#[italics are like ??? kinda]

[squidthesquidd]

Odo :) in lwaxanas outfits cus im insane. he deserves to be put in weird dresses with super high side slits and thigh-high socks <3 it started as figure drawing practice but then star trek got me and strangled me until i made it odo

also i gave him silly ears cus of my bajoran redesign cus they r armadillos to me 💥💥💥💥

also yeah this is drag queen au

ouugggghhhh i cant for the life of me figure out his face. he looks too... young when i draw him. but i cant add like wrinkles and stuff cus hes literally completely smooth?? someone help me

[spotaus]

New Age AU (Cross' Spy Adventures)

Hi guys! I'm back! This one has been eating at me so forgive me if it's a bit rougher than the others, but I hope you still enjoy! (And if plot details don't seem to line up? Remember Cross has no clue what's going on yet :] )

Context: Cross has been asked by Dream to do recover information on his brother's next plans of attack. He's not a very good spy.

(Hi to @ancha-aus @papiliovolens and @mutzelputz !!!)

Stars this place was big.

He'd almost forgotten what it felt like to be on a castle grounds after so many years roughing it with Ink. Inns and taverns and tents. He wasn't sure how much he enjoyed being back in the throes of the rich and powerful's estates.

The cart-ride with the other new recruits had been pleasant enough, they were all decently friendly guys. A few were putting on that tough-guy facade, but none of them could've been older than 25. Fresh off the press, practically. Perfect soldiers to be brainwashed.

Cross had laughed and joked with them about what life in the castle might be like. How different it would be from the old daily grind. How maybe they'd pick up a hot partner in town on their patrols. How they hoped they'd eat like kings.

Though, Cross noticed that each of them got cagey when word of the King resurfaced. One birdish-monster mourned that she couldn't have served the last King, Nim, before she passed on to join the gods. Another spoke of the honor it would bring for him to serve the blood of Nim.

They seemed averse to even acknowledging King Nightmare's existence. Aside from his connection to Nim.

Now, the chatter was all silent, and Cross was among the many new soldiers who were ogling the castle as they passed around its outer wall and entered through a side gate.

It was, admittedly, impressive.

His own home kingdom had less of a castle, more of a monolith. It had been dense, and tall, and impossibly smooth. His father couldn't stand imperfection.

This castle was almost the exact opposite of what Cross had always known. The walls imperfect and overlapping, rather than brick it looked like it had burst straight up from the ground. Bumpy and imperfect and natural, and yet beautiful and structurally stable. He didn't linger on it, but he wanted to so badly.

Instead, he drew his attention ahead. To where a man stood, his armor decorated in the marks which indicated him as a reporting officer.

This man, a human with a crooked nose and a thick, black, beard held up a hand, and the driver of the cart tugged at his reigns, the horses pulling to a slow stop.

One by one, once given the signal, the soldiers filed out. Stating their rank, their camp of origin, and their name.

Cross was middle of the pack, and saluted the human as Dream had taught him and as everyone had done before him.

"1st Year Guard, Pierson Camp, Z." He reported.

He was not proud of his code-name. It physically hurt to say it with a straight face, but when he'd been talking about needing a new code name, Ink had excitedly suggested it.

Z, he'd said, Like 'X' but not! And Cross hadn't been able to shut the idea down when Dream had giggled and tapped his cheekbone, the spot just under his eyelight that held is scar.

Dream had called it fitting, and it'd been settled in a heartbeat.

Cross managed to say it aloud without any hint of suspicion and was waved off to join his fellow recruits.

They lined up haphazardly, but didn't dare to do more than grin and snicker between eachother at. Well. Anything, it seemed. They were taking this very casually compared to what Cross had been expecting.

Though, the moment the captain was done looking to the cart for any stragglers, he turned. The soldiers all went still and aligned themselves.

Cross wondered how they survived training if they goofed off like that so readily.

He watched as the cart which had brought them circled away, and he listened carefully as the man introduced himself.

"I am Captain Rogers. Your platoon will report to me for any and all management. I control your training schedules, your mealtimes, and your work hours." He called out to them, right there on the lawn "you are here today to serve the blood of the gods, and by Nim's watch you will not slack on your oath. No matter how much you loathe it here. Understood?"

Such a bold declaration of... unrest.

The soldiers, one by one, gave affirmative nods and salutes, Cross making sure he wasn't the first. He didn't want to seem too eager.

The captain led them about.

He asked for them to stay in formation, and Cross ended up towards the middle of the pack yet again, just close enough to hear the explanations of their duties, places on the grounds they were allowed to go, and what their daily routine was meant to be like.

Near the stables, they paused briefly, and the Captain was taking an extra long time explaining that the horses in the stables were not to be ridden without explicate orders from him or another commanding officer.

Cross couldn't help but notice the guys ahead of him whispering about something, and Cross followed their miniscule gestures off to the left.

A black cat, wirey and short-hair. It was standing in the shadow of a fence, and he didn't think he would've spotted it if it weren't for its big, green eyes. They were like little saucers in its head.

It was staring straight at him. Tail flicking. One ear twitched.

Cross tried to ignore it, but when he'd glance back, it was still there.

Until, suddenly, it wasn't.

By the time they moved on, it was nowhere in sight.

His old home hadn't had many animals, especially not roaming cats. He wondered if it was a 'barn cat'. Blue had explained the concept to him once.

Regardless, that thing was freaky.

Finally, after what felt like hours of walking, the Captain announced that their last stop of the night would be to their quarters.

He could practically feel the relief rolling off of the guys next to him, and it took am effort to let his shoulders sag even an inch in imitation. The guy next to him looked like he might fall over, and Cross shared none of that exhaustion.

They would start their assignments bright and early in the morning, each of them would have a more experienced guard join them as a guiding measure before they were left to the duties themselves.

A much kinder grace period than Cross had been expecting, honestly.

The Captain escorted them down the halls, long and twisting. Each one held soldiers out of uniform, turning in for the night, going through their routines. As well as some moving out for the night shift. They ignored the rookies as they kept to their own business.

The Captain swung a door open, only to immediately block the soldiers in front from entering the space of relaxation beyond.

"Ah, Ccino, I was worried we'd missed you." The Captain spoke up.

"Soldiers, back up. Stand at attention." Came an order next.

Cross was faster than the others in recognizing the order, but forced himself to wait until the others stumbled into him to start moving. He wasn't sure why they were getting into this stance, but he knew better than to start asking questions.

They all stood in the hall, and Cross caught a few snickers from nearby lounging guards as the rookies stood there.

"The King called upon me, so I wasn't able to meet you where we had planned," a softer, calm, voice rang, "I figured I would run into you here before you turned in for your first night."

The Captain stood before them, and beside him, exiting the barracks, was a monster.

Cross tried not to stare, but he couldn't deny that this was odd. He'd never known a captain to bend to anyone but a higher up. But...

This skeleton was dressed in a servant's uniform. Granted, it was made of a thick, soft-looking brown and tan fabric, with an apron with more embroidery than he thought he'd ever seen in his life, but it was nothing too out of place.

Surely it wasn't a Knight. No, he'd been told they wore masks. He could tell this skeleton was not a Knight. He could see the full skull, soft and gentle, calm eyelights, and a body Cross swore had never seen a single battle.

No. Cross, stop that.

He didn't tear his eyes away, but he forced himself to look back to the skeleton's shoulder. No eye-contact, but still facing him. Good.

"Soldiers, This is our Head of House, Ccino." The Captain gestured to the skeleton at his side.

The soldiers all remained silent, and the captain nodded.

"If Ccino ever gives you any sort of order, you listen." The Captain's voice was harsh with this, the same way he'd spoken about the horses, and the kitchen, and the private training rooms they'd passed. "No questions, no hesitation, no disobeying. You understand?"

The squint of the Captain's eyes were more than enough for Cross to know better than to ask. Something like this was unfamiliar, for sure, but he knew when a soldier was saying something he truly believed in. Lived by. For better or worse.

None of the other recruits seemed to speak up. Cross certainly didn't. He tried not to let his nerves show as this skeleton, Ccino, let's his soft white eyelights skim softly from one soldier to the next. When they came to him, he desperately avoided the gaze, practically staring a hole into the soft fur scarf wrapped around his neck, hiding his spine from view.

