#well temporarily

[kazbrekkerfast]

me? listening to Christmas music when it's not Christmas?

more likely than you think

[flamingpudding]

His son's children

When Alfred looked into the security video of the front gates, he froze for a moment. Taking in the image of the two children there. One was a tall, red haired girl with a teal headband, confident but with a look of wary in her eyes. Behind the girl was a younger boy, black haired and wearing a NASA shirt, appearing to be reluctant like what they were doing was a bad idea. Alfred's stomach dropped just a little when he saw the boy and his familiar features.

A second later worry flitted accross his face, but still, because of protocol, he asked them for their reason for this surprise visit. No one expected any visitors this late, and Alfred knew if he looked over his shoulder, he would find one of the children snooping, trying to find out who their visitor could be.

Yet when he heard the girls request to see him, not Bruce Wayne, but him, Alfred Pennyworth, his stomach dropped even more. Knowing now for sure that he hadn't seen wrong with the boy's features. He buzzed them in, while his mind remembered old cherished memories of two you black haired toddlers playing together, growing up together until that one day. When he chose to stay and his significant other chose to leave. Sometimes, he wondered if Bruce still remembered the one that could have been a brother to him if things had gone different.

He doesn't regret his decision, but when he looked at the two worn-out children, no his own grandchildren, before him he mourned the fact that he had let his own son become astranged from him and Bruce. Having believed it to be the best with what Bruce had started to get up to.

But maybe it wasn't to late to make amends he thought as the young girl, clearly of the same vibes as Richard, like someone who had grown up to fast and taking on responsibilities that shouldn't be theirs, tried to explain that they won't call him grandpa if it made him uncomfortable and that they would only need a place to stay for a couple of days before they could move on.

Alfred's heart broke for them as he listened to the girls, Jasmine's hurried explanation.

During her explanation, he studied them more closely. Marveling at how much the boy, Daniel, looked like him when he had been younger. But also noticing the clear signs of injury he was trying to hide. He suppressed a huff, years of taking care of his reckless charges and other grandchildren, and their wounds had made him an expert in spotting these things. But it also gave him a sickening feeling. The injuries Daniel tried to hide did not appear like your average kind of injuries.

They were going to stay, Alfred would make sure of it and he would also let Bruce know of his findings. There was clearly more to his grandchildren sudden appearance than Jasmin was willing to explain.

Whatever endangered his grandchildren from his own estranged son. He would ensure that nothing would hurt them ever again.

His granddaughter did not need to list reasons to convince him to let them stay for a couple of days. And his grandson did not need to look this cautious and wary of him like someone was going to attack him any second.

Alfred was going to give them a home if his son couldn't. And if Bruce had a problem with it, he could take it up with his children. Clearly, if he looked over his shoulder at the noisy little ones, all of his other grandchildren could see that these two before him needed a home to stay.

Besides from the looks of it, they would fit right in with this family.

[radioelly]

[bixels]

Hey, discussion question:

Is Rose Quartz a war criminal? I see that term bandied around so much for her that it feels like a given that she's a war criminal, but I'm wracking my brain and I can't... actually recall any real war crimes that she committed.

I'm talking objective war crimes, by the way, not war crimes by Homeworld's (the fascist government's) standards. It's literally legal for the Diamonds to shatter (split a person's soul into shards of ceaseless torture) their citizens, I don't value their definition of morality, lol.

[zomboivex]

A romantic date with Alan

Please and thankiess

One romantic date with Alan coming up (very much late but shhhhh)

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Alan x Reader Short Fic

Not proof-read (sorry I don’t get paid for this so you get what you get lol)

2k word count

Light Fluff

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Alan had never been the romantic sort. In fact, dating wasn’t something that he had really even considered being on the table for him. Much too preoccupied with fixing up anomalous cars and his duties as Captain. But here he was, fumbling with his phone in his large hands, unsure of what words he could really say to confess what was on his mind.

Words were hard, after all.

‘I need to talk to you’

No.

‘I want to twll you something’

Deleted.

‘Come talk to ne’

He couldn’t send that.

Eventually, he settled with, ‘Meet me at fhe garag2’.

