#Bkwk Writes

[black-king-white-knight]

Cyber Files AU - Chapter One:

A/N: Okay, here’s Chapter One. I have no idea when other chapters will be coming, but I hope you enjoy and if anyone has any question, feel free to hit me up.

Warnings: Swearing, Death mentions, Medical mentions... I think that’s all for this chapter? But please let me know if anyone wants anything else tagged or if I missed anything.

“In steel as in flesh. Corpses leave clues.”

Dear You,

The body you are currently wearing used to be mine. The scar on the inner left thigh is there because you fell out of a window and impaled your leg running away from Badges at the age of nine. The four fillings are a result of you avoiding the dentist for most of your life. But the physical past of our shared body isn’t important to you right now.

I’m writing this letter for you to read in the future. Wondering why anyone would do such a thing? The answer is… both simple and complicated. The simple answer is because I knew it would be necessary.

The complicated answer is… rather twisted.

Do you know the name of the body you are in? It’s Remy. Remy Saros. It was my name, but it comes with the body, so I suppose it’s yours now. Changing it would be… unwise. But we’ll get to that later.

Before I tell you the story, there are a few things I need you to be aware of. First, you’re deathly allergic to bee stings. If you get stung and do not take quick action, you will die. I’ve always hoarded all the epi-pens I could find. Check all the glove compartments of cars, backpacks and jacket pockets you now own. If you get stung, flick the lid off, orange to the thigh, blue to the sky, wait for the click, hold for three seconds and remove. You’ll feel like shit, but you’ll survive.

Apart from that, you’re a non-photosensitive epileptic. There should be a sleeve of meds in the front right pocket of your trousers. Repeat scripts are loaded onto your Eye and spare meds will be available later when you need them.

Now, hopefully, you still retain your right hand, and everything it provides.

The fuck? Someone would have stolen my hand!? They thought to themselves, glancing down at their right hand and clenched it in relief before turning their attention back to the words hanging in the rain in front of them.

In your immediate future, the three most important are a Social Identity Card, Bank Chit, Medi-Sys Card, all of them belonging to Remy Saros. Except for four. Those physical cards in your wallet are, right now, the most important. Tucked away in there are a Chit linked to a different bank, a driver’s licence, a Medi-Sys Card and a Social Identity Card belonging to Alexandyr Morgan, a name that will not be linked to you.

The personal identification number for all of them is 160100. That’s my birthday, followed by how old you are. You’re a newborn! Get somewhere dry and safe, find a secure hotel, and check in. The AM accounts will have more than enough to cover.

You are doubtless aware of the next part already, since if you’re reading this you’ve already survived several immediate threats, but you are in danger. Just because you are not me does not make you safe. Along with this body, you have inherited certain problems and responsibilities. Go find a safe place, and the second letter will be waiting for you when you arrive.

Sincerely,

Remy Saros.

They stood shivering in the rain, watching the words on the holographic display dissolve into the downpour. Their hair was dripping, licking their lips under the face mask gave a burst of saltiness, and everything ached. Under the lights of reflected neon, the figure had automatically flicked their right hand out in a muscle-memory gesture to bring up the main menu on their Eyeformer Operation System, looking for some clue as to… anything.

When the Eye booted up a message simply titled To You had been sitting there in the main menu, blinking gently, waiting to be opened.

They shook their head angrily, but the spike in throbbing quickly diffused their anger. They looked up at the sky, watching the rain come down and lightning fork across the sky. Rummaging through the other pockets of their outfit turned up nothing other than a long, thin plastic box with medical instructions, chemical information, and a label printed on it. REMY SAROS.

The Epi-Pen, they thought, staring at it before returning it to the interior jacket pocket it had come from, patting it a couple of times for reassurance. Then they dropped a hand into their front right pocket and pulled out a fresh packet of red and white capsules in a standard plastic and foil medical sleeve. Epilepsy meds, I guess.

So this is who I am, they thought, unsure of how they felt. I don’t get the uncertainty of not knowing what my name is, but I’m not being given control over my own life. Whoever Remy Saros was, they managed to get me in a whole lot of trouble. They sniffed and brushed a dark lump out of their left eye. Wet hair slapped against their skin and Remy cringed slightly.

Ugh, okay, rain first. Get out of the rain, then… get a car, I guess. Yeah, find a car, find a hotel.