"It's a pleasure to meet all of you," That calm voice again, "As you heard, my name is Ccino. I manage the Castle, it's grounds, and the people who stay within our walls. This includes all if you, as of tonight."

He seemed rather put-together. Pleasant. Cross didn't feel any unease. He was positive, now, that this was not a Knight. Yet, he couldn't figure out why such a monster would be held in such high regard, unless, of course...

"As you heard, our King trusts my decisions regarding these matters, which is why he asks you listen to my requests. However, I don't abuse this privilege, and it shouldn't dissuade you from coming to me if you have any problems." Ccino pulled his arms to cross infront of him, and once again looked over the recruits. "You may be our guard, but that does not mean you shouldn't recieve help as well. If you cannot find me, ask another servant and they will get word to me."

Ccino seemed... kind. That had to be it.

The sparkle of admiration in the captain's eyes. The way some of the soldiers watched. Maybe Ccino was the golden light in this dark place? Though, that didn't seem quite right.

"Stick to your duties, remain diligent, and you will be cared for here." He said softly. "Now, stand down and go rest. Your training tomorrow will be thorough, and you will need the extra sleep."

Oh.

Cross recognized the order, and his body moved a bit before his mind could catch up. He relaxed, as much as he naturally could, and took a step. Toward the barracks. Then paused and glanced like a deer in the headlights to the Captain and the Head of House.

Ccino just smiled, and the Captain seemed stoic.

"Seems Z gets first dibs on the cots!" The Captain announced, and with his approval, humor seeping into his tone a bit, and laughter echoing from the older guard who'd been observing?

Cross made the quick duck into the room and grabbed for the first cot he saw. Bottom bunk, closest to the door, the easiest way he'd be able to leave the long room of bunk beds.

The others hurried in after him, some laughing, others cursing jokingly at Cross having noticed the test first.

The test.

Of course it'd been a test. A test to see if they'd recognize Ccino as an authority figure. A test to see if they took the warning seriously. Cross just listened to the superior officer. And... put himself in the limelight of excelling new recruits.

If there was one good thing, though it was mortifying, the others didn't seem to notice what it was. They were too busy teasing Cross for the grape blush that enveloped his face the moment he sat to think it over. The others assumed he'd just slipped up. Listened to the prettiest person in the room.

Once again, Cross wondered how they'd made it through training. Though, it was good they just thought he was a stupid lover boy. Better than them realizing he was following orders on instinct.

It'd been a hard sell, getting to sleep, but he'd managed somehow.

.

The morning was much easier than the night prior. He woke up before the sun, before a lot of the others even showed signs of stirring. It was good he got up so early, sneaking off probably wouldn't be much of an issue.

Tomorrow, then. He'd do his sneaking tomorrow, after he got a lay of the land today. From what they'd been told, he'd be supervised today. Everyone would. It was different from what the Prince had told him, but it didn't matter. Policies could change, and Cross knew better than to disobey new policies.

The castle inside felt like a maze yesterday, he'd hopefully have routes inside, so he'd be able to memorize at least a few escapes. Orient himself. Worst case he could break a window.

He didn't want to leave any trace, though. The best scenario, as Dream had explained it, was that he'd get in, get the information, and get out. A week, maybe a week and a half tops. Cross wanted to spend as little time here as possible. He didn't want to fall into whatever mind-control he'd been warned of. He didn't want to run into the Knights. He certainly didn't want to see Dream's twin.

Though, he was curious. What he looked like. If he could see the sibling resemblance between the Prince and his supposedly brainwashed ruler of a sibling. It was honestly none of his business. If the King never saw his face, that would be all the better. He shouldn't know Cross was ever here at all.

The thoughts swirled in hid head as he stared at the bottom of the cot above his. Wood slats, the whole thing was sturdy wood, with decent mattresses and blankets and pillows resting on its support. It didn't creak at all, which was good. And surprising. Everything in the castle seemed so nice.

Mm, must've been a thing for the people here. Serve the 'gods' and live in luxury. It certainly seemed that was how the Prince's camp had run as well.

Cross couldn't be sure how long he was awake, examining the room and sitting still, but the sun managed to rise into the sky by the time he'd heard the slamming knock on the door to the barracks.

It was easy for him. When the Captain swung the door wide open and announced, in a hardy shout, that they were to be in the hall in 5? Cross rolled out of bed the moment the door closed again.

It pained him to move so slowly. He couldn't be the first one out again. Couldn't be the first one dressed. He didn't know why it took so long for the others to change to their uniforms and rub the sleep from their eyes. Monsters and humans alike! They hustled, some of them, and Cross was grateful a cat monster seemed to gather herself more readily than the others. An orange striped cat, her nose and the tip of her tail a stark white. Cross only noticed her when she rushed for the door, and he let himself trail her a moment later.

Thinking back, she'd been at the back of the group yesterday, joking with some of the others. Cross wondered what the energy change was all about.

He didn't get time to worry about it, though. The hall outside the barracks was busier than it had been last night, and Cross found himself facing, not only the Captain, but also several guards. They each seemed to be in full uniform, different than Cross' or the cat's which marked them as trainees. They seemed stoic before their captain, and Cross almost felt a moment if relief. Maybe this was a decent show of artillery?

No, wait, strong soldiers would be bad for the Prince. He'd have to get through these guys.

He shook away the thought, listening in as he stood awkwardly in the hall, another recruit lumbering out to stand where he'd joined the cat already.

The Captain looked them over, before nodding.

"Harper, you're with Jenna." The Captain ordered, pointing from the cat before gesturing towards one of the guard directly behind him.

Cross tried not to let his eyelights give away his observance as the guard stepped around her captain. She seemed to be a bunny monster, lots of fur and long, floppy ears tied behind her head. She, Jenna, saluted the cat, Harper, and Harper saluted in return.

"Listen to what your mentor tells you, got it?" The Captain asked, and Cross saw a few others exiting as he said this.

Those who started moving down the hall, and the Capatin looked to Cross. It was a kick glance, one look-over, before he turned and looked over his shoulder.

"Z, you're with Shep." And a gesture guided Cross towards whoever his mentor for the day would be.

From nearly the back of the crowd, snaked a dog monster. Black and white, short-trimmed fur. His eyes were brown and intense, and after a moment Cross realized this guard was shorter than him. He didn't like that when Shep saluted, he had to peer down to salute back.

He hardly even registered that they were already moving off, not unlike the two before them had done, until he'd taken a few steps to follow this small royal guard.

"So, you're Z?" Shep asked him as they stopped a few halls away. This one was largely barren aside from a few servants. Along each wall hung a huge tapestry, woven out of heavy threads and hung by a long piece of metal along the top edge.

"Yes, sir." Cross responded shortly. Not giving himself a moment to stammer.

Shep looked at his quizzically, before he leaned forward and sniffed. Actually just sniffed at Cross. It was still a few inches away, they didn't make contact, but suddenly he worried he was stinky. He's bathed before hopping on the cart, and he hadn't been exercising much, surely-

"Ah, you're not from this Kingdom! Not originally, at least." Shep said then, leaning away just as quickly as he'd gotten close.

Cross blinked, and he was sure his skull didn't hide his shock as well as he'd hoped. "I can smell the pollen on you, newbie. We don't have those kinda plants in this kingdom." He explained, and Cross internally cursed himself. Would he have to run? Would he have to-

"You know, I'm not from this kingdom either, I was born to the west." Shep admitted then, easily, using a paw to gesture loosely at the space between them, "I bet we'll get along just fine, newbie. C'mon. I'll show you around your route."

Cross didn't even get a spare second to defend himself, or puzzle at why a foreign monster would choose to come here. Shep was already on his way, back turned and hurrying down the hall at a brisk pace.

"As far as I know You're gonna be taking over my old route, inner portion of the castle." Cross listened, but orders were his second nature. As they walked, he eyed the tapestries hung along the wall. Long and intense, and yet, there was a moment where Cross could see the colors were more faded and worn.

"You'll mostly just be patrolling, watching out for anything out of the ordinary, waiting to see if you're needed for any specific duties." The images showed monsters, humans, monsters again. Depictions of complex circles and red splashes dripping from weapons and hands. And he noticed a trend, eventually. These must've been the previous rulers. The past Kings.

