through hers and squeezed her hand reassuringly. “Some redneck at the gas station told me that predators liked to hunt in the rain. Guess he was right.”

Night had veiled the forest with its velvety black cloak by the time they parked next to the porch of their cabin. It was silent enough to hear all the noises of the forest, from the chattering birds to the subtle rustling of deer browsing in the brush to moisture pattering lightly on the ground. A great horned owl as large as a man’s torso sat perched in a tree branch hanging near the roof of the cabin, its yellow eyes glittering like moonlight as it hooted an eerie cadence. It followed them with its yellow eyes as they unloaded the truck and carried their loot inside, its head turned almost fully backward like a creature possessed.

There was no light pollution and on a clear night, the moon and stars lit the forest bright enough to see easily. On a rainy night, moisture in the air brought out all the smells of the forest, the crisp spruce, the earthy soil, the embers in the fireplace. The cabin had no electric lines and was powered by a temperamental generator and a wood stove. A woodpile was stacked against the back of the cabin, complete with a large timber axe embedded in a nearby stump. Cell service was laughable. Flip loved everything about all of that. He was pleased it had running water, however, mainly because it would have greatly impacted his sex life if it didn’t.

Flip grilled steaks outside that night before the rain hit and they had dinner on the porch, counting lightning bolts. Then they tangled around each other in front of the fireplace, making love as the flames crackled and danced and the thunder rolled. Between dinner and fooling around several times, they finished the bottle of wine and opened another. Night fell early this far north in the autumn and the nights were long. The cabin was equipped with a tv, but it was one of those terrible old boxy things with a tiny screen and antennas. The antennas were only for show since there was no service. Instead, there was a vcr and a selection of campy nineties movies and some even campier porn. It seemed to defeat the purpose of being there to even bother with the tv. They hadn’t turned it on once.

“I’m wide awake,” Kate mused, propped up on Flip’s bare chest, looking down at him. “Let’s do something.”

“I have plenty of ideas,” Flip said huskily. “They’re all sure to wear you out.”

“We’ve tried your ideas. Several times. And I’m still far from worn out.” She smiled. “We’re here in a cabin, basically having a sleepover. Let’s play some sleepover games, the kind you play as idiot teenagers or in sororities in college.”

“I think girls have a lot wilder sleepovers than boys. And my experience with sororities is limited to sneaking in and out of them, so you’ll have to be more specific.” He ran his fingertips along her spine and kissed her throat, doing his best to interest her in another round.

“Later, you animal,” she laughed and shoved his face away while pushing herself up and off him. “You know what I mean. Sleepover games. Like Bloody Mary, or playing a Ouija Board, or the Midnight Game.”

“Packed a Ouija Board, did you?” he teased. “That would explain why your suitcase weighs fifty fuckin’ pounds.”

“I don’t think ghosts care whether or not you use a name brand.” She pinched his chest, making him flinch.

“What ghosts are you gonna find out here?” He squinted as he rubbed his chest. “The Donner Party?”

“Don’t you think they’d be fun to talk to? We can try Bloody Mary. I don’t think she has a centralized location,” she teased and pulled on her discarded pair of pajama pants and a hoodie. She threw Flip’s grey sweatpants at him. “Put that thing away or it might scare off the ghosts.”

Flip grumbled more protests under his breath, but he dressed in his sweats and a thermal henley. “How about we each stand in front of the bathroom mirror with the lights off. I’ll ask for Candyman. You ask for Bloody Mary. And we’ll have a Celebrity Death Match between vengeful ghosts?”

“You know the ghosts always get the cynics and the cocky shitheads first, right?” She shook her head and crossed her arms over her chest in a faux reprimand.

“Is that a rule?” Flip grinned. “I think the ghosts go for the morally corrupt woman who can’t keep her legs closed first. You’re in trouble, sugar.”

“There’s only one way to find out,” she said with finality.

“How about we play a fun game, like spin the bottle or truth or dare?” He winked at her. “I always pick dare. Do your worst.”

“I can’t imagine where a game of truth or dare with you would lead.” She rolled her eyes sarcastically.

Flip puffed his chest and stepped closer to her until their bodies were almost touching. “I have a better idea. You have some pretty big balls for a pretty little girl. Let’s see how big they really are.”

“Oh my god, Flip, if this is another ploy to explore that region further…” she laughed.

“Everything I do is some kinda means to that end.” He smirked. “But we’ll get to that later. Now, let’s go outside and whistle at the wendigo. There should be some of those sonsabitches around these parts.”

Flip went to the door and stepped into his muddy boots. He leaned against the doorframe, casually cocky, and raised an eyebrow at her in a challenge. “How ‘bout it, hot stuff?”

“I think we’d be better off trying to summon Bloody Mary than a wendigo,” Kate said hesitantly. “Plus, it will be cold out there.”

“I’ll keep you warm,” he teased. “How do you figure that trying to summon a ghost through our bathroom mirror would be safer than trying to call in a wendigo? At least a wendigo will stay outside. Besides, I know how psycho you’d get if I let another woman into our bedroom. Dead or alive. Don’t try to set me up, sweetheart.”

Rolling her eyes again, Kate pulled her coat on and slipped her phone into its pocket, feeling the bundle of flares she had absently pocketed at the gas station. There was no service, but its flashlight might come in handy outside. Grinning, Flip picked up the rifle that was leaning against the doorframe and slung it over his shoulder. Cocky though he was, he took the advice serious about the threat of bears and always having a gun on him out here in the wilderness. He held the door open for Kate and ushered her outside.

The air was thick with humidity but the rain had stopped for the moment, leaving the moisture on the air to chill their skin and turn their breath into ghostly thick fog. The porch was covered in slushy frost as bright as diamonds. Their boot prints left skeletal black outlines on the otherwise pristine frosty canvas as they descended the steps and walked into the forest that awaited them only yards away.

Flip offered Kate his arm and led her into the trees. The old growth forest felt like being inside a fairytale, surrounded by enormous tree trunks and relatively open ground at their bases. The roots of those great trees were so thirsty, they leeched most of the nutrients and left little for brush and scrub to encroach. After the rain, the ground was muddy and slick, with frost growing denser by the minute as the temperature dropped through the night.

Filling his lungs, Flip began whistling a terribly off-key tune as he walked through the woods. His casual swagger was the same as if he were taking his girl out for a stroll in the park. Kate winced when he struck a particularly loathsome note, and squinted her eyes at him, “What in the hell are you whistling?”

“Season of the Witch,” he replied, acting offended. “I thought you’d appreciate it.”

“I like the song, I don’t appreciate what you’re doing to it,” she laughed. “We’re not going to find any wendigo if you scare them all off with that horrendous noise.”

“I don’t hear you doing any better,” he scoffed.

Mainly in an attempt to save her ears from his screeching, Kate started whistling. She teased Flip first with her best wolf whistle. Smells were heightened in the damp air but sounds were muffled. In the silence of the forest, the whistle sounded unnaturally loud. Now that Flip wasn’t making noise himself, he found himself focusing more on his surroundings. He didn’t feel right, something he couldn’t put his finger on tugged at the back of his mind. It wasn’t just that noises were muffled by the dampness in the air, but something else that he found indefinable in that moment. He told himself it was just the product of being in an unfamiliar place, surrounded by unfamiliar vegetation that he found unsettling. The size of trees still seemed monstrous to him, and the smell of spruce instead of the familiar smell of pine must have been unsettling to his subconscious. And it probably didn’t help that he had cultivated a little buzz drinking wine for the past few hours.

A light gust of wind blew into his face and all of his senses sparked with alarm. He froze in place, seizing Kate’s arm to silence her whistling. The unmistakable scent of a wet animal hit his nose with the force of a slap in the face. Quickly evaluating his surroundings, he unslung the rifle from his shoulder and held it across his chest in high port. It would take him less than a second to aim and fire. But the forest was close around them, visibility limited to fifteen feet or so in any direction. If the animal was a predator, a bear or a mountain lion, it could cover that distance in less than a heartbeat if it wanted. He could still see the faint glow of the cabin’s lights. They hadn’t gone far, but there was no chance of outrunning an animal back to safety.

A heavy footfall sounded inside the trees ahead of them, muffled on the wet ground but distinctive. Straining his ears, Flip thought he heard a branch being brushed aside by something passing by it. Whatever it was, it was very close ahead of them. Flip’s thoughts raced, less cohesive and more a rush of images of nightmare scenarios that he weighed in an instant. He could hide himself and Kate behind one of the huge tree trunks and hope the animal passed them by. But whatever it was had to already know of their presence. If his feeble senses could hear and smell the animal, it had no doubt smelled and heard him much sooner. In that case, he decided it was best to hold his ground and meet whatever it was head on, straight down the barrel of his rifle. That would give them the best chance. Flip would have to make his shot count, and he’d probably only get one, but it was a decent chance.

Stepping in front of Kate, Flip raised his rifle to his shoulder. He kept both eyes open, not limiting his focus to only what was past the end of his barrel, but trying to expand his senses to the full spectrum of forest in front of him. He heard a heavy breath, something panting. Closer now. Flip clicked off the safety and tightened his finger on the trigger. The hardest skill for a hunter to learn, especially when hunting game that hunted him back, is to wait long enough for a good shot but not so long as to let it get him. He wouldn’t waste his shot until he saw his target clearly and could be sure of putting the bullet where it would matter most. His hold on the gun was rock steady, his breath stalled, his eyes unblinking.

