#to himself he's just having a normal reaction

[sitronsangbody]

Warning: this gets grim

I'm up at night thinking about an episode of Supernatural and how it demonstrates some really heinous public attitudes toward fat people.

Mild spoilers for Supernatural season 6 I guess:

Dean Winchester has to take on the job of Death for a day, meaning he has to go to those who are supposedly destined to die, witness their final moments, and give them the touch of death, thus claiming their lives and sending them to the afterlife. He soon struggles to live up to his responsibilities as he's required to end the lives of a sick child and a young nurse. His first two victims, however, don't bother his conscience at all. The first is an armed robber who threatens to shoot a little boy and gets killed by the boy's father. The second is a fat man who has a heart attack.

When I say fat, what I really mean is fat-coded; the man is simply not stick thin in the way that nearly every character on the show is, so he counts as fat and his storyline (minor though it is) is tied to his size. He is in his 50s, maybe early 60s. We first see him wolfing down a cheeseburger, and Dean says "this looks like a heart attack situation", before the man indeed clutches his chest and dies. When he asks why he had to die, Dean's reply is: "you think maybe it was the extra cheese?"

His death is not portrayed as tragic in any way. He himself is only mildly distressed. We don't get to see anyone grieving for him. His death is there to be one of the Easy ones, an unsurprising, almost comical and even deserved(?) death to make Dean think it's not that bad of a gig, ending people's lives. And we, the viewers, are supposed to agree. We're not invited to feel sad for this man in the slightest, even in retrospect. Everyone who created this scene and decided to keep it in the show, believed this to be a normal way to think of a fat person suddenly dying. This came out in 2010.

It just encapsulates so much stuff - really fucking dark stuff, I might add - about how fat lives have been viewed through the years. That scene (and scenes like it) says:

- when fat people die, it's because they brought it on themselves. They are ticking timebombs and their death is expected.

- when fat people die young, no they don't, because being fat means living on borrowed time anyway, so a fat person dying way earlier than the average life expectancy is not tragic the way it is if a thin person does.

- when fat people die, it's definitely because they are fat (and they are fat because they make bad choices).

- when fat people eat what's considered unhealthy food, it's depressing and stupid and they're out of control. Dean Winchester is canonically a big fan of fast food and eats burgers all the time on the show. Because he is thin and fit, this is portrayed as fun, relatable and manly.

- when fat people die, it's not sad.

And like, I wish this was exclusive to fiction, but there are real people who act like this when real fat people die. Like they know why, even if they have no clue, like it shouldn't be shocking, like it's self-inflicted and therefore deserved, and like it probably wasn't much of a life anyway so it's just not that tragic, really.

This stuff is, just for me personally, one of the roughest sides of anti-fatness. When people deny us dignity in death. Partly because it's so ghoulish, and partly because it's so ubiquitous it appears in media like this, without controversy. I'd like to believe there would be stronger reactions had this plotline come out today in 2025, but I am not confident.

[shadamyheadcanons]

@shadowsfascination showed me this post from the Writing-prompt-s blog:

“Some say that an invisible red string is tied around the fingers of soulmates meant to be together forever. As it turns out, you can see these red strings, and have therefore created a highly successful matchmaking business.”

It gave me two brief ideas. The first one is a little more angsty and strictly involves Amy, while the second is fluffy and Shadamy-centric. They both have happy endings, though.

Angsty version:

Amy learns very early on about her gift, as it’s rare but not unheard of. She’s precocious about it; when she’s five, she’s prone to doing things like seeing happy couples with unconnected strings and bluntly saying, “You’re bad for each other.” Naturally, Amy’s mother is mortified by this behavior and urges her to stop doing it.

At first, this seems like a normal reaction...until one night at dinner when Amy asks, “Mom, Dad, why aren’t your strings attached? Mom is attached to the mailman instead.”

That’s how the truth comes out that her mom is cheating on her dad, which leads to their divorce. Amy blames herself, and her parents don’t do a very good job of convincing her otherwise. The resentment’s there, and she can tell. From then on, she resolves never to share her gift–her curse–with anyone for fear of ruining something else.

This continues until she hears two good friends of hers talking. One is trying to defend her clearly abusive partner, saying he’s “not always like that,” he’s “usually very sweet,” etc. And Amy just can’t hold it in any longer. She blurts out that they’re not meant to be together. The one she belongs with is the best friend who brought her in, the man who’s holding her as she’s speaking. Everyone’s silent for a moment, and Amy immediately regrets it...until six months later, when the two are dating and thank her for stepping in.

Amy embraces her gift at last and uses it to help others, becoming a matchmaker and relationship therapist. However, she spends just as much time “matchbreaking,” carefully working to break up couples who are bad for each other. She learns that sometimes, the best way to spread love is by ending ties that pull in the wrong direction, like pruning a plant of old leaves to allow new ones to thrive. It’s hard sometimes, but there’s no one who’s better at it.

Her mother never makes amends, but her father apologizes profusely for how he treated her when she was younger and introduces her to her new stepmom, thanking her for giving him the opportunity to meet her.

--

Now, the happier option:

Amy can see the strings tying people to their soulmates. Aside from aromantics like Sonic, who have little knots/bows on their fingers to show they’re complete on their own, everyone has a string...except for Amy herself. Hurt but determined, she decides to start a matchmaking business to spread love around the world in her own way, even if she can’t be a part of it.

Then, she meets Shadow, the only other person she’s met without a string. He brushes off her concern, as he doesn’t put stock in the concept and has reluctantly resigned himself to being a “dead end,” but Amy insists on trying to match him up with his soulmate all the same, as she feels everyone who wants a soulmate must have one. She finds it’s not so easy without the cheat sheet she’s had all her life. While getting to know Shadow and considering all the wonderful things he could offer as a partner, she can’t help but fall for him herself. Likewise, Shadow sees all the care and effort she’s put into bringing him happiness and fulfillment, the passion and devotion no one else could ever match. He doesn’t stand a chance, either. Amy takes the plunge and gets together with him even without that divine confirmation.

The truth of the matter, one that Shadow suspects, is that someone with the gift simply can’t see their own string, but Amy doesn’t need that validation to know she belongs with him.

[ranhaitanisbitch]

movie night with mammon

-mammon x gn!reader

cw: just sweet

synopsis: mammon invited you over for a movie marathon

a/n: hope you like it! i feel like i should make a part two of this. i'm open to suggestions, requests for other one-shots and constructive criticism. don't hesitate to reach out ^_^

word count: about 900

Mammon doesn't remember the last time his room had looked this clean. He had spent the whole afternoon picking up clothes from the floor, sorting stuff, cleaning the floor and doing stuff he had never done before. Absurd stuff like wiping the back of his bed's headboard. He knows nobody cares about the back of his headboard, but somehow he has the urge to have everything in perfect condition. After all you are coming over. Maybe he was doing too much, but he wants to impress you. Yesterday Mammon found out you had never seen a single Harrison Porter movie in your life, so of course, being the fan he was, he invited you over to a Harrison Porter movie marathon. He was excited to say the least. It's not like you had never been to his room before, but this felt more like a date than a casual movie night.

Wait- did you think of this as a date too? Or was this really just a movie night between friends for you? Of course Mammon didn't actually call it a date when he had invited you over. If he remembers correctly he said something along the lines of, "Of course a mere human wouldn't know about  stuff like that. Let the great Mammon show ya some good stuff". You had rolled your eyes at that, but you had agreed. 

Mammon takes a last look around his room and suddenly feels a nervous feeling taking over. What if you actually did see this as a normal hangout between friends and thought the cleanliness of his room was suspicious... Mammon usually never cleans his room to this extent and you know that. He opens his laundry basket and throws a singular dirty sock in the middle of the room. There, casual atmosphere restored. Now that this problem is taken care of, all he has to do is wait for you. 

There's an anxious tingle in Mammon's chest when he hears a soft knock on his bedroom door. "Come in!", he shouts and wipes his sweaty hands on his jeans. As he hears your feet shuffle along the floor he turns around to face you and immediately regrets it. You're already wearing your pajamas which consist of only a tanktop and some shorts. The demon blushes and turns around again hoping you haven't noticed the red color that is now tinting his cheeks. “I brought some snacks”, you smile and sit down on the couch right next to Mammon. “Yeah, yeah… put ‘em on the table”, the demon tries to appear as nonchalant as possible, which seems to be impossible with you so close to him. Your legs aren’t even touching, but he can still feel the heat coming from your thigh next to his and he has to resist the urge to reach out and feel some more of your body heat. He decides to start the movie instead. 

A few minutes into the movie you try to get more comfortable on the couch and shift around. You end up half laying half sitting leaning on Mammon’s shoulder. What you don’t seem to notice is his breathing becoming slightly uneven while he tries to hide the fact that he is getting excited. “Damn clingy human”, is all he mutters as he wraps his arm around your shoulder and pulls you into him even more.

By the third movie the demon notices you getting tired when your eyelids keep falling shut. You desperately try to keep them open and pay attention since you know how much Mammon loves those movies, but the more you try to fight it the sleepier you get. You’re so focused on pleasing Mammon that you don’t even notice that he hasn’t been paying attention to the movie himself. Not one second. The only thing that occupies his mind is you, how good your body feels pressed to his and how cute you look as you try not to fall asleep. The whole duration of the three movies he sneaked secret glances at you and admired your reactions to the scenes instead of watching them himself. He gently nudges you, “hey… it’s time to go to bed.” You whine. “But we haven’t even finished the third movie yet.” Mammon chuckles at your sleepy whines. “It’s okay. We can watch it another time.” That means you two will have some more movie nights, Mammon thinks with a giddy smile. “You should really head to bed now. You can barely keep your eyes open.” You groan in annoyance, but get up anyway. The demon already expects you to head to the door when you suddenly plop down on his bed. Even though he had wished for you to stay, he expected you to head back to your room after the movie marathon since it was only down the hall. Now he thanks whoever had heard his prayer and granted him his wish. “Mammooon! I’m cold”, you whine and pull him down on the bed with you. He smiles and lets you cling to his torso like a sloth. After a few minutes your breathing becomes more even and Mammon is sure you’ve fallen asleep. He kisses the top of your head gently, “good night, human.”

[sacrificiallane]

just the tip ۶ৎ mean!Luke Castellan blurb

cw: coercing!! (luke takes your virginity without asking 😔 he‘s mean like that!) MEAN!LUKE. sex. p in v. no protection (pls don't do that in real life!) ♡ blurb, so it's a little very short.

not proofread, oops

he is so desperate! literally, Luke thinks it's so unfair, how you're looking all pretty for him... yet won't let him in. it's killing him, please.

he just doesn't get this whole 'saving yourself for marriage' thing. it's stupid, he thinks, how you let him have his tongue buried between your thighs but not his dick ―

"please baby," his voice borders on a whine as he bumps his drooling tip against your clothed cunt and pries your thighs a little further apart. "just let me ―," he groans. momentarily, he thinks about just ripping the fabric in half and having his way with you... but he is a patient boy. for now.

"i told you, just the tip, hm?" Luke is taking a different approach then. he doesn't want to scare you, after all. so his hands ― all gentle and loving ― find a way to your face, to carefully caress your cheeks.

"you trust me, no?" he coaxes further, invading your space by nuzzling his nose to yours. an endearing gesture that makes it just so easy for him to get his way...

when you answer a soft 'yes, Luke...,' he smiles.

Luke knows how to sweet talk you into things. he's a son of Hermes, after all, one of the cleverest and most mischievous of the olympian gods.

"and you know i would never do anything that's bad for you, right?"

your teeth press into your bottom lip and Luke gets even harder Lukes fingers press the slightest bit harder into your skin, "right?" he doesn't like how you're hesitating, it's a normal question after all. i mean, why would you not trust him, after all? he is always taking care of you!

when he asks again, you know you have to answer "yea..."

he smirks, "good" and his hand starts to relax, and to wander.

he knows your body by heart, so the boy doesn't even have to look anywhere but your eyes when his fingers ghost over the drenched part of your panties.

Luke watches closely for your reaction. it's when your eyes trail down as well, when you feel him prodding, tugging and teasing, dangerously close to the part that you were denying him just moments ago, he acts quickly!

in an attempt to distract you from what he was really doing down there, and fearing that you'd deny him again and again, his lips press against yours in a hot kiss. it has you relax, at least, and gives him enough time to messily pull your panties to the side and press his bare tip against your slit. his tongue licks broadly into your mouth, to swallow any disagreeing noise of yours. he knows what's good for you!

when you do start to get a bit more whiny though, and try to move further up his bed ― you're nervous, of course, and Luke loves you too much to just ignore such a thing! ― he is quick to mutter sweet words meant to soothe you. whispering how he loves you, and how good you are for him.

his unoccupied hand smoothes over your hair, and his forehead bumps against yours when he literally bullies his thick head through your walls.

"fuck..." a breathless hiss and his eyes flutter close. you are so tight! wrapped around him like a vice, and Luke can just barely make out how you open a little further for him, and suddenly all of his common sense wanders south, and he craves you even more.

he really can't help it this time...

"sorry, i'm sorry―"

a loud gasp spills over your swollen lips when his hips suddenly snap flush against your own ― and his length slips all the way into your fluttering walls until you are completely full of him. so full, he can see himself slightly outlined through your tummy. "gods―" another thrust. in and out again, just to watch your reaction of having him poke your deepest parts.

"you ― just the tip ―" you were stuttering, trying to find words as he was greatly taking care of needs you weren't even aware of having! your fingers curl further around his sheets, cramping a little, when an especially hard thrust had you seeing stars for a moment.

Luke doesn't even think of slipping out again. instead, he shushed you softly, and pressed one hand over your mouth. gentle, of course. but you were so loud! and your sweet innocent voice trying to make sense of him, had him so close to spilling.