"Your patrols will be alone, the rooms in the hall aren't too important, and it's mostly servants that pass through that way." Cross almost lost his rhythm as they drew to the end of the tapestry, though the hall kept moving. There on the tapestry was a depiction of two little skeletons, one which seemed strikingly similar to Prince Dream, even in his adulthood. Beyond, the tapestry simply stopped. It was odd that King Nightmare hadn't bothered to get it finished with his own visage. Maybe his puppetmaster was waiting to put himself there instead?

"Still important, anyways. The servants halls are the easiest ways in and out of the castle, so we can't slack off." They turned a corner, and Cross pried his eyes away from the tapestry and back before him.

They passed a few more halls, before Shep stopped dead in his tracks, and Cross reacted quickly, spotting the way he peaked around the next corner.

Across the way, Cross spotted that they'd run into another pair who had also stopped. Only when Shep saluted did Cross think to follow his lead.

From the hall he couldn't see, emerged a figure.

Cross kept his eyelights to the ground, but the steps, the shoes, the heavy cape, and especially the dark and slimey tendrils which snaked along in his wake? That was the King. The one Dream had been so particular about not running into at all.

Two sets of feet followed him. Closely. He didn't have to look up to recognize that they must've been Knights. The easy weight of their steps, how close they stuck behind the king, the weight of the one's magic? Surely. He didn't risk a glance until after Shep lifted his head again. Cross only caught a glimpse of a tiger mask turning another corner before the three figures were gone.

In the tense silence, Cross swore he could hear his soul beating. He wasn't sure if it was fear, or indignance, or something else, but he knew being so close to the King had not made him feel good. Dream had been right, something about that guy was wrong.

Shep glanced around, and his ear twitched, watching down the hall where they'd left to.

The group across from them was already moving, towards the hall Cross had just cone from.

"You know, you kids are lucky Newbie." Shep voiced then, eying up the human rookie who was passing by. "When I first joined the guard, the King cut my tail off to prove my loyalty."

He said it so easily that Cross was speechless. What did he mean? Was. His tail was docked, but...

"What?!" The panicked whisper came from the passing humans who had obviously been eavesdropping. He expressed the concern coating Cross's soul and freezing him in place.

"Yep. I heard he used it as a cat toy for the strays." Shep confirmed loosely.

"Shep." Came the snap of his name from the other trained guard, though they didn't move to deny his claim.

Cross hadn't heard anything about that from Dream. Of course, he also hadn't heard about this introduction process either. He was flying blindly here, and suddenly he feared for his limbs.

Shep simply shrugged and kept moving forward. Cross wanted, badly, to excuse himself right this moment and go back and claim he couldn't do it. But he was here now, and he had a Prince to help. And a whole lot of people relying on him to prevent more tragedies.

The training wasn't hard. Shep stood with him, made small-talk, told him all the tricks to ensure he knew when someone would switch off with him, and then they had lunch.

He hated to admit it, but the food was delicious. He hadn't had something so filling in... maybe ever. He couldn't put his finger on it, not quite, but for monster food, it felt solid. Warmer. He felt less hungry after, and a part of him wondered if that was how they did it. The mind control. Was it the food?

But, no, surely not. He was still set on his mission when he went right back to his rounds. The food was just... strangely good.

The rest of the rounds were easy. Simple. And there was at least an hour after where Shep willingly guided him through the rest of the building. At least, anywhere he could.

Cross noticed, once, that Shep broke a rule. He ducked into the kitchen. Returned to a surprised Cross with two pieces of bread and handed one to Cross before tearing into his own. Apparently, from what Shep said, the main kitchen wasn't off-limits. Not really. Just the private one.

He didn't ask about the difference, he wouldn't need to know, after all. He doubted plans of attack were stached in the cupboards of a pantry.

And just as swiftly as it had begun, it ended. Shep said he'd be around the training grounds tomorrow if Cross needed him, and released him to dinner. After Dinner, Cross went back to the barracks.

Many of the rookies were talking all about their routes, others complaining that they had gotten cleaning duties for being the last out of the barracks that morning. They'd start training tomorrow. Cross tried not to contribute much, but he liked listening in. Understanding more about the place. The people.

It sounded like the King had crossed quite a few of their paths as well, and they didn't seem happy about it. Discussing in hushed tones how weird the King was compared to the last. Dark, secretive, hardly even a ruler. Cruel. He heard the human from before shamelessly telling Shep's tail misfortune to the gathered group, who all seemed to be riled up by it, exchanging other horrible speculations.

He needed to get this information. He just... he couldn't do anything until the others were asleep. So. Morning it would be.

.

Cross was a coward.

He knew as much, deep down somewhere, but as he woke up early again, he thought through his plan. He didn't know where he'd find any of this information he needed, he didn't know anything beyond his own route. He didn't even know what he'd be finding. He'd know when he found it, he was sure, but the last thing he wanted to do was get caught

He should've excused himself during dinner to go search around, or chosen a buddy to go wandering with. Shep had told him some things, he knew the room where the Knights trained was the indoor room, and he knew some areas no one went to. He knew the hall where the Knights and King stayed, Cross found it interesting they all stayed nearby, and he'd promised himself he'd avoid the space like the plague. He knew so much, and so little, all at once.

And he waited, thinking, so long that he... he just got up as the others did. Moved to his station to rotate shifts with the night guards. He just... did his duties again.

Well, they weren't his duties. He had no obligation to be here, not really. But the Prince had told him a week. A week and a half. That would make the most sense for an in and out. So, he wanted to respect that. And he had orders now to act out. Surely if he slacked off it'd be noticed, right? Yeah. He'd just slip away before dinner and say he went to train a bit more. Peak into some doorways. No biggy. Surely.

He worried about what he'd do to pick up a slack he hadn't even lost, all day. All through his rounds. If he showed it, his replacement at his last post said nothing, and waved him off.

Cross wanted so desperately to go searching. But. Before he could pass by the hall which would lead to the mess hall for the servants and guard? He glimpsed them from down the adjoining hall.

Two of the Knights.

One with a hood obscuring his face, casting a heavy shadow over everything, his eyelights a dull white. Though he didn't see a mask at first glance, Cross had to make some assumptions based on the one beside him that they were both Knights.

The other had on leather training armor, and a tiger's mask, red ribbons hanging from it, swaying with weight. He could see the skeleton's grin peaking from beneath the mask, and noticed how the tiger draped an arm over the other and laughed.

Cross didn't even give them a second to notice him, swiftly stepping out of the corridor and towards the dining halls after all. He didn't want to get in the way. He didn't want to be on their radar.

He needed to know when they trained. When they'd all be occupied so he wouldn't have to worry about them catching him off-guard.

Off guard. Ink would be having a hayday with that one if he'd made that joke back at camp.

Cross just kept moving forward, ducking into the dining space before the Knights even reached that hall.

.

Three days. It took him 6 whole days to learn more. To learn where the information might be. To learn where the Knights usually were at any given time. To learn how to navigate the place better. To not worry about getting caught.

He'd gone back to Shep one day, to test if he'd be told to go off the dinner or if he'd be sought out. He was not, so he had his proof that no one cared so long as he was doing his rounds.

He'd sat and talked. Asked about the Knights. (Shep had little to say that Cross didn't already know). Asked about training. (Shep said he was always out here now, running routines.) Asked about the king.

And Shep was interested about him asking on the King. Cross almost fumbled, but said he'd heard a lot of rumors. Shep had been here a while. What was true?

And Shep told him stories. In a low voice. Of the King breaking spines, of throwing objects with his tendrils, of sentencing folks to death over minor transgressions. Of his ruthless rule and cruel first. How he brought in servants and guards by force. Ripping them from their homes. How the king would declare traitors and have them hung.

Eventually, Cross asked him to stop. He'd heard enough.

Some of those things he'd heard from Dream, or the folks back at that encampment. Others were new. Insider information. Things he'd never dreamed of.

It was informational, and Cross decided that he'd keep learning more, until he was sure he had the perfect moment to strike.

.

He wasn't the smartest, okay?

Cross had done his rounds, and the moment he was done, he scurried off towards his destination.

He paid no mind to servants or guards, and used a servant's hall to arrive in the location he needed. The hall where the King's Study was located.