Remy looked around, searching for shelter, but since they were standing on a bridge, nothing was immediately available. Just expansive, smoke filled blackness all around, only broken by strings of indistinct neon in all directions and the sounds of sky-borne cargo lifters. Finally spotting an undercover shop doorway at the end of the bridge, Remy stepped out of the slight crater in the middle of the road, and over the ring of bodies that ringed it. They were all motionless, and wearing latex gloves.

They darted from shelter to shelter, staying in the dark wherever they could, contact lenses glowing due to the low-level night vision function built into the Eyes’ Pathfinder app. The only sounds in the smoke-filled night were the gradually fading sounds of main street traffic around the bridge, and the ever-present sounds of cargo lifters and the occasional Fire Bird.

Remy was hugging themself and shivering by the time they got off the main roads, and spent a minute shaking off as best as their throbbing head would allow. Reactivating the Eye, they opened one of the ride call apps and scrolled through. If the accounts contained as much money as the mysterious message said, Remy would gladly pay for the quiet and convenience of an automated cab.

Opening a new tab and selecting the bank account under Alexandyr Morgan’s name, Remy used the login details stored in an in-Eye app to log in, and looked at the account total and withdrawal amount. Both numbers almost short-circuited Remy’s newly born brain. There was… five million in the account. Even given the inflation of various economic crashes, that was a lot of money. Whoever Remy had been in that previous life… they clearly had a lot of cash to splash around.

Recalling the letter’s multiple warnings about finding somewhere safe, Remy kept scanning both ends of the street, as well as all the doorways and windows they could make out while waiting for the summoned car to appear. When it did, they scrambled inside, shut the door, and scanned their hand on the Chit reader built into the back of the “driver’s” seat. Remy then selected “Evasive Mode” from the drop-down menu in the app, clicked the seat belt in and sprawled as much as they could across plush seats that automatically warmed up in response to Remy’s wet frame. 

They briefly considered not sprawling like this, since it would give Future!Remy all sorts of aches, but Present!Remy was too comfy, so they just shut their eyes and let the swinging turns and passing neon lull them into a fitful, exhaustion-driven doze.

Remy’s Eye suddenly came to life and started to ping with alerts that they’d arrived at the marked destination, the messages dislodging the slew of automated ads from the earlier apps. They jerked upright then hissed in pain. The journey had been nearly half an hour to the other side and a deeper level of the city, bordering on one of the old mine shafts, turned closed off corporate enclaves when the mine was turned into a city.

Remy’s decision to sprawl all over the back of the car meant that climbing out was a flurry of spasms, aches and pins and needles. Mumbling in irritation as they got out of the car and wishing Past!Remy hadn’t been such a selfish asshole, they stumbled towards the five-star hotel. 

The hotel management students who had been unlucky enough to get saddled with door-duty on the graveyard shift stared at Remy’s face without moving a muscle as they opened the doors for Remy, who passed through with an exhausted nod at them both and walked through the gorgeous foyer.

The impeccably dressed and coiffed desk clerk (at three in the morning?! What. The. Fuck. Are you some kind of hideous automaton, man?) politely stifled a yawn and barely widened his eyes at the soaking wet person on the other side of the desk who had just left a wide trail of dirty water across the marble tiles and was now checking in as Alexandyr Morgan.

The hotel porter who appeared did a poor job of appearing awake, but still managed to guide Remy to the appointed room without incident. By now, especially after a heated nap in the taxi, Remy was so sleepy that they’d practically given up on all vigilance, barely remembering to thank and tip the porter before entering the room and searching for the bed. Having found something large and soft, Remy dropped, content to sleep on it until…

Remy was asleep too quickly to even finish the thought.

Notes: That’s all there is for now. I just wanna say a huge thanks to @milomeepit, and @pipapatton for helping me work out ideas and acting as soundboards, and @lucifer-in-my-head for designing artwork for it, which I’ll add next chapter as the art becomes relevant to the story.

[black-king-white-knight]

Cyber Files AU

Dear You,

The body you are currently wearing, used to be mine.

So begins the letter Remy Saros is holding when they wake in a Ravensthorpe park surrounded by corpses - all wearing bloodied armour latex gloves stretched over their gauntlets; expressions under their masks ranging from startled to agonized.

With Remy having no memory of who these corpses are, their own identity, or how any of them got there, Remy’s only viable option is to walk back into their former life, following the information left behind.

They discover they’re a Rook, a high-level operative in Checquy International. Publicly, a well funded search-and-rescue service with a worldwide reach, but there is far more to this group of Good Samaritans than meets the eye. And, as Remy learns, CI’s abilities to defy the laws of