The message sent and there was no going back now. It came through with ease to you, unable but to stare a bit confused at the message.

It was unlike Alan to request your presence unless it was something important. So you replied with a simple, ‘Is everything okay?’ in hopes to get a little more information.

‘Yes’

Okay….

‘I willl see you art 3.’

Well…. You didn’t really get any further answers as to what it was Alan wanted. So, with a light sigh, you focused on your remaining classes for the day. Not that you had many left. Only two and both were in subjects you performed rather well in.

The classes, as you had predicted, slipped by quickly. Rushing out the door and to the Vagastrom territory. Even though Alan had said everything was okay, you still couldn’t help but to feel a bit uneasy. A lump settling deep within your stomach as the lot with cars came into view.

Your steps hastened and soon you found yourself in the garage you had grown familiar with. The various whirls and scrapes of tools one you had grown used to hearing. Oil, gas, and other fumes thick in the air. Groups of rowdy students either talking loudly to one another or eying you as if you were prey. Shrinking in on yourself, you stepped further inside and nervously would look around for the Vagastrom Captain.

“What’re ya doin’ here?” One of the particularly larger students asked, practically looming over you. If you were ice, you would have melted right there on the spot. “Lost?”

“N-no-“ the words sputtered from your lips, shrinking in further as another of the students approached with a booming laugh. You felt as if you had walked into a den of lions ready to read you apart. No matter how often you came to the garage, it was still a frightening experience without any familiar faces.

“Bet they’re lookin’ for Cap!” The student who greeted you first spoke up.

“Ohhhh right- right!” The laughing guy added on with a knowing grin as the two exchanged a look. “I’ll go get ‘em.” And with that, he turned to walk inside, leaving you with the menacingly tall student from before.

“Cap’s been talkin’ ‘bout you nonstop.” He finally spoke up. Your cheeks a bit rosy before confusion took over.

“What…?” You asked, meekness seeping in.

“Oh. Yeah. Said he wanted to tell you-“ before he could finish, a large hand came down on his shoulder and gave it a squeeze. “Aahaaaa- Cap, I was just tellin’ your friend that you were talkin’ ‘bout ‘em.”

Steely eyes would look you once over- expression stoic. Voice matching, “Let’s go.” His hand removed from his fellow student before going to walk off, hands returning to his sides.

You would glance at the student once more before going to follow Alan, who was walking out to the car lot you had just come from. Each step Alan took you’d have to match with two of your own- the ghoul making note of and slowing his own pace down. Your confusion washing over you as you weren’t sure where exactly the large ghoul was going.

“Alan-“ you spoke up, almost breathless.

No response, but Alan would slow his pace down further. A more reasonable one that you could match.

“Where are we going?”

No response, still. You found yourself growing flustered with the lack of answers, your foot stomping into the ground briefly and the words boomed from your chest before you could really even stop them, “Alan! Tell me where we’re going!”

Stopping completely in his tracks, Alan would turn to face you. Expression unreadable until he gave an apologetic gaze.

“Sorry.” A long pause. “I wanted to show you my favorite spot on campus.”

You found yourself blinking in surprise at this. And then an embarrassed chuckle escaped.

“You should have just started with that-“ the words pressing out through awkward and nervous laughing.

Alan was quiet, again. Steely eyes watching you briefly as if to contemplate what to say next. You could tell he was putting careful consideration into his words, eyes dropping down to the ground in thought before raising up to meet your own, again.

“Sorry.” Another simplistic response. “I wanted to surprise you.”

At this, you couldn’t help but to soften your gaze, a smile tugging at your lips and chest warming from within. There was just something endearing about the way Alan spoke. Simple and to the point. Even if he glossed over the details. It was direct yet soft at the same time.

“It’ll still be a surprise when we get there.” You responded with your own gentle voice, wanting to remove any discouragement that may have followed the Vagastrom Captain. It seemed to work as his normally neutral face formed a small smile followed by a nod of understanding.

Alan began walking, again. This time, starting slow so you could keep up. The walk to the destination silent. A comfortable one that the two of you shared in. Winding through a path that went out just past the Jabberwock grounds and then a little further out until you reached the edge of the island.