Yesterday he'd investigated the war room. Entering and closing the doors behind him, the room had been a mess of papers and figures and notes. The maps of each neighboring kingdom alone were strewn on walls, like the ravings of a mad-man. None of them had plans of attack, though. The light from his eyelights had been enough to illuminate each one as he approached. Every single one was a new defensive plan. Ways to deploy troops if they were attacked. Not one seemed unprovoked which was... strange.

Cross was almost unable to find any sign of the King's next route of action for his destructive feats, so he was resigned to search the study tomorrow. His only solace was that exiting the War Room had only been met with a servant a ways down the hall, and a cat pacing by, paying him no mind.

The cats in this place were many. Cross had never seen so many cats in one place, and when he'd asked at dinner, it seemed that everyone thought they belonged to the Head of House, Ccino.

It would make sense, Cross had seen the embroidery along his apron, plenty of paws and cat-like figures along the hemlines, between the branch and tree motif the entire building seemed set on holding tight to. But, it amazed him that there would be so many, allowed to run free. The King must've been very lenient with his Head of House, to allow so many creatures free-roam.

...then again, the Knights wore masks decorated with Big Cats. Cross had finally caught a glimpse of the Lion, out on the lawn while he was talking to Shep. He carried an Axe twice the size of Cross' torso, and he seemed to wield it with hardly any problem. Cross just hoped the little beasts weren't being sacrificed. He'd heard about the barbaric practices from Ink once when he had his head on straight. He hadn't had the guts to bring it up to the Prince. Or Shep. Fearing the answer.

And so, now, he moved for the study. When he knew no one would be around, when no one would see him or bother him. He could dig through the information, tuck it away in his ribcage, and get out of dodge.

It was mid-day. Apparently the Knights tended to have training about now, and the King always supervised. So the forbidden hall, as the others called it, was dead and silent.

It wasn't hard to determine which door was the study, the door was carved carefully with a beautiful tree, and the handle was a shining gold, as though it got less use than the other rooms. He tested the handle, it moved, and he slipped inside.

Of course it wouldn't be locked. Who would have the guts to go snooping around in the private spaces of murderous tyrant kings? Well. Cross would, but that was besides the point.

The inside was lit by a few stray candles, and Cross tried not to marvel at the luxury of the room. Everything was carved out of dark wood, with golden fabric lacing the cushions of lounge seats and the curtains which covered the windows. It was darker, used, but still gorgeous. The daylight filtered in through an open window, giving it a warm ambience. Cross didn't know how a room used by such an unpleasant man would be so calm and soft.

There was a case along one wall, large and long. Hung inside were masks of all different shapes and styles. Some were decorated with swirls and gems, but most resembled animals. A crane, a swan, a horse, a sheep, a hawk, a wolf, they all stared out at him with blank, empty, sockets. He wondered if these were used or not, but they seemed untouched.

And beside that case, in the far corner, sat a heavy desk, with bookshelves filled to the brim tucked just behind it.

The desk was heavy, and it looked to be covered with papers, letter drafts, just a quick glance over the contents told Cross this was just what he needed.

He stood behind the desk, unable to stop himself from lifting the papers up into his hands. From here he could see the door, as well. He'd know if someone was coming.

The first paper he looked at seemed to be the draft of a letter, addressed to someone by the name of Crop. The handwriting was beautiful, and Cross was lucky Ink knew how to write in so many dialects, or he'd have trouble deciphering exactly what this was saying. The cursive was precise. And... it seemed a half-finished letter asking about plants. The state of a harvest? No, that's strange.

Cross lifted the few pages which had been tucked beneath the first, confused. These ones seemed to be written in a much more unsure writing, but they held what he could only call sketches. Showing clouds and plants and... fields? Cross wasn't familiar with farming, but he could recognize a field anywhere. The paper had a few words underlined and circled, and they seemed to be later additions, added overtop by someone else. The words seemed to be mentioned again in the letter draft? It was completely innocuous. If this was the King's letter, he was just asking about the wellbeing of a farmer's harvest. Asking about improvements.

He moved them hastily into a stack and set them aside, reaching for the next haphazard bundle of paper. That couldn't have been right.

The next piece he scooped up was in that same pretty cursive, but this time it wasn't a letter. Instead it was some sort of list. Locations, some crossed off, and some untouched. Was this what he was searching for? Surely this was it.

He moved to grab the next page that had been beneath it. It held more context, it seemed. Notes scribbled down about how these towns needed changes. Action. Cross looked to the first crossed-off name, one he recognized from one of the woman at Dream's encampment.

The paper read of a faulty justice system, a lawman who needed to be checked up on for counts of bribery and false accusations. She'd said the Knight, the tiger, had arrived and asked for their head of city guard, the one who enforced rules and kept peace in their small village. Two days later he was killed, replaced by someone the King installed, and he started jailing innocent folks.

Cross looked to the next one, a pass where travel had been haunted by the royal guard. He'd been told they'd done it to halt people from mining in the area, a crop of wealth the King wanted to hoard. But this said that it was a mountain pass with frequent and dangerous rocks lines thanks to a sudden increase in storms since his rule. Notes reminding of supplies, and pay, and signs. Signs.

The next was not crossed off. An issue of bandits ransacked the town when people would enter or exit. Notes in messier scrawl seemed to pose solutions. Ideas. One that was circled said 'Send Horror, Autumn'. It was nearing the end of summer now.

This did seem to be the list that Dream had suggested existed, my twin is organized, he'll have a list with extensive notes, but he'd said nothing about the way the list wouldn't actually contain anything incriminating.

He skimmed again, but it seemed like nothing harmful. One lower down even acknowledged a damage caused during some sort of raid and to divert funds to someone. A random shopkeep in an outer city. This didn't add up at all.

He folded the paper silently and stuffed it into his armor, but kept looking. No doubt there would be something else. One of the lower pieces, something hidden away.

But the papers atop the desk seemed just as helpful in nature. Even ones like drafted decrees or laws to impose later were not unreasonable. One even seemed to propose a ban on child labor. What kind of tyrant would pass up a chance for easy workers?

Digging through the drawers revealed nothing more, just an impressive collection of quills, ink, and more books it seemed didn't fit on the shelves behind him. He wouldn't find anything more useful than these documents, he was sure. He... he just hoped the Prince would be able to see whatever evil Cross was obviously missing here. He scooped up another piece, one of the decrees, and then the letter draft to that Crop. Maybe they could speak to him? No, the planning was up to Dream. He was just here to get the information and go.

And now that he had it...

Cross sighed a bit, he couldn't understand why these were the things in here. In this innermost sanctum where only the trusted went. Everyone feared this King so much, Dream claimed he and his master were such a threat. And yet all Cross could find was a record of damages, and a plan to enact damage control. It...

"Having some trouble finding the dirt?"

Cross felt his entire soul freeze up as the voice cut through the silent room. It was quiet, and deep, and a bit gravelly. He didn't recognize it, but that didn't matter, because he knew he had been alone.

Almost all at once, a wave of presence crashed over his awareness. That damp static that had passed by once in the hall. Trailing the King. He didn't have to look up to know it was one of the Knights somewhere before him.

"Our King isn't usually one to make a mess." The voice said again, calmly.

Cross dragged his eyelights up, hands tentatively hovering at his sides. There, sat comfortably on one of the chairs, was the hooded one. Dust, Shep had told him.

Now, despite the shadow cast by his hood, Cross could see the faint details of his panther mask, black and hidden away in the darkness of his cover. He seemed entirely at-ease, not a care in the world, watching Cross. If his soul hadn't been sinking into his gut, Cross would've even thought Dust found the situation humorous.

He steeled himself, watching. Could he try and bluff his way out of this? Somehow? How long had Dust been there? How much had he seen?

"Any chance you'd believe I was looking for a good book?" Cross asked, though the bold humor he'd attempted to channel in the way Ink had done so many times before fell flat. Maybe his growing panic was clouding his mind, or maybe he'd never been much of a comedian.

Dust just stared at him, tilting his head a bit. By the way his eyelights changed shape, Cross imagined his sockets had drooped to give an unamused stare. Not a great sign.

"Are you going to try and run, or can I catch a break today?" Dust just asked across the room.

