#and actually quite enjoy them lol

[sysig]

Off to make mischief and terrible decisions for everyone (Patreon)

[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.

[aroaessidhe]

2024 reads / storygraph

Our Lady Of Mysterious Ailments & The Mystery at Dunvegan Castle

books 2 & 3 in the Edinburgh Nights series

paranormal mystery set in a climate-ravaged future Scotland, plagued by ghosts and magic

follows a 15yo Black girl who’s finally gotten an in to learn scientific magic properly - but it turns out to be an unpaid internship, so she has to take more jobs delivering ghost messages and investigating mysteries to take care of her gran and little sister

in book 2 she’s investigating a strange illness centred on a magic school for boys

and in book 3 she’s attending a global magician conference held in a creepy castle - when someone’s murdered, and they’re locked in until she figures out the culprit

Zimbabwean magic, friendship, disabled characters, no romance (so far)

[imagineitdearies]

Battle Log for Chapter 37/38 of Perfect Slaughter!

**Warning! Spoilers for ch37 and 38 ahead!**

If you guys haven't noticed yet what a total nerd I am, this will make it abundantly clear. I showed Cazador's monster stats a couple months ago that I homebrewed/crossed from BG3 and our classic D&D vampire, but I hope you didn't think I stopped there. If you like battle logs and getting into the nitty gritty of D&D mechanics, please enjoy this breakdown below the cut!

First, if you want to reach peak nerd about it with me, take a look at all the details for our main three! (*Note: I did mix Astarion and Tyrus's BG3 stats with a vampire spawn's ability scores, considering it's canon that Astarion lost a lot of things like strength and healing ability after being tadpoled)

Monster Stats: Cazador Szarr

Tyrus Aman'del's Character Sheet

Astarion Ancunin's Character Sheet

Or otherwise, as you look over the battle log, just keep in mind a few things:

"Legendary Actions" are special actions available to powerful monsters in 5e combat, such as vampires. Besides his normal actions, Cazador can take three legendary actions between turns, but only at the end of another creature’s turn.

Cazador has "Legendary Resistance" as well, which is simple but quite powerful: when he fails a saving throw, he can choose to succeed instead, three times per long rest.

At the top of each round, Cazador receives 10 temporary HP per ritual source.

Thanks to Magic Circle, all of Cazador's attacks are rolled with disadvantage.

In his diseased condition, Tyrus rolls with disadvantage on attacks and saving throws, and his movement speed is reduced by half.

Pre-Round

Cazador: 270 HP Tyrus: 100 HP Astarion: 115 HP Ghouls: 35 HP each (four) Skeletons: 27 HP each (thirteen) Chatterteeth: 74 HP Godey: 74 HP

Cazador steps onto trap and speaks the words to trigger it ("Ecce Dominus!") All at once: Glyph of Warding (7th level) - 43 fire damage (succeeded saving throw, only takes 21 damage) Glyph of Warding: Magic Circle Glyph of Warding: Silence Glyph of Warding: Sunbeam - 38 radiant damage *Cazador spends his first legendary resistance to succeed saving throw, only takes 19 damage) Glyph of Warding: Phantasmal Killer (7th level) - 49 psychic damage

Round 1

Cazador: 181 HP +70 temp HP Tyrus: 100 HP Astarion: 115 HP Ghouls: 35 HP each Skeletons: 27 HP each Chatterteeth: 74 HP Godey: 74 HP

Ritual Circle: 29 radiant damage on Cazador from Sunbeam ray Cazador: Two unarmed strikes, 5 bludgeoning damage on second hit *Takes 20 radiant damage at start of turn because of Sunbeam **Fails save for Phantasmal Killer again so spends his second legendary resistance to succeed it Tyrus: Dash to Astarion *Cazador Legendary Action at the end of his turn, Bite attack for 18 total damage on ghoul Astarion: Paralyzed Ghouls collective hits: 26 slashing damage on Cazador (resistant; takes 13) Skeletons: Dash into range of battle *Cazador Legendary Action, Move without opportunity attacks Godey: 13 slashing damage on Cazador (resistant; takes 6) Chatterteeth: Casts Eyebite: Frightened on Cazador

Round 2

Cazador: 183 HP +70 temp HP Tyrus: 100 HP Astarion: 115 HP Ghouls: three have 35 HP, one has 13 HP  Skeletons: 27 HP each Chatterteeth: 74 HP Godey: 74 HP

Ritual Circle: 30 radiant damage on Cazador from Sunbeam ray (succeeds saving throw; takes 15) Cazador: Calls three swarms of rats (arrive in 4 rounds) *Takes 20 radiant damage at start of turn because of Sunbeam Tyrus: Help action to rescue Astarion *Cazador Legendary Action, Vampiric Bat Swarm!! All take either 21 piercing damage or if they succeed the dex saving throw 10 piercing damage; Cazador heals 21 HP Astarion: Casts Expeditious Retreat and pulls Tyrus out of radius Ghouls collective hits: 21 slashing damage on Cazador(resistant; takes 10) Skeleton collective hits: 44 piercing damage on Cazador(resistant; takes 22) Godey: 16 slashing damage on Cazador (resistant; takes 8) *Cazador Legendary Action, fails to Bite Godey Chatterteeth: Casts Chill Touch for 13 necrotic damage on Cazador (resistant; takes 6), Cazador can't regain hit points until the start of her next turn