The panting grew in volume until it seemed to drum in his ears. Odd for a stalking predator. Before Flip could reconcile that, a bear burst from the trees only feet in front of him. A huge grizzly bear lumbering toward him on all fours, the top of its humped shoulders taller than Flip’s head. His finger tensed, less than a millimeter of movement was required to fire. But something was off with the bear. It was panting heavily, saliva dripping from its open mouth and fog snorting in bursts from its wet nose. The bear stopped short at the sight of the man with a gun right in front of it, clearly surprised, very unlike a predator who had been stalking the man. Flip hesitated. If he didn’t kill the bear immediately with one shot – drop it right in its tracks – it would maul them both before it died. If the bear wasn’t hunting him, it was a foolish risk to take. Grizzlies were not commonly hunting predators; they were scavengers and fishers. Most people who were mauled by grizzlies had either gotten between a mother and her cubs or a bear and its food, or they had startled it like waking a grumpy old man.

Sniffing the air, the bear looked at Flip. He was so close he could see the small particles of moisture the bear blew out of its nose along with steam when it snorted. The bear’s little round ears flicked, one turning backward to listen behind it. The bear’s eyes were wide, showing white, in a nervous gesture that was common to both man and beast. The bear looked back over its shoulder and then broke into a gallop. Flip’s rational mind told him to shoot, but his instinct prevented him. The bear altered course enough to avoid running straight into Flip. It paid him no further mind at all, instead running right by him. Flip followed it with the barrel of his rifle as it passed by him so close that a string of white saliva landed on the rifle’s blue-black barrel.

Turning around about face, Flip followed the bear with his sights until it was well past them and showed no signs of turning back around. He looked back toward the place the bear had come from, still holding the rifle to his shoulder. He didn’t look at Kate when he told her, “Walk back to the cabin. Don’t run, but go now.”

“You want me to follow the bear?” she hissed. “He ran toward the cabin. I don’t want to get near him again.”

“Follow the bear,” Flip gritted. “If a bear’s runnin’ from something, we’d best do the same. He didn’t care about us anyway. Now, move.”

Uncertainly, Kate turned and retreated toward the cabin. They hadn’t gone that far, after all. Flip backed after her, keeping his rifle aimed into the black forest from which the bear had run. A shrill scream splintered the silence, starker than a bolt of lightning. Kate shuddered and Flip ducked, hunching his shoulders like he had taken a punch. The scream shrilled for several seconds, wavering on a blood-curdling note before trailing away. It echoed around them, seeming to float on the mist.

“That’s just an elk bugling,” Flip said, trying to calm Kate. Maybe it was in fact an elk, a sickly, ravenous elk. “Keep moving, slowly.”

“I’ve never heard an elk that sounded like that.” Kate shivered against more than the chilled air. “This is starting to scare the hell out of me.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll take your mind off of it when we get back,” Flip tried to joke but he couldn’t muster the required lewdness, his mouth was too dry.

The howling scream burst again through the forest. It was something like an elk bugle, but more howling and rasping, with a sort of growling mingled in at the end as it trailed away. It was closer now. Flip felt as much as heard it reverberate inside his skull.

“Whatever that is, it’s not an elk.” Kate had her arms wrapped around her body, trying to prevent herself from being overtaken by tremors.

“Sure, it is,” Flip lied. “They probably just grow ‘em bigger up here.”

Kate blew out a shuddering breath, fighting to keep her steps slow and steady.

“Pick up the pace a little, darlin,’” Flip rasped.

“You said not to run,” Kate hissed.

“I didn’t say to crawl either!” Flip gritted. “This is one hell of a time for you to start listening to me.”

Instead of moving faster, Kate stopped short. So suddenly, Flip bumped into her as he walked backward. A branch snapped somewhere inside the forest. It was strangely loud. Flip realized then that the snap only sounded harsh because the forest had gone utterly silent. The hundreds of small noises from birds and insects were gone. Even the drops of water falling from tree branches seemed to have stopped. The forest felt like a living thing around them, possessed of a presence all its own. Now that presence was altered into something darker and ominous.

“What the hell are you doing?” Flip’s voice had dropped to a whisper without his conscious approval. “I said keep moving. We’re not far from the cabin.”

“Turn around.” Kate’s voice trembled.

Dropping the rifle for a moment, Flip looked back over his shoulder. His nerves must be playing tricks on his eyes. He turned fully around, holding the rifle at high port across his chest. The view of the forest that met him was foreign. It wasn’t the same forest they had walked through only minutes before. The trees were more skeletal, their grasping branches more cloying. Moss hung from the branches like the lank hair of a corpse, and the ground was spongy underfoot, as if the forest was rotting around them. Even the air smelled stale and moldy. Thunder boomed overhead and lightning illuminated the forest in patches like a stop-motion movie. Most unsettling of all, the comforting glow of the cabin lights that could be seen through the trees had vanished or been snuffed out.

“What the fuck…” Flip’s voice trailed away as he took in the strangeness of their surroundings. A burst of lightning brought the forest into focus for a gleaming second. Bizarre shapes hung in the trees like a macabre abomination of Christmas tree ornaments, figures made from twigs lashed together with sinew to form pentagrams and humanoid shapes and horned beings. Flip swallowed thickly and ignored them. “We couldn’t have gotten turned around so fast.”

“We didn’t.” Kate looked around frantically. “I could see the cabin lights, then I heard that horrible bugle and looked around for it. And then the lights were gone. They couldn’t have all gone out, not all at once.”

“Lightning must have struck the cabin,” Flip lied again. Nothing about the forest looked familiar to him now and everything about it felt wrong. “Must have shorted out the lights.” There was no reason to scare Kate more than she already was. “It’s alright, we don’t need lights for what I have in mind when we get back.”

The scent of wet dog hit Flip again on a gust of wind, yanking his attention in the direction of the odor. He saw a heap of dark fur, glistening from the spotty rain and aimed his rifle at the creature. It didn’t move. Steam rose from the furry mass. Flip noted another smell on the air, something with a coppery aftertaste that coated the roof of his mouth. He edged forward, looking at the steaming animal down the barrel of his rifle, his finger resting on the trigger, ready to fire. He recognized the beast when another bolt of lightning revealed the horror to him.

“Don’t look,” he said to Kate, but it was too late. She clasped a hand over her mouth to keep her scream from escaping.

The huge grizzly bear they had encountered minutes before lay on its side in a broken heap of matted fur. Steam spiraled into the air from its torn-open belly, its entrails protruding from the mangled tissue like uncooked sausage. The gaping wound was only minutes old. The bear’s body temperature would plummet rapidly in the frigid air and it was still warm now. Even as they stared, the steam began to abate. Hanging in the branches of the tree nearest the bear carcass were several more bizarre figures crafted from twigs.

The screeching growling bugle erupted again, very close this time. Flip nudged Kate ahead, keeping his rifle at the ready, but not knowing where to aim it.

“Which way do we go?” Her breath came in shuddering puffs of fog.

“I don’t know,” Flip admitted. “Away from here.”

Amid a stand of spruce to his side, bare tree branches swayed in the wind, their spiky fingers waving ominously. Flip hadn’t noticed the wind pick up. Looking at the oddly swaying branches, he realized there was no wind. The air had gone as still as the inside of a crypt. The strange branches were bare, glistening wet and pointed upward, still swaying.

A flash of lightning illuminated the creature and Flip flinched so hard he almost fired accidentally.

What he had taken for bare branches was a set of enormous antlers, shaped somewhere between a moose and a caribou and as large as an Irish elk, with wide paddles and long spiked tines spurting out non-typically like broken fingers. It had a dark mane like an elk with a tawny, painfully emaciated body. Flat tines of several spinal processes protruded through the hide at the top of its high withers and one hip bone showed through the skin. But its head was the most terrible of all. Its face was in an advanced stage of rot, dregs of sagging flesh barely clinging to the skull. White skull bone gleamed in exposed patches, and its sharp, lupine teeth were long in the exposed jawbone and ragged. Its nasal cavity was bare, the fleshy nose rotten away, leaving only the pointed bones and a black hollow. It had no eyes that Flip could see, but there was an evil gleam inside its sockets, like embers inside a pile of ash. The monster shook its head, slinging water from its great spiked antlers. Then it leveled its head like a bull about to charge and fixed its glowing eyes on Flip.

“Shoot it,” Kate whispered, her eyes wide with terror.

“I don’t think it’ll do any good.” Flip looked down the barrel at the rotting flesh covering the walking skeleton and white bone peeking from beneath. The monster’s glowing eyes were not something found among the living. Without lowering his rifle, he looked at Kate and met her eyes. “It’ll come for me first. I’ll make sure of that, and I’ll stall it as much as I can. Get to the truck, darlin.’ The keys are in it. Run like hell.”

“I’m not leaving you!” she said vehemently, her voice losing some fervor when the creature took an ominous step closer, its enormous antlers swaying with its gait.

She felt for her phone, hoping there might be service. Not that another human could even reach them in less than an hour, making any idea of help hopeless. Her hand closed around the lumpy bundle of flares. With an excited breath, she freed a flare from the bundle and fumbled with lighting it.

The monster bugled angrily, a sound so shrill it felt like it grated along their spines. It rushed toward them through the trees, its teeth bared and eyes aflame. Flip fired, sending a bullet right between those glowing eyes. He even saw the bullet strike and tear away more rotting flesh, leaving a pearly white hole in the skull. It didn’t slow the monster or even make it flinch. He bolted another round into the chamber on instinct, staring down the barrel at the demonic eyes that were fixed upon him.

Kate popped the cap off the flare. The cap had an abrasive tip like a matchhead and she struck it to the end of the flare, holding it high as it burst to life. With their eyes accustomed to the darkness, the flare seemed as bright as sunlight, searing black pulsing spots into their vision. The monster squealed again, shaking its head with pain or irritation. Its antlers caught in the tree branches, stalling its advance. The flare burned and popped, hot on Kate’s face even at arm’s length and blindingly bright.