"it's okay―," he mutters in a breathless whisper, "you're fine."

Luke would never make you do anything you aren't ready for. he swears!

and when your eyes roll back and your legs start shaking, your own climax hitting you so quickly that you don't even know how or when to warn you... he's there, with you, to rub soothing circles into your naked skin and remind himself that this is all just for him.

well, and there goes your 'saving yourself for marriage' ― "guess i will just have to marry you then..."

shorter than the percy smut, but i liked it like that! sue me

[usagiarchive]

angel of the codeine scene — [09] over and and over again

prev / masterlist / afterword

sypnosis. [ 1.6k words. epilogue ] — The end of the suffering and the beginning of a new start.

usagi's note: HI i hope u guys read my afterword, there is so much i wanna say, but in case u guys, don't read it, i just really wanna say thanku for choosing to read this, ily guys, thanks for reading until the end <3

Rex Lapis was not indifferent.

He tries really hard to give Liyue and its people the epilogue after the war, to preserve the peace they protect, and to give his remaining yaksha the epilogue he deserves.

He tries, really.

Because he couldn't give the same to himself.

In a war where you are blessed to find love, you will be cursed to choose who to protect. Yourself? Your people? Or your lover?

There are no multiple choices, you can only choose one.

Rex Lapis had to find out the hard way.

He sends for Baizhu-yisheng and Changsheng-xiaoren again, just to make sure his warrior doesn't lose hope.

To make sure he doesn't have regrets.

To make sure he gets his own epilogue.

At sunset, they perform the ritual once again.

…

The hair on the back of Xiao's next rose once he saw the golden beacon of light once more.

He's seen this once.

Back when…

He… it… he doesn't want to hope.

The Conqueror of Demons hears his god's summons. He goes.

…

“Are you sure it's alright to do this…?” Baizhu asks as he helps clothe your…? (was it still you?) body…? into new garments.

“To do what?” Rex Lapis asks as he ties your hair up.

You- or rather what Baizhu thinks is a reincarnation of you, has been blinking sleepily for the past half hour, leaning over to Liyue’s Archon.

“To bring her back to life?”

“Hm…” The Archon thinks as he pets your head, “She's not dead, hasn't been at all,”

Baizhu's eyebrows knit together, waiting for the man to explain.

“But, the scene at Luhua Pool?”

He merely laughs, “Simply to immortalize her,” he says, “Luhua Pool is a door to a different plane of existence, it serves to preserve her memories and soul,”

Rex Lapis’ eyes stare at him and smile, “This right here is only a body, a… shell of sorts,”

Baizhu feels horrified at this but at the same time he is intrigued, with this kind of creation, would it be possible to immortalize a normal human?

“Worry not, this has been done many times before, I've done this with Ganyu, too, though her place of transmission was different, Cloud Retainer and Moon Carver have gone through a similar process back in the war,”

Changsheng hisses amusedly at her companion's reaction.

“Baizhu-yisheng, Changsheng-xiaoren? Would you accompany me to Luhua Pool?”

…

There are only a few times Xiao has felt sick to his stomach.

The first was when he was told to eat dreams for the first time.

The second was when he lost you at the river.

The third was when he learned that the other Yaksha had succumbed to death.

And the fourth was when he realized he killed you.

Seeing Luhua Pool again, with Rex Lapis' back to him, was the fifth.

The Archon knew of his presence even before he neared the ground.

“Xiao,” he greets.

“Morax,” Xiao kneels.

“Stand.”

Weapons do not question their wielder. Servants do not question their masters. Demons do not question their gods-

He faces his Archon, “Why?”

Rex Lapis steps aside and he sees…

You.

Zhongli lets out a small sad smile when he sees the warrior buckle at the knees at the sight of you.

“I… How… Is this… Is this a mockery? A punishment?” his warrior says as he tries his hardest not to show emotion in front of his god.

“No, Xiao,” he says as he places a shoulder on his and guides him to you, “A solace.”

“A reprieve.”

“I don't- I don't understand- why would-”

“Would you like to do the honors of bringing her back to you?”

You stare at him with curiosity as Zhongli guides Xiao to you.

You're quiet again.

“Dip her in the water, she already knows what to do, you just need to hold her, I'll take care of the rest,” his voice ever assuring.

“Qingxin…”

Xiao carries you in his arms, the same way he did when he brought you here to rest, he slowly eases you into the water, eyes on you the whole time, watching for any sign of discomfort.

But you only stared back at him, holding nothing of the memories from before.

“Close your eyes, okay?” he murmurs.

Once he sees you nod and your eyes flutter shut, he lowers you deeper into the water until your face is submerged and Rex Lapis begins to chant with Changsheng.

“Qingxin,” Xiao closes his eyes and presses his forehead to yours under the water.

“Come back to me.”

…

In the dusk, among the quiet of the night, Luhua Pool glows with beauty, the fireflies string around to illuminate and enhance the reflection of the moon above.

…

Your hand catches onto the back of Xiao's neck and he lifts your face above the water.

The chanting from the two has already ended and they stand to watch as the conqueror of demons wipe away the water from your face as you cough a bit.

His hand stays to cup your face.

“Xiansheng?”

Tears drip onto your face without him even realising it.

“Forgive me,” he chokes on his words, “I never- I never meant to- to hurt you, or- or to lose control, I- I should've been faster, I should've- should've asked for- asked for he-”

“Hey, hey, no,” you say as you pull him into your neck, “I'm fine, I'm here, I'm with you,”

Xiao sobs even harder into your neck, “I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm so so sorry,” he repeats over and over.

You pull Xiao, your Xiao, into your arms and give him the tightest embrace you could muster with your current strength right now and he bunches the back of your hanfu as he hugs you loosely, not wanting to hurt you with his strength.

As he buries his face into your neck, you're caught with the sight of Morax looking at the two of you with a smile, Baizhu-yisheng and Changsheng-xiaoren nowhere to be found.

“Thank you,” you mouth.

He nods and leaves in a trail of golden light.

You thread your fingers into Xiao's hair and he sighs the last of his sobs into your skin.

“Xiansheng, should we go home?”

Xiao pulls away from you and nods, wiping at his face with his hands, you giggle as you help him, his eyes still rimmed with red.

“Come now, we have a lot to talk about,” you say and he warps away.

…

That night was the most you've ever heard Xiao talk, or at least according to your memories, which were still a bit fuzzy, but you remember enough from your first reincarnation.

The memories from your time with Xiao in the war were even fuzzier now, as if they were books you've read but can't remember the context of, only returning in feelings or scents.

Xiao has apologized more than eighty times that night, his tears endless as you comfort him in your arms.

“Don't worry, now that the whole reincarnating thing is an option, you won't get rid of me so easily,”

“I wish not to be rid of you at all,” he says, voice still stuffy from crying.

“How cute,” you say as you pinch the cheek that wasn't resting on your chest, “The conqueror of demons all so soft,”

…

The two of you talk for the rest of the night, helping each other understand, and taking the time to make him understand that it wasn't his fault.

Xiao promises never to hurt you again and you promise never to leave his side for too long.

After all, his karmic debt, even if significantly reduced by your previous incarnation, was still active.

You decide to get tea with Morax the next day.

…

“Ah, that,” he says as he pours a fruit blend tea, sunsettia and apple tea, “Well, to be frank with you, I haven't the slightest idea of how you reduced his karmic debt,”

“Wait, you mean to tell me that you created me to 'heal him', but you yourself have no idea how to?”

It was… a bit unnerving for Xiao to hear you question his Archon so openly.

“Yes, forgive me, dear, I only wanted a reprieve for your beloved,” he says and takes a sip of his tea.

“That's so… hmph,” you huff and take a sip of your tea.

“Well, what about how I heal him?” You ask a different question.

“I have my suspicions that it aided your untimely death,” Morax says.

“What?”

“Well, the universe must find balance, to take is to be given, and to be given is to take.”

Xiao's brows knit together, “Are you saying she died because she healed me?”

“Yes, Xiao, although I can bring her back, so I do not think it will be an issue, on another note, too, the karmic debt does not further resurface after she somehow heals it,”

The warrior holds his head, that was… a lot of information to take in… he takes a look at you and sighs, this will surely be your topic for the night.

“Wait, I don't get it, if you could bring me back, why didn't you bring Guizhong-xiangsheng back?”

The Archon smiles sadly.

“Because her body didn't have a medium to preserve her memories,” he paused, “She did not want to be reincarnated, she told me so,”

“Oh.”

“Sorry,” you apologize as you pour him another cup of tea.

He laughs at that, “No worries, my child, it is in the past, I'm sure wherever Guizhong is now, she is happier and at peace,”

He looks up at the sky and feels the breeze flow through his hair.

As you look at Xiao, who seems to enjoy the breeze of the wind, too, you think.

You'll choose Xiao.

You'll choose to reincarnate.

You'll heal him and rid him of his karmic debt.

Over and over again.

Until you both get the epilogue you deserve.

prev / masterlist / afterword

usagi's note: ITS 😭 OVER 😭 I 😭 CANT 😭 BELIEVE 😭 IT 😭 im so thankful to everyone who read seriously ily all, to those in the taglist, tysm, i never would've imagined people would actually read this, pls read the afterword if u have time!! im gonna say a lot there, i hope u all take care mwa !! see u next time gbye!!

taglist (open!! green can't be tagged): @irenedoesthings @cherrysnows @makuzume @smoochi-modest @bvtterflyyy @original-person @aphxdea @iratempestatis @constellationguy @lloversss @femaholicc @arietheyluv

@usagiarchive 2025. do not repost, translate, or use for AI. reblogs, likes, and comments are very appreciated!!

[aplitvictim]

One thing that I noticed about Yukio, something that I found rather interesting, was that he hates himself intently for having what I think any of us would call a pretty normal reaction to the circumstances he was in. Like, Yukio can see demons, and has been able to since he was a toddler. On what planet is he not going to freak out a cry about it? We are shown that kids the same age as Yukio in the show react almost the exact way he does when they are confronted with demons. Yet, somehow Yukio, as a literal toddler, is supposed to be able to handle the situation with grace and maturity and not be scared shitless? Most kids cry over the thought of seeing monsters in the dark, and when Yukio actually does as a kid, because let's not forget some of those demons are creepy af, he’s supposed to remain calm and not freak out? To just get over it?

And I think it’s kinda met to reflect the insane expectations Yukio has always put on himself, ones that lead him to have a double meister and get the top spot at a prestigious academy, all while being the youngest exorcist in history and a school teacher on top of it. Yukio genuinely expects himself to have been able to face the demons and not be afraid of them at 5 years old, even though that’s highly unrealistic and a little insane. So much of his self hatred is derived from this belief that he was pathetic as a kid, and that he should have gotten over himself, even though his reaction is pretty normal considering how young he was and the things he was having to face.

[qoldenskies]

been into those raph&leo against donnie&mikey pre-movie fics lately. and like. thoughts on don being the more outspoken at how destructive and idiotic the other two are, while mike is more sensitive and overwhelmed by everything? not that im hating on these characterizations! i enjoy the angst they bring, but overanalyzing is fun.

sure, mikey is the youngest and it makes sense to an extent. however, dr delicate touch and dr feelings are very loud and blunt. and yeah the situation is more extreme, but i think about donnie taking a similar position to what he did in hot soup: the game, staying out of the raph&mikey debate until directly addressed.

personally, i see mikey taking the lead on trying to get through to raph+mikey with donnie there to mediate and give his input when needed. and behind closed doors they definitely take turns comforting each other for sure. they’re both shown to be distraught over familial situations (turtle-dega nights and hidden city’s most wanted), so it makes sense to me for them to take shelter in each other as opposed to one of them being a total shield for the other.

oh, i dont like it. i actually find it unfaithful and flanderizing when it comes to their characters, especially since mikey is a lot more outspoken and direct while donnie is passive-- and this manifests in their behavior as a duo, too.

if not directly emotionally affected by it, i could see it slowly shifting donnie's behavior. he starts to close himself off more, works harder, becomes quieter and more standoffish, not really understanding why he feels so bad because the tension is slowly getting to him. being neurodivergent also makes arguing uhhh hard to witness especially if it were to get intense, loud noise and all that. not to mention raph and leo do almost get into a fistfight at the beginning of the movie so there is a VERY good chance that's happened before, especially with how quick donnie and mikey are to try and pull them apart.

i think comfort would be mutual though, yeah. mikey being distresed and fearful doesn't feel like it aligns with the way he normally acts in conflict? like disinterested and annoyed and then determined and frustrated feels like it aligns with him better. he's not a helpless crying child but i could see him getting more and more upset the longer it goes on, especially because he loves both of his bigger brothers and he feels like they're acting so stupid lmao.

mikey's also not really a savant when it comes to mediating because that's ALWAYS been more raph's job, maybe leo sometimes. he's more likely to go "guys stop fighting!" instead of actually breaking it up and that does very little, it'd probably just come off like moral high-grounding. even in the doctor feelings seminar he did with donnie in the show he was not exactly taking a very empathetic approach he was just being condescending LMAO

generally with donnie i feel like it would manifest in more avoidant behavior (and maybe this is a bit of a hot take but i feel like he would be more likely to have an "is it me?" reaction to something like this, especially because so much of this is about team synergy and he plays such an essential role in support), while mikey would be desperate to "fix" it (more than he is to actually resolve it) once he realizes it's becoming a persistent problem, but because he's unable to properly get to the root of it, it'd just make him increasingly more frustrated. and ofc i do think this would also seriously strengthen donnie and mikey's bonds with each other because i could see both of them having a breaking point about it eventually.

i DO actually have a fic in the works about this exact scenario, it's a sequel to coming undone that mostly addresses the kind of pain and frustration of donnie being unable to properly harness his ninpo as seamlessly as the others can, having some gifted kid issues because it's really hard to try new things when he's been so effortless with science for so long, all while there's so much tension in the family because of the leadership switch,,, it's about donnie and mikey bonding and confiding in each other mostly but ive put it on the backseat for canary continuity, maybe one day i'll pick it up again!!