Round 3

Cazador: 193 HP +60 temp HP Tyrus: 79 HP Astarion: 105 HP Ghouls: three have 25 HP (one dead) Skeletons: ten have 17 HP, three have 6 HP Chatterteeth: 53 HP Godey: 64 HP

Ritual Circle: 23 radiant damage on Cazador from Sunbeam ray Cazador: One failed unarmed attack, one failed bite  *Takes 20 radiant damage at start of turn because of Sunbeam Tyrus: Removes the glyphs from the nearest spawn/ritual source *Regains 10 HP at the start of his turn due to vampiric regeneration Astarion: Removes the glyphs from another spawn/ritual source *Regains 10 HP at the start of his turn due to vampiric regeneration *Cazador Legendary Action, Vampiric Bat Swarm!! All take either 16 piercing damage or if they succeed the dex saving throw, 8 piercing damage; Cazador does not heal Ghouls collective hits: 14 slashing damage on Cazador (resistant; takes 7) *Cazador Legendary Action, fails to Bite a ghoul Skeleton collective hits: 34 piercing damage on Cazador (resistant; takes 17) Godey: 15 slashing damage on Cazador (resistant; takes 7) Chatterteeth: Casts Chill Touch for 21 necrotic damage on Cazador (resistant; takes 10), Cazador can't regain hit points until the start of her next turn

Round 4

Cazador: 169 HP +40 temp HP Tyrus: 73 HP Astarion: 107 HP Ghouls: four have 17 HP, one has 9 HP (one dead) Skeletons: three have 9 HP, seven have 1 HP (three dead) Chatterteeth: 45 HP Godey: 56 HP

Ritual Circle: 26 radiant damage on Cazador from Sunbeam ray Cazador: Two unarmed strikes, 5 bludgeoning damage on second hit *Takes 20 radiant damage at start of turn because of Sunbeam Tyrus: Removes the glyphs from another spawn/ritual source *Regains 10 HP at the start of his turn due to vampiric regeneration *Cazador Legendary Action, Vampiric Bat Swarm!! All take either 20 piercing damage or if they succeed the dex saving throw, 10 piercing damage; Cazador does not heal Astarion: Removes the glyphs from another spawn/ritual source *Regains 10 HP at the start of his turn due to vampiric regeneration *Cazador Legendary Action, Vampiric Bat Swarm!! All take either 10 piercing damage or if they succeed the dex saving throw, 5 piercing damage; Cazador does not heal Ghouls collective hits: 0 slashing damage Skeleton collective hits: (dead) Godey: 15 slashing damage on Cazador (resistant; takes 7) Chatterteeth: Casts Chill Touch (crit!) for 29 necrotic damage on Cazador (resistant; takes 14), Cazador can't regain hit points until the start of her next turn

Round 5

Cazador: 142 HP +20 temp HP Tyrus: 53 HP Astarion: 92 HP Ghouls: one has 2 HP (three dead) Skeletons: (all dead) Chatterteeth: 25 HP Godey: 36 HP

Ritual Circle: 21 radiant damage on Cazador from Sunbeam ray (succeeds saving throw; takes 10) Cazador: Hits magic circle barrier for 0 damage *Takes 20 radiant damage at start of turn because of Sunbeam Tyrus: Removes the glyphs from another spawn/ritual source *Regains 10 HP at the start of his turn due to vampiric regeneration *Bonus action takes a healing potion at Astarion’s insistence (13 HP) *Cazador Legendary Action, Vampiric Bat Swarm!! All take either 18 piercing damage or if they succeed the dex saving throw, 9 piercing damage; Cazador does not heal Astarion: Removes the last glyphs from another spawn/ritual source *Regains 10 HP at the start of his turn due to vampiric regeneration Ghouls collective hits: 8 slashing damage (resistant; takes 4) *Cazador Legendary Action, Bites last ghoul for a total 14 damage Godey: Fails to hit Chatterteeth: Fails to hit with Chill Touch

Round 6

Cazador: 128 HP + 10 temp HP Tyrus: 57 HP Astarion: 92 HP Chatterteeth: 25 HP Godey: 36 HP

Ritual Circle: 24 radiant damage on Cazador from Sunbeam ray Cazador: Hits magic circle barrier for 0 damage *Takes 20 radiant damage at start of turn because of Sunbeam Rat swarm 1: Fail to bite Chatterteeth Rat swarm 2: Fail to bite Astarion Rat swarm 3: Bite Tyrus for 8 piercing damage Tyrus: Casts Message and speaks to Chatterteeth *Regains 10 HP at the start of his turn due to vampiric regeneration *Cazador Legendary Action, Vampiric Bat Swarm!! All take either 18 piercing damage or if they succeed the dex saving throw, 9 piercing damage; Cazador heals 18 HP Astarion: Kills rat swarm 3 with 31 total damage, bonus action Bite for 7 HP healing *Regains 10 HP at the start of his turn due to vampiric regeneration *Cazador Legendary Action, Vampiric Bat Swarm!! All take either 6 piercing damage or if they succeed the dex saving throw, 3 piercing damage; Cazador heals 6 HP Godey: 12 slashing damage on Cazador (resistant; takes 6)  Chatterteeth: Casts Chill Touch for 17 necrotic damage on Cazador (resistant, takes 8), Cazador can't regain hit points until the start of her next turn