The landscape around them crackled and wavered, like a tv signal trying to come in through static. The trees looked less skeletal and more normal, like they had been before, and the strange twig figures vanished. The cabin lights glowed through the trees, yellow and warm, not far from them.

“It’s in our heads!” Kate shouted. “It’s making us hallucinate, but I can see the cabin and the truck now.”

“The light bothers it,” Flip said as he reached into her coat pocket, grabbing three flares and leaving her the remaining two. The monster wrenched its antlers free of the branches where it was tangled and lurched toward them in a shambling gait.

Shouldering his rifle that was of no more use than a club against the monster, Flip bit the cap off a flare with his teeth and struck the head. He rammed the end into the muddy ground at his feet, leaving the tip burning. The beast reared, shrieking with rage and clawing the air with its cloven hooves as Flip backed away. He could see the glow of the cabin lights now too. It was hard to resist the urge to run to the light.

Flip lit the next flare. Kate was a few yards ahead of him, gaining ground toward the truck. It would take whoever reached it first a minute to start it. Flip had a good throwing arm and even better aim. The monster lunged at him, rage overriding whatever else had been driving it to pursue them so far. Flip drew back his arm, took a second to aim at the gaping black jaws, and threw the lit flare as hard as he could. The flaming tip cartwheeled through the air like a throwing knife before the fiery head struck the monster right where its nose should have been. But it had no nose, its nasal cavity was exposed in its partially skeletal head. Robin Hood could not have struck a finer bullseye. The flaming tip sank deep into the nasal cavity, embedding itself there.

Screaming terribly, the wendigo shook its head and stomped its hooves, rearing and bucking like a horse that had stepped on a hornet’s nest. It couldn’t shake the flare free from its skull. The flames spread, shooting out through holes in the rancid flesh of its cheeks and jaws. It looked as though it breathed fire when it screeched, belching flare fumes and flames out of its hacking mouth.

“We’re not gonna get a better chance than this!” Flip roared at Kate as he burst into a run toward her. She had a few paces head start on him and sprinted ahead toward the truck.

Kate reached the truck first, yanking the driver’s door open and jumping inside. Flip could bitch about her driving all he wanted, but she dared not spare the extra second or two for him to take the wheel. Not with the eldritch monster galloping toward them, bugling terribly, flames bellowing from its mouth and nose. Flip had his one remaining flare in hand when he reached the truck. The engine roared to life.

Instead of joining Kate inside the cab, Flip vaulted into the truck bed and shouted for her to drive. Kate slammed the truck into gear, throwing Flip against the side of the bed. Regaining his balance, he dropped to his knees and planted his back against the rear window, making himself as steady as he could. Kate was speeding as fast as she dared down the muddy, winding road, and it wasn’t fast enough. The wendigo pursued them, galloping after the truck and gaining ground. Striking the tip of his flare, Flip held the flaming tip aloft, casting the entire truck in a halo of searing red fire. The wendigo allowed more distance between them, smart enough to keep outside of throwing range of another flare.

Kate took a slippery curve too fast, the truck fishtailing as she recovered control, slinging Flip from one side of the bed to the other. The flare was nearly whipped from his hand, but he clenched his fist tight to keep his hold. Gritting his teeth, he composed himself, using all his strength to keep his balance and keep his arm held high. He couldn’t afford to lose a flare. They only had three flares left, and it was going to take every last burning second of each one to reach town.

*******************************************************************************************

 © safarigirlsp 2024

Tagging some buddies!

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for bitching about fics I dislike on my blog?

as a foreword, this is kind of a non-issue and no one's ever told me to stop, but I'm curious what other people think of fandom etiquette.

the fandom: a fairly small one. 2.4k fics on ao3 small. I recognize most people posting in its tumblr tag small. if I tell you the name of the source you'd almost definitely be able to find me small.

the source: pornographic, which means everyone involved is or should be an adult. it's BL with a switch MC, but the fandom overwhelmingly prefers bottom MC/top LIs (love interests), to the point where I've had people be astonishingly rude to me because my favorite character is a bottom LI and some of my friends have been outright harassed for the same. I used to not care about sex positions in the slightest, but now when I see bottom MC fanworks I can't help but remember how poorly I was treated.

the fics: wildly and inexplicably popular, even though they are, frankly, poorly written. it's eternal bottom MC turned up to 11, complete with copious amounts of OOCness in order to turn every ship into the worst ye olde yaoi gender roles dynamic you can imagine. it's things like MC, canonically a 23yo plank of a dudeguy, being written as a big titted milf in his 40s (which is made more confusing by the fact that one of the LIs is already a big titted milf). it's also things like the MC being written as disliking sex and having to be coerced into it when one of the most charming things about him is that he's a hilarious sex pest, or writing the LIs sexually harassing the MC when they really would never do that. I've likened it to replacing the characters with OCs that share the same name and my friends have agreed with me. I'm honestly convinced that the author and his readers don't actually like any of the characters if they feel the need to change everyone so thoroughly.

why I might be an asshole: it's assholish to hate on free fanworks, and I've bitched about these fics on my public tumblr blog. the fandom is small enough that there's a non-zero chance of it getting back to the author and a reasonable chance that fans of the fics have seen my bitching. I'm probably projecting the hostility I've received onto someone who's done absolutely nothing to me, and I am absolutely just straight up jealous that their fics get better stats than mine. I may also be being an asshole to myself, because being critical of other people's fics has made my hypercritical of my own.

why I don't think I'm an asshole: I think everyone has the right to be bad at things, but I also think everyone has the right to be a little hater. I don't put the fandom tag on these posts; they stay on my blog and my blog alone, and if later on I feel like I was unfairly vitriolic I'll delete the posts. I only post on tumblr because I'm certain the author in question only uses twitter, which dramatically lowers the odds of him stumbling across my posts. the fics are so popular that it's definitely possible that their fans would see my posts, but I think it's unlikely that they'd bother looking at my blog because 99% of my posts are about one of the bottom LIs. I have never and would never leave comments on the fics themselves, and I generally try to keep the bitchy posts to a minimum; it's far from a constant thing.

tl;dr - I publicly bitch about fics that (in my opinion) are poorly written and extremely OOC, under the assumption that it's unlikely the author would ever see it. AITA?

What are these acronyms?

[dnpbeats]

Yeah its so weird. People act as if the reason dan left and the issue dnp had with privacy was that people shipped them and wrote fanfic. Outside of like 2011/12 when dan had a (in his own recount) freakout because people were clocking him, they did not give a fuck at any point about the shipping or the theories. That is clearer now than ever, as they have a whole tour based around it and are actively encouraging it because they find it funny. What they did care about was when people reached out to their friends and family, harrasing those peoples social medias, because they didnt choose to put themselves on the internet, dnp did. What they did care about was the fact that apparently some fans figured out where they lived and used that info to go to their first flat in london and knock on the door to talk to them. Like. Thats invading privacy. Looking at a twitter account that was and has been public for 15 years, and cross matching it with things that have been publicly said and posted is not breachibg privacy? Thats? Not the same thing???

lmao thank you lmao like? I'm convinced that anytime someone says "this is giving demon phannie we are going back to 2014 and they're gonna leave again" they were not actually here for that era bc like 😭😭 d&p have been clear they dgaf about theories, espc recently. ppl just have no media literacy when it comes to what dan said in BIG

but honestly even if ppl still don't like the research I honestly don't care they have the right to not like it, what actually pissed me off the most was that the ppl who were talking shit seemed to be operating under the assumption that the dan being philslion theory existed for forever, then d&p denied it so I came along and decided to disprove what they said after the fact. which is just not fucking what happened like the doc IS the theory. basically no one was saying it was dan before I posted all the proof, no one would have asked them about it if it wasn't for my posts 😭 if you're gonna shit talk me go ahead but at least have your facts straight first, it takes .5 seconds to see the dates I posted everything like lol

[elbiotipo]

Thinking about superheroes as a Usamerican thing.

You see, the thing about the United States during the 20th century is that it didn't experience major unrest. I know what you're going to say, and yes, there was PLENTY of unrest. But overall, the structure of the state was never compromised. There was never a coup, there was never a civil war, there was never a foreign invasion. War? It did happen, but in distant shores. You could live (and indeed, many did live) a comfortable life for decades without any kind of major political struggle reaching you. Many classic superhero stories have them showing up somewhere before or during WWII, just when the US was reaching the zenith of its global power.

And that's why a superhero in the United States has it easy. Just fight crime, and the ocassional supervillain, or alien invaders. Truth, Justice, and the (Us)american way. After all, you are convinced that you are fighting for democracy and liberty, who wouldn't want to do that? Okay, but what about civil rights and such? Oh, no need to get into politics, just do a speech about how kindness is the way, without getting into specifics. Most famous people do (many famous people did). It's easy. The government of the US will change parties, things will change, but at the end, you have decades of prosperity ahead, without really needing to pick a side, just punch bad guys.

What if Superman had landed in Santa Rosa, Territorio Nacional de La Pampa, Argentina instead? Say, somewhere in the 30s. During the Década Infame, coming of age during Perón's rise to power. What would an Argentine Superman do? Would he support Perón against the "Revolución Libertadora" coup? What would he do when the military's Gloster Meteors fly over Plaza de Mayo and bomb civilians? What would have he done as the military couped civilian governments and repressed protests? What would have he had done as the country split over ideological lines? When the dictators kidnapped and dissapeared people from the street and stole their children? When the struggle between popular movements and the interests of the oligarchs was very, very open? Would just a bland statement would suffice?