[m4iya]

hq characters reactions to having them as your wallpaper

multiple characters

.⋆𝜗𝜚

The type to get a little embarrassed about it, insisting that you don't need to have it there. He'd begin pointing out issues in the photo in an attempt to get you to change it, giving up when he realises that you weren't going to budge. He eventually sets his wallpaper to a photo of you.

"Well.. If your wallpaper is me, mine might as well be yours. That way, we match."

tadashi yamaguchi, akaashi keiji, kenma kozume, sakusa kiyoomi, azumane asahi

.⋆𝜗𝜚

The type to act nonchalant about it. He'd take notice a couple of times, not commenting on it until you specifically point it out. Once you do, he'd act as though it's just a normal picture but on the inside, he's secretly smiling. Might even make your name his password in exchange.

“Huh? It's no big deal, it's just a photo of me - right?"

tsukishima kei, tobio kageyama, akira kunimi, kenji futakuchi, kenjiro shirabu, ushijima wakatoshi, takanobu aone

.⋆𝜗𝜚

The type to get overconfident about it. He’d noticed it a while ago, but after you showed him he’d act ‘confused’, maybe even asking ‘wasn’t it always me?’ He’d joke around about it, even offering to send you different photos of himself to switch between from time to time.

“Well, you can use my photo if you insist..!”

kuroo tetsuro, oikawa toru, suguru dasho, akihiro konoha, hoshiumi korai

.⋆𝜗𝜚

The type to get all giddy about it. When he’d noticed it, he looked back at you, sparkly eyed and beaming. He’d look at your phone, making sure it was still there. When, you’d told him you switched your wallpaper, he was shocked; only to realise it was still him, only a different photo.

“Is that.. IS THAT ME?!”

hinata shoyo, nishinoya yuu, inuoka so, lev haiba, kanji koganegawa, bokuto kotaro

.⋆𝜗𝜚

The type who plays it cool, but is still all smiles. You’d show it to him, and he’d react happily. He’d probably set his wallpaper to a photo of you, or insist you take one together to match. The type to also have matching key rings or bracelets with you.

“Hold on, let’s take one together instead.”

sugawara koushi, yaku morisuke, tsutomi goshiki, suna rintaro, nobuyuki kai, takahiro hanamaki, daichi sawamura

[pagannatural]

2.20 What Is and What Should Never Be

- the djinn episode. much to think about

-Dean makes a comment on the phone with Sam about a hot actress and Sam says “are you even listening to me?” in this very effeminate way, it’s adorable.

- Dean says he’s going to check out a possible lair and Sam says “wait no no no come pick me up first” all little brother wanting to go along, but Dean hangs up on him. The next shot of Sam holding the disconnected phone and turning his head is taken from above which makes him seem small, indicating that he’s probably feeling worried or left out. He’s afraid what will happen to Dean and he wants to be a part of the hunt.

- Dean gets got by the djinn.

Okay, so in order to analyze any of the characters and events in Dean’s djinn-dream we need to understand what exactly is going on. My interpretation is that, as Dean explains toward the end of the episode, it’s not a perfect fantasy or a representation of Dean’s truest desires. It’s just the djinn picking up on his strongest wish and what he thinks his life would be like were it fulfilled. His wish is that his mom never died in a fire. The whole dream is a product of this wish and what Dean assumes would’ve happened/where the djinn’s magic takes him.

However, this wish-world is flawed because it’s limited by the things Dean is limited by. He can imagine having many of the things he wants, like a girlfriend and a regular job, but his wish isn’t that he could be happy, his wish is that the defining tragedy of his life had never happened and therefore the people he loves the most could be happy. So although he and his mom and Sam are alive and well, there are also a lot of things wrong in the dream. The things that are wrong are therefore very telling:

I think he has an alcohol problem in the dream because he figures that even if things were different he would screw up or not be good enough in some very important ways. Again, it’s just a wish- his beliefs about himself haven’t changed.

John doesn’t make an appearance because Dean can’t really imagine a healthy relationship with him or any version of him at all that doesn’t revolve around hunting.

He and Sam aren’t on good terms because they never hunted together. Dean fears that the only thing that binds Sam to him is their fucked up history. He thinks that if their mom hadn’t died, Sam would’ve had the things that he’s said he wanted: graduated from Stanford, studying law, engaged to a beautiful woman. This is what Dean assumes Sam would’ve become. He assumes they would not be close and that he himself would lowkey be a fuck-up, albeit a fuck-up in a more common way.

So what is the significance? This suggests that Dean believes his relationship with Sam and his place in Sam’s life was only earned through raising him and taking care of him, which he wouldn’t have done if their lives were normal. His self-worth stems from his relationship with Sam and his ability to care for him and love him, so in the dream Dean has the outline of the normal life he wants to want, but he’s also not a person he would respect. Even his djinn-girlfriend tells him (jokingly) she’s with him because she has low standards. He doesn’t have the job he said in s1 that he always wanted, which is being a firefighter. He works in a garage just like his dad did. He doesn’t save people. And most damning of all, he’s ruined his relationship with Sam by letting him down over and over. He’s completely lost himself. So yeah, this is far from a reflection of Dean’s deepest desires.

- Another element that needs unpacking in terms of what exactly is going on in the dream is that Sam has a point of view. Djinn-Sam is still his own character, he’s shown to have thoughts and reactions even when Dean isn’t around or isn’t looking. He has his own point of view even though he exists in Dean’s head. So how is it possible for the version of Sam that exists in Dean’s subconscious to act independently of Dean?

My interpretation is that the characters in the dream are animated by the Djinn’s magic, which has a purpose. Its purpose is to make the dream appealing so that the victim will remain unconscious and happy rather than trying to wake up. This is why, when Dean realizes that he is actually unconscious, the other characters from the dream appear to him to try and convince him not to wake up and to stay with them forever. They have a directive. The characters follow this directive by behaving in ways that Dean both expects and wishes for. I really don’t think they’re the djinn or that they’re nefarious, I think they’re just Dean’s conceptions of the people they represent. They don’t really act out of character, aside from the fact that their purpose is to fulfill Dean’s wish and keep him from waking.

So basically, djinn-Sam is his own character because he’s animated by the djinn’s magic, but all of his thoughts and feelings and behaviors are both what Dean wishes for and what he would expect under the circumstances.

So. Keeping that in mind as we take a look at Djinn-Sam.

-Sam’s response to Dean calling him late at night is to giggle and say “you’re drunk dialing me.” Drunk dialing is very much a trope used to link romantic interests. Also he picks up after the first ring. Sam is eager to hear from Dean and flirts with him even though they’re on the outs -> Dean wants and expects Sam to answer his calls immediately and flirtatiously

- Dean asks his mom where Sam is and says “I’m dying to see him.”

Dean is literally dying, hanging by his wrists with his blood slowly draining out of him, so that he can see a version of Sam who is happy. He’s thrilled to see his mom, but a huge part of this wish is seeing Sam happy and educated and successful and loved. Dean seems truly, glowingly happy and proud of Sam. It’s this part of him that wishes Sam had everything Dean couldn’t give him and that wishes they could both not only be normal but be fulfilled by anything besides one another.

- From the conversation Dean has with himself at his dad’s grave, it’s clear that he doesn’t believe his dad cared much about his personal happiness. He’s sacrificed himself in so many ways for his entire life at the altar of his dad’s mission, but now that Sam’s humanity is on the line it’s too much. He increasingly just doesn’t want to do this any more.

- When Dean decides to go after the djinn and reenacts the break-in scene from the pilot, it cues a reset in his relationship with Sam in this world. From this point Sam has to change his behavior if there’s any hope of Dean staying, so he starts to act a lot more like the version of Sam that Dean knows and loves in real life. This Sam is still saying and doing things that Dean wants and acting how Dean would expect him to act, but now the context has changed. He’s doing more of what Dean wants and breaking from the version Dean assumes would exist if their mom were alive.

-> Dean’s wish for Sam to be happy and normal is not as strong as his need to be close to Sam, for Sam to choose him and follow him and leave everything else behind to be together. Ostensibly Dean doesn’t ask Sam to come with him, but it’s his head and Sam is doing whatever will convince Dean to stay, so ultimately this is Dean. He needs Sam.

- Dean apologizes to Sam and Sam gives him this incredibly guarded look

and then this deeply worried and scared look

and then he decides to go with Dean “because you’re still my brother” which is the affirmation Dean needs. “Because we’re brothers” for these two is a deeper and holier connection than any other. And the way Sam is now more vulnerable and scared for Dean is exactly what Dean is used to from his little brother.

- Sam is trying to help and Dean says “what, you protect me? That’s hilarious.” It’s probably hilarious because this version of Sam is a pansy by their usual standards, but in reality Sam is on his way to find Dean and protect him. Dean keeps accidentally saying things that are true in real time.

- when she’s trying to convince Dean to stay in the dream, Mary promises no pain or fear, just love and comfort and safety, and specifically not worrying about Sam any more and watching him live a full life. So we have the bones of Dean’s deepest wish: love, comfort, safety, and to see Sam happy and safe.

In reality, Sam can only be any important kind of happy and safe when he’s with Dean. And the love that Dean wants can only come from Sam.

- Dean says “I’m sorry” to Sam, and only Sam, before plunging the knife into his heart and waking up. Mary and his dream-girlfriend are right there. His dead mom who he wished back to life is right there. But he looks at this version of Sam to say he’s sorry before waking up. This feels like another thing that he wants to tell Sam in real life but can’t.

- Dean has been tied up bleeding and on drugs for probably not that long but long enough that he lost consciousness and yet he snaps the remaining bits of rope with brute strength and kills the djinn when Sam is threatened. So he not only gets himself out of the djinn’s spell, but also saves Sam. And then he goes straight to help the other victim. It’s such a stark contrast to the man he thinks he would have been.

- Dean tells Sam that the dream wasn’t a perfect fantasy, it was just a wish, and that since he and Sam never became hunters they “never…” and Sam says “I’m glad we do.”

Never what? And is Sam saying he’s glad they hunt together or he’s glad that they became what they are to each other? This phrasing is purposefully vague. But it highlights Sam’s resolve this season in actually choosing to hunt, he’s not just doing it because he feels obligated. Even in the opening scene to this episode, remember how Sam asked to come along with Dean and went out looking for him right away when he hung up.

Dean looks at him so sadly, one eyebrow raised, like he doesn’t believe him that he’s glad, or doesn’t want to. He’s skeptical that Sam is really choosing this, or him.

- Sam tells Dean “I’m glad you dug yourself out, most people wouldn’t have had the strength” and Sam is the researcher so he probably knows this is true of djinn victims. It’s one of so many things that Sam admires and looks up to about Dean.

But Dean doesn’t want to be strong any more. He wants to stop worrying about Sam. Dean says all he can think about is how much this job’s cost them, and it’s Sam who argues that saving people’s lives hurts and isn’t fair but is worth it.

Dean’s eyes flick to Sam in this vulnerable, fearful way. I think he’s thinking about Sam here, about how nothing could be worth losing him. Not all the lives they’ve saved, not getting his mom back, nothing. He had to dig deep to find the will to wake up and his reason is Sam. Dean knows he’s in love with Sam and would do anything for him, but he believes he’s only as good as his ability to care for him, and those two things are at constant war. I think he thinks that if they could walk away from this life and be normal maybe Sam could be safe, even though he knows that’s not true.

[cece693]

What Can I Say? I'm a Man

pairing: will graham x male reader tags: just me being silly, but also serious cause will has a dumptruck, have you guys seen it, just me living vicariously through my fics cause damn, I would risk it all like hannibal did for will, will is a tease, beverly is the best wingwoman

When you joined the FBI’s Behavioral Science division, you expected a mountain of paperwork, a boss who spoke in monotone, and coworkers who lived on stale coffee. What you didn’t expect was Will Graham. Specifically, you didn’t expect his eyes to sparkle with shy intelligence—or for his perfectly round, absolutely mesmerizing butt to distract you at every turn.

The day you first met, Will wore an innocent-looking pair of jeans that somehow hugged every inch of his backside. It wasn’t your fault your eyes lingered on him longer than they should. You tried (and failed) to act like you were just adjusting your tie or checking the time on your phone. But anyone glancing your way could see the obvious: you were hooked.

Will, meanwhile, had always carried himself with a certain reticence. Soft-spoken, thoughtful, and occasionally lost in his own world. But when you walked in—tall, confident, exuding a suave air that made hearts skip—Will took note. Over the next few weeks, he realized he couldn’t keep his eyes off of you. After all, you weren’t the only one thirsting over a coworker. Will found himself daydreaming about you in ways he knew weren’t entirely professional.

He told himself to snap out of it. He was a dedicated profiler, for heaven’s sake. But the moment he noticed you trying to discreetly peek at his backside? Let’s just say a certain mischievous streak awoke in him, one he rarely let others see.

Beverly Katz was the first to call you out. One morning, after Will sauntered by your desk in a pair of freshly pressed slacks that clung to him like sin, you nearly choked on your coffee. Beverly appeared at your elbow, smirking. “Is it me,” she said, leaning in conspiratorially, “or are his pants one size too small?”

You sputtered and tried to look offended. “I—I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Sure you don’t.” She gave you a playful shove. “Just make sure you’re hydrating, because you look ready to pass out whenever he bends over a file box.”

You shot her a glare, cheeks blazing, but you couldn’t deny the truth. Will’s backside was a lethal weapon, and your thirst was borderline criminal. Beverly, for her part, found your plight endlessly entertaining. She took special delight in watching your eyes follow Will across the bullpen—like a starved man chasing a steak.