The sandy surface a surprise as you’d briefly glance over to the ghoul. He would walk along the shore before speaking up, “Usually, I prefer the woods.”

This information a surprise to you. Alan rarely spoke of his own interests. He was a quiet man who simply acted rather than explain. A charm about that. But- here he was now- telling you about his own preferences.

“So what do you like about this place?” Your words quiet- as if trying to maintain the gentleness of the conversation.

“The waves.”

You must have given Alan an odd look because he soon launched into an explanation.

“No one comes here so you can listen to them.”

Ah… so he found it peaceful out here. Briefly, you wondered if Alan was the type of person who enjoyed fishing. But that thought was brushed off as he would meander off a little ways. Following behind until he stopped at a log. A hand gently patting the spot beside him. You’d join him, getting situated as silence settle between you both.

Remaining like this, the two of you would enjoy the simplicity of one another’s company. No words really needed to be spoken, the sea waves being all the noise either of you needed.

For the first time, since coming to Darkwick, you found some inner peace. Quiet. Complacency.

“I like you.” The words sudden, tearing you from your trance of the ocean. Your head turning slowly to look at Alan.

“What…?” Had you heard him correctly?

“I like you.” Repeated. Voice raised only subtly. Your eyes carefully examining that neutral expression. Was…. this a joke….?

No.

Alan wasn’t the type to tease you like that.

Your heart was on its way to thump out of your chest. Cheeks burning as you opened your mouth to speak only letting out a soft gasp in surprise.

“I- like you too.” You managed to stammer out.

Alan’s face softened at this. Hesitating as he seemed unsure of what to say. So he simply returned to silence.

“Alan-“ his name soft from your lips, “you make me feel safe.” A brevity of silence. “You’re patient and kind. Gentle. You put others before yourself. And you’re safe. I never feel like I’m in danger when I’m with you.”

“You should-“

“But I don’t.”

More silence. Alan’s body rigid as his gaze returned to the gentle waves lapping upon the shore.

You decide to inch closer. Legs brushing against one another as you look up at the tall ghoul. He didn’t pull away. And so you took that as a sign, your arms reaching up and around his shoulders- neck- lightly pulling him down so your foreheads could press against one another.

“I like you, Alan.” Reiterated with more confidence than before. “You should like you, too.”

The quiet made you unsure if you had said something wrong. Then strong arms would wrap around you, tugging you in close and pulling you into his chest. A hand running along your back gently before you relaxed into the touch and closed your eyes. The embrace warm as the sea spray cooled you both down from a sudden large crash. Pulling back from the chill it sent up your spine, you began to laugh.

It was now Alan’s turn to look confused. Brows furrowed deeply with observation. No questions came, though. Instead, a large hand moving to push some strands of damp hair from your face- thumb brushing lightly along your brow bone. Your eyes meeting his and your hand reaching up to bring his large one down to caress your cheek.

Fingers brushed gently against your skin as you both would stare into each other’s eyes. The Vagastrom Captain dipping down briefly and your heart skipped a beat. His voice a low rumble, “Can I kiss you?”

A nervous swallow. A quiet, “Yes.” And then you felt his lips upon your own.

Maybe you had been holding your breath the entire time because when he parted, you would shakily exhale.

“Are you okay?” The question serious.

“Yes-“ a pause “kiss me again.”

And another soft press of the lips as your arms wrapped around his large frame. His own hands pulling you in closer to his chest. This one lasting longer, lashes batting up at Alan- his gaze soft. Making you feel as if you’d melt on the spot.

The breeze would pick up, a small chill running along and causing goosebumps to form along your skin. Clouds gathering above and threatening to burst. Eyes drifted towards the sky. This island always did have temperamental weather.

“We should go back.” Alan spoke, verbalizing what the two of you had been thinking.

You give a light nod and stand. A brief moment of hesitation before you decided to take Alan’s hand in your own, working your fingers together. As you did, rain began to sprinkle down. Slow, at first, before building up into a downpour. The two of you rushing to find shelter from the sudden storm.