What if, instead, he had landed in Jinan, Shandong, China, again, somewhere during the 30s. As the Japanese were invading. This isn't like the US, where they could participate in World War II from far away. The enemies are at the gates. And after that, there is a civil war between communists and nationalists. There are sides to pick. There are big changes to come, there is a new China, there is a revolution, there is a Cold War, there is an industrialization that will change the lives of millions, there is struggle, against enemies abroad, and revolutions inside.

For that matter, China has the largest population in the world during this era. Others like India aren't that far behind. As it often happens with superhero settings, soon other superheroes and villains will appear and do the whole justice league thing. Now, why are they all in the US? Even assuming the US is the core of superpowers, with all the aliens landing and mad science going on... don't you think that there would be more of them in the Third World, just out of sheer demographics. Isn't the USSR, Japan, and other countries doing also its mad science experiments? Who are their superheroes?

And what side do all those "super-people" take? Because it can't just be Truth, Justice and the American way. They don't even call themselves American... unless they were, indeed, born in Latin America. Why does Capitán América has to carry the US flag, anyways?

Where am I going with this? Don't know, just something to think. It's kinda strange that none of these super-people have REALLY to take a side beyond a vague 'good vs. evil' right? I bet at least some of them has some kind of political opinion. And the means to enact it on the world.

[faelapis]

hotd: team green or black? (or?)

rhaenys thoughts?

rhaenyra x mysaria…???

house of the dragon asks! VERY LONG ANSWERS AHEAD:

1: team green or black?

there's two answers to this - the intellectual answer, and the team sports answer.

the intellectual answer is that this isn't really "the point." both sides have (and will) lose a great deal. there are no winners in war, only survivors. a petty conflict between the rich will result in the death of many.

on a broader, thematic note, my impression is that a big point of the entire "song of ice and fire" is that the unjust hierarchy of monarchy and feudalism hurts people. especially the lower classes. they are affected when lords flex military might, when they put their own survival above the realm, when they act petty, selfish or cowardly, which they frequently do. the rare "peaceful" ruler does not justify the system. the lower classes also suffer the most in war. but the system hurts everyone - even the royals themselves. they are literally killing each other for power.

THAT. BEING. SAID.

i actually disagree with the take that you can't have some fun with the team sports aspect. this is a fictional television show. Fun is allowed. it's drama! murder! crying and screaming!!!

so while HotD has overall thematic messages, the show encourages you to enjoy the back-and-forth between the characters. i don't begrudge people for their stan wars on twitter. we all know this is a fictional show - and its okay to be ruled by your emotions when watching fiction.

so. with that said? team black, 100%. i think they have more compelling characters and reasoning for their cause. fundamentally, their cause is to put a woman on the throne in a society ruled by traditional patriarchy.

look, i love alicent for her complexity. she is a well-written character who makes sense with her society... but she is not a girl's girl. she is trapped both by external forces of patriarchy and its effect on her own mind. she is stuck fighting for men and fulfilling wifely duties - never fighting for herself.

she seems pretty miserable, at the end of the day.

yes, rhaenyra is also complex. she's often a bad person - but sometimes, i like seeing a strong woman on a dragon do some crimes :) especially one who has had to fight for respect as often as rhaenyra. that's compelling tv, even if Monarchy Bad.

the greens have A Point somewhere, about stability > rhaenyra, but they are also clouded by self-interest. they didn't even TRY supporting a woman. (also, remember, this is emotion/vibes-based.)

the "aagon's dream" misunderstand was initially frustrating, which also makes me side against the greens a bit more. i like when characters are compelled by real, sincere differences in opinion. i dislike when it's just a misunderstanding that can be easily quelled.

and alicent DID have real motivations, previously! she was right that rhaenyra would have reason to kill her children to claim legitimacy - even if that's more of a Matter of War now than a real intention of hers early on.

oh well. one good thing about the misunderstanding is that it didn't actually convince anyone other than alicent. otto hightower and the council were already planning a coup. it seems mostly that it was a good tool to further their cause, not something that actually convinced the masses on a deep, personal level. you can also make the case that alicent "heard what she wanted to hear".

but it doesn't really matter because nobody was going to suddenly switch sides. the material reality is more important: the council wanted aagon. otto wanted to secure his interests. alicent wanted to secure her children's safety. the war is already happening, so alicent's misunderstanding being cleared up doesn't change anything.

and it causes alicent to realize she doesn't really have much power. society around her will keep turning, and her influence is very limited. the rabble may hate or worship her, and she has little control over it. she may be important in the council, or dismissed from it. which is leading her on a compelling arc that i'm interested to see where goes!

2: rhaenys thoughts?

very few! uhh... she seemed nice? i like her death scene?

the show seems to use her symbolically as a shorthand for "what a good woman ruler could be like" for the kingdom. but i don't know if it would've played out that way. it is hard to tell, because if she WAS queen, the society she lives in could have turned against her. or maybe she could have found a way to earn their trust. maybe viserys would've been chill enough to support her claim (probably?). but we don't know. she's The Queen Who Never Was (tm).

3: rhaenyra x mysaria?

ok so, i do actually have a hot take on this, cuz i've seen some call it "rushed." it may ruffle some feathers. here we go:

i dont think every gay kiss has to feel like an "earned" 50k slowburn fic. it's well-established that instant or near-instant attraction is a thing. i dont think it will be "endgame," but i dont think it needs to be.

i think sometimes - often in this show - you see a man and a woman meet and fuck the same night. people tend to just accept that. not every case of attraction has to be based on a Deep Bond of Many Years. sometimes, a man and woman on this show have no real bond, yet as soon as they Walk Close to Each Other, it's accepted "they will fuck that night."

i would also suggest that not everything is literal. it's addressed in canon that rhaenyras' attraction to daemon came hand-in-hand with what he represented to her. which was, in a word, freedom. she wanted to BE him more than anything.

if we take a non-literal approach, what might mysaria represent?

right now, i think its rhaenyras desperation for someone to listen to her. her council belittles her for being a woman. it protects her like a "daughter" rather than a ruler. mysaria both listens to her, and plots with her on equal level. in a way, she represents (and yes this is a somewhat cliche thing in gay pairings, but not for no reason!) a sense of equality and mutual understanding in a patriarchal world.

they are not "literally" equal in terms of rank - but again, it does not have to be completely literal. mysaria feels Treated like an equal by rhaenyra. she's trusted (and given agency), and earns rhaenyras trust (+expands her own agency) in turn.

mysaria additionally seems to represent a different idea of rebellion against patriarchy - an involuntary one. because she cannot perform its most core obligation of (presumed cisgender) womanhood: she cannot bear children. she must find other forms of "worth" in the world. she has no choice.

rhaenyra herself desires to take up sword, rule in a "masculine" way. so being the only other woman there + both of them standing outside patriarchys desired paths for them + being able to help/depend on each other... seems, to me, to serve the Themes of rhaenyras repression vs liberation well.

not to mention, it's interesting in light of rhaenyra being kinda gnc-coded in... other ways!

anyway. like i said, i Highly Doubt these two will be any kind of "endgame." but that's okay. sometimes, you dont need an eternity together - you just need a moment.

i think there's a certain breed of fan who sees many things only through shipping. so if there's not a long, "satisfying" arc of these two developing feelings for each other, it's a "badly written ship." especially for gay couples. and i don't think this is even conscious homophobia, i think its (partially from queer viewers!!) because they WANT to root for those ships. they WANT a gay ship to feel perfectly "right" in a heteronormative world.

well i'm sorry to say, this show is not a romance. it is not about ships or the idealized, perfectly developed couple. sometimes, people find an attraction to one another in ways that are not ideal. shit happens. people get lonely. people find relief in the only other person there who seems to understand them. sometimes it's quick. sometimes it's the opposite of a 50k coffeeshop slowburn AU.

but that does not mean it's bad. it's just reality.

[antimisinfo]

So, there's this. This is a video made by Aspenfrosten or The Entourage System on tiktok, this video was made shortly after she removed plural kit from her discord server

First of all let's focus on that first part

""you took away my accomodations""

This is apparently something that some people in her server said after plural kit had been removed, she's mocking them for saying this. Now, are they right for saying this? Technically yes but also no

"Disability accommodation is an umbrella term for a range of accommodation or supported living services that are available to assist people who are living with a disability"

Technically by this definition you may be able to consider plural kit a form of accommodation as it does assist systems by allowing them to represent themselves as alters as well as allowing them to look back and know who sent a message. Though on the other hand you may not consider it accommodation because it isn't needed; systems can use sign offs without plural kit and often don't necessarily "need" it. So it really depends on how you look at it, but I will say that Aspen is wrong for mocking these people nonetheless; whatever their reasons are they clearly think of plural kit as an accommodation and are distressed at its removal. Should they demand it back? No, it's her server she can do what she wants, but do they have a right to be upset? Yes. When someone takes away something that may have been helping you in one way or another you are allowed to feel hurt or distressed, but this does not mean you should harass that person for it back.

"i feel like plural kit is too anti recovery"

I feel like a lot of people say anti recovery without actually understanding what it means.

Anti recovery's definition is "A movement consisting of those who oppose what they perceive as recovery from mental illness and/or neurodivergence." Which most people do know, but the more important part is what they consider to be recovery ;

"Recovery in this context does not mean a cure, it simply means coping/living with your illness/neurotype in a positive way."

Which would mean to be anti recovery you would be against anything that makes coping easier and anything positive, you would be convinced you have to suffer and refuse to make things easier.

By this definition plural kit is not anti recovery as it makes things easier for systems; being able to identify yourselves and being able to tell who said what can be important for multiple reasons and plural kit makes that easier, which is positive and not anti recovery.