Mm. Cross didn't have much of a choice here anymore. Dream had told him, drilled it into his skull, not to get caught. Especially not by the Knights. They'd torture him. Kill him. The stories of what they did to traitors... Cross couldn't let this knight get hold of him. Couldn't be trapped. He had to get out of here.

He promised Ink he'd be back.

With that thought, his sword summoned to his hand in a flash. It was big, and bulky, and not the best for an indoor fight, but he'd make due. He just needed to get away from this guy. That was all.

His summons was clearly a declaration of intent, because he heard Dust scoff over the rush of adrenaline running through him and roaring through his ears. All at once, the electric charge in the room seemed to up itself. Bones, blue, cracked downwards from the rafters and planted themselves sturdy before the door and the window. His two possible exits. Dust stood up and stretched his arms before him.

"Alright, let's get this over with." Dust voiced, then.

Cross nearly let his guard down in the first moment. He felt a charge of energy coming from his side, and narrowly vaulted over the desk to avoid the spiked and jagged bones which rose where his feet had just been planted.

Momentum carried him now, and his sword was already poised for attack before his mind quick processed it. He slashed at Dust, growing rapidly closer. Hid swing was met with pure white bones that stopped his swing, just enough for Dust to avoid the hit with a split second to spare.

He was quiet, as they fought. As Cross lunged and spun and threw himself forward with grunts of exertion. It was unsettling, how the only noises were the cracks of his magic ripping into existence or Cross's sword cracking them to pieces like a lumberjack's axe.

He kept his attention on Dust. The magic had a pattern. The room was buzzing ambiently, and right before an attack it was like being too close to a fire. Just briefly. Cross barely managed to avoid spearing his ankle thanks to the crackle. He wished he could be a bit faster, though. Cross couldn't feel where an attack was aiming like he normally could. Dust gave no indications as to where an attack would be channeling either, almost like he wasn't controlling them at all. He didn't like it, it was unpredictable, and was wearing him down fast.

Dust kept dodging his swings, no matter how fast he moved, and eventually Cross stumbled. His shoulder connected with one of the random jutting bones. Dust stepped back just before it pierced upwards, and Cross grunted in distress as it drove him back a step as to not get impaled.

That was apparently his mistake. The moment he wasn't close to Dust, bones seemed to crop up all around him, gutting at different angles, just barely piercing the bone, little cracks forming with the force. Cross could feel each one jab a bit deeper than the last. Each time he reversed to get away from one or break away an incoming volley, another would arrive behind him at a new angle.

He hated that Dust stood back. Watched. The only sign that he had even broken a sweat was a slight heaviness to the up and down of his shoulders, and while Cross hadn't lost much HP yet, he was starting to feel the exhaustion creep closer, and each little wound and crack seemed to be draining him. Was this the strategy? Play with him like a living pin-cushion? Was this it's own sort of-

Cross shifted his stance and unsummoned his weapon as he jumped up and out of the quickly growing ring of spikes. He had to act fast. He had to get out of here.

He grumbled a bit under his breath, he didn't like trying to do this, but...

The moment his feet landed, Cross summoned up his other piece of magic. The part his father had embedded into his soul early on in his life which made him so powerful. He was sure his normally white eyelight changed shape in the split second it happened. Red, bright red.

It only took a moment, a tug at the very being, hidden away in the Knight's chest. For a split second, he could feel the control of foreign magic slip into his own hands.

For a moment, it worked just as he knew it would. His fist trembled under the effort, keeping an eye on Dust as the other seemed to stare at him. The bones he'd summoned all seemed to sink away at once, recalled faster than Cross could've hoped. Dust seemed to feel his magic stop responding to him.

Cross just needed to get the Knight downed. Not dead. He just needed out.

He shifted stiffly. One, concentrated blast of bones at the Knight. He seemed like he didn't want to risk taking any damage. That was all Cross needed then. Some damage. And he'd be free to escape back to the camp. Away from these weird monsters with their weird magic.

He let his palm open, directing the force like he'd done so many times, channeling another monster's magic against them. Controlling it against their will.

The feeling of electricity rose again. It spiked. It. It gathered in his hand, that burning feeling he felt when an attack had been about to hit him.

What?

It was too late to recall the intent once he'd released it. The moment he tried to command the magic, he felt it all roll back over him. Bones meant to be aimed at their owner came jolting straight at his front. And though he stumbled back, he couldn't escape the searing pain of a fire too hot to process escaping his bones and immediately rushing up his arm, into his chest, down to his feet.

He had to imagine, with the loud sound like a cracking whip, that that was what being struck by lightning felt like. Molten metal in your veins.

Cross laid sprawled, dazed, on the floor as his control magic puttered out. It hurt to breathe. To see. To exit. He was half-convinced his arm was completely splintered apart after the pulse of raw magic that had filtered through it, but he didn't bother to look.

His soul begged him to move, to get up and run again, but darkness danced in his vision as he stared up at the ceiling. He failed his mission.

He hated to see as the Knight rounded into view, standing cautiously over where he was laid. Floored by the backfire of his power. If the knight said anything, he couldn't hear over the loud ringing invading his head.

Though, instead of stabbing him through like Cross had expected, the knight seemed to duck down. A cool feeling encased Cross' wrists (so the other hadn't broken apart) and his soul suddenly felt exhausted. He felt exhausted.

No matter how much he wanted to stay awake, to escape, he lost this fight fair and square.

[somebluemelodies]

in honor of my one year ✨blogiversary✨ if you will, as well as, consequently, one year of my beloved lil royals au, here's a little (read: accidentally a smidge long) something something with our favorite prince and guard :> feel free to read the rest of the royals au here <3

Roier doesn't understand the idea of traditions.

Well, he does, to an extent, but the fact of the matter is that he, truthfully, doesn't care about traditions.

He doesn't care for anything about the life of royalty, really, and would much rather run away with his beloved to live in a cozy cabin outside of the kingdom, getting eloped to an audience of no one but themselves and whoever's ordained to marry them, but alas, he can't get everything he wants.

No, he'll just break the rules set tradition instead.

Tradition says Roier isn't supposed to see Cellbit the night before their wedding, and his parents stationed two guards outside his room to make sure he doesn't leave.

Roier laughs at the fact they forget he always escapes through his window, anyway, and the fact they thought he could be left devoid of quality time with his beloved.

Besides, tradition says he's supposed to marry another member of the actual royal class, and, well, he let that concept go months ago.

(Apparently, guards don't count. Apparently, Cellbit especially doesn't count. Oh, well.)

(If his parents could marry who they loved, so can he.)

He knows where he's going. They set a meeting spot hours ago. Their spot. He'll miss being able to do this so much when he's king - when they're kings - but at least he won't have to go sneaking out to spend time with his husband.

(Husband. Husband.)

(His heart races at the prospect, warmth igniting his veins. Husband.)

So, this is what it feels like to be lucky.

...

Cellbit has heard the townspeople talk.

He's overheard it from the townspeople, hell, he's even overheard it from some of the guards themselves.

He's not supposed to be on the throne. He's supposed to be beside it. Guards aren't supposed to become proper royalty, let alone a king. That isn't tradition. Guards aren't supposed to marry their princes. That isn't tradition.

The personal guard has heard the words tradition and unusual and improper so many times that they're starting to not sound like real words anymore.

And it makes him worry a little, admittedly.

(Not for himself. Never for himself.)

(It's Roier he's worried about.)

Cellbit knows he got lucky becoming a guard in this kingdom, let alone Roier's personal guard. It certainly wasn't his unknown background that got him these positions, it was purely dependent on skill.

(If they knew who he truly was, he'd have been marched to the guillotine months ago. He wouldn't be here.)

Cellbit knows traditions. And he's fairly certain he doesn't fit a single one of them. By marrying Roier, marrying into a family that's always been so keen at upholding traditions, he knows the prince's image is at stake.

(Roier might not care about it, but Cellbit does.)

(He might not be a guard for much longer, but he always will be at heart. He swore to protect the prince with his life, and he will fulfill that to his last breath.)

He wonders if Roier made the right decision, abandoning his arranged marriage and choosing him, instead. Emotionally-speaking, certainly, but logistically...

Tradition getting thrown to the wayside typically doesn't bode well. The embodiment of everything tradition isn't taking its place? Well...