Round 7

Cazador: 104 HP Rat swarm: two have 24 HP (one dead) Tyrus: 42 HP Astarion: 81 HP Chatterteeth: 1 HP Godey: 36 HP

Ritual Circle: 24 radiant damage from Sunbeam ray Cazador: Arcana Check to find Sunbeam rune in the ritual circle *Takes 20 radiant damage at start of turn because of Sunbeam Rat swarm 1: Fail to bite Chatterteeth Rat swarm 2: Fail to bite Astarion Tyrus: Reanimates all thirteen skeletons with Animate Dead, 7th level *Regains 10 HP at the start of his turn due to vampiric regeneration *Cazador Legendary Action, Vampiric Bat Swarm!! All take either 14 piercing damage or if they succeed the dex saving throw, 7 piercing damage; Cazador does not heal Astarion: Kills rat swarm 2 with 28 total damage *Regains 10 HP at the start of his turn due to vampiric regeneration Skeleton collective hits: 33 piercing damage (resistant; takes 16)*Cazador Legendary Action, Vampiric Bat Swarm!! All take either 21 piercing damage or if they succeed the dex saving throw, 10 piercing damage; Cazador does not heal Godey: 0 slashing damage Chatterteeth: (dead)

Round 8

Cazador: 44 HP Rat swarm: one has 24 HP (two dead) Tyrus: 14 HP Skeletons: four have 10 HP, two have 3 HP (six dead) Astarion: 74 HP Godey: 36 HP

Ritual Circle: 22 radiant damage on Cazador from Sunbeam ray Cazador: Successfully finds Sunbeam rune in the ritual circle and removes it *Takes 20 radiant damage at start of turn because of Sunbeam Rat swarm 1: Bite Astarion for 3 piercing damage Tyrus: Reanimates six skeletons with Animate Dead, 4th level *Cazador Legendary Action, Vampiric Bat Swarm!! All take either 14 piercing damage or if they succeed the dex saving throw, 7 piercing damage; Cazador heals 14 HP (Three skeletons go down, Tyrus goes unconscious and gets thrown off the edge of the platform) Astarion: Grabs Tyrus's hands before he's too out of reach, lifts him back up from the platform *Regains 10 HP at the start of his turn due to vampiric regeneration Skeleton collective hits: 33 piercing damage on Cazador(resistant; takes 16) *Cazador drops to 0 hit points, which activates Misty Escape to his coffin

Bonus Round

Astarion: Throws Cazador out of coffin Tyrus: Uses class feature "Command Undead" on Cazador(see Tyrus character sheet or necromancy subclass for details) *Cazador fails the saving throw, but spends his last legendary resistance to succeed) --after a bit of angsty dialogue and commands-- Tyrus: Uses class feature "Command Undead" on Astarion *Astarion does not resist/chooses to automatic fail on saving throw Astarion: Slashy slashy dagger dagger!!! (All it took was 1 point of damage, Cazador had not healed yet) Tyrus & Astarion: Hug 🩵🩵🩵

[batsplat]

Thank you so much for ur work for this community 😭

thank you!! so, listen, I need to get some casey, jorge and valentino images out into the world

this is from the 2007 qatar post-qualifying press conference. obviously it's not just the three of them given colin edwards is like. right in the middle. (and *checks notes* gábor talmácsi is also there.) but still a photo of historical significance... casey's first ever race with the ducati (which he very much wins), plus valentino with his then-current teammate edwards and then-future teammate jorge... it's a bit unclear when jorge was actually signed - lin jarvis implies it was in 2006 but if that's the case, edwards seemed to be under the impression for a little too long that he wasn't going to lose that seat. anyways! look at wee nineteen year old jorge lorenzo, look at his utter absence of anything approaching a smile... look at him

misano 2007 post-qualifying press conference and a very powerful photo imo... some nicely contrasting vibes here, good composition... jorge had already been announced as valentino's teammate, and the title is already more or less in casey's pocket (even more so after casey won here and valentino had a mechanical dnf lol - they'd basically brought the race back to the calendar for valentino so this was. not ideal! incidentally still the last race with an entirely non-european podium.)