Further more she claims it "promotes way too much separation between alters" which might be true but that isn't necessarily a bad thing. If you are in active healing and moving towards final fusion perhaps that would be an issue but for those striving for functional multiplicity this separation would not cause an issue

"Some individuals reach a point where all personalities have access to shared memories, set boundaries, and have common goals, making it easier to stabilize emotions and maintain healthy behavioral patterns. Individuals with functional multiplicity still experience the following:

At least two distinct personalities with accompanying unique behaviors

Personalities adapt to unite toward a common goal

All personalities prioritize recovery and treatment"

""the problem in MPD is not the intrusion of part selves as such, it is with the degree of amnesia, conflict, self-destruction, and dysfunction in the psyche. The problem is not the multiplicity, it is the degree of pathological dissociation. In MPD the part selves are personified to an abnormal degree. There is a big difference between someone with active classical MPD, and an individual with healthy multiplicity."" ((Though this did come from DR. Collin Ross, who is not a good person I still felt it might be important to add))

"Some systems choose to stop at what the ISST-D calls resolution, or what may also be called functional multiplicity. In this case, systems may retain any number of independently acting alters. The current rates of complete integration and functional multiplicity may be very similar. A 2017 study (Myrick et al.) followed up on 61 therapists about the well-being of specific patients of theirs after 6 years; 12.8% of therapists reported that their patients had terminated therapy due to achieving stable integration, and exactly the same percentage reported that their patients had terminated therapy due to resolution of symptoms without full integration."

Overall the separation between alters is not an issue, more so the amnesia and conflict, which can be solved in therapy, but even so; not everyone has to be actively working towards healing. For systems who are not in therapy / not actively healing there is no need for them to worry about whether they're "promoting too much separation between alters" because there's already separation and it's not getting better. for those who aren't healing it may just be easier or more comfortable to use plural kit and that's okay.

It is not anti recovery to not be healing, that's stupid, everyone heals on their own time; some systems may not have access to therapy and therefore are unable to safely work towards healing (which would involve going through trauma, which should be done with a therapist) and that is not anti recovery.

[ if any mistakes have been made please let us know and we will attempt to correct them ! Also if you wish for us to try do this with any other videos Aspen has made feel free to request it ! ]

[nesaluvstherecoms]

𝐆𝐨𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐒𝐢𝐱.

ᴍᴀɪɴ ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: ʀᴇᴄᴏᴍ ᴄᴏʟᴏɴᴇʟ ᴍɪʟᴇꜱ Qᴜᴀʀɪᴛᴄʜ x ʀᴇᴄᴏᴍ ᴍᴀᴊᴏʀ ɢᴇɴᴇʀᴀʟ ꜰᴇᴍ. ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: none.

ꜱᴇʀɪᴇꜱ ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ ʟɪɴᴋ

。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟏: 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐅𝐞𝐰. 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐝.

“No matter how many times people try to give hope to themselves, truth remains that this world is unfair. Unfair and cruel. But yet the human nature craves that security, that sense of “justice”, that feeling that allows it to rest at night, convincing it that no one ever goes unpunished for their wrongdoings. And that naïve human nature, fuels the cycle of order. The cycle of mass control and ultimate power over the masses. Because no matter how unfair life gets, there will always be a motherfucker who goes “oH, bUt nOt tO worRy, gOd wiLl pUnIsh tHem” or “tHeY wiLl spEnD eTernItY iN hElL.” or “kArMa wiLl gEt tHeM oNE dAy.”

And it’s always been like this. Since the beginning of humanity. Because that’s what gives human beings the hope and motivation to live, to go on. But yet…. no one seems to actually do something about this unfair world now do they? It’s always “life is unfair”, and “this world is cruel” and “people are soulless”, but nothing is done about it. People just let themselves be controlled by those on top. They don’t revolt, they never do. They obey like little sheep, living their tiny miserable little lives, with no courage to open their eyes and revolt against the cruelty that all of us have been forced to live in. But hey it’s okay. At least they’re safe and secure in their homes right? A place they can be themselves in.

Well, if they’re not living in war that is.

War. War is the main gear in the world’s clockwork. War is the physical manifestation of the hunger human nature has for power. War is the sheer difference between peace and chaos.

Do you ever wonder who are some of the people who suffer most in this world? Soldiers. Don’t get me wrong. There’s plenty of assholes among soldiers. But some of us… some of us don’t deserve this. We go in the military, wanting to protect our people, to fight for what is right. But is there such thing as right? Are we really protecting? Or are we destroying?

Do you want to know how the game works? The game being a soldier’s life. Because that’s what our lives are. Games.

Well, let me tell you how it works. Let’s pretend that you’re a soldier. You sign up for the military. The first part of the game is very clear. You’re nothing but a pawn and you’ll remain a pawn until you play. The rules are very simple. Take what they give you, give away what you have to, and the difference is yours. The question is…. How big is the difference?

That’s what us soldiers live for. The difference. What we can make out of the war. What we can get out of it. Because what we can save from war…. Is ours. There are lots like me. We’re the actual players. Not the people who live their normal lives, no. They’re still pawns. We on the other hand have become players. Because on the one side of us soldiers, there are the cattle. You. Who let TV, and media, and religion do the thinking for you. And we’re supposed to fight for you, to protect you. While on our other side is power, who believe that we soldiers are shit at the bottom of their shoe and feeble minded cattle. Over on the barn these people on power, want us to take care of them, because a long time ago they gave up on themselves and now they won’t lift a single finger. So that is the game. In this world there are people who don’t care about themselves and there’s authority that doesn’t care about them either. And us soldiers, we are in the middle. We sorta owe something but to whom and what? That… we don’t know…”

The dim lights of the medical wing fall upon Y/N’s new body, giving a shine to her new and smooth striped blue skin, covered in a thin sheen of sweat. Her tail flicks slowly behind her, side to side, like a cobra sizing up its new prey that it has just set its sights on. Her new sharp, amber eyes, trace the outline of her nimble and slender fingers as they fidget and intertwine with each other. Her breathing is slow… her mind is still in a haze. She sits there on the bed she woke up in an hour ago, her elbows resting atop her knees, her head down, eyes focused in observing her new hands as she tests and stretches her new fingers. She hasn’t looked in the mirror yet. She’s afraid to. Afraid of what she will find. Her mind goes through her inner dialogue over and over and over again, like a broken record stuck in the record player of her brain.

“How big is the difference?”

“We owe something…. But to whom and what?”

“We’re not pawns…. We’re players…. Right…?”

She swallows the saliva that has pooled on top of her now larger tongue. Her throat seems to find some relief at this, the dry inside finally getting somewhat of a moisture. Her eyes dart to the mirror in the corner, her ears folding back in contemplation. No. She’s not ready to look yet. She swallows again.

Her ears pick up at a sound, the cartilage raising up in interest. Her sharp hearing being able to capture the faintest sounds in the distance. Looks like there’s chaos in another room, somewhere down the hallway. She can hear multiple people yelling, along with the rupture of objects being thrown. But the sound is faint, even for her now extraordinary hearing. So she pays no mind to it. She zones out the sounds, focusing back on her hands. She runs her eyes through them again, inspecting every pore, every claw-like plate of keratin at the tip of her slender fingers, every inch of skin covering the flesh. At least her hands haven’t changed their beautiful shape. Although she’s not very fond of the blue embedded in the cells of her skin. She inhales deeply, testing the capacity of her lungs. Her chest puffs up as her intercostal muscles and her diaphragm contract to enlarge her chest cavity for the expansion of her lungs. She holds her breath for a few seconds. And then exhales, closing her eyes.

Her tail keeps flicking slowly. Her eyes open and dart to the mirror again. No. Not yet. She closes her eyes yet again…. Wanting to go back in that deep sleep, where her mind is blank… dead… unaware and empty of what’s going on around this new alien body. She swallows again. Her body moves back, laying her back on the bed again. Her shoulders hurt from staying in the same position for one hour, a sharp pain shooting through her trapezius muscle. Or has it been one hour? She’s not sure. Her head falls back on the bed, eyes now moving up to see the same operating light she saw when her eyes opened up for the first time in this new world. But she wasn’t alone when that happened. She was surrounded by people in lab coats, gently trying to wake her up to life. Then when she was responsive, seeing that she was calm and quiet, they left her alone in the room. She keeps her legs out of the bed, her bare feet planted upon the cold tile of the room. At least the icy temperature provides her with something to feel, anything to take her out of this numbness. She closes her eyes again, her hands resting on top of her flat belly. She doesn’t like it. The muscle is too hard, too firm. Her breathing is slow, but steady. She runs through her inner dialogue again.

“War is the main gear in the world’s clockwork. War is the physical manifestation of the hunger human nature has for power.”

“Are we really protecting? Or are we destroying?”

She swallows again. Her ears try to pick up any sounds as her vision remains dark under her closed eyelids. Nothing. This time it’s quiet…..

A series of clicks make her eyes snap open. Her upper body jolts up, turning her head towards the sliding doors, tail raising straight up in alert. Amber eyes target with caution the piece of metal that slides open, body ready to pounce at any possible threat. As much smaller people walk in, she calms down. It’s them. The same people who woke her up. Her tail falls back down and her ears relax in their natural position. She eyes them up, carefully watching their movements, as the sliding doors close behind them. One walks up to her, standing just a few inches away from her knees. It’s a woman. She smiles under her glass mask, looking at Y/N with friendly eyes.

“Colonel L/N.” She says firmly, giving Y/N a warm smile. “We apologize for our absence. We had a situation with another Recombinant.”

Recombinant. That term is familiar to her. She has seen and heard it somewhere. But where…..

The woman continues.

“How are you feeling, Colonel?”

Y/N blinks a few times. She hums.

“Where am I? What is this?” She manages to say. Using her vocal chords for the first time. At least her voice hasn’t changed. It’s the same voice she remembers. A bit more raspy for the moment but, still the same.