Cellbit holds onto the fact that Roier chose him anyway, throwing care to the wind and rekindling the dying embers because he loves just that intensely, and trusts that everything will be okay.

They will be okay.

(Even if the townspeople don't like him after this marriage, it doesn't matter. Roier likes him. Roier loves him, enough to drop it all in a heartbeat just for him. Just so they can be together. How?)

(He has the whole world right beside him; he doesn't need anything else. How can someone love so much?)

The storm of thoughts assailing his mind are brought to a grinding halt by a hand grasping his arm. Startled, he turns, but the surprise melts into a fluttery excitement when the moonlight illuminates his prince's presence, and he can't control the way his heart starts to hammer against his chest.

(Beautiful. Ethereal.)

(He wonders how he used to be so stoic around Roier, used to go to sleep without seeing soft brown eyes and a saccharine smile and--)

You're staring, gatinho.

Roier's laugh draws heat up the back of his neck, and he fumbles for a response that won't make him look stupid. Is staring at beautiful art suddenly a crime, guapito?

The prince shakes his head fondly, reorientating himself so he can cradle Cellbit's face in both of his hands. Ya, mi amor. Come here.

He pulls his face closer, pressing their lips together, and he feels gloved hands on his waist close any remaining space between their bodies by pulling him flush against the guard's chest.

(It's almost disorientating, feeling like they could burst. Feeling like the flames could burn them from the inside out.)

(It's addictive. It's love. How could they have come so close to giving this up?)

They only pull apart when oxygen demands it, and even then, Roier chases him for another brief kiss before taking a real moment to breathe.

Their foreheads press together, breathing in each other, the serenity that comes with their nights under the moon. And then, the prince is smiling again, a knowing curve of his lips. Mañana, eh?

It's Cellbit's turn to smile, holding him a little tighter at the words. Amanhã, meu príncipe.

(Everything changes tomorrow.)

(Tradition is useless, anyway.)

[peixotizando]

How the fuck is she even more beautiful?

Blake, darling, the world is ending. Why are you so beautiful like that?

This girl thought she'd lost the person she wants to be with for the rest of her life, got her back, found out they're in another world while a war is happening on theirs, and still????

Serving looks all around

[angie-long-legs]

𝐌𝐔𝐒𝐄'𝐒 𝐋𝐈𝐅𝐄 𝐄𝐗𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄𝐒

Bold what always applies. Italicise what could apply / applies only to some verses.

Killed Someone Under Orders | Had Someone Killed On Their Orders | Killed Someone In Self Defense | Spared Someone’s Life | Invented Something | Been Hungover | Kissed Someone | Slow-Danced | Been In A Long-Term Relationship | Had Sex | Had Sex And Regretted It | Had A One-Night Stand | Had A Threesome/Orgy | Experimented With Their Sexuality | Had A Kid | Adopted A Kid | Wanted To Have A Family With Someone | Done Something On Impulse They Regretted | Gone Traveling | Had A Bounty Put On Them | Eaten An Insect | Been Groped By A Stranger | Been Groped By Someone They Know | Been Dumped | Dumped Someone | Smoked | Gotten High | Flirted With Someone To Get Free Drinks | Put Someone In A Headlock | Won A Bet | Lost A Bet | Forgiven Someone Who Wronged Them | Indulged In Petty Revenge | Hallucinated | Has A Noticeable Physical Defect | Gotten A Noticeable Scar | Been Permanently Disfigured Through Injury | Kneed Someone In The Groin | Had An Unattainable Crush | Laughed Themselves To The Point Of Tears | Been Kidnapped | Been Brainwashed/Hypnotised | Had A Recurring Nightmare | Been Bullied | Bullied Someone | Experienced Survivor’s Guilt | Been Tied/Chained Up | Given Someone A Massage | Received A Massage | Been Backed Up Against A Wall | Shot Someone | Stabbed Someone | Saved Someone’s Life | Cheated On Someone | Been Cheated On | Been In An Open Relationship | Had A Friendship With Benefits | Been In A Queerplatonic Relationship | Had A Stalker | Been Betrayed | Been A Traitor | Been Possessed | Been In A Bar Fight | Been Thrown Out Of A Bar | Been Arrested | Broken Out Of Jail | Been To A Funeral | Been To A Brothel | Had Surgery | Broken Someone’s Trust | Broken Someone’s Heart | Had Their Heart Broken | Broken/Damaged Something Out Of Anger | Broken/Damaged Something Out Of Spite | Gotten A Piercing | Gotten A Tattoo | Used A Fake Name | Been Beaten Up | Been Tortured | Tortured Others | Been Abused | Been Blackmailed | Gotten Away With A Crime | Framed Someone Else For A Crime They Committed | Shared A Bed Platonically | Been In Love | Suffered From Sleep Paralysis | Been Forced To Flee Their Home | Learned A New Language | Joined A Rebellion | Fought On The Losing Side Of A War | Fought On The Winning Side Of A War | Become A Godparent | Become An Aunt/Uncle

stolen from: @thehazbins

tagging: @hazbinned @top-shelf-tender @arcanepactguile @sirserpentine

[sugarsnappeases]

thank you for the tag @fxreflyes this is so cute, except the format is trying to hinder my propensity to ramble, so i’ve rectified this in the tags lmao

i’m over 5'5 / i wear glasses or contacts / i have blonde hair / i often wear sweatshirts / i prefer loose clothing over tight clothes / i have one or two piercings / i have at least one tattoo / i have blue eyes / i have dyed or highlighted my hair / i have or have had braces / i have freckles / i paint my nails / i typically wear makeup / i don’t often smile / resting bitch face / i play sports / i play an instrument / i know more than one language / i can cook or bake / i like writing / i like to read / i can multitask / i’ve never dated anyone / i have a best friend i’ve known for over five years / i am an only child

no pressure tags for @static-radio-ao3 @inevitablestars @itsjaywalkers @carniferous @orbitfalls @transsexualpriest @futurequibblerjournalist <333

[jeosey]

jendo fic ft. nico rosberg drabble fic i been cooking days before :p might make a part 2 if i have enough creative juices (adhd mind shift thru multitude of ships)

(i got inspired by the suits edit at tiktok and ofc jendo fics in ao3 ily!!! 🥹) plz enjoy this 2k words random thots!!!

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Jenson leaned against the wall, a relaxed smile on his face as he watched the younger drivers—his mind drifting to one in particular.

Lando was chatting animatedly with some engineers nearby, his laughter infectious, and Jenson couldn’t help but admire the way the young driver carried himself, full of energy and life.

"Isn’t he a little young for you?"

Nico quipped, breaking Jenson’s trance. The teasing glint in Nico’s eyes made Jenson’s stomach twist.

"Last night he told me I was the perfect age," Jenson replied, a playful glint in his eye, trying to sound nonchalant, but a hint of defensiveness crept into his voice.

Nico snorted, crossing his arms. "Perfect age to be his father, maybe."

Jenson rolled his eyes, but a faint blush crept up his neck. “When are you going to understand, they all want a daddy, Nico.”

Nico rolled his eyes, but there was a hint of curiosity in his gaze, shaking his head.

“You’re really leaning into this, aren’t you?”

“Leaning into what?” Jenson defended, but the heat in his cheeks betrayed him.

The truth was, he felt a bit like a pervert for being so drawn to Lando, for enjoying the way the younger man looked at him with those bright, eager eyes. But Lando seemed to revel in Jenson’s more sleezy daring side, the way he could command attention and push boundaries.

“Oh, come on,” Nico said, nudging Jenson playfully. “You know you’re a bit of a slag. And he’s eating it up.”

Jenson shot Nico a warning glance, but a smug sleezy grin broke through.

“He’s into it, alright? It’s a bit of banter—he knows how to push my buttons, and I love giving it back. It’s all part of the thrill.”

Nico watched him with an amused expression. “I have nevee seen you like this, even before your past relationships. Just be careful, Jenson. You don’t want to cross a line you can’t uncross.”

But Jenson wasn’t worried about crossing lines—he was worried about the shame that sometimes washed over him when he thought about what they had.

A knot of insecurity twisted in Jenson’s stomach as he reflected on his own fading relevance, the years of racing behind him replaced with interviews and dreaded commentaries of races beside Danica Patrick. He couldn’t shake the fear that he wasn’t enough—that Lando, with his striking looks and effortless charm, would one day turn his back on Jenson for a younger, fitter driver who could still steal the spotlight.