Looking at Alan, you couldn’t help but to laugh again. His own hair stuck against his skin, reminding you of a wet cat. Your free hand reaching up to push his bangs from his eyes, admiring him for a brief moment. He’d only pull back to remove his jacket, the leather drenched as he’d turn from you to shake it out- an attempt to keep any more water from hitting you. Then, Alan would turn back around, going to place the jacket over your shoulders.

“I don’t have an umbrella.” The words apologetic. And you smiled up at him.

“That’s okay.”

With the jacket snug on your shoulders, you would huddle closer to the Vagastrom Captain, soaking in his warmth briefly. The rain didn’t look like it would let up any time soon, the ground soaked. A deep breath.

“Want to run through it?” You asked, glancing up at the ghoul.

He would blink in response- a bit perplexed by the suggestion made.

“I don’t think it’ll stop raining in the near future.” You reiterated lightly.

Alan thought it over for a moment. An idea striking him.

“I’ll carry you.”

Your head tilted slightly.

“Hold the jacket over us and I will carry you back. We might stay dry, then.”

“O-okay.” The word stammered out slightly and, without hesitation, Alan would scoop you up and place you on his back. You would lift the jacket to cover your heads- a bit of your back exposed to the chilly air. Strong hands holding your thighs in place as the trek back to Vagastrom would begin.

The world wet and damp as the garage came into view, Alan would only set you down once the both of you had made it inside. The concrete at your feet now wet with footprints. Another shiver ran up along your spine, Alan noticing this.

“Stay here.” Short and to the point as he would go to turn and walk inside. Alan would return shortly after, a fuzzy and warmed towel in hand. He’d wrap it around you, burritoing you and making sure you would be dry and cozy.

When the weather finally let up and you no longer were soaked to the bone, you’d wave your goodbyes to Alan. A renewed sense of comfort in your companionship with the ghoul- heading back to your own residence.

[ladybugsimblr]

And just like that, the group chat that was filled with love an hour ago is now in shambles. Oh the highs and lows and shenanigans 😅. We love it here!

[every-sanji]

[dazesanddoodles]

new sitcom featuring stuilly (yuri edition) having a Totally Normal Summer™—coming this june to an ao3 tab near you!

[2-d-rogue]

This version of the UFO ending was hilarious. (Screenshots taken from Chanting Baboon.)

[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.

[spinebuster]

i feel better now :)

i feel like shit so i’m gonna rewatch kota vs mikeball

[camelspit]

if cassius knew keefe would end up at the cabin why wouldnt he leave like. actual food there for him. why r u making my boy scavenge for cheetos.

[invinciblerodent]

Replaying from the beginning, I don't think I'll ever get over the fact that Astarion actually expected us to not immediately clock that he's a vampire. And I know this has been said before, but it's so hilarious.

He's over there, thinking himself suave and secretive, with such decor as...

A clearly bloody glass cup sitting right in front of his tent, in a puddle of blood, as the very first thing you see

another bloody goblet at his feet, with stains that do not look anything like wine on his white carpet

jars of blood inside his open tent, complete with a very clear bloodstain on the pallet under his bedroll

this clearly labeled bloodbank jar, covered in bloodstains, just on the table right next to him

this veritable dinner table napkin covered in blood, and of course, the pièce de résistance,

the fucking mirror in clear view, angled perfectly so that if he wasn't a vampire, you should be able to see his ass in it in premier plan when approaching from the campfire.

Not only is he very clearly a vampire, but he's also an excessively messy eater, which honestly makes the fact that he is only revealed on the third night a downright humiliating admonishment of the party's collective intelligence.

(Though, armed with the knowledge that he cannot seem to keep blood in his mouth, there is also some real potential here for the first act of physical tenderness he experiences in centuries to be the player character just... absently wiping a drop of their blood off his chin with their hand after a feeding.)