Will was fully aware of your wandering eyes. At first, it made him blush furiously—he wasn’t used to such direct admiration. But gradually, a little voice in the back of his head teased, Show him what he wants.

It started small: the subtle arch of his back when he stretched, ensuring that his hips angled perfectly in your line of sight. Then he progressed to wearing jeans a tad too snug on casual Fridays, or slightly fitted dress pants on normal workdays, all to test your reaction. And oh, he relished those reactions. He’d catch your jaw going slack, or see you turn a particularly vibrant shade of red. He’d pretend not to notice, hiding a smirk behind his paperwork.

But somewhere along the line, Will’s game stopped being purely playful. Because the more he turned up the heat—giving you unobstructed views of his glorious butt—the more he wanted your attention in other ways, too. He found himself fantasizing about you pushing him up against a desk, or catching him in the break room alone, pressing him against the wall.

It all came to a head one fateful Friday. Will strutted into work wearing dark-wash jeans that fit so snugly you could see every contour of his backside. The entire bullpen seemed to collectively do a double-take, but you nearly swallowed your tongue. Even Beverly let out a low whistle—something about “we need an HR meeting just for those jeans.”

You spent the day doing a terrible job of working, fidgeting at your desk, mind consumed with images of what it would feel like to squeeze, grab, knead that…ahem. By lunchtime, you were seriously considering faking a migraine and going home to avoid spontaneously combusting.

Beverly, noticing your tension, decided to nudge things along. She strode to your desk, arms crossed, a sly grin on her face. “He’s in the break room. Now’s your chance.”

“My chance for what?” You tried to play dumb.

She rolled her eyes. “To finally do something about the pining! My God, it’s unbearable. If you don’t make a move, I’m going to do it for you.” You set down your pen with a sigh, mustering your courage. Heart pounding, you headed toward the break room. Sure enough, Will was there, pouring coffee into a mug with his back turned. As you walked in, he half-glanced over his shoulder, smiling when he realized it was you. Then, deliberately, he arched his back just a bit more while he set the coffee pot down.

The flex was so obvious that you nearly tripped over your own feet. Your face went hot. You cleared your throat, trying to appear composed. “H-Hey, Will.”

He turned around slowly, eyes dancing with amusement. “Hey.”

He leaned a hip against the counter, crossing one foot over the other. The way his jeans stretched over his thighs and butt was… distracting, to say the least. “You, uh—” You gulped. “You look nice today.” It was an understatement of the century, but you had to start somewhere.

Will’s lips quirked. “Thanks. I may have chosen these jeans on purpose.”

Your eyes snapped up to his, heart stuttering. “O-on purpose for…?”

He took a step closer, leaving the coffee mug behind. “For you,” he admitted quietly, cheeks coloring. “I’ve noticed how you look at me. I…I kind of like it.”

For a moment, you forgot how to form words. Your mind buzzed with a thousand thoughts: He noticed? He did this for me? You inhaled sharply, setting your mug down before you spilled scalding coffee everywhere. “Will, I—I’m not exactly subtle, I know. I hope I never made you uncomfortable.”

A gentle laugh escaped him. “No, never uncomfortable. Believe me, I’m flattered—more than flattered.”

He edged close enough that you could smell his cologne, a warm, woodsy scent. “You’re…you’re the hot coworker in the department, you know,” Will whispered, eyes flicking over your face.

That statement alone made your brain short-circuit. He thinks I’m hot? Will swallowed, his voice going soft but urgent. “If you want to, maybe—kiss me, or—”

It was your turn to step in, bridging the last few inches between you. Without overthinking, you cupped his cheek and pressed your lips to his. It was tentative at first, a gentle, testing kiss that felt more like a question than a statement. But Will answered eagerly, sliding his hands around your waist. When your tongue brushed against his lips, he parted them with a quiet sigh, deepening the kiss. It sent a thrill down your spine—God, you’d been waiting for this forever.

As the kiss intensified, your hand drifted down, fingertips resting on the slope of his lower back. With a trembling breath, you moved lower, finally cupping that glorious backside you’d been admiring for so long. Will’s jeans were firm and warm beneath your touch, and the muscle underneath made your mind spin.

He responded with a soft gasp, his eyes fluttering shut. “Took you long enough,” he teased, voice muffled against your mouth.

You couldn’t hold back a husky chuckle. “I’ve been dying to do that since the day I met you.”

He pressed closer, effectively pinning you against the counter. “Let’s make up for lost time, then.” Your other hand joined in, giving a playful squeeze. The heat of the moment was intense, but it still felt safe—like you both understood exactly how far to push. Will’s breath hitched, and for a second, you worried you might’ve overstepped.

But he grinned, eyes dark with want. “I told Beverly I wanted to climb you like a dog in heat,” he confessed, half-laughing at his own words.

You let out a shocked, delighted bark of laughter. “I’m sorry—what?”

He buried his face in your shoulder, clearly mortified. “It just…slipped out during a moment of weakness.”

Your heart flipped. You slid a hand up to his nape, fingers threading through his curls. “Well, if it helps, I take it as the highest compliment.”

As if on cue, the door swung open behind you, and in walked Beverly—again. She stopped dead, mouth forming a little o of surprise as she caught you and Will pressed together. You tried to jump away, but Will’s grip on you was firm, almost possessive.

“Oh wow,” Beverly said, bright grin spreading across her face, “so that’s what a coffee break looks like these days.”

You cleared your throat. “I—um—we—this isn’t—” Will simply shook his head, looking half-flustered, half-amused. “Beverly.”

She lifted her phone as though to snap a picture, but your death-glare dissuaded her. Still, she was positively glowing with smugness. “Alright, alright, I’ll let you have your privacy—just wanted to see if the machine had been refilled.”

Will turned to pick up his abandoned mug. “I think so,” he said as casually as possible. You, meanwhile, tried not to look like a teenager caught making out at prom. Beverly gave you a thumbs-up on her way out the door. “Carry on, lovebirds.”

Once the coast was clear, Will looked at you with amusement sparkling in his eyes. “I’d say we owe Beverly some kind of gift basket for pushing us together.”

You shook your head in exasperation, though you couldn’t hide your grin. “Yes, but also, she’s never going to let us live this down.” Will shrugged, leaning closer. “I think it’s worth the trade.” And then he placed a chaste kiss on the corner of your lips, making your heart flutter.

“Do you—would you like to go out tonight?” you asked, tucking a curl behind his ear. “Maybe somewhere that doesn’t involve stale coffee and the prying eyes of our coworkers?”

He smiled softly. “I’d love that. Actually, I know this cozy little restaurant near Wolf Trap. Good food, decent beer, and I’ve been dying to take you there.” Your smile widened. “Sounds like a plan.”

That night, you and Will exchanged suit jackets for something more casual, meeting up outside the FBI offices. The tension between you was still there, but it had softened into a warm, mutual understanding. You wanted each other—and not just physically, though that part was undeniably electric.

Over dinner, you laughed, you talked, you learned little details about each other that you’d never have gleaned from mere hallway small talk. And the glances—those heated, affectionate glances—spoke volumes about the things you’d do when you finally got some real privacy.

Before parting ways, you found yourselves tangled in a kiss beside Will’s car, the cool night air contrasting sharply with the fire coursing through your veins. Will’s arms draped around your shoulders, your hands found their customary place on his waist, traveling south to rest on those perfect curves once again. He hummed in approval, nipping at your lower lip.

You parted, breathless and smiling. “I can’t believe it took us so long,” you murmured, pressing your forehead against his.

Will’s eyes shone with affection. “Sometimes the best things are worth waiting for.” He paused, then added with a playful smirk, “But don’t think I’m done torturing you with these jeans at work.”

A laugh burst out of you, full of relief and excitement. “Torture away, Graham. Just don’t be surprised if I return the favor.”

[scarameownya]

so.... that ppgear post about niko growing old (immortal x mortal my beloved) how does wanderer cope? try to delay the inevitable, ignore it to the best of his ability, relish each moment w niko and trace every wrinkle that appears? please ;-; they won't leave my mind ;-;

oh no wanderer getting scared because history is about to repeat itself and he'll be left all alone nick + niko how you you do this to us all ;-; /lh

this question punch me in my gut and forced me to kneel, for i have to face my sin and see the truth (aka THIS MADE ME CRY FROM THINKING SOB //POS)

the moment he realized the inevitable, he tried to ignore it to the best of his ability, he tried to treat each day like normal, his hang outs with niko all the same and their dynamic never changed. at some point, wanderer thought, hah, why was he even worried in the first place ? he had went through it before, he's ready for it to hit...

but it's really is not that easy, the more days passed and the more he realized just how... visible the changes are, the dread settled down on his stomach, he's suddenly acutely aware of how many wrinkles are now on niko's hands-- they were visible on his eyes before but he, part denial maybe, also brushed it aside as him never getting enough sleep. but it's obvious... some people only believe what they can see, and right now for wanderer, all he can see is the actualization of how fast time had passed.

no matter how much he tried to delay the inevitable, telling niko to exercise more, eat more healthily, stop overworking himself, ect... at some point, people had even mistaken him as niko's grandson, something he had accidentally let his emotions taken over and yelled at them for... he knows he has no power to stop the progress.

the night that his fingers traced along one of the wrinkle lines on niko's hand, was when he started counting down the days.

the time niko passed away, he didn't cry, no tears, no reaction... just a blank face as he hold onto his hand. at this point, he thought he had did it, he was able to get over the loss of someone dearly closed to him with no problem, he thought he had finally managed to mastered his own emotions.

until he came back to their shared home, mekal behind the door, waiting for him to be alone so he can played niko's final audio messages to him.

when wanderer hear it, he couldn't help but laugh, the audio was full of mess ups, niko tripping and falling over, his words caught in his tongue and a small 'had to do this from the beginning... again' followed by a frustrated sigh and the whole message being read from the start again.

wanderer huffed, complaining about how the second time was barely audible without realizing the world around him had became deafening from how much tears that was falling from his eyes, how blurring everything had become even though the sun was still shining outside.

because the sun he was used to, the sun that he so desperately tried to deny he had loved the warmth of, had settled.

and he had to deal with the coldness of the night.

alone.

once again.

[furioussheepluminary]

𝐀𝐧𝐲𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭

Pairing: nerd!jisung x popular!afab!reader, secret friends, highschool!au, nonidol!au

Synopsis: it was just a tutoring class. Just. God, but the way he wanted you to be his...every time he saw you with the popular guys. He would make you know how much he needed you.

Warnings: secret friends because of reader's reputation, Jisung wants to be more, needy!jisung (I love me some of that), jealousy, severely suggestive, swearing

A/n: y'all should leave me alone I can't write smut so live with this 😭

The stuffed library was quiet for a Thursday afternoon, save for the occasional rustling of paper and muffled coughs. You sat in front of Jisung at one of the far tables, pen tapping against your notebook as he explained some theory in economics. The cost of production, was it? You really couldn’t care less about it. His voice was soft, a little shaky, and you know it had nothing to do with economics.

It was you. It was always you. you could tell by the way he would stare in every class, darting his eyes elsewhere while chewing the back of his pen when you caught onto him. When you walked past him and his weird friends at the cafeteria, you were certain one of them was ogling. When you had asked him to tutor you for the semester, he was impulsively acceptive. He came early to the locations, poured his heart out in the subjects you struggled with and always helped you do your assignments. Cute right? Yeah, but like, he wasn’t that important to you. And he knew unfortunately.

You glanced up from your paper, eyes narrowing at the way he kept fidgeting as he spoke. His pen hovered above his notebook, sketching a graph on something you couldn’t remember. Jisung smelled like faint chocolate and cedarwood, his hair falling over his glasses as he furrowed his brows. He was cute, cute, sweet and nerdy in a way your friends would never understand. They also never understood why you even talked to Jisung. He looked up at you.

“Did you understand me?” Your eyes met. You blinked blankly at then smiled. “No, baby I think you have to explain it to me one more time. I just love the sound of your voice honestly.” He blushed and looked down.

“You need to stop doing that.” He looked at his notebook, pushing his glasses back into position.

You pouted. “Stop doing what?”

“Lying.”

You were confused. Jisung would normally blush and play along with your stupid flirting. In fact, he would take them seriously. “You okay, Sungie?” you asked acting less concerned about his reaction. “Aren’t you meant to be giggling and blushing and all that?”

His jaw clenched, and for a second, you thought he wouldn’t answer. But then he turned to you eyes flickering with something raw and desperate that it made you straighten your posture.

“No,” he muttered, voice rough. “I’m not okay.”

Your brow furrowed. “Why? You not feeling well or something?”

Its not that. Oh, hell no it wasn’t. He was alive and well. Well enough to see you today dressed in his hair color, clothing that obviously wasn’t allowed as uniform. Well enough to drown himself in his perfume for you. Well enough rehearse his greetings and awful jokes to you four times in the mirror. He was so well he had enough strength to literally jack off to the thought of how your skirt rode up when you sat with your girls during lunch. But he couldn’t tell you how much of a pervert he’d been for you. That’s disgusting. He wanted to be a good boy. Your good boy. You had told him that the relationship between the two of you— if it ws even fit to be called a relationship, was strictly professional and secret. None of your friends had to know he was tutoring you. Oh, and how he hated being your secret. He didn’t want to be your secret anymore. And that? That was the problem.

“Look, Jisung,” you sighed, leaning back in your chair. “I get that this whole tutor-friend thing is confusing for you, but let’s not make it weird, okay? You here to teach and I’m here to learn.”

His hand clenched around his pen, knuckles whitening. You could see the tension radiating off him, and for a second, you wondered if you'd crossed a line.

"Weird?" Jisung repeated, voice low and taut. "You're the one making it weird.” Your brows furrowed. "What’s that supposed to mean?"

He rolled his eyes and dropped the pen."It means I can't keep doing this." His voice cracked, frustration spilling into every syllable. "Sitting here, pretending I'm okay with being invisible to you outside this library—like I'm just your little nerdy helper while you go out there and let everyone else see the side of you I want.”

You want? Hold up, what?

"Jisung—”

"I like you," he cut you off, voice trembling. "I have for a long time, okay? But you don't care. You don’t even see me that way.”

Oh. Well you didn't expect him to be that blunt about it. But then again you weren't really surprised at his approach. You'd always known he had a thing for you. He always wore his heart on his sleeve. But you couldn't let it matter. C’mon you had a reputation to keep up. Imagine the how the whole school would look at you if they found out you were dating Jisung.

"All I asked for was tutoring, Jisung. I didn't ask for this," you said coolly, folding your arms across your chest. "You're the one who keeps making it complicated.” His breath hitched, and for a second, you thought he'd back down. But then he leaned forward, voice low and rough with desperation.

"Yeah? Well, maybe I don’t care anymore."

The fire in his eyes made your stomach twist, a flicker of guilt gnawing at your insides. He looked different—less timid, more desperate. Like he was ready to snap.

“You don't care? You do realize my grades are on the line right? Don't push it, Jisung.” You spoke, your tone raising a bit.

A hint of regret flashed in his eyes. No no no. He's sorry, he does care. Really, he does.

But he has to prove his point now. He laughed bitterly, shaking his head. "God, do you even realize what you do to me? The way you talk, the way you dress, how you look at me with that stupid smile when you want something... It drives me insane." His voice cracked, and he squeezed his eyes shut for a second, like he was trying to pull himself together.

You opened your mouth to respond, but he wasn’t done.

"And then you hang out with them." His voice softened, breaking into a raw whisper. "Those fucked up jocks who knows nothing about you. Guys who get to be seen with you. They touch your arm, laugh with you, and look at you like they own you." He swallowed hard, lips trembling. "And I’m just... here. Invisible. The guy you only call when you need help with homework.”

He saw you with them? You never took those boys seriously you'd just hang out with them.

“Jisung, it’s not like that—”

Don’t lie to me," he cut you off, eyes shimmering. "I know what I am to you. A secret. Someone who doesn't matter. But God, I wish I didn’t care." His voice shook as he leaned closer, his need palpable. "I wish I could stop thinking about how your skirt rides up when you sit, or how your perfume stays on my hoodie after we sit here for hours.”

You felt your face heat, heart racing at the bluntness of his confession. He's been looking at your skirt?

"And I hate it," he added desperately. "I hate that I want you this much, even when you make me feel like I’m nothing." His breath hitched. "But I still want you.”

Oh, fuck. None of the dudes you dated were ever this blunt. Or this cautious. The vulnerability in his voice made your defenses waver. You’d always liked the power you held over him—the way he was yours to command in this little bubble. But now? Now, it felt like that power was slipping through your fingers.

"Jisung..." you began, unsure of what to say.

He exhaled shakily. "Just tell me what to do," he whispered, voice raw with need. "You want me to stop tutoring you? Fine I'll stop. You want me to leave you alone? Heck, you won't even see me anymore. You want me to embarrass myself in front of the whole school? I'll do whatever you want if it means I can have a piece of you. Please."

The desperation in his words hung between you, suffocating and electric. And for the first time, you weren’t sure if you could keep pretending this was just tutoring. Jisung has always been harmless— cute, eager to please, a bit to obvious with his feelings. But this? This was raw, desperate and far too real. And it made you uncomfortable.

He was good for you.

“Jisung you need to understand the kind of lives we have, are different.”

Lies. Fucking lies.

He looked like you’d punched him in the gut. "So that’s it?" he asked quietly, voice cracking. "You don’t care? Not even a little?”

You bit your lip an squeezed your eyes. Man, fuck your reputation.

Jisung's face was flushed, his chest rising and falling with uneven breaths. His eyes glistened, filled with frustration and need that tugged at something deep inside you. You hated it—hated how he made you feel like you were losing control. But more than that, you hated the way your body reacted to his vulnerability. The way your pulse thrummed at the thought of wiping that hurt expression off his face in a way that words couldn't.

"Come with me," you whispered suddenly, grabbing his wrist.

"W-What?" he stammered, but you didn’t give him a chance to protest. You pulled him up from his chair, weaving through the rows of bookshelves until you found a secluded corner hidden from prying eyes.

"Y/N— What are you doing?!"

You shoved him back against the bookshelf, your breath hot and heavy. His eyes widened, shock flickering across his face.

"Destroying my reputation. Is this what you wanted?" you whispered, your voice low and daring. "Is this what you've been craving, Jisung?"

He swallowed hard, his lips parting as if to respond, but no sound came out. His silence only fueled you further.

"Answer me," you demanded, your body pressing against his. "Y-Yeah," he choked out, his voice breaking. "God, yeah."

You didn't wait. Your lips crashed against his, fierce and unapologetic. His gasp melted into a needy whimper as he clung to you, his hands trembling as they gripped your waist. The sweet taste of him mixed with desperation, and it ignited something reckless inside you. His glasses tilted awkwardly, and you pulled back just long enough to yank them off, tossing them onto the nearby shelf. "Better," you murmured against his lips before kissing him again.

Jisung whimpered, the sound raw and needy as he tilted his head to deepen the kiss. His fingers dug into your hips, like he was afraid you'd pull away. But you weren't going anywhere—not right now.

"You drive me crazy," he whispered against your mouth, as you bit down on his lower lip. He shuddered, pressing harder against you. "I want you," he admitted breathlessly. "God, I want you so bad.” Your heart raced, his desperation feeding your own wild energy. His words melted any resolve you had left. You nipped at his lip, pulling a soft gasp from him, before you trailed kisses down his jawline.

“You really do like being my secret, huh?” You teased against his skin. “Only mine?”

He groaned, his voice thick with need “Yes. Please—just—” You chuckled breathlessly. “Yeah? Is this what you've been thinking about when your supposed to be tutoring me?”

His face flushed, but he didn't deny it. “Yes,” he admitted hoarsely. “Every damn time.”

The rawness in his voice ignited something in you. You silenced him with another kiss, not caring about the library, the rules, or what anyone would think if they saw you. Right now, there was only Jisung, entirety and desperately yours.

yay! Second one! I swear all your gonna get from me are heated moments and all. I can't write smut for the life of me 😭. Han's one of my wreckers so I see myself writing for him more.

Taglist:

@pixie-felix @pessimisticloather

If you'd like to be added you can drop your blog name in my asks!

~kc 💗

[spotaus]

Hehe, you flatter me!!!

Yes! This is low-key Error's first real introduction to tye plot as of now, so I had to re-establish his behavior a little! He's like... obnoxiously happy to share his stuff, all the time, and it shows!!

And ough, I'm so so glad the vibes played out there because that's exactly the energy I was going for with the food, haha! (He's suddenly in a very secure and safe location, feeling good about himself, and has very little worries? AND he doesn't have to eat Geno's bad cooking? He'll yeag 🙏)

Yes! At first I was going to have him overreact, but Error has seen a LOT of weird stuff in his life, and heard a lot of stories, and frankly Nightmare's new look didn't strike him as an issue. (And if it *was* something he wasn't supposed to see. Well. He was decent at playing off those encounters too lol-)

I wasn't sure how intense I wanted to go with his reaction, so I went with the gut feeling of 'oh, that's not good'. Because like. Geno used to tell Error all sorts of horror stories from magic mishaps from his school, or in the market, or from the past. The academy had certain magic studies banned for those reasons too. And. Idk how much I want to focus on it. But Geno didn't always have that giant wound in his skull. I almost like to think that what made him the way he is now was him playing around with altering his magic typing.

I'm thinking that back before even Fresh was around, Geno had realized that his magic could be stronger if he just learned to use other magic, like humans could. Amd the way he sees magic like gems? He'd cobble together haphazard crystals, each one with a different make-up, texture, and ofc spell behind them. They were unrefined, and not clean. And then it occurred to him that Diamonds reflect all the colors! So maybe... and yeah, I think this idiot baby boy tried to make a spell with all the magic types fused into one, but obviously he was just a little guy! The strain on his developing soul was too much and he burnt out his right eyelight. His soul, already about half a normal soul, crystallized and chucked away, leaving him with his soul 'shard'.

And Error doesn't know the full story, but Geno had warned him away from playing with different magic types when he was alone. (BTW Geno did end up figuring out how to make crystals. They just require an ungodly amount of patience and perfect concentration for like. Several days. Pressure all at once backfires, slowly applied pressure works wonders.)

Sorry, sidetracked! But yes! Error knows that it's not good, abd that it hurts, and the he doesn't like it! But it's not his place to step in because Night's not doing it alone, and he assumes there must be good reason if someone like Ccino isn't stopping him. (When Nightmare literally told no one how much it hurts abd strains him so they just don't know lmao-)

Hehehe!!!! I took a page put of you bookeith that section! I wanted to delve a bit deeper into how Error sees his magic, abd like you said, he needed to try it out himself to try and understand! I feel like Error's always a hands-on learner, and when words fail him, physical things won't!

And yeag. I think the house was usually pretty empty, but when Geno came home for breaks he'd fill a shelf with his books to study. And Error isn't a book guy, but a skim would've been more helpful than his current nothingburger worth of knowledge lol!

!!!!! I genuinely could not come up with a way to present the vibes Error had but! Yes!! He saw Nightmare frfr being just like him. Someone talented, someone special in a way people weren't prepared for (bro does NOT get that Night actually has -3 intelligence coming to Magic now) and he's thrilled! Another person in the same boat as him!

Yes, the offer! Technically, Nightmare already offered for Ccino to leave. (I don't think he ever asks the Knights directly, but he hints at it. Those first few missions after his change being solo ones, a chance to run) but Error is the first person he believes might take it. He could go anywhere, Night would sponsor him, and it would be easy as that. But Night forgets that Error is opinionated. (And stubborn, and he hates drastic change.) Error made his choice that a day to become a Mage. He broke rules to get here, he sat through Night's lectures to get here! He's not just giving that all up now! Protection is never something he believes he needs, he's the danger to everyone else, frankly. He's staying whether the King likes it or not!!!

And yeag!! Nightmare was scared! He had spiraled after Error fled his office and was sure that Error would run away, or hate him, or (worst of all) decide to rebel. Despite Ccino calming him down, he was sure Error was going to leave. Nightmare thought he was going to fail Error. But! When Error so stubbornly claimed loyalty, Nightmare couldn't help but cry! He was an emotional kid before, he's one now. And Error! He's not used to people crying (not like Fresh or Geno did much of it) but he used to get comforted by Geno a lot when he'd come back from market or school and get so mad he would cry. And Geno used to tell him it was alright, relate to it. So Error does the same here! (<- Geno was emotionally constipated about romance, but he's got brothering down to an art!)

The balcony!!! That stupid lil fireworks gun was going to be my final scene whether I wanted it to be or not! Error made something entirely for fun for once, and it was to be thoughtful towards the king! The King he didn't even know was young again! And he shut his trap for once to just enjoy tye silence. Not many people can get him to do that haha!

New Age AU Drabble (Lonely)

Hello everyone!! Welcome to the next drabble I swore I was going to write! This one I'm very fond of, because it involves the two who kickstarted this whole thing, the King and his Royal Mage (in-training)-

This happens some time after Nightmare's reversal to his new age, so it's basically the next one in chronological order for the main story drabbles!

@ancha-aus @mutzelputz @papiliovolens Hi guys!! Welcome back :)

Ping

Error glanced up from his project when the little tingle of his magic blinked into his awareness. Someone’s outside? He looked over at the heavy door that separated the cool space of his study from the stairs which led down to the main floors of the castle. On his end, it was absolutely tangled in blue wires, like his own little spider web. Though, to be fair, the rest of the room wasn’t faring much better. He’d certainly taken the chance to make the space his. The king had told him to, after all! Much better than the tidy room his brothers always made him help clean…

Blue strings lashed out from the ceiling and wrapped around his current project, wrapping securely around it before tugging it, his knitting needles, and the notes he had scattered all up into the loft space shrouded in shadow above him. It was just a lot safer to keep all his projects up there, out of his way until he needed them. Out of sight of his rare visitors. He couldn’t show them something that wasn’t ready! That would be embarrassing! Not Royal Wizard behavior at all. 

As his project rose, Error rolled onto his back, popping his spine before making an effor to stand up himself. How long had he been laying there? Normally he’d have been up in one of his hammocks, but this project required he keep it level until a later step, so he’d decided that the soft rug on the floor and a few blankets would have to suffice. Had it been an hour or two? Knowing him, probably much longer. He didn’t like pulling back the curtains, his strings didn’t glow in the darkness if he did. Infusing magic worked a lot easier for him in the dark.

He glanced to the door again. Thirty seconds and there hadn’t been any more pings? It had to be someone he actually halfway wanted to see, then. Darn. 

Error crossed the space, stepping over a few loose supplies, and around a few of his hanging strings, until he came to the door. As much as he wished he could ignore this person, he knew better. So, he gripped the solid iron handle and swung the door inwards towards him. 

Stood outside on the landing of the stairs was Sir Dust. 

He wasn’t an unwelcome sight, but he definitely wasn’t an expected one either. Lately, it’d been that Ccino guy showing up to his door unannounced, bringing him meals or just checking in on him. Sir Dust had been there the day he was hired, the knight doing his best to encourage Error to not make stupid, rash choices. Fortunately, given that chance to think, Error had been able to return with a smart and rash choice instead! Which, might he add, landed him this sweet gig for royalty. That was why, when Dust came around, Error didn’t turn him away. His magic was powerful, and despite being small, he was really cool. 

“Error.” Sir Dust greeted. “Brought dinner. Ccino’s been busy.” 

Sir Dust was always blunt. Even that first day they met, when he’d spoken more than a few words he’d seemed strained. Uncomfortable. He was comfortable here in his home territory. 

And, he wasn’t lying! Error hadn’t even noticed it, but when he looked down, his eyelights honed in on the plate held easily in one of Dust’s hands, and a jug held in the other to his side. 

Error was quick to lean out the doorway with a grin and snatch up the plate, careful not to make contact with Dust’s hands. He’d abandoned his glasses somewhere behind him in the room, so he had to raise the plate closer to his face before he recognized the contents. 

“Noodles, sweet!” He half-whispered to himself. 

His hand moved, gesturing out towards Dust. More of his strings shot past, from somewhere in the room, and clutched the jug before tugging it back inside with a flick of Error’s free hand. 

“Ccino told me to tell you: Drink that water. You’ll get dehydrated.” Dust voiced, watching unbothered as the jug was tugged back and out of his view. 

Error glanced up at him, and scoffed. Ccino had been doing his best to get Error to drink more tea with him because tea had water. Error was fine! He didn’t need as much water or food as an average monster, it was normal! Besides, he’d forget about it anyways. 

“Okay. Thanks!” he said anyways. Though, it was mostly thanks for the food. Error loved when Ccino made noodles. They were always buttery, and Error wasn’t sure how he always made something that looked so bland taste so good. …Now his mouth was watering. Maybe he was a little hungry after all. 

Error waited for Dust to start making his decent back down the stairs, but when he saw the monster was still stood still and quiet, he raised a brow. Was there something else? Had to be. He hoped Dust didn’t want inside. Error had all the plans to devour this food and then dive headfirst back into his project. He didn’t want to be distracted. 

“One more message.” Dust said, watching Error. His white eyelights were clear under his hood. Error didn’t think he was wearing his mask, but even with the soft glow from his web of strings he couldn’t tell in the shadows. Didn’t matter to him either way. 

“King Nightmare’s rescheduling your next… report.” Dust said plainly.

At that, Error felt his soul stop a bit in his chest. “Why?” He asked without thinking. The King had been listening and seemed interested during his last report! He’d made a lot of progress since then too, finished one of them enough that they could test it! The King had said he was excited to see it! Surely he hadn’t been tossed aside so quickly?

Dust seemed unphased by his demand of an answer. 

“The King is just taking time to rest. Last project wore him out.” Dust explained, before he added, “Ccino’s orders. Like drinking your water.” 

Error couldn’t tell, not really, but he was pretty sure the knight was grinning at that last part. Ha ha, very funny. Though, he wasn’t wrong. Error was pretty sure the entire castle knew that Ccino guy was in charge of keeping the King in check. Heck, when he’d first been brought in, the King looked worried about introducing him to that Ccino. Error never knew why, they’d gotten along great! 

But, if it was Ccino telling the King to take a break? He figured that the King was probably listening. Fair enough. His soul calmed down a little at the rationalization. 

“Oh, alright.” Error said finally, “Do you… know when he’ll want the next report by, then?” 

He could still plan, right? Maybe it was only a few days. 

“Mm, pretty sure Ccino said next month? Gotta catch up on some things. You live here.” Dust replied. 

Oh. Okay. Hmm. That was… a lot longer than he’d been hoping for. He could probably manage, though. Keep chugging away at his current project, maybe have time to draft a new one. Bigger? But, wait, the King wanted him to propose any bigger ones to him first. Supposedly he’d be allowed unlimited creative liberties, it was more so if something exploded he’d know what happened, but still. He didn’t want to break the few rules he had. Old projects then! Make them the best ever! 

He blinked in surprise when the little ping tingled in his skull. 

Dust had turned around without him noticing, a hand extended to just barely nudge one of his hanging strings. He didn’t look back as he spoke. 

“Gotta get back to rounds. G’night Error.” He said.

Error watched, disoriented for a second, before he nodded to himself. 

“Good night, Sir Dust!” He returned hurriedly.

He watched as the knight started moving, and entirely silently he descended the steps. Only when he had turned the curve out of sight and his shadow disappeared from the wall where torches below cast it, did he pull the door shut and return inside his room. 

His steps echoed against the stone floor until he returned to the cushioned rug, and then moved even further past that to one of his low-hanging hammocks. 

It was tucked beside a bookshelf that the King had let him stock with whatever books he liked from the library during his first week. The room had been cold and bare, obviously unlived in for a while, and Error didn’t exactly have a lot to move in. Just his spare clothes, the (now empty) pouch he’d been using to store his coin, and the dolls. He’d refused to remove those from his bag until he was alone, though, so he’d really had nothing to call his own. The King had given him the opportunity to collect items like books from the library, had let him choose some items from an incoming shipment of trading goods, and had sent someone to buy any equipment Error might need to advance his magic and creations. 

And, for the most part, Error was very self-sufficient. He’d had time to knit himself new clothes, and blankets, and decorate the room entirely with his magic. He spent a lot of time up in the high ceiling too, it was where he kept his dolls, and the projects, and all his important belongings. Everyone once in a while, though, he liked the bookshelf wall. Especially when he was eating. It was just easier to remember not to just hang up the plate among his projects. 

Ccino’s cooking was always delicious, Error would never not look forward to a meal made by him, even if it was the lamest sounding food ever. He’d managed to make brussel sprouts tolerable. A feat, honestly. The tastiness and warmth that spread through him couldn’t distract him from his worries, though. 

Error knew he’d have to work hard to make sure the King was impressed. But also not too bothered by it. He knows his explosive spells used to make his professors and tutors angry, and while the King had been nice about it so far, if he was tired? Error wouldn’t want to push the limits. But if he was too simply about it or lackluster, the King might be upset he was wasting his time? Ohhh. At least he had a month to work and try things out before then. Hopefully he could have an idea at that point. Hopefully. 

…

Ten days. 

Error had given it about 5 days after the time that the report was originally meant to happen, five days after Dust told him it’d been rescheduled, before he felt like he might go stir-crazy. Not because he was worried, but because of the exact opposite. He had his few other ongoing projects, mostly if not entirely completed, up to the King’s review. But he’d also developed another, newer, concept that he just knew would brighten the King’s mood. 

Dust had been the one periodically bringing him food still, he hadn’t seen Ccino, and Error didn’t dare pry too far. All he’d been told was that the King was still swamped with duties and was locking himself in his study to complete his duties. 

Now, Error was not one to talk about unhealthy work ethic, not in the slightest, but he figured it couldn’t be fun. The things the King was doing weren’t exciting or engaging like Error’s projects were, they were all papers and about talking to people. Error dreaded the idea of sitting alone in a room, trying to figure out something stupid like which roads a guy should walk or what people thought of him. Sounded stressful. 

So, Error had made something to make the King feel less bad! Less cooped up! 

Originally he had wanted to wait until his report, but he’d been so invested in making this that it’d only taken him a day, and his miniature prototypes had worked perfectly, so the larger one was ready in just a day or two! He’d really really tried to convince himself to be patient but… The King had liked him because he was bold! And did things he didn’t expect! And Error didn’t want to lose that reputation. If the King wouldn’t come to him, he’d just go to the King! 

That was the thought process, of course, which had led him to the entryway to the King’s royal wing. Then past it and the guards standing watch. Then to standing right infront of the door to the King’s study. 

He knew it was the study because he’d been inside once before. The King usually met with him up in the tower, but they had met down in his study once, to talk about the revised contract. It had been a long, boring conversation which involved the King asking Error to repeat his words back to him at certain points (the King had caught him spacing out several times, but never scolded him) to make sure he was actually listening. Something about making sure Error was safe and had other options? The King seemed super serious about making sure Error was okay, just because he was a kid, but he wasn’t a kid anymore! He was 13 by the time he signed, basically a whole adult! 

But, point is, Error had spent at least an hour or two in there listening to the King talk. He knew where this room was. 

Staring at the door was… a little imposing. What was his plan again? Burst inside? 

Yeah. If he knocked, someone would send him away. Just like at the try-outs. He had to just commit and walk in. The King had said in the contract that Error was always welcome to come to him if he needed something. And right now? Error needed his attention. 

He reached out, grabbing the big handle in one hand as he clutched his satchel with the other. He twisted it, and the moment it processed that it wasn’t locked, he pushed it inwards and slipped inside. He blindly shut it in his wake, just in-case someone tried to push him outside. 

Leaning against the door, his eyelights shot around to take in the room. 

No one was charging at him, and no one was rushing to yell at him. Good. Good. He-

“Error?” 

Well that wasn’t a voice he recognized! 

Error abandoned his skim of the room to search for the origin of the voice, and found himself staring wide-eyed at a monster across the room. This monster was a skeleton, their bones white, they seemed short, and skinny, and their one socket was wide in surprise with a single cyan eyelight, the other empty and seemingly gone dark. They stared at each-other. 

This odd skeleton, Error noticed, wore the King’s clothes. To a tee, the cloak, the shirt, the pants. The shoes looked different, but the pants covered them enough that Error couldn’t quite tell on a quick glance. That, and this skeleton had the King’s circlet resting on their skull, crescent moon plastered right in the center of their forehead. 

Error would’ve doubted the conclusion his mind came to, if it weren’t for the fact that he noticed this skeleton was not the only other one in the room. A quick glance revealed that Ccino was sat nearby to the skeleton, resting on one of the chairs around the coffee table. Error had been able to pick up that Ccino didn’t relax much at all. Especially not around strangers. 

“King Nightmare?” He asked back, staring at the monster across the room still. 

The way the monster seemed to flinch at the title told Error he was right. This was the King! 

A lot of questions flooded his mind, but they were beat-out by a sudden flood of curiosity. He hurried across the room, rapidly approaching the King, until they were stood just a few feet apart. He didn’t even notice Ccino’s worried ‘ah, ah wait-’ or the way the King had to refrain from stepping away. He just saw his suspicions were correct. 

“You’re… shorter.” He voiced, stupidly. 

He wasn’t wrong! The King was now shorter than him by at least half a head! Before the mass of dark magic that was the King had been taller than him by a lot, and he was tall for his age, but now! Now he was tiny! He wasn’t sure what to do with this information besides be delighted. He was used to being taller than people, but taller than a king? Now that was more his speed!

It took a few seconds for it to finally hit Error that the King did… not look happy. He didn’t look mad, but Error knew that was not an expression people would give when they were happy. His brows were furrowed a bit, his mouth tugged down ever so slightly at the corners, his shoulders were tense. 

“I- Yes, I am a bit… shorter. Than usual.” The King replied, “May I ask why you’re, ah, here, Mage Error?” 

Error blinked at him for a second. Right! He was here for a reason! 

“Oh! I just finished a lot of my projects, and I know that the report was rescheduled, but I made something I thought you would really like, and I…” He trailed off a moment as he realized Nightmare was staring at him. Had he done something wrong? 

Nightmare was still watching him, but seemed more alarmed that Error had stopped talking. He wasn’t sure he liked being able to read the King’s expressions like this. Usually, the king had a poker-face worthy of a family game night, only breaking when he was pleased and smiled. Now his expressions were so obvious even Error could read them. It was strange. 

“...Please, continue. A project?” The King seemed to catch himself and prompted. His expression schooled again, though it looked like he had to put in some effort. Eyelight flickering away from Error before shooting back to him. 

Error hesitated for a second, but ultimately continued. 

“I just… Thought that if I came to find you it wouldn’t take too long to show you, and then you wouldn’t be stuck doing just all your paperwork all day.” He was a bit more reserved than he’d meant to be when he presented the idea, both his hands now clutching the strap on his satchel. “I mean. If you’re that busy I can always. I can come back.” He paused again, “Or I- I- I can wait until my report day. Like I… probably should have.” 

He didn’t like the way his voice had stuttered and lagged at the end as he became more uncertain. He glanced over at Ccino. 

The older skeleton was watching between them wordlessly, looking a lot more tense than when Error had first seen him. Like he was waiting for something to happen. His eyelights were plastered on the King. Who was staring at Error intently. 

“Is this project something which you could share inside the study? I… wasn’t intending on leaving my hall today.” the King asked him in an oddly gentle tone. His voice slowed the same way as usual, but it was strange to hear it in such a high voice. 

Error’s hands wrung the strap of his satchel as he thought. “It’s. Ah. Explosive. It’d have to be outside.” He admitted in defeat. He hadn’t thought about the possibility that the King might not want to abandon his work to go look at Error’s spells. Thinking back, they did probably all look pretty silly to the King. He was really good at magic. Just like Dust was. “It can wait.” he added briefly. 

The silence that followed only lasted a second or two, enough for Error to furrow his brow and feel that little hint of indignation that used to plague him, the one that made him so mad at everyone. What was he thinking? He was good at magic too! Maybe not as good as the King, but certainly he was powerful, his magic wasn’t bad or a waste. Those instructors back at the academy were wrong, he knew so, he had to stop thinking about what they’d thought of him.

Error found himself glaring at the floor when a sound snapped his attention upwards. A fizzling sound and a little groan from the King. The King had gripped his skull, covering the socket with the cyan eyelight and turning away from Error’s view in a snap. 

That fizzling noise had sounded… unhealthy, to put it plainly. It didn’t help that Ccino finally spoke up, a little ‘My King?’ worriedly ringing out from the chair where Ccino had planted himself. The King had hunched himself forwards a bit to clutch at his socket, like he was trying to hold in pain. 

Was… was the king sick? Was that why he looked like this? Initially he’d assumed the dark energy had been a glamor. Some kind of magical enhancement to shield him, to make him more fearsome, even to cover up stunted growth. This must’ve been what he looked like normally, right? But. If that were true, the King would’ve just called it back onto his person or had Ccino usher him out. If he was sick, though? He might not be able to control that magic. Might be limited in its output, or even barred from access…

Error would’ve asked him, but his eyes moved curiously to the mirror instead. The reflection gave Error a perfect view of the King’s other side. The way the magic in his palm was flickering and sparking. Between- Between colors. The cyan Error was familiar with, and a soft purple that he’d never seen. 

He must’ve been right, on some level, because he realized it. He couldn’t sense the King’s magic. 

Or, at least, he couldn’t sense any magic that was active. The King’s magic worked like an aura, at least as far as Error had seen of it. Wide-spread, curling around anyone and anything it liked like a vine, and strangling what it didn’t like a noose. He wasn’t as good at seeing magic or feeling it as his brother, but he knew when a magical signature was missing, and he could feel familiar ones. The magic that the King was using to make his eyelight flicker? It was familiar, if only faintly, but it wasn’t his normal magic. Not by a longshot. There was very little intent, and what there was felt. Strange. Desperate, almost. 

“It’s alright. I’m fine, just a hiccup.” The King said, clearly responding to Ccino. 

It took a few deep breaths before the King righted himself, and Error watched as he peeked at the mirror first. He saw that the King’s eyelight was cyan again, but only partly. The bottom portion was still that lavender, and he hissed under his breath before covering his socket with his hand again. 

That same fizzling noise again, but muffled. Error watched, clearly, as the King’s face momentarily contorted with pain, before going still again. 

That couldn’t be healthy, whatever he was doing. His brother had told him all sorts of horror stories about things going wrong with magic at his academy. People who would change their appearance, and they would do it poorly, with adverse effects on their body. He got a chill.

“I- I- can wait. The project can wait.” Error muttered over the sound of that magic fizzling and popping over the King’s socket. 

He didn’t waste any time, even as he was pretty sure the King turned to call him back. He was already to the door, and then out of the door, and then hurrying down the hall. 

No one in the castle actually cared what he was up to, so he wasn’t exactly careful as he hurried down the halls and back to the tall tower which was his. When he passed the entryway, hsi strings caught his arms and tugged him up and over the dozens of spiraling stairs, straight to his doorway. He practically spun inside and retreated to the rafters among his projects to disperse the ones he’d placed into his satchel. 

…

It was childish, but Error felt faint about what he’d seen. He wasn’t sure why, but his head hurt just thinking about it. Altering appearance wasn’t something unheard of, or even really frowned about in his circles. But the magic the King had been doing was unfamiliar and strange. Not just something to alter the appearance of his magic, but something else. Something that was unnatural.

He tugged a string directly from his socket as he hung alone in the rafters, and saw the way that it hung from his fingertips. Blue, a deep one. Monster souls shouldn’t have traits, most didn’t, at least not the way human souls do. Magic, however, tends to manifest in a way that reflects its owner. Error had seen the way a white soul produced bright red magic. His own manifested as a dark blue. Integrity, he’d been told. It was reflecting on how he saw himself as well, he never gave up, he always walked his own path. Those who’d met him could certainly vouch for that. 

As far as he’d known, the King’s magic was cyan. Somewhere between Patience and Kindness, which made sense to him. The King had certainly been kind, offering him this job despite the rules, and he was patient too. Letting Error go on and on and on about his creations. He’d never doubted that those were accurate traits. Now, though? Now the King seemed to be sporting Purple. Purple was not a color which Error had ever seen from him. And it seemed the King must’ve thought the same thing of himself.

Error took a breath as he moved the string so it sat hovering between his index finger and his thumb, the ends clinging with residual, pliable, magic. With his other hand, he pinched the end nearest to his thumb and closed his eyes. 

He didn’t think about it often, but his strings were just that, made up of plenty of little threads, all woven together in just the right way which pleased Error. Texture and thickness which he liked and relied on to hold his weight, keep his projects secure, it was unlike any threads seen in the rest of the world. All his own. It’d taken him time to perfect it, though. Each new string, a new pattern and new density, until a few years ago when he’d figured it out. If he was right, though, he could mimic other styles. Other existing patterns. Other existing colors of magic.

He let his grip slide an inch or so down the string, concentrating as the fibers snapped and rearranged themselves. He furrowed his brow as he recalled the method to make a rope, the braids and twists and tension involved. Each strand felt like he was mentally moving a ten pound weight, and his concentration wavered when he realized his fingers were growing warm. Then, a few more seconds, another inch, and it felt like his fingertips would burst into flame. He hissed and opened his eyes, retracting his hand to see what sort of abomination he’d made. 

Half the string was still that familiar deep blue, but the portion near his thumb was a bright yellow. Thick, three times as thick as the blue, and with the appearance of a rope. It trembled and shook with tension, the portion where Error had given up being a strange and ugly, frayed mass of blue and yellow strands, some portions a muddled green at the exact mid-point. 

The sight made Error wince, and he pulled his fingers apart, the frayed portion snapping easily. The blue strand fell limp into his palm, while the yellow strand began to unravel. Quickly. LIttle chunks of burnt-out thread exploded like confetti, turning white or back to that blue color. It spun and spun until Error was left with little chunks of blue magic thread stuck to the fabric of his shirt and floating to the floor below him. The yellow magic he’d imbued, all the intent pushed behind it, wasn’t nearly enough to keep it steady or in place. Even if he’d finished the entire strand and burnt his fingers to do it, it wouldn’t have held up a small rock, let alone anything important. It was useless.

His little test, he realized, didn’t even cover the severity of the situation. He’d used strings, something he’d removed from his person. The King was doing that… to his own socket. 

How long had he been doing that? If Cyan wasn’t his natural magic, how much strain had he been under? For how long? 

It was none of his business, he reminded himself. The King was an adult, with a lot of advisors and strong magic users and people like Ccino. He had people who would tell him to stop. Error didn’t have the whole picture, surely. It wasn’t his place to worry about it. It just… rubbed him the wrong way. It bothered him. 

…And now he had two things to sulk about. Great. 

…

Ping

There it was again. 

Honestly, Error hadn’t expected anyone to come to see him again so soon. It’d hardly been a few hours since he attempted to visit the King, and it must’ve been dark by now. Who was coming up past dinner time? 

He eased himself down from where he’d placed himself in the rafters, and stood in front of his large door for a second, before opening it up to peek out. 

And. Outside, in the dimly lit corridor, was… The King. 

Or, at least, it looked like the King? Same clothes, same height as he’d seen earlier in the day, and his eyelight was cyan once again. Only, this time he couldn’t see the King’s expressions. He was wearing a mask. Error had to blink to process it. An owl, round and dark, with big eye holes right at the right level for the King’s sockets. It reminded Error a little bit of the fluffy owls he used to see outside his window, the ones just barely out the nest still losing their fluffy baby feathers. Was… Was it heresy to think the King was small and cute? Probably. Very absurd thought, compared to the haunting dark mass he usually was. Maybe that was why he disguised?

“Mage Error,” The King greeted, voice calm as it usually was, “I am aware that this is an impromptu visit, but may I come in? I realize I did not attend to you as I should have earlier, and I wish to rectify this mistake.” His cyan eyelight watched upwards, and Error stared down at him for a moment through the crack in the door. 

He glanced past him, too. But it seemed like the King was entirely alone. Just like he tended to be. 

Error swung open the door, pulling himself out of the way along with it. It wasn’t like he was going to say no to the King, but he wasn’t nearly as excited as usual. What should he do? Say? Obviously something was up with the King, but was Error supposed to say anything? Or was the King just here to make sure Error stayed out of trouble? Adults did that a lot back in the day when he got on their nerves. 

His thoughts persisted as the King entered the space. Error shut the door behind him and watched idly for a breath. The King was moving oddly. Like he was faint. His steps were just ever so slightly uneven and he seemed to wobble ever so slightly as he moved to sit at the unoccupied chair before Error’s desk. What was wrong with him? 

Error started moving, shifting away the items he’d once again strewn out on the floor back to the shadows of the rafters, and instead lowering a set of strings which held his hammock and a wooden board he much preferred to a table. The King watched as the items lowered, just like he always did, but the table was empty as Error hoisted himself to sit on the edge of the hammock across from the ruler. 

“You… have questions, right?” Nightmare voiced.

The King was looking at the empty surface suspended before the both of them, and Error realized he hadn’t even moved to gather his projects. For some reason he was hesitant to bring them up again. 

“Can I? Ask you stuff?” Error questioned uncertainly. “Adults usually don’t like when I start asking questions.” He admitted. 

The King looked up to him, before he sighed and nodded. “Ask anything you like.”

That was… an odd allowance. Error wasn’t used to that either. Usually the King was the one letting him talk, and talk, and talk, and his questions had never been about. Well. The King himself. Just about the knights, or the tapestries, or the food. Never about the King. 

“Why are you small?” The burning question was the one he had to get out of his head. He had theories, but the King was the only one who could confirm or deny them. 

The King was quiet for a brief second, before he brought a hand to his mask. It hovered there as he chuckled, though to Error it sounded a lot more like a giggle.

“It is a… complicated story. I’m still not quite sure myself, but I will share with you what I know as to how I came to be this way.” The King moved a hand behind his skull, tucking it beneath his hood, and tugged at a pretty silk ribbon. A purple one, Error noted. “It’s the least i can do.” 

The mask fell forward into the King’s awaiting hand, and once again Error was met by the image of that clean and soft white bone. The rounded face he didn’t recognize. His expression was neutral, schooled, careful.

“I know you are not from Orchard, nor are you familiar with the traditions of our kingdom. However, you recall the story of my upbringing, and my twin, correct?” He asked, and Error nodded. He recalled decently that there had been twin princes, the King, Nightmare, and his brother, Dream or something? He’d been asking about the tapestries and the King had told him how the two of them had grown up really close, and how he ended up with the throne in the end, banishing his twin so he wouldn’t steal the crown or something. 

“Good. Well. My coronation was not actually mine. It was that of my twin. Dream. He was the crown prince, but I had found word of a great cost to completing the ritual, and I was sure he would be hurt by the process.” The King explained. “The power of the kingdom is passed from generation to generation through the soul. Each King’s soul warps and changes, taking the shape of an apple, golden and shining with a seemingly divine magic. When my mother gave up her soul for Dream to eat, to inherit her title, I…” 

The king trailed off for a breath, and Error felt his insides twist a bit. Eating a soul? That was… a concept. Fascinating, but also he couldn’t imagine a scenario in which someone would actually follow through with it. Of course eating an entire other monster’s soul would provide a magic boost, just like when monsters absorbed human souls, or humans overloaded on magic.

“I stole it from him and completed the ritual myself.” So, maybe that was why he was sick? “The ritual, as it was meant to do, provided me with power beyond myself, yes, but it also altered my mind and physical form. I aged significantly, something I had always assumed was due to the overwhelming force of the gifted magic. In a matter of moments I was old, my mind more clear and sharp. The way you knew me before was the shape I was meant to hold. That I expected to stay.” The King rubbed a hand against his good socket, the other gently resting over the mask sat on his lap. “Several weeks ago, I collapsed. And when I awoke, I had taken on this form again, and it seems my mind is reverted as well. Both have returned, aside from my memories, back to the exact condition that they were on the day of my coronation. So, I find myself back in my youth, and small as a result.”

He seemed to pause for a second, before puffing a sigh, “Or, almost the exact condition. It seems a wound I suffered the same day didn’t ever quite heal.” He ghosted over his empty socket and the cracks running up and out of sight beneath his hood.

Error stared at him a second, and he blinked in confusion. That was a lot of wacky magic shenanigans, and that was coming from him of all monsters, but he was processing something that had been glossed over.

“Wait, so how old are you?” Error questioned, confused.

The King blinked at his question, before Error caught sight of something he didn’t quite expect to see today. A slight lavender blush dusted the King’s cheekbones. Error’s not even sure the King noticed he’d done it. 

“That’s a… tricky question I’ve been trying to decipher. However, as far as my development and mental state are concerned, I regrettably appear to be 13.” 

The King seemed ashamed to admit it, but Error found his mind working a bit faster than he’d meant it to be. The weak aura, the weird magic, the short height, the baby face, the higher voice, all of it! He’d heard of cases like this. Not usually between monsters, but often when monsters would overtake too much magic, or too many supplements, or strain their bodies, they could take on a higher form before reverting. Usually it only affected the amount of magic they could harness, and no one had ever sustained one long enough to actually age before releasing it, but it wasn’t an impossible idea. If the King had been operating on borrowed magic? It was entirely possible that there was a sort of stasis provided to him. Especially since Error was pretty sure he never ever got hurt. 

Part of him wished he’d paid more attention to the books on the shelves back home. His brother would eat this up. Soul-based research with an abnormally long-lasting period? Oh boy…

“That’s cool!” Error blurted without really thinking about it. 

The King seemed to actually flinch about it, cyan eyelight looking wide at Error form across the makeshift table. 

“I- What do you mean?” The King questioned, obviously confused and shocked. 

Error frowned a bit. Did the King really not realize how much skill that takes to pull something like that amount of magic transfer off? Error’s not even sure he could do something like that, and all without losing himself to this other invasive magic?

“King Nightmare, it sounds like you were a torch holding a really really hot fire and you didn’t even get burnt. I’ve never heard of someone using magic like that.” And he blinked as he suddenly perked up, “You’re young too! We’re like each other! Doing cool new magic things that no one wanted us to do! Well, I mean, you want me to do it, but- That’s not the point!” 

Error actually leaned forward a bit so his elbows planted on his knees, and he squinted at the King. “I bet I’m older now too, that’d be really cool. What season is your birthday?” He’d not seen the King celebrate his birthday since he’d been there, but then again, the King was always busy, and Error didn’t pay attention much. 

The King seemed taken aback, but still spoke, “My birthday is in the spring, but-”

Error lit up at that, “Yes! I am older!” he exclaimed excitedly to himself. He’d never had anyone younger than him to hang around before! Granted, he’d met other kids at the academy, but they hadn’t liked him much. 

His grinning was cut a bit short when the King stammered from the seat across from him again. 

“Mage Error, I- I’m glad to see this news isn’t distressing you, but I please ask you to consider my next few words.” The King was watching him, and Error tried to tone down the smile gracing his face. “News of my… state is not being circulated just yet. Orchard is still recovering from centuries of mistreatment under my bloodline’s rule, and I am nowhere near to being able to restore the kingdom as I had planned. My goals will likely only bring more turmoil and frustration to the people, and while assassinations and other sabotage have rarely graced these halls, if word gets out of my newfound weakened form? This castle, this entire kingdom, could be thrown to chaos.” The King’s tone was very serious, and it sounded tired. “You, Error, are not officially my mage, but to prying eyes your studies here fill that same purpose. I was willing to take you in when I was sure I had the power to protect you, but I can’t provide that security any more.”

“Before I came here, I reviewed our contract. At the loss of my protection, you are welcome to request an indefinite leave of absence from the position, and I will have one of my knights accompany you anywhere you wish to go and ensure you arrive safely. I do not want to put you in danger due to my search for reform. You have no obligations to stay in this place nor risk your life for it.” The King’s voice was steady as he said it. “You do not have to give me an answer this moment, but I needed to inform you so that you have a full understanding of your options.” 

Error’s grin had faded about halfway through the King’s speech, and he could already feel the fuzzy numbness creeping up one of his legs as he tried to keep himself from lashing out. Dust had talked to him about that. His reactiveness. 

“King Nightmare, I’m not going anywhere.” he declared, crossing his arms with a huff. “That dumb contract you made me read also said I can stay as long as I want the position. And I want the position.” And the food, and the tower, and the courtyard, and the knights, and the King who listened to him talk about his explosives. “I don’t care if you’re short or have purple magic or whatever,” the King flinched at that, “ You’re still really smart and you have a bunch of really strong people you’re in charge of. Including me, by the way.” 

He was almost offended. He was strong! He was dangerous! The King had always praised him for ingenuity and sheer force of will placed behind each of his projects, and Error took pride in that. He was strong, and powerful, and he wanted to do fun experiments and help the King. Almost more now that he knew that the King was some twig of a monster. Now he didn’t have to worry about lame old people bossing him around. 

The King seemed to lean forward ever so slightly in the chair he was sat in, and Error didn’t shy away. If this was a battle of the wills, he wouldn’t be-

A sniffle. 

Error jolted when the King pulled his hands up to his skull and hastily dragged his sleeves against his sockets. Was he crying??

“Ah- Forgive me!” The King said in a small voice, “Emotional regulation, another damning loss from my sudden form alteration. I’ve been lucky I hadn’t embarrassed myself sooner.” He practically teased himself. 

Error let his body stop tensing, and he noticed the uncomfortable fuzzy feeling had fled in the aftermath of his bold declaration. If he’d had any doubts before that this King was actually as he said, this was the final sign. The King had never showed so much emotion before. 

“I think it’s fine. I get mad all the time and you never mind.” Error voiced, though he wasn’t sure how welcome it would be. 

At that the king laughed, and Error grinned to himself, looking away from the scene. He didn’t like it when people saw him cry. He understood that one all too well. 

A silence fell between them. Error wasn’t going anywhere, he’d made that abundantly clear. The King wouldn’t be sending him away, either. It went unsaid, but it was there in the agreement they’d made just hardly a year prior. The King never went back on his deals.

“Mage Error, I believe you wanted to show me something earlier. Now that it is dark, I believe I would be willing to have Horror accompany us out to the courtyard so I may observe.” 

Error glanced back to the King, and saw that he was looking up at the darkened ceiling. As though trying to predict when a string would lower down his newest creations. 

“Oh, actually I bet we can do it here. From the balcony, I mean. It goes up into the sky, so it shouldn’t hurt anything.” he said, his excitement gaining momentum once again. “I actually made test ones this time too, just to make sure!” 

Error swung backwards out of his hammock, and let the strings above him loosen to drop the item into his awaiting hands. 

The King rose from his seat, walking a bit strangely still, but nothing which bothered Error much. He was more interested in the curious face of his ruler as he approached Error near the balcony exit. Error wasn’t one to use his balcony often, he didn’t even have strings set up to pull the curtains aside, so he lifted one back so that the King could pass by, and he followed himself shortly after. 

The balcony was a thick one, reinforced underneath by large wooden and stone beams, the railing thick enough that one could sit along it like a high-stakes bench. Error did just that, pulling himself up so his feet dangled over the edge. The King remained back, hood pulled tight to his skull as the night winds attempted to tug it away from him. It took a few moments before he joined Error near to the edge, leaning on the balcony which was just ever so slightly too tall for him. His arms rested at chin-height and he seemed to be debating whether to rest his chin on them like an arm rest. 

Error watched from over his shoulder, and grinned to himself as he secured the little invention with his strings before holding it out for the King to see in the moonlight that illuminated the darkness. Them, the castle grounds below, the mountainside and the sprawling hills and valleys beyond. 

“I’ve seen people make these before with gun-powder, they always glowed red, though. So I infused some magic into the canister and the projectiles, and they should do something fun.” Error explained excitedly, pointing out different locations on the thing held in his strings. Long, slender, a mix between a crossbow and a cannon, but tiny. Only the length of his forearm. “Best thing, it should be quiet!” He’d noticed that some of the knights didn’t like when his explosions made loud noises, and a lot of guards came rushing the first few times he’d set off his creations. 

The King examined it for a few moments longer, before he nodded silently. 

Error snickered before he pulled it back into his grip and aimed it up and out. Away from the tower, where it should’ve been just over the large, round, open space in the center of the castle. High in the sky. 

He shifted, dragging his fingers along the surface, the long portion lighting up and flinging something from the end of the device. A little ball of pure white. Up, up, up.

It exploded. 

Error laughed in triumph as the night sky above the palace was set ablaze with a collection of little shimmering lights, like falling stars in all shades of blue and green and purple and white flying everywhere before going dark. His eyelights shot back to the King as he loaded the next round, and he was delighted to see that the single cyan eyelight was plastered on the smoky after-effect left by the burning magic. He desperately wanted to start telling the King all about how he’d done such a genius thing, but he found himself simply hefting the little device up once again and firing into the open darkness instead.

[austenpoppy]

Dick and Bette Kane - part 1

I started writing this as an answer to the people who claim they love Dick's "petty" side/him not being welcoming to specific people he supposedly has a grudge against. The problem is, those same people tend to mention Helena Bertinelli or Jean-Paul Valley as examples of that happening, when it doesn't reflect at all the relationship he had with either of them in the New Earth continuity (which is generally the one being referred to).

I will do a breakdown of Dick's relationship with those two in separate posts, but it got me thinking about a "heroic" character Dick's been consistently uncomfortable around in that same continuity, and one he openly doesn't appreciate much : Bette Kane, a.k.a Flamebird. Yet people do not seem to ever list her among the characters Dick's not very fond (for very good reasons).

Bette Kane's an interesting concept as a character, because she's not a very good super-heroin, but she's extremely competent in other areas of her life. As a teenager, she began playing tennis in competitions, and she was so good at it she quickly became "a pro", and was considered something of a celebrity.

Yet Bette dreamed of something very different. She openly admired Robin (Dick) and wanted to imitate him by becoming a super-heroin of her own. She even designed her costume as a tribute to him, and chose the code name Flamebird. That's somewhat ironic considering Flamebird was originally Nightwing's partner back when Nightwing was an identity Superman had used.

Bette as Flamebird's New Earth origins are recounted in Secret Origins, vol. 2 annual 3, which is focused on a mental attack Dick suffers at the hands of the Gargoyle. Here Gargoyle narrates one of the first acts Bette did as Flamebird, which was saving Navy men hanging to lifelines attached to an air-craft carrier that was being lifted into the air. Other super-heroes helped resolve the situation, and that teamwork is what prompted the creation of Titans West.

Secret Origins, Vol. 2 Annual 3

Interestingly, you can see that Dick wasn't really aware of how much he'd inspired Bette, and this mental fight with the Gargoyle happened several years after his first meeting with Bette as leader of the Titans, and years after his first meeting with Bette at all.

At first glance, this may seem surprising, given that Bette was obsessed with Robin and wasn't remotely subtle about it. After becoming Flamebird and rescuing the Navy men, she was part of the unofficial first meeting of Titans West along with Gar, Hank, Dove, Charley, and Lilith. And her first reaction was to be delighted at the idea of seeing "Robin" again, calling him "a cute hunk". When Lilith asked her to tone it down and be serious, she instead went further by commenting on Dick's legs.

Secret Origins, Vol. 2 Annual 3

Then when it became clear the newly formed Titans West would have to seek help and go see the official Titans in New York, all Bette cared about was that she was going to work with Robin.

Secret Origins, Vol. 2 Annual 3

When the two teams finally met, it wasn't love at first sight. Once they finally started discussing the case they were working on, Dick suggested a plan of action that involved the two teams splitting up. Bette cut him off as soon as he said it to contradict him and affirm that she was going with him, which she ended up doing.

Her behaviour was honestly creepy. She cut off Dick just because she'd decided that she was going with him. She didn't refer to him by his code name, but only by the part of his body she'd commented on before, calling him "legs". She took his face between her fingers. And the sentence "I've waited too long for this", coupled with the nickname, would've made my skin crawl. It sounds like she'd fantasized about Dick for a while, was going to have what she wanted no matter what, and had no problem announcing it out loud.

Secret Origins, Vol. 2 Annual 3

After the case was over, the two teams had a fight over what team had done more to solve it, and over the legitimacy of Titans West. Wally criticized the way they'd come into the headquarters like they belonged, Bette said they did because they were Titans too, and appealed to Dick to validate her opinion - calling him "legs" again, which implies that this was the nickname she gave him the entire time they worked together.

Dick said he wasn't sure whether it was a good idea for the others to be Titans, because he wasn't sure he would be able to lead two teams, one of them long-distance. Members of Titans West were affronted by Dick's speech, including Bette. She went with the others, talking to Dick again to tell him that "[he'd] never know what [he'd] missed", making her departure partly about a romantic/sexual golden opportunity Dick didn't take. Appreciate the fact that she called him "Robin" again now that she was irritated by him.

Secret Origins, Vol. 2 Annual 3

Titans and Titans West had a couple other team-ups before Titans West disbanded, during which Bette learned Dick's secret identity. From the way Bette acted during the one team-up recounted in details in New Titans #56, we can deduce that every time she met Dick she kept trying to seduce him, persistently, relentlessly, in obnoxious ways that sometimes border on sexual harassment.

It was well-known that Bette was obsessed with Dick - not like Bette was trying to be subtle about it, she had no problem making her intentions clear and that publicly. There's a panel I couldn't include in which Hank scoffs at the idea that Lilith "trusts" Dick and tells Charley that "she's got the hots for him. Just like Bette."

I'm sad I couldn't include it because there's this hilarious exchange after in which Hank bemoans "Man. That burns me. What's he got that I haven't ?" and Charley answers "Look in the mirror and weep" (lmao).

But as I was saying, Bette kept trying to hit on Dick. In the panel below she asked him whether he needed help (the "sure" implying it's not the first time she asked the question), only to say that it was "[his] loss" when he said no. Dick was very polite in his answer, thanking her for her offer, but was turning her down all the same.

New Titans #56

Not long after, Dick told off Hank and Charley who'd gone in an argument over leadership and about their association with the Titans, before having the conversation about Dick I mentioned above. Bette immediately cheered him on, calling him "handsome" as she got close to him. Dick ignored her.

New Titans #56

During a fight she called out to Dick to warn him about an assailant, and had to sneak in a comment about his butt (whoever said this kind of things was recent was lying). Dick was clearly uncomfortable, answering with an embarrassed "Uhh, thanks, Flamebird" - the "uhh" plus the two commas in a three-word sentence indicate he didn't know what to make of her comment. He also corrected her to make sure she knew he'd seen the assailant she was talking about. It was a way for him to reaffirm his skills as a crimefighter (she's not the first one he said those things to), but also a way for him to reject her attention.

New Titans #56

She was also very physical around Dick. I can't include all panels of her, but she seemed to be near Dick most of the time, would touch his shoulder for no reason when they came in a lab, or, like in the panel below, latch onto his arm. Dick wasn't shown shaking her off, but he wasn't seen reciprocating either.

New Titans #56

So in the end, it's not a surprise Dick had no idea Bette'd wanted to become a super-heroin because she'd been inspired by him. Not when most of their interactions revolved around her attraction for him, not when she kept making comments about his looks.

As an aside, this is one of the reasons I can't take seriously anyone who says it's Devin Grayson's fault if Dick's been sexualized. Hard to do that when you have an entire character who could've been one of the best tennis players in the world but decided to become a crimefighter because she was obsessed with Dick, and kept gushing over his legs and butt. Dick's been dealing with that kind of things since the 80's, guys.

Part 2

Part 3

[squorttle-pox]

please. i need alastor with his hair up so we can see the side of his head. second set of ears or smooth flesh prairie?

[petorahs]

what other hsr ships do you like, if any?

quite a few!

(disclaimer pls dont get mad at me for any ships i mention, and note that they never affect what i draw for Avenday 😭)

I have a ScrewTio wip coming up and ive drawn them before :3 literally so interesting. just as much foils as Avenday i would say

other than that in terms of OTP: AcheSwan, BronSeele, Jingliu x Bai Heng, whatever the hell Feixiao x Jiaoqiu x Moze polycule have going on

do NOT separate the girlfriends or i'll start tweaking..(lighthearted)

as mentioned in prev tags i love both RobiFly and StelleFly! CaeFly is... ok i guess but only if i put them in my elaborate headcanons and even then it works just as well with Stelle. I plan to draw RobiFly soon they are soooooo cute to me :3

theres more but i'll mention in tags!