not much from 2008 tbh. casey and vale took turns to flop in the first bit of the season and then jorge started crashing his brains out. anyway these are from indianapolis, at a time when jorge was just about in the process of getting his act together while casey had crashed in his last three races (including laguna where he picks up the bike to finish p2). quite fond of this race actually, bit of a mess due to the weather and ends up getting red-flagged

first race of 2009.... casey's scheduled annual qatar win. decent shout for his most boring one of the lot, sorry king

pre-event presser before mugello, where valentino had won seven consecutive times headed into the 2009 race. if I'm valentino I low-key never show my face again after the le mans catastrophe but whatever it's fine

the le mans fiasco in question

anyway mugello is another wet-ish race that valentino ended up playing too conservatively because of the le mans horror show. so casey wins! also jorge beats valentino! old man's washed! just about scams his way onto the podium

italian press weren't particularly kind to valentino for having the audacity to lose mugello. they said it was over... he was finished... imagine only winning a race seven times in a row. was he even trying any more? loser

valentino bounced back at catalunya 2009 in highly dramatic fashion (y'know, it's the one with the last corner overtake). moment of deep historical significance in which jorge pulls valentino down from the podium to give him a hug

first race where casey was really struggling with his mystery illness... idk if I were valentino or jorge I'd maybe check if the third guy on the podium isn't about to drop dead but. well. professional athletes, never really been known for their empathy. they did clap along with the journalists in the post-race press conference when the moderator thanked casey for actually making it to the presser, so that's something?

we all have our struggles

the very next race. immaculate vibes imo. the 2009 title fight going into assen had all three of them tied on 106 points... #heritage

anyway the race itself is pretty boring (as unfortunately are many of the races that year), but it's valentino's 100th win so good on him ig. he got out a special banner with photos of all his wins, which would've been an absolute pain to lug around if he'd not immediately won the next race after his 99th

cute. unfortunately, this is now very much mystery illness period for casey... heroic effort to get himself to the podium but not much more was possible at the time

laguna 2009 post-quali presser. jorge is sitting for the photo, because even though he'd bagged pole, he had a massive highside right at the end of qualifying... hurt both his ankles and his shoulder. he'd also had a horrendous highside right at the start of laguna '08, did a good job to banish his gremlins in order to win at the circuit in 2010

qatar 2010... can't have been after the race because casey crashed :/ valentino grabbed the win, before immediately injuring his shoulder in a motocross accident. all went downhill from there, really. damn the eruption of eyjafjallajökull we were robbed

laguna 2010 podium, most memorable as 'that time when they accidentally played the italian anthem rather than the spanish one and valentino thinks it's extremely funny' (clip here). extremely poor quality photo shows casey found it funny too. very #them thing to happen to them. valentino buddy the cap's supposed to remain off for the duration of the anthem

this is very much post-leg break btw, still pretty cordial with each other given some of the stuff they'd been saying about each other to the press during that period lol (not casey/jorge, they were basically fine by this point)

presser right after jorge and valentino's little motegi misadventure... gifs from the presser. valentino's smirk vs casey's grin while jorge is being interrogated, I think about you often...

this was casey's fourth consecutive phillip island win (of six total)... isn't that just like. an incredibly cool circuit to be goated at. does mean the fight for the victory was generally quite boring - though the battles behind casey weren't always exactly thrilling either, so you can blame that on the era too. 2008 and 2010 has decent action behind casey, 2009 is the closest casey was pushed for the win and 2011 at least has a bit of weather-related jeopardy

valencia 2010, photos taken before unfortunate events

last shared podium!! le mans 2012, a fun wet race that featured the final proper casey/vale duel at the race after casey's retirement announcement so has real sentimental value... congrats to valentino for not collecting casey this time. presser clip where he shows he's also pretty glad about how he (just about) managed this

[sunkty]

[storfulsten]

my silly viera wol alt bc reasons uwu

[mintytealfox]

You used to teach people how to pan for gold?

I did LOL the very simplified version of it and it was always hot as frick outside so hiding the fool's gold in the cool water down in the sand felt nice LOOOL (until fall would hit then my hands would be FREEZING AH) If I am remembering right we also had this hella creepy display where you would look down the glass window and you would see this miner down there with a canary with him, I can't remember if it slowly moved or not XD but I kind of remember the sound of this motor sound down in the basement where we would have lunch in the room next to him LOOOL we even had a 'prospector pit' for the kiddos and I thought it was lame as hell LOOOOL, but fun for kids, they would 'dig' in these rubber bits to get 'gems' 🙃🤣🤣🤣 The geologist, at the time, would get so excited about his rock and gem collection lol (I remember having to fight off the mean Geese up there, those things were HORRIBLE) (AND DON'T GET ME STARTED ON THE CHICKENS THAT WOULD FIGHT ME ON THE WAY TO THE RESTROOM AAHHH I would have to run for my life through the gardens and slip through the little opening in the fence to ESCAPE LOL)

I also taught mock school at the school house to show people what school life was like in the late 1800s I had to ring the bell every hour! I actually legit hated that cause it was so LOUD when right next to it ah my ears are ringing just thinking about it ah and that heavy as hell mallet 🤣🤣 but it would be a different subject for each hour in the morning and then repeat for the afternoon.