[tonydaddingham]

the thing that is actually making me giddy with the possible angst is that i really think that we are about to see the most monumental shift in not only how we saw these characters but also how they previously saw each other.

the fact that we literally now have confirmation that a) they knew each other before the fall, b) aziraphale has had heart eyes since before time began, and c) crowley... possibly not so much, completely changes the context on not just the eden scene but also all the historic scenes that followed.

aziraphale knew crowley as an angel, and knew even then when crowley was meant to be 'perfect' that crowley was maybe a bit different, always asking questions and toeing the line. maybe out of a bit of bastardy himself, or out of begrudging awe of his ability but also his audacity, or just plain attraction, aziraphale immediate takes to him. but this has meant that aziraphale has placed crowley, perhaps unconsciously, upon a pedestal. and the pedestal that aziraphale puts crowley on from that moment may have wobbled throughout their history together, but it's stayed relatively intact.

this worries me, that aziraphale may not have quite let go of the fact that crowley just isn't that person any more, maybe never was to begin with, and continues in some measure to idolise him. my interpretation of this is that yes, crowley can be a bit of a dick (because, well, obviously) and aziraphale knows this, has done since the beginning, but aziraphale continues to hold crowley to an overall moral ideal that is so firmly ensconced in aziraphale's first perception of him as an angel that crowley will never be able to live up to it. not because he isn't a nice person, or because he can't live up to it, but maybe... he just simply doesn't want to.

but the issue is that throughout the ages (including the job minisode which ive had corrected for me, so Crowley Anger is now simply simmering), crowley's actions have only reinforced to aziraphale that despite being technically a demon, he has a huge heart and is not a horrible person. bit of a bastard, but not cruel. all of this just feeds and feeds into this image of crowley that aziraphale has built of him, and when crowley has his flashes of, in fact, not being honourable or kind, this threatens to upset the pedestal altogether.

these wobbly moments - when he thinks crowley is going to kill the children, when crowley snaps at him in rome, when crowley first proposes the arrangement, the prospect that he came up with the french revolt, the holy water request, the bandstand, "how can someone as clever as you be so stupid?"... moments where just for a second, in a small or huge measure, aziraphale's faith in crowley... flickers.

and of course aziraphale has been here before, right? he's had his faith, his devotion, his loyalty tested to the absolute limit of angelic endurance. so when his faith in heaven (never lost it in god) was obliterated, well - it had to cling to something. something that wouldnt mean that aziraphale has to lose the concept of faith altogether. so we're back to the old standby of idolatry, that aziraphale's heavenly faith is replaced by his faith in crowley, this angel that despite never originally giving aziraphale the time of day, aziraphale cannot see - for all of crowley's faults and bastardy and the frustration he poses - crowley as anything less than something to be worshipped.

this is exactly why i think that one of the main points of s2 is going to be a rift between them both. obviously i haven't talked about crowley's perspective of this and maybe i will in another post, but i do think that crowley is going to do something, a bad thing for the right reasons, but aziraphale isn't going to see it like that. that crowley will do something awful to protect aziraphale, but all aziraphale will be able to see is the betrayal or the cruelty or the despair, he can't see wood for the trees, and just lose that last vestige of faith he had altogether.

i feel like once all the disillusion and disenchantment has been swept away, and they're both laid bare at each other's feet... that they may not quite like what they find. from aziraphale's perspective, that whatever crowley does in s2 might be crossing aziraphale's line in the sand, and now aziraphale is starting to see crowley as someone that is truly grey, fluctuating between doing things that are Good, and things that are Good for Crowley.

and it's not as if aziraphale was blind to this before, but instead now... he kind of finally sees who crowley is? who he has been all along? the film has lifted from his eyes. realises that love and worship are not the same thing. what he loves, who he loves, doesn't equate to worshipping it/them, idolising them. there's a very big difference that echoes down to the very core tenet of who aziraphale is and his experiences with having and losing faith, but love having remained.

so stripped of the pedestal, crowley is now just simply... crowley. a person, not an angel, not a demon. and there is the distinct possibility that aziraphale might be completely blindsided by what he finds.

[meiwks]

So basically… Dan is being too tsundere to admit he wants to help Conrad out properly, will proceed to provide for this kid and pretend it’s a burden. Got it.

[y-rhywbeth2]

Random fact about vampires: Vampires cannot be affected by spells like polymorph, as they are tagged as shapeshifters and their mutable nature means the spell can't work. Or it can, depending on edition, but shapeshifters can just shrug it off and shift back whenever they want.

Vampire spawn aren't shapeshifters and lack the tag, and in theory should be affected. Technically a disadvantage, but with some creativity it does have some advantages.