The scientist answers.

“I understand your confusion Colonel, so let me explain. We’re in the Interstellar Vehicle Vindicator which is currently in the orbit of the planet Pandora. The Vindicator is tasked with transporting the team of Recombinant soldiers to Pandora, as part of General Frances Ardmore’s invasion fleet.”

Something clicks. Y/N’s pupils dilate as everything snaps back into to place, memories flooding her brain like a river. She remembers. She remembers.

Her breathing becomes rapid, tail flicking wildly behind her. Her eyes are wide, brain scrambling to process the vast amount of new information. At the sudden change in Y/N’s demeanor, the doctors become alert. Some of them back away in caution and fear, sedatives at the ready. They do not want another incident, like the one with the other Colonel just a few moments ago. And at least the other Colonel had his team to calm him down. This Recom however has no one. If she decides to lash out…

But she doesn’t.

She stays silent, taking rapid breaths, eyes wide as she stares shocked at the tiles underneath her bare feet. The doctors make eye contact with each other, unsure of how to approach the situation. The lead doctor clears her throat, attempting to speak to Y/N again.

“Colonel? Are you-“

“I remember.”

The doctors look at each other worriedly, exchanging alerted glances.

The Recombinant finally raises her head. Her gaze isn’t numb, unsure anymore. It’s the same gaze of the heartless, ruthless soldier. There’s that glint in her eyes. That glint of determination. That glint of pure confidence and sheer willpower as her amber eyes stare coldly at the lead doctor.

“I remember everything.”

She doesn’t like this no gravity shit. She can’t maneuver her body properly. Not that she could in the first place. She’s huge now. Standing at 7’8”, towering over the people below her. Well maybe towering isn’t the right word but still, she’s considerably taller. And bigger too. She kinda likes it. Gives her that physical intimidating leverage that she never had before. Just the fear in the scientists eyes when she stood up earlier was enough to put her in a good mood for now. It was funny. Seeing their expressions. Don’t get me wrong, she didn’t enjoy that they feared her (maybe she did, just a little bit), it just made her smile a little at their wide eyes as she stared them down. At least she’s back in proper clothes now. The camo pants and tank top that they provided her with, feeling way more comfortable on her new body than the hospital gown that had left her bare ass exposed for the rest of the fucking world to feast their eyes upon. Although, her tail was a pain in the ass to get through that hole on her pants. It took her some minutes to figure out how to move the thing and to get it through that damn hole. Now it was flicking slowly behind her like it had a mind of its own. She moves her shoulders back once before relaxing them again. She doesn’t like the feeling of not having a bra on. Even with her new body, her bust is larger than a native woman’s usual proportions, and her plump breasts feel unsupported. I guess that’s what you get when your DNA is a mix and match between two species.

Her thoughts are interrupted as a human approaches the transparent screen that she’s currently holding onto for dear life in the zero gravity space. She watches as the man approaches and gives her a small polite smile.

“Colonel.” He says firmly. Y/N nods in acknowledgment, watching as the man fumbles with the screen. After a few seconds it lights up, displaying an image.

“Whenever you’re ready ma’am, you can start the recording.” The man explains politely, before floating away, leaving her alone once again. Her eyes are now focused on the screen before her. She stares at the icon of the paused recording. The young woman on the screen stares back at her, unmoving. Y/N takes a deep breath, eyeing the image. Black pupils trace the familiar features of the young Colonel on the screen. Her posture is straight, elbows leaning on top of the table, military uniform as neat and elegant as it can get. Her demeanor is one of confidence and calmness, the aura of someone who has full trust in themselves. The Recom wonders how she herself looks right now…. because she hasn’t gathered the courage to look in the mirror yet.

The Recom swallows, eyes darting at the corner of the screen, where the details of the recording are displayed. L/N. F/N initial. Fourteen years ago. The tip of her finger presses on the glass screen.

“Evening Colonel.” The woman greets with a confident smile, nodding once.

“I’m hoping this recording has found you well. Welcome to the world. Although it’s not the world you are acquainted with, similar rules still apply. I’m guessing that your memories should be back by now, but if that’s not the case then let me refresh them for you. I am Colonel F/N L/N, commander of a 14-man Marine Special Operations Team in the United States Marine Corps. And you Colonel, are my Recombinant. A clone of mine in the living and breathing form of a species of sapient humanoids called the Na’vi, who inhabit the lush moon of Pandora.”

Pandora…

The Recom swallows again, tongue running subconsciously over her newly obtained fangs.

“Two weeks ago a special order arrived for me. As I am currently speaking, a non-governmental organization in human space which goes by the name of The Resources Development Administration, or RDA, is preparing to fly a mission against a Na’vi stronghold. The man in charge of this mission goes by the name of Colonel Miles Quaritch, a RDA Security Operations commander, serving as the chief of security on Pandora, although currently serving as the senior RDA commander. In case things go south, the RDA is currently running a backup plan to restore and make sure that the minds of their best on world operators are not lost. This is known as The Recom Program, where a fully sentient hybrid soldier is embedded with the recorded memories and personality traits of an individual human. If this mission fails, this program will immediately be launched in preparation for a second invasion to re-establish the resource mining and colonizing operations on the exo-moon.” The woman on the screen pauses, eyes skimming over the camera before she continues.

“General Frances Ardmore has personally ordered for me to be apart of The Recom Program as well. I have never been to Pandora nor have I ever been acquainted with the RDA or Colonel Miles Quaritch. However, the General knows me personally and has insisted in me being apart of this program, so if time comes, my Recombinant will be there to assist her in taming the frontier in order to set up humanity's future home on Pandora, including to help her eleminate the resisting natives. And that is you, Y/N. My Recombinant. If you are seeing this then that means that Colonel Quaritch’s mission has failed and The Recom Program has been launched.”

The woman raises her hand, taking something from the table. She holds her hand in front of her and displays the object to the camera.

“This is a Soul Drive. My identity, skills, personality and memories have been uploaded into this special link device which will be sent to a lab that is currently engineering you in an amnio tank. You will be imprinted with the contents of this device, making you an essentially genetically modified clone of mine, inheriting my memories up to the time of the backup.”

Colonel L/N puts the object back on the table. She then turns to the camera again.

“Your squadron will be taken out of their amnio tanks shortly after you. You will be in charge of them, yet again. They are the Recombinants of the main operators of my 14-man Special Operations team, so you’re well familiar with them even though you haven’t met them yet. Your purpose is to assist General Frances Ardmore in taming the frontier in order to set up humanity's future home on Pandora, including to help her eliminate the resisting natives. Since I have no experience in the harsh and hostile environment of Pandora, neither do you. That will be a problem. You are not on Earth, you are in the harshest and most hostile environment in the entire Alpha Centauri System. It is going to be hard for you to adapt. However if you’re a clone of mine, with your extraordinary skills, uncanny instincts, the knowledge you have of Pandora, and unchecked determination, you will more than excel in that environment. Do not forget you are a combat-tracker, known for exceling in a fluid and volatile environment. You are a covert, jungle, desert and urban operator, sniper and saboteur, versed in a wide range of fieldcraft and tactical capability. You will not fail me Y/N, and I am sure of that.” The woman says confidently, raising per head slightly up, proudly.

“At the time that you see this recording, I may or may not be alive. A Marine’s life is never guaranteed, so neither is mine. However the case might be, I wish you the best in your mission and I place in you my most sincere and deepest trust.”

The Colonel pauses for a while. Her e/c eyes then look at the camera softly, staring deeply into the Recom’s eyes.

“Remember sweetheart…. You’re nothing but a pawn and you’ll remain a pawn until you play. Take what they give you, give away what you have to, and the difference is yours. Because the difference is what makes you the middle player between the cattle and power. Because that…. is the key to winning the game.”

And with that, the recording ends.

Title Explanation:

"The Few. The Proud. The Marines." has been used by the Marine Corps since 1977.

This slogan reflects the unique character of the Marine Corps and underscores the high caliber of those who join and serve their country as Marines.

ɴᴇxᴛ ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ

[rwbyrg]

How do you stay positive seeing all the negativity we get for shipping this?

I don't typically talk about discourse, but I know this is something pretty much every RG shipper has faced at some point. So I'll make an exception this once. For anyone that doesn't want to hear about it, I strongly encourage you to keep scrolling.

I'm gonna keep it brief(ish) and vague, but content warning for topics of mental health, abuse, general fandom toxicity and ship discourse.

The short answer is that I've had to completely remove myself from large fandom spaces. I left Twitter last fall, I'm not in any big Discords, and I never check the fandom Reddits. I block bullies, bystanders, and bad faith arguers liberally. I mute words and phrases I don't wish to see, I don't engage with the bad faith takes, and I don't go looking in tags much either.

I surround myself with a small group of friends that I enjoy spending time with and can trust. So I still have outlets to be able to geek out without risk of dealing with the wider community's negativity. This blog was also created as a safe outlet to ramble, join together, or spread positivity about the ship. I know how rough it is for us out there - in the RWBY fandom as a whole, as well as within our own RG shipping spaces. So since I can't be an impartial community leader that helps run events or bigger spaces for us like I used to, this is kind of all I have left to offer.

The slightly longer addition that got way out of hand:

I'm not going to say it's not lonely. That I don't miss being part of a more active, wider group of people that we should have every right to join. But despite how hard some of us tried, there was nothing we could do to change the toxicity that is so deeply rooted at the core of this fandom. The fact that I even tried as hard as I did was 1. a trauma response and 2. just ended up with me - and too many of my friends - getting hurt anyway. I can't regret it because it's how I made the friends that are so dear to me now. But none of us should have had to deal with the cyberbullying, harassment, dog-piling, backstabbing, suibaiting, or any of that other garbage to find the group we have today.