And spinning thread (I was so bad at it oh my gosh) Talking about wool and the dying process 👍

and quilting (so now I know how to hand sew but the sewing machine still makes me scratch my head LOL)

and leather working (I would just talk about the types of leather and the process of tanning, I didn't do it myself that was for the experts. And I would only fill in when they needed an extra pair of hands 👍)

Taught some of the old dances too, but I hardly remember them now though -weeps-

and cooking in the old cast iron wood burning stove (where I got heat exhaustion cause there is a reason they would just cook outside or had a 'summer kitchen' during the summer months oh my GOSH) and I burnt EVERYTHING cause my pyromaniac self would make the fire too HOT LOL There were ladies who made THE BEST food in that thing though! like TOP TEIR BEST EVER! There is something about it that is just AHH SO EXTRA GOOOOD but anyway scraping out the ash afterwards was pretty satisfying and chopping more wood for the next day was liberating after dealing with some of the ANNOYING visitors (It was this dull as hell light little hatchet so it was all brute force and magic (finding where the log will likely split easiest) to pop those suckers in half oh my GOSH) This was also where my SEETHING, LOATHING, HAAATTEEEE for churning butter came from 😤😤 (cleaning that junk with freshly boiled water was the ACTUAL WORST, but at least I was allowed to use dawn dish soap and properly re-clean everything after closing for obvious reasons PFF)

This is only SOME of the stuff I did and had to learn so I could teach and perform LOOOOOL

//at least the laundry was fake but beating the rugs was one of my least favorite things like BRUH now all that GARBAGE DUST Is all over ME NOW AAAAAAA

lol whenever I hear 'oh man living in the 1800s would be fascinating' I say 'NO IT WOULDN'T, IT SUCKS, DON'T' 🤣🤣🤣

and the GHOSTS THERE I SWEAR I WAS ABOUT TO FIGHT SOME SUPERNATURAL RAAAAAAH

[aerodaltonimperial]

I'm really not used to people paying attention to me, I just sort of lost most of my wrestle fandom friends in the past year or so, and I guess I just want to say hi? Thanks for being here? I've gotten more followers in the past week than I've gotten in several months. 💚

[good-wine-and-cheese]

Gambling Apocalypse Tenma AU

As I rewatch Kaiji I inevitably end up wanting to combine show I like with other show I like and stuffing fav characters into show. So here we are.

This was uh going to be a short summary type thing but I accidentally wrote a novella about it sorry

This AU starts off with a much more depressive Tenma. After Tobio's death, rather than immediately pour his grief into developing a robot version of his son, he recedes into himself, psychologically paralyzed, likely turning to alcohol to drown out his anguish.

His mental state is taken as an opportunity within the Ministry of Science to have him ejected from his position; Tenma was never the most well-liked director, and there were those with ambition to usurp him that would jump at the chance. Not that he especially cares in his state.

He's eventually dragged out of his stagnation by Ochanomizu - who, inadvertently, becomes the very catalyst pushing Tenma to develop a robot replacement to his child. This was not what he meant by encouraging Tenma to fill the void left by his son.

...But, well, he is no longer the director of the Ministry of Science. His access to limitless government funds and resources for "scientific research" has been cut off, and this is a project he cannot finance on his own. He can't ask Ochanomizu for help, but...interestingly...a representative of a certain shady organization known as the Teiai Corporation reaches out to him, offering to finance and support his project. A sane and well-minded Tenma might think better of it, but grieving and desperate, Tenma accepts their offer and is able to create a robot in the image of his beloved Tobio. For a while, there's joy in his life.

But the bill, as ever, comes due: Tenma must pay up, and the very resources that had been at his disposal will certainly ensure that he will, or else. Of course, he doesn't have the money; instead, he is given a choice. He can relinquish the robot Tobio in order to wipe out his debt - the child is a sophisticated and powerful robot, after all - or he can participate in a certain illicit event hosted by the Teiai Corporation.

It's nothing major...just a four-hour gambling cruise with a collection of desperate, damned souls that were also swept into debt with Teiai. The conditions are simple: Those who choose to participate are given a chance to clear their debts wholesale should they win. And should they lose...?

Well...no one really knows what happens to the losers seized by Teiai. It's said that they labour away their debts under Teiai's watchful eye and are freed once their work has covered their debts, though it's rumoured that most perish before they reclaim freedom.

There's only one answer Tenma can give, of course; he's not willing to lose Tobio again.

Thus is Tenma's debut into the Gambling Apocalypse, where he must become cutthroat in order to survive; if he wants to see his son again, he must make choices that will doom the hapless to miserable servitude, with a nonzero chance it ends in their death.

He survives the cruise, but of course, it was hardly enough to clear his debt; the cruise was never going to be the end of it. Teiai doesn't let go of its victims that easily. He will be called on again: this is a weight that hangs over him, all while he returns to his son Tobio. The same hands that have pushed innocents into hell must now be the hands that can embrace his child.

He wants to protect Tobio from the truth and enjoy what peaceful moments he's allowed with his son, but it's difficult. It's difficult to be the parent of a child who cannot understand the danger that looms ahead; this "happy" home is not to last. Tenma angers quickly and easily. He turns that anger onto Tobio.

As Teiai's games become more and more vicious and unrelenting, as his conscience holds onto the last vestiges of thread that remain, Tenma even threatens, once, to give the boy in: it would all end, then; the debt would be clear and no longer would he have to endure Tobio's childish annoyances, his ungratefulness.

The next time that Tenma is beckoned, Tobio takes matters into his own hands. He does understand, now; and he would have, if only Tenma had bothered to explain sooner. If it's a debt that needs clearing, he will work. He will help his father clear his debts however he can. Of course, it's difficult to find work as a child; but a circus troupe finds amusement in the idea of a child robot, and takes him in. He is whisked into a certainly unpleasant working situation, but he remembers his father, and what he must be enduring. Tobio, also, will endure.