The thought gnawed at him, a constant reminder of the gap between them, leaving Jenson to wonder if he could ever truly hold onto someone so vibrant and alive.

[wekillitwithfire]

ugh guys i love typography. yall ever heard to Footlight? serif typeface designed by Malaysian type designer Ong Chong Wah in 1986 for the Monotype Corporation?

[fiendishartist2]

after all of that's been done with me; could you tell me how i'm right for you?- mp100

Shou hiked the comforter Ritsu had let him crawl under up to his nose. He couldn't turn his head to see Ritsu's alarm clock, body petrified in the darkness of his room, but he was sure it had only been between a few minutes and an hour since he broke in.

Shou didn't want to come here– not that he didn't want to see Ritsu, or even that he didn't want to be there– but guilt flopped around in his stomach, telling him he shouldn't have bothered Ritsu so early in the morning. Don't kids his age usually have school in the morning? Now he was keeping his only friend from his normal life too.

Shou fought with himself for hours before jumping out of his bedroom window and practically throwing himself across Seasoning City to get to the Kageyama household. He paced holes into his rug, wrestling with the urge to find comfort in his friend. Despite reminding himself of Ritsu's scolding, his nails had run over his skin until it turned an irritated pink. When he held the comforter too tightly, the raw scratched up patches on his palms flared with pain.

Ritsu was dead asleep (no– asleep, just asleep. no one was dead, Shou), his hair splayed on his pillow. The soft puffs of breath leaving his slack face loosened the tight band constricting Shou's chest with each passing second. Shou wanted nothing more than to spill his guts (stop! stop thinking like that!) to Ritsu– the only person he could trust with these types of feelings. Ritsu could look at all of him and not be scared of or look down on him.

But even this felt taboo; Shou burst into his room, choking on his breath (choking, that was one of them wasn't it? One of the faceless, yet unforgettable grunts Claw put an end to, choked until he was white as a sheet and limp) and nearly out of his mind. He knew he had freaked Ritsu out with his refusal to come inside, but insistence that he needed to 'be there, please Ritsu, just let me stay and keep you safe.'

The jackrabbit pace of his heart was causing his thoughts to spill into each other, becoming a muddled and incomprehensible mess of irrational babbling. Through the haze of panic, he barely registered the shifting beside him. Ritsu was rolling over to face Shou's profile.

Shou didn't move, just gripped the comforter tighter in his white-knuckle grip as he shook uncontrollably. He hated this part the most; the trembling, the shortened breath, the way his teeth would chatter when he dwelled on a memory for too long and lost himself in the feeling of it. It was pathetic. Shou is supposed to be strong– he survived Claw for so long and turned out fine, so why can't he handle simply thinking about it? He lived it and came out the other end unscathed. Shou Suzuki is no coward.

Something found its way between Shou's cramping hand and the blanket. It poked his pinkie finger in a silent question, used to how Shou needs to be asked before anyone (even people he loves and trusts with his life and god, that's pathetic isn't it? He really is weak) touches him.

With his heart in his throat, Shou weakly lifted his hand. He let it be drawn in the small space between himself and Ritsu as he laid his hand loosely on top of Shou's. Loose enough to give him an out, to make sure his friend didn't feel trapped.

That gentle movement– silent and careful and yet so, so simple– reminded him of that type of small, insignificant kindness he hadn't been shown in what felt like a lifetime. His face scrunched as he resisted the urge to cry. It bubbled up from the churning in his stomach, manifesting as a heat that crawled behind his eyes and across his face. He knew it would be an ugly cry too– guttural and heaving, like he hadn't had since Claw beat real emotions out of him. He doesn't cry, because he doesn't want to (because he can't– because he's so awful that just the act of crying is hard for him). Even if Ritsu's feather soft weight in his palm was pulling him apart, picking out his nerves from under his skin and peeling them back (with a sickening wet tear he's all too familiar with– psychic powers could do much worse than that); he was unravelling Shou and exposing the horror that hid deep inside of him. Shou wouldn't even have to spill his guts anymore– Ritsu was doing it for him.

His gentle touch was splitting Shou open, spilling his raw, ugly feelings everywhere. It spread in the space between them, seeping into Ritsu's clean sheets and soiling them like blood. He could picture it, splattered over their entwined hands (blood– so much blood– under his nails and in his hair and in his mouth) and Shou's drowning in it (there was a blond woman once, all spitfire and ambition. She was barely 19 before Claw snuffed her out, held her by the hair underwater until-). It was behind his eyelids when he blinked– an all encompassing red that ran from his nose and smeared on his face and stained his sneakers.

He couldn't stop the hot tears from streaking down his face as he stared at Ritsu's painfully mundane ceiling (he woke up to it once, stumbling in at 6:43 am to find Shimizaki bashing a man's face into his kitchen counter over, and over, and over-)

It's not fair, he wanted to say, it's not fair that the world could keep turning when there was Claw and Toichiro Suzuki and awakening labs. How could anyone live a normal life after seeing everything I've seen? After doing the things I've done? It's hopeless– I never should have even tried to go back to society in the first place-

"Shou."

That one word was all that Ritsu mumbled into the dark, but Shou could feel everything stop in an instant. He took the first deep breath he had all night. It wracked his small frame, rattling around his fragile ribcage. His taut limbs finally relaxed.

Ritsu huffed, half asleep, yet just as remarkably smart and compassionate as always. Without hesitation, he shuffled closer to Shou until his knees just grazed his hip.

"Y'u're freaking out over s'm'thing…" His head tipped back to squint at Shou. He hummed, examining what he could see through the haze of sleep. Shou wanted to laugh, but all that came out was a pitiful gag.

Shou couldn't speak and somehow, Ritsu already knew.

"Dude, j'st… c'mere, I gotcha." Around them, Ritsu's sparkling rock-candy barrier formed. It was barely visible and realistically wouldn't hold up against anything, but Shou's heart was already slowing down. Once again, Shou gagged instead of giving any real response. His tears were pooling in his ears, too warm for comfort (he burst his eardrums once, fighting with an elite esper who prodded at his ego just a little too much. Sure, he could barely hear out of one ear and his other rang too often to be healthy, but it could always be worse).

Curls dragged against pillowcase as he shook his head violently (always violently– apparently, that's all Shou knew how to do) trying in vain to shake away his thoughts.

Something soft brushed against his cheek. Ritsu's voice was much louder now.

"Not that? S'it 'nother Claw thing?" That was another thing Shou loved about his friend; Ritsu always got straight to the point, never one to mince words. He wanted to help Shou, so he was going to do just that. It was stupid to dance around the issue if it would just waste both of their time. Shou coughed.

"Y…" he swallowed his mounting fear, "Mmhm, yeah." Shou finally croaked. Ritsu's hair touched his cheek again as he nodded.

"Ke-keep the barrier, ple-ease…" Shou hiccupped around his words. He glared at Ritsu's ceiling at his own miserable state. Again, Ritsu nodded.

"Tell me about it." He said simply.

"I can-ca-can't." Shou wanted to slap himself. He was being so needy and pathetic and weak and stupid-

"...M'kay," Ritsu whispered sleepily. Shou didn't know whether to be relieved or disappointed that his friend gave up so quickly, "Wanna watch hamster videos?"

As Ritsu blindly reached around his futon, trying to find his phone, Shou let his conflicting emotions manifest in a huff of breath that soon turned into a fit of uncontrollable giggles. He pressed his grinning face into his pillow, finally rolling around to face Ritsu as his laughter filled the air between them.

Ritsu met Shou in the middle, letting his friend curl around him protectively. He propped up his phone and pulled up MobTube. Hamster videos quickly turned to vlogs, which turned to cooking tutorials, then videogame walkthroughs and music videos and speedpaints– and even when his arm shook with the strain of holding up his phone and his eyelids were slipping closed longer and longer with every blink, Ritsu stayed awake by Shou's side. He finally slipped back into sleep once the sun was leaking into his room and Shou was openly snoring at his shoulder, with a hand laid strategically over Ritsu's heart. Despite his exhaustion, Ritsu slept peacefully, content smile fixed on his face the whole time.

[tumblasha]

a review of the first week of cabo verde

so i've officially landed in the praia, cabo verde, airport seven (7) whole days ago, and i want to share my initial thoughts. this will be long, so here's a numbered list :)

1 . i feel like i'm a kid back in brazil but also a 21 y/o tall kid

so caboverdians speak portuguese (bc it's taught in formal schools) and they also speak kabuverdianu (creole, different across all the islands). being someone that can translate / speak at the store for the person they live with [1], it just feels like i'm a kid with a limited vocab

living in a beach town where everything is at a slower pace and is within walking / bus / taxi distance made me feel happy :) vacation!dasha is alive and well

2 . cabo verde is also a tall kid (but 48 y/o)

this one is sorta very much on me.

so i did the classic American Tourist thing and never actually learned anything about the history of the country i will be traveling to (sorry). since coming here and asking my co-workers and friends-of-misti about the general vibes of this country, i've learned so much! a lot of which Make Sense, a lot of which Confuse Me

older caboverdians tend to see themselves as not-african. i also learned that some ppl in some countries in mainland africa also don't consider themselves african bc of the way that the label "africa" comes with various histories, most of them negative bc of europe. this is why "kriolu" / "creole" are such popular words ! also younger caboverdians acknowledge that they are african / black if that applies to them

race is phenotypical here. which is what i expected (closer to how latam sees race ig?? more like how brasil sees race ig??). what i'm trying to say is that if you introduce yourself as "from the usa", they'll always say "no, where are u Actually from" and won't rest until u say something like "peruvian, chinese, etc." bc a lot of ppl outside of the usa don't believe that the usa has "actual indigenous ppl anymore" [2]. it also means that speaking english in the street invites ppl to ask you ur race

being east asian (chinese) in cabo verde is sorta .. rough. the microaggressions that i've seen in the two (2) days that my chinese-american roommate face is kinda Wild. when the person leading our cultural training said "oh sometimes ppl will call u 'china'" to my friend i thought that it meant that it would replace "ma'am" in the usual "yes, ma'am" / "no, ma'am" conversations with strangers, not that random ppl will yell "china!" multiple times to my friend when we're sitting on the sand. this has ties with macau and the rest of the chinese gov't building universities, casinos, and having a Business Presence in the country. but at least we got tourism industry students to invite us to clubs bc my friend is chinese-american??? [3] it's just really weird to me bc i haven't faced any racial / appearance-based ... acknowledgements ... even tho i clearly look like a foreigner in a sorta-racially-homogenous place (talking abt the mostly black island santiago)

independence day is not really celebrated here : ( ppl have conflicting opinions on the independence of the country. most of the country likes the day (july 5) bc it's a day off from work. other ppl say that it's hard to be a country with growing pains and would rather have portugal's gov't deal with building the infrastructure. other ppl are putting in the work to ease the growing pains. kinda sad since massachusetts, rhode island, and brazil (afaik) have big celebrations (fireworks and everything) rather than just a random ceremony where the president speaks for a bit and everyone goes home

a lot of the night life is european. someone pls teach me how to vibe to edm and house music and general non-lyrical music fjewiaofj but also shoutout to that club with brazilian funk. if only i learned the dance that my são paulo friend taught me </3

3 . the food is sorta fantastic here ngl

yes, i'm behind on the foodposting, and idk if i'll ever catch up lmao

for my lovely friends who eat meat, cachupa / caxupa is one of the loveliest things to eat. it's a meat-based (with veggies!) soup dish ?? it usually has either fish or pork tho. it's the national dish for a reason <33 also the seafood is good. sola-approved!

for my lovely friends who don't eat meat, i found a vegan place like 8 min away from my apt! also bc i'm in a City, it's easy to ask for things to be made vegetarian (plus there's always couscous and salads lol). also veg cachupa exists

for all my lovely friends, the food isn't Too too varied. i feel like the most common foods are pizzas, pastas, burgers, and shwarmas. also chinese foods are translated in an interesting way: noodles are pasta / spaghetti, dumplings are pastels (the empanada-esque brazilian translation), etc. there are also a bunch of brazilian churrascarias and one (1) indian restaurant

also i tried to be Cool and add some hot sauce to one of my pastas and i had to pretend i didn't want to kill myself in front of the Adults on the table

4. kabuverdianu is a cool language

i learned duolingo's haitian creole to get the vibes of a creole language. though this is attached to portuguese instead of french, a lot of the characteristics are the same. the words borrowed from the european language are spelled in a way that makes sense (maybe in a way that makes more sense to spanish-speakers?). i also like how gendered things tend to just be made gender neutral (usually defaulting to the masc way). i can hear it and understand it if spoken to me slowly, but after that ... oof!

5 . marcha do orgulho made me v happy

what if i change my "go to carnaval in every continent" goal to "go to pride in every continent" hehe. i think it was so Good how the pride that had 30 ppl last year exceeded their goal of 100 ppl this year by A Lot. even though there were a lot of ppl from the EU who backed the event (logistically spread the word i think??), the ppl who showed up were mostly black and made it such a fun time :,)

i also met a trans woman who claimed was the only trans woman in her island :,0 [5] she traveled all the way to santiago for pride

6 . overall i'm excited for the summer

i think that i'll spend a lot of my time reading a book by the beach and learning kabuverdianu while telling myself that i can maybe be an immigrant like my parents [4] or at least work abroad for a few years maybe. i'm excited to be an adult. i went to the beach (one on the other side of the island) today, and i just feel refreshed. i got to swim in the water like if it were a pool and hang out with the fish lol

---

[1] my parents as a kid, my roommate as a taller kid (now)

[2] overheard at a bar in barcelona

[3] my roommate will prob talk abt it more since she's doing the indentityX blogposts that misti hosts lol

[4] for those that don't know, there's at least a two-gen moving maternal history in my family line. my grandma moved across the country after high school. my mom moved across the continent after college. i wanna Continue that somehow bc i feel like it'd be cute

[5] lots of gays and lesbians, according to her, but being trans is a whole different thing there

[megarywrites]

flashbacks should be in italics, right

[lecliss]

How do I learn to fix my really horrible problem of always writing sideways????

[feet-achy]

no i dont find it sad that they died (excluding the teen obviously) yes they kinda had it coming considering yk,everything yes i find exploring shipwrecks interesting no i don’t think we should be be visiting the carcass of the ship where thousands died no you’re not allowed to celebrate their deaths just because they were billionaires yes people should be talking about the refugees in greece or yet the refugees point yes i still think that exposing this serves as a cautionary tale and no i don’t think it’ll work for too long

any questions?

[quiexxxent]

u know i gotta this or that for dorees

submissive or and dominant?

whips or chains?

handcuffs or shibari?

pillow princess or power bottom?

voyeur or exhibitionist?

blindfolds or spreader bars?

butt plugs or vibrators?

edging or and multiple rounds?

knots or ovipositor?

spanking or scratching?

ball gag or muzzle?

strap on or double sided dildo?

one on one or group sex?

vanilla or kinky?

lengthy cocks or and girthy cocks?

small boobs or and large boobs?

ass or chests?

thighs or arms?

hot wax or knifeplay?

loud or quiet?

biting or sucking?

collars or piercings?

costumes or lingerie?

laughing & silliness during sex or and intensity & power struggle during sex?

fucking a virgin or fucking someone with experience? (somehow several ppls firsts... but they like when ppl know what they want,)

face to face or from behind?

phone sex or sexting?

cumming inside or cumming outside?

being filled or bukkake?

dirty talk or degradation?

role play or porn on in the background?

public edging or filming in the bedroom?

condom or bareback?

lube or raw?

video call masturbation or sexy selfies?

blood play or breath play?

face fucking or and anal sex?

leather or PVC?

morning sex or evening sex?

clothes on or clothes off?

[bcneheaded]

⊙

Send me ⊙ and my muse will bold all that applies to yours (with @manneatcr !)

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[the-jelliphish]

MY MOM IS LETTING ME MAKE AN ANCIENT ROME THEMED DINNER TONIGHT!!!! EEEE

I'm gunna make isicia omentata with herbed carrots as the prima mensa, and libum for secunda mensa. And my mater is the only one in the family who drinks so I'm gunna serve grade juice instead of rubrum vinum.