It's extremely fucked up. There's no way to sugar coat it. All of it is abuse and is genuinely traumatizing to many people. I am not using these as buzzwords either. Myself and a handful of my rg shipping friends have literally gone to therapy to help us heal from all the things we've experienced in this fandom. So I have it on the authority of multiple psychiatrists, therapists, and social workers that what I am saying here is true.

Rosegarden and its shippers have become the scapegoat of a toxic community. There are big name fans who've staked their entire platforms on the idea of a rival ship being canon. And so, when they see any of us suggesting a Very Likely alternative to their reality (even if we're minding our own business), they become violent and go out of their way to try and defend it. There are entire servers and friend groups built on bullying this ship and its shippers for similar reasons. Anyone that argues against them, no matter how valid their stance, or how articulately its delivered, is going to become a target. Because we are seen as a threat to a system they directly benefit from. If any of them were to acknowledge how unreasonable or ridiculous all of this is, what would that mean for the circumstances and relationships they've built for themselves? It would all fall apart, wouldn't it?

This is why we also see fellow RG shippers invalidating or blaming us for what we go through. Because some of them have become convinced that if they side with the bullies and paint themselves as "not like those shippers", then they'll be "safe". Which as we all know isn't true. Because the antis attack each other for the smallest offences that don't have anything to do with us anyway.

The RWBY fandom is not alone in struggling with this. Fandoms everywhere are seeing these same patterns play out in different ways. A lot of people without as many stakes in the arguments will often scoff or dismiss it on the basis of it being "so serious, when it's just about fictional characters". And to that, I say: bullshit.

First of all, the people on the other side of the screen dealing with all of this are Real People with Real Feelings and their own lives that are already hard enough as it it. And these sorts of environments, as previously mentioned, can and do cause severe harm. Second, none of this hate has anything to do with fictional characters. That is part of the reason why I am still able to enjoy this ship and this show despite everything I've been through here. Because the fictional characters are simply the means to an end. And while that end is different for everyone, for the bullies - by and large - it offers them power in the face of their insecurities.

The only reason this space is as toxic as it is, is because the loudest voices are often the most emotionally immature. All the reasonable people see the infighting going on and know that engaging with it is a pointless waste of energy. As someone that did try to fight it, I truly don't blame any of them for staying uninvolved. But power comes in numbers; so until a large enough group of the reasonable ones come forward, this fandom will only continue on the course it's headed.

I rambled a lot and I'm not even sure how much of this is relevant to your question. If i were to give a tl;dr to answer you, it is this:

You need to curate your own experience by setting boundaries for yourself that cannot easily be crossed by people or content that is going to upset you.

Recognizing the reason people behave the way they do towards all of this has very little, if anything, to do with the show, the ship itself, or the people shipping it is very liberating.

Don't be like how I was. Don't try and force it when it isn't working. If you are in an environment or a habit that you are getting more harm than joy from: leave. It doesn't always feel like it in the moment, but it is better to be alone than to be surrounded by people who suck. And when you shed the ones that don't treat you well, you open yourself up to more like-minded people that will want to be friends with you anyway.

I say this genuinely with only love and support in my heart, but: touch grass. As often as you can, as often as you need to: get offline. Read a book, engage in other hobbies, connect with people in real life, go for a walk or just get outside if you can. When you start connecting with the reality on your side of the screen more, it puts how pointless and absurd so much of this discourse really is into perspective. Moderation is key.

I'm sorry that all of the negativity has got you down. No one wants to acknowledge how much this sort of thing can affect our well being, but I know first hand how bad it can get. None of it is fair. The feelings you're having are valid and aren't anything to be ashamed about. If you have friends or family you can rely on for support, reach out to them when you need it. If you're in a place where you think the help you need is a bit more specialized, you have my support and encouragement in making the call or doing the research to get started. Therapy isn't accessible and doesn't always work for everyone, but it's not the only option. Before I could afford it, I micro-dosed by reading self-help books and following therapists on Instagram, lol.

I'm not sure what else I can say, and have said more than I meant to anyway. But hang in there, you're not alone, and take care of yourself, okay?💕🫂

[definitelynotafurinasimp]

Good time of day. I would like to make a request about Navia and share an umbrella

Sharing an umbrella with Navia

Characters: Navia x gn!reader

warnings: none, just fluff

a/n: This post is part of my 1500 Follower event, if you want to read more or want to request a prompt yourself, you can find it here.

If I got some of her personality wrong, I'm sorry, I'm still trying to get a good feel for the Fontaine characters.

Anyway, hope you enjoy!

Navia

The moment you stepped outside of the Cafe, you were instantly greeted by the downpouring rain, strong enough for you to get completely drenched in but a moment's notice, the last thing separating you from the sky, the buildings canopy, a structure that you were glad existed. 

You wished for nothing more than to just turn around and return to your comfortable seat in the cafe, yet you knew better than to keep your roommate waiting any longer. As while they loved to sarcastically joke about all the room they’d have for themselves once you were gone, they were the first to get worried about you, especially during such a storm.

However, just as you were about to step out of your cover, fully accepting your fate while praying that you wouldn’t fall sick in the next couple of days, a familiar voice called out to you, stopping you in your tracks. When you turned towards its source, you were greeted by the sight of Navia hurriedly running towards you, her umbrella protecting her from getting completely soaked, although there was only so much it could cover.

When she finally arrived in front of you, obviously out of breath from running while trying her best to cover her exhaustion with a smile, Navia struck a casual pose before finally speaking up. “Hey partner, looks like you forgot your umbrella. Want to share one?”

And while she didn’t have to ask you a second time, you agreeing almost immediately before taking your place under her umbrella, it didn’t take long for your conversation to die down, silence engulfing the both of you until the only sounds your ears processed were the sounds of the rain hitting the ground and your ever louder growing heartbeat.

Latter of which only grew louder when you felt Navia squeezing closer towards you, causing your head to snap in her direction, only to be greeted by her smile. “The Umbrella isn’t exactly big enough for two people, so we’ll have to stick a bit closer, nothing wrong with that right?” Her explanation made sense, although you couldn’t help but notice how she seemed to have more than enough space for herself already, neither of your shoulders wet in the slightest.

When Navia noticed you stare however, her smile turned a little more mischievous. “What’s wrong? Scared I’ll bite? And here I was thinking we knew each other long enough for you to trust me”, she joked, only for you to suddenly stop in your tracks, causing her to quickly follow suit before turning towards you.

“I was only joking, if you’re uncomfortable with me being so close, I can-”, Navia spoke in a hurry, only to cut herself off when she followed your gaze, suddenly realizing what you were worried about. 

You had mentioned how the drain on your street needed to be repaired, but even then she hadn’t expected to see the water rise up to a point until it was high enough to go up to her ankles.

“Thanks for sharing your umbrella with me until now, I would have been completely soaked if it weren’t for you, but I can make this last stretch on my own”, you thanked her with the brightest smile you could muster, not wanting her clothes to get unnecessarily dirty, before once again looking at the entrance to your apartment and taking a deep breath in preparation for the dash you were about to make, only to once again be stopped by Navia in the last moment.

“I don’t mind getting dirty if it means I can help you, but considering I doubt I’d be able to convince you to let me accompany you, the least I can do is give you this”, the blonde spoke after letting out a sigh, handing you a second, folded, umbrella.

“You never mentioned you had two umbrellas with you”, you plainly stated, only for Navia to shrug her shoulders.

“You never asked. So I thought I might as well have a little fun”, she responded with a smile speaking up once more after seeing you open the umbrella. 

“Oh, and no running. You have an umbrella so there’s no need to hurry. I don’t want to hear you slipped on the wet floor, understood?”

[chasing-posts]

As much as I love Victor, I think some people are right about him dying in the season finale alone, being the right choice.

But more than that, I think it could have been REALLY big and climatic. If I could redo it, I would have Victor feeling guilty because it was he who started the whole timeline thing off because he destroyed the world. In season 2, he almost did so again and Ben's soul had to die/ be destroyed to stop him. Then in season three, he accidentally caused the grandfathers paradox by leaving Harlan with some of his powers. Then later he allows Allison change the world again in the hotel.

Now honestly, there is A LOT about this season that needs to change to make this next idea work. But how I would end it is as such:

- After Victor meets Abrigail, a scene should be added where she wither insists on giving the violin to him as a gift, or she manages to convince him to play together with her, and when he goes away with Reginald, Abigail gifts it to him before they leave.

- After all else fails and the siblings plan to sacrifice themselves and are waiting in the mansion for death, Victor leaves briefly to "go to the bathroom". And while the rest are talking he grabs the violin and starts playing when he walks back in.

- He never got to actually play in front of them before... so he wants them to hear his performance one last time before they're erased. Think of it as his Titanic moment.

- When he hears Ben's giant Footsteps approach...then it's time to put his plan into action and he steals his siblings miracles. Using the same "keep them attatched with strings trick" he used in season one, mixed with miracle sucking ability he got from season two. He doesn't have to physically touch them anymore because his violin amplifies his powers, and it lets him do more now that they had time to build up.

- The fam tries to stop them but he puts a wall between himself and the sibs, as Ben/ Jennifer tears off the roof. Then it's a battle between two giants, Ben and Victor.

-Victor plays the violin as Ben starts to wrap him up, and they have a moment that parallels the last moment with Ben in season 2. Victor talking to Ben one on one. Or maybe Jennifer is there too. But they talk. About the old Ben and now him. about how he regrets being unable to save him or reach him. Maybe Ben talks about never feeling like a part of the family because he had the Sparrows, nd Victor's like "I know how you feel. I never felt like a part of the family either... but we were."