When Tenma returns, Tobio is gone.

All that held Tenma back from becoming something monstrous has disappeared. All that kept him going has disappeared. When he is called upon by Teiai, there is no knowing what sort of person might come out the other end; whether a monster clawing his way to freedom regardless of what actions he must take, or a desolate husk surrendering defeat.

There is still a light, however dim: Found by Professor Ochanomizu and rescued from the circus, Tobio - now Atom - is able to shed light on the situation which Tenma took great pains to keep hidden from his old friend. With time running out, Ochanomizu and Atom must do what they can to save Tenma - from Teiai, and from himself.

-----

UHHH and that's a wrap!!!! I couldn't quite decide which way Tenma would go after hitting Rock Bottom in this AU, and tbh it would really depend on the kind of mental state he's in at the time. On the one hand I like the narrative of Ochanomizu and Tobio racing to prevent Tenma from crossing a line (actual outright murder probably) - or having to pull him back into humanity (and yknow, his ensuing penance)

But on the other hand having him get sent to Teiai Evil Hell Prison would be interesting because a) there's a lot of narrative potential having Tenma faced with what Teiai is doing with the people that lose the games and b) need him to decimate the foreman at chinchirorin Kaiji style

Tenma's whole character is definitely a much different guy in this AU, he starts off pretty sympathetic, the guy you wanna root for, he just ends up having an inverse character arc where he gets worse instead of better. His conflict with "Tobio" is also kind of reversed, less about being unsatisfied with Tobio as a son and more not being able to handle the fact that he probably has intense PTSD now and isnt capable of coping with it in a way conducive to being a parent (or like, coping at all)

Anyway that's gambling apocalypse tenma!!!

[theflyingfeeling]

💖 it's here, it's pink, it's sparkly, and full of fluff 💖

Hiiiiii and welcome to witness my attempt at an Olli/Allu Advent Calendar, in which I'll give you ~a cute little something~ about these two idiots in love almost every day until December 24! My plan is to use prompts from this list to either write a fic based on the prompt or just some good ol' delulu thoughts if all else fails. I cannot guarantee there'll be a post literally every day, but I'm really excited to try this out and I thank you for your support along the way in advance 💝

The biggest thanks and a million hugs go to one of my favourite human beings @kraeuterhexchen for making the adorable banner!! I mean helloooooo?? 😭 Go show them some love ❣️

For December 1, the prompt list is titled One True Pairing Moments, and the prompt I chose was 'calling just to hear their voice' 🥺 You can read the fic below, I hope you like it <3

.

PS. Even though this is an advent calendar of sorts, I'm not planning on making this particularly Christmassy. I hope no one minds terribly!

~

Falling for Aleksi had, in a way, sneaked up on Olli, at least if he fooled himself a little. He could pretend he didn’t feel any different about the man than he did about, say, Joonas or Tommi, but that strategy only worked for so long – that is to say, approximately until Aleksi as much as smiled softly at him from across a room or bumped his shoulder into his jovially when walking down the street and Olli would feel his breath getting caught in his throat or stumble in his words, his tongue tangled like shoelaces, which was so unlike him as well and frustrated him to no end. It really took a special kind of fool to not only develop some level of feelings for a friend, a colleague, a bandmate for Christ’s sake, but also become so hopelessly enamored with him that you rolled awake in bed in the dead of night, grabbing your phone and tossing it back on the nightstand again and again because you couldn’t decide whether or not you should, on some erratic 2 o’clock impulse, call him to let him know he was the very reason for your insomnia. 

Turning on his back, Olli groaned (only a little desperately) as he remembered losing himself in the lingering hug they had shared just before the arrivals lobby at the airport, inhaling Aleksi’s scent and wishing they wouldn’t have to go home just yet, even if Olli was more than ready to finally sleep in his own bed again. Ironically, ever since they had returned home from tour, Olli had spent night after sleepless night missing Aleksi terribly: his stupid jokes and playful banter that bordered on being flirtatious if Olli allowed himself the benefit of delusion; his quick, subtle smiles that probably meant nothing; his little touches Olli hoped meant something; his smell and his touch and the softness of his hair at the back of his neck, compared to which the blanket Olli was grasping in his fist was like sandpaper. (How he had come to know of the qualities of Aleksi’s hair in such detail, he preferred not to dwell on too much to save himself from the heartache, so let’s just leave it at ‘stressful, emotional week far away from home’ and ‘a little too much to drink’).

Above all, Olli missed Aleksi’s voice. He hadn’t even thought that was possible, until the other morning when Olli had woken up to a voice message Aleksi had left just hours earlier, rambling about a song idea he had gotten in the middle of the night – something he did from time to time – and Olli had spent the next several minutes replaying it over and over again as he had lied in bed procrastinating getting up and and instead closing his eyes to better imagine Aleksi lying there beside him, turned on his side to face Olli, talking to him sleepily like they often did when they shared a room on tour and were just too lazy to join others at breakfast. Much like the hug at the airport, Olli wished those moments would have lasted way longer than they did, often ending abruptly when either of their phones would go off with Santeri’s name on the screen, a passive-aggressive interruption to the soft, low tone of Aleksi’s early-morning thoughts. (Sometimes, when Olli was lucky enough, he had been blessed with the bliss of feeling the light touch of a fingertip tracing along his collarbone, cut short just as frustratingly by their well-meaning tour manager politely enquiring whether the two of them had plans of dragging themselves downstairs for some toast and coffee, or if they’d rather starve until lunchtime, for which he wasn’t at all sure they’d even have time that day.)

The lovesick idiot that he was, his thumb hovered over the ‘play’ button of Aleksi’s voice message, probably for the millionth time that week. The chest-carving hesitation turned into a heart flip when he noticed Aleksi was online.

Then Aleksi began to type, and Olli held his breath the entire time until a new message appeared in the thread, anticipation holding him by his throat.

You awake?

Olli exhaled and typed his affirmative reply, leaving out the reason why.

He blinked at the screen, waiting for Aleksi to ask him a random question that clearly couldn’t wait until morning, or perhaps talk about something related to another late-night Twitch stream (from what Olli had gathered, Aleksi had been doing a lot of those recently, and with his last remaining braincell Olli had managed to resist the temptation to watch every single one of them, because he knew that if he did, it would only dig his grave of pining and longing deeper, seeing Aleksi smile and giggle about but not being able to do that with him or snuggle up next to him when he was wearing that flannel Olli often used as a blanket in the tour bus). But instead of another text appearing on the screen, Olli’s phone began to vibrate in his hand, and it took him an embarrassingly long while to understand it was because Aleksi was calling him. 

“Hi,” he sighed when he finally collected himself enough to speak. He prayed he’d be able to hear what Aleksi was going to say from the thumping heartbeat echoing in his ears.

“Hi,” a soft voice said. “Sorry, I know it’s late…”

“No, not at all,” Olli hurried to say, “I mean, I wasn’t sleeping. Not even close, actually.” Part of him hoped Aleksi wouldn’t ask about it, but in some foolhardy way the possibility intrigued him. 

Nothing much, he would have likely said anyway, but what would happen if he told Aleksi how it really was? That he squeezed his pillow imagining it was him instead, or wailed into it because something had reminded him of a moment-that-was-probably-not-a-Moment™ they had shared? What would Aleksi say if he knew Olli sometimes touched himself the way Aleksi had touched him That One Night they never talked about? The only obstacle between Olli and that knowledge was a bottomless ocean of cold sweat and cowardice, and Olli had never been a great swimmer.

“So, ummm…,” Olli said when Aleksi’s end stayed silent. “What’s up?”

A short breath of laughter sounded through the phone line.

“Honestly? I don’t know, I… It’s just been a… weird week, I guess.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, like… my head’s just been so full of… everything and… I’ve been so busy and kinda tense and… fuck, this is going to sound crazy,” Aleksi laughed that brief laugh again, although to Olli it didn’t sound particularly cheerful. Tired, more like. Strained, somehow. Not sad, but definitely a little troubled, and Olli intended to find out why.

“I’m all for crazy, you know.” Olli hoped his sorry attempt to lighten Aleksi’s mood would work, and so he smiled in relief when he heard Aleksi chuckle at his comment.

“I know,” Aleksi said softly, in that tone of voice that had Olli melt against his bedsheets. “So yeah, it’s been a rough week, but… in between all that stupid shit, I’ve been thinking a lot about… umm… well, the tour and– and… about you, for some reason,” (the troubled laugh made its return) “and… yeah. That’s sort of helped me a lot recently.”

Olli listened to the words carefully, not fully believing what he was hearing, yet clinging on to them until they were all but swirling around in his otherwise empty head like dry leaves in October wind.

“And tonight I just couldn’t fucking sleep for some reason and nothing I did seemed to help and so I thought I’d call you. And I’m–” If it hadn’t been dead silent otherwise, Olli wouldn’t have heard the shaky breath Aleksi paused to take, “I’m sorry I’m calling you at this hour and bothering you with this all but I guess I just… wanted to hear your voice. To see if that would help.”

“Does it?” Olli asked. Aleksi’s confession had made him clasp his blanket close to his chest, as if that would do anything about his rapidly beating heart.

“Yeah. It does. So maybe just… keep talking?”

Despite his mind living a life of its own, completely unfit to form a single coherent thought, for Aleksi’s sake Olli tried his best to think of something to say, but everything he came up with was something he was not ready to tell him quite yet. 

“Uuummmm…” he said to buy himself some time, but while he waited for his useless brain and mouth to form any actual words, Aleksi spoke again.

“Fuck, I’m– I’m sorry, this is too weird, I shouldn’t have– I’ll let you go back to–”

“I miss you,” Olli blurted before Aleksi would hang up on him. He squeezed his eyes shut when Aleksi went silent, too silent for too long for it to mean any good.

The line stayed open, however, which Olli took as a positive sign, even if the seconds during which all Olli could hear was Aleksi's quiet breathing seemed endless.

“And I you,” Aleksi finally replied. “A little too much, probably, or at least that’s what it feels like,” he chuckled. Olli almost missed the quiet sniff that followed.

He had to steel himself for his next question.

“What do you mean?”

“Just… forget it.” Aleksi said quietly. Contrary to Aleksi’s request, Olli knew he was going to all but ‘forget it’ for the next 3-5 business days; mentally he booked all his evenings as well as most of his mornings and noons for pondering what exactly had been in Aleksi’s mind in that moment or why he had sounded so sombre, almost disappointed. He’d probably never come to any satisfactory conclusion about it though, at least not without a little help from Aleksi himself. 

A ridiculous idea popped into his head, and before he could stop himself, the words flooded out of his mouth.

“Do you wanna come over some time? To hang out? When your schedule’s a little less tight, I mean.” He sucked on his lips and closed his eyes as he waited for Aleksi’s answer, ready to hang up the moment he’d decline the offer on some obvious and logical reason for why Aleksi couldn’t possibly make nor want to take a trip to the north to see him, such as ‘didn’t we just spend over two months on the road together?’ or ‘damn, buddy, I miss you alright but not quite that much, I’ve done enough sitting in public transportation for one year, thank you very much lol’ or ‘what about Rilla?’

“You could take Rilla with you, you know.” Olli hurried to say, just in case, the deranged part of his brain thinking there might be a chance Aleksi might be at least considering it.

“Oh! Well, umm… I actually might have time next week? If– if you’re actually being serious about this.”

Funny you should ask, Aleksi; I’ve actually never been more serious about anything in my entire life than I am about having you here with me so that I can hold you and be held by you and see your face when I wake up in the morning and say goodnight to your annoyingly cute face instead of via text message and maybe, if the stars are in position and the northern wind won’t discourage me too much, I might actually be brave enough to torment you with the knowledge of just how miserable I’ve been since we last saw each other.

“I think it would be cool,” he said, because he had a feeling what he wanted to say would’ve been a tad too much and sudden. “I mean, if you’re up for it, of course. I understand if you can’t make it though, I know you have all those side projects.”

“No, I think it might actually do me some good to get out of the capital area for change.” Then there was a muffled ‘ouch’, followed by a laugh that sounded much brighter than any of the other ones Olli had heard from Aleksi that night. “Sorry, correction, it might do us some good. Rilla just told me she’s most definitely coming too. Rilla, stop nibbling on my toes!”

Olli smiled tiredly at the mental image that was painted in his mind of Aleksi and Rilla cuddling in bed, both minding their own business from what it seemed while still minding each other as well, very much indeed.

“I’ll be sure to set up a bed for her in the guest room.”

“The guest room? Do you not know her at all? If she’s not getting the master bedroom, she’ll ruin all your rugs and most of your shoes. Probably also gossip about you to all the neighbourhood dogs. And she’s brutal.”

Olli held his stomach as he laughed, tears almost forming in the corners of his eyes. In his defence, it was late and he was finally becoming tired, thus too far gone to help himself, let alone feel embarrassed about being in stitches about something Aleksi had said that was only mildly amusing. (It wasn’t the first time that had happened either, and likely not the last time.)

“So yeah, ummm, I can take a look at some flight options for next week and let you know, alright? I’m gonna let you sleep now and… I should get some myself too.”

Olli wanted to tell Aleksi he’d love to stay up chatting until dawn, but the yawn he let out when he opened his mouth to speak implied Aleksi had a point.

“Yeah, let me know. And… thanks for calling, I… you have no idea how much I needed this tonight.”

That was as close to a confession as Olli was able to get as of now.

“Probably not half as much as I did.”

Olli chuckled at Aleksi’s response, mostly to hide his own agony.

If only you knew. If only I knew how to tell you.

It didn’t take long for Olli to doze off after they hung up, and when he woke up to the kids from next door having a snowball fight under his window in the morning, he noticed new messages from Aleksi, sent half an hour after their phone call had ended, complete with screen captions of airplane schedules.

Would these days work for you? I might be free all week actually 😇

Olli cuddled into his pillow while typing his reply, hoping it wouldn’t wake up Aleksi.

yeah I’m free as well. I’ll pick you two up from the airport 🖤

From then on, Olli started counting the days until he’d see Aleksi again.

[sysig]

Still a thief at heart, stealing kisses (Patreon)

[jackass-jones]

Really into the episode of Ouran where this girl confesses her love to Mori but he doesn’t feel the same because he’s into Honey and the girl’s reaction is just like YIPPEE I LOVE YAOI THATS SO COOL FOR YOU YAY 🥰

[bmpmp3]

Getting into stuff that has a lot of pre-announced release dates is really good for me like vocal synthesizer products and new love live etc franchise music releases....I'll be lying in bed at like 2 AM with ur usual 20-something's fear and existentialism over time and the future and then I'll remember a piece of singing software or a new song related to cartoon characters I like is gonna come out like next month and I'm like 😌

[wundrousarts]

Yesterday I watched Cartoon Saloon’s short “Screecher’s Reach”, and thought Daal’s hair was almost exactly like how I envision Mathilde Lachance’s hair, so I decided to try and draw her. Today I stopped cleaning up the sketch after about an hour because I got bored, so it’s going here.

[beneath-thestyx]

if we read Bram Stoker's Dracula through a sexual lenses, then the voyage of the Demeter is an orgy that went horribly wrong