-I dunno something deep

- It ends in one last explosion where Bennifer and Victor take out each other. And create an explosion. Or some sort of white hole. Victor is strong enough to destroy the moon so he should be strong enough to destroy Bennifer if he has a proper build up. Even if he has to take himself out as well.

In the end most of the siblings get to survive... but they are left with regret and have to pick up the pieces. That or the world does reset one last time, but sibs 1-5 (and Lila) survive where 6 and 7 end up erased, but they get to go together.

Its still sad and bittersweet... but some major character beats could at least come out of it and it could create a fitting character arc for Victor in particular.

[trainfanz]

Further ramblings on London 2024 as I've now had a chance to listen to it! Below the cut! (I can't send out the audio, sorry.) SPOILERS ABOUND!

ACT ONE

"Stop that boring music!" IS GONE!

There really isn't a lot to separate the additional trains. Their introductions and little pre-race mantras are all "They're fast!"

Al Knott sounds great.

I appreciate they rewrote Crazy to actually make it more of an intro song for Rusty instead of just sticking it there.

Arguing before 'I Am Me' is hard to follow with no visuals!

"Friends!" "Friends!" "More than friends?!" "-just friends." HAHA

"Trucks will identify themselves! Fuel Trucks!" Honey, they're all fuel trucks.

Freight really doesn't get to finish and I don't think I really like that.

Stopping here to say that Hydra is the standout of this new incarnation. Going into his little mantra at every applicable moment and annoying everyone else is hilarious.

AC/DC is... fine. Still prefer the older sound.

New take on Pumping Iron however is pretty good!

I want to see Control offering Pearl a spot to sit so bad.

"Please welcome to the other side of the tracks: Momma McCoy." "HOW WE DOIN?!" That's great.

Shoutout to them for using my preferred little outro ditty for the blues. Hard to explain what I mean.

I get that the 4th qualifying engine isn't integral to the downhill final but to only have 1 winner in Race 2 feels weird.

Surprise El DeBarge Lyrics???

ACT TWO

The Rap is pulling a lot from the first two incarnations - "Race Time" shows up in the megamix but not in the actual song.

Dinah UGLY crying hhhh

Slick gets her own take on Wide Smile. Not sure if I like it but it's definitely unique.

Still think what immediately follows Race 3 ends up being 2 versions of the same scene stuck together, but that's not this production's problem.

It stings that Right Place, Right Time is gone. I get that it doesn't really work with the fuel trucks as apposed to the Rockies but I miss it!

No awkward key change in Starlight Sequence!! (If you've heard the current German version, you know.)

For how integral to the plot he is I expected Hydra to get a little more of his own number, but the "It's not a matter of if, it's a matter of when" is the most song he gets and the rest is just talking.

Aaand here's Lord Andy's big twist, Rusty explicitly converts himself to run on hydrogen. More on this in a few lines!

They REALLY get their mileage out of what they got Lord Andy to write for this production.

Ok, I see what people mean by them altering Prusty in 2017 to fit 'I Do' better instead of changing the song again. I get it now. I think.

Even as a sapphic, Greaseball still can't spell.

New lyrics in Light At The End of The Tunnel is WEIRD.

I don't hate that they try to work in a message about clean fuels but at the same time I don't think its necessary? Was the original Starlight really meant to convince the audience that coal is the future in real life? Not really. Especially at the end things feel a bit heavy handed but again, I don't HATE it.

Still amazed I am open to/liking this new take on Starlight as much as I am.

[brandwhorestarscream]

elite trine x elite trine

I'm telling you right now that Starscream is the one getting sparked up, solely because he is such a size queen and demands double penetration every single time the trine faces. Double the spike means double the transfluid, and even though they're all stocked up on contraceptives, eventually having his gestation tank so full bites him in the aft.

Now, the elite trine are old lovers. They've been around a long time. You will never convince me that they didn't have at least one litter of sparklings sometime before Vos fell. Probably more. They all died in the fall. So Starscream knows what this feeling is--the swelling, the nausea, the sudden rampant hunger.

And he's in denial.

He's terrified. This can't be happening! Not now, not again, not here! Not while they're stranded on earth, not while he and Megatron are at their very worst, not when Vosians are on the very brink of extinction and there's less than a hundred of them left! No, no, no! This could not be worse, it really could not be any worse-

There's nine of them.

Starscream screeches in devastation and anger and a million other emotions when he bears his spark before a mirror and there's more than three, more than six, and sure enough seven, eight, nine teeny tiny sparks like little sprinkles of stardust orbiting around his. That's nothing crazy for a seeker, they always have sparklings in threes, but nine! It's just him and his mates--there's the rest of the airforce, of course, but they're not a proper aerie! He can't possibly terminate them, not when Vos's people are one bad battle away from total annihilation, but he can't keep them!

He dusts off some old protocols and tries desperately to put the sparklings into diapause, refusing to breathe a word of their existence to anyone. With their growth frozen he can double his efforts to finish this war and then they can go home and the little ones can be born safely. That's the plan, anyway.

Unfortunately, diapause takes a lot of energy. It has to keep all of the sparklings suspended in what is essentially a cryosleep funded by his own body, for all nine of them, and that's got very serious demands on his frame. Demands that he can't realistically cater to for long. He's very sneaky for awhile and does everything in his power to distract, misdirect, keep anyone from noticing the extra fuel going missing, but it's not long until Soundwave catches him. Recognizes the shift in his EM field and the way he walks, and promptly rats him out to Megatron.

Big boss is far from happy, but is honestly more exasperated than anything. Of course. If anyone was going to get themselves knocked up during wartime, it would be Starscream, wouldn't it? Then, he does something that's worse than anything he's ever done before:

Assigns his SIC to desk work

Starscream is seething! His position as air commander has been handed over to Thundercracker (who's none too pleased about the situation either), and he's been taken off active field duty for the foreseeable future. He's more prone to making mistakes and having lessened reaction time in his "condition", and Megatron wants these new seekerlings born healthy. Which will be kind of hard if their carrier gets himself blown up, so Starscream is stuck at the base devising battle formation strategy and barking at the air force not to get sloppy in his absence.

His two mates are no help either, he'll grumble to anyone that will listen. Skywarp's been following him around like a lovesick puppy and always wants to feel his belly and coo nonsense to his chassis, and no amount of wriggling away will get him to stop. He's so clingy its suffocating, always sneaking cheeky kisses and tummy pats. He thinks Starscream is just more and more adorable the more his belly grows 🤭 and Thundercracker remembers perfectly all the things Starscream likes when he's expecting, exactly what kind or sour snacks and how he likes the cushions for his wings, and also has the dietary supplement table memorized. If he's having 9 bitties they'll each roughly be X amount of weight when 30% grown so he needs to drink at minimum Y number of cubes a day to keep up with their growth demand and-

So on and so forth. Overall, they're excited, but deep down... they're all individually terrified of loss. When Vos was bombed, the seeker population lost 95-98% of it's members. They lost everyone, every parent, aunt, uncle, cousin, and distant relative: it's only by sheer luck that they survived. Their previous litter of bitties was lost then, though they don't know how they died. Every familial bond they had shattered that day and the bodies were never recovered. They don't know if they suffered. They don't know if they were scared. They don't know if it was instant or if it was dragged out and torturous. All they know is the deep, gaping loss left behind by the lost sparkling bonds still ring so painfully and clear-cut it's near debilitating sometimes. They're afraid that the autobots will take these ones away, too: that they'll die at the hands of bigoted grounders that think they don't deserve to live just for being children of the sky. They're so afraid that they won't be able to protect them, and that they'll lose them, too.

It shows in the way Starscream paces and mumbles feverishly to himself at 3 a.m. It shows in the way Skywarp becomes vicious and bloodthirsty on the battlefield, and it shows in the way Thundercracker carefully curls his shaking hands around his mate's belly in the middle of the night when he thinks they're asleep, muffled sobs overlayed with whispered prayers to please, please let this time be different.

When the bitties finally arrive they're in little eggs, 9 perfect little spheres with rubber outer shells and stuffed to the brim with gelatinous filling. Every egg pulses strongly with the force of the infant spark within, and they can see outlines of their children, all curled up in the fetal position and almost ready to hatch. They've already prepared a nest for their eggs, a perfectly warm and secure spot where one of them will always be there to watch them. Mostly Starscream, as the other two have more work to do, but he doesn't mind. He can read and draw up plans while sitting next to them, occasionally reaching to turn them if he thinks one looks cold, and making sure to talk to fill the silence. Sometimes to them, sometimes to himself to narrate what he's doing, just so the sparklings know they aren't alone.

When they start to hatch Skywarp and Thundercracker both get a frantic keysmash text from Starscream falling out of his chair, then another with ITS TIME!!!! followed by a blurry picture of their nest, and one of the eggs has a noticeable hairline fracture in it. Skywarp, bless his spark, is so excited and also very much not thinking straight, grabs Thundercracker's hand and forcibly sprints out of the command center dragging him along. It takes him a full 10 seconds to realize his mate is telling him to, "Just teleport us!"

"...oh yeah!"

They arrive just in time to witness the birth of their first son: a darling little seekerling that's all blue head to toe with a deep gray faceplate and Skywarp's eyes. These babies are tiny, as there are nine of them, they can easily be cradled in their hands. Skywarp moves to pick him up and promptly gets nipped at: Starscream laughs, and lowers his helm to chirp at the little one. Bitty responds in turn, knowing instinctively that this is his carrier, and reaches out both tiny servos to him.

His siblings come quickly after, all range of lovely color combinations: a red and purple one, white and blue, black and white, on and on it goes! They're all beautiful and healthy, and the proud parents give them all names befitting Vosians, as well as a solemn promise: to never, ever let anything hurt them. To love and protect them now, for always, and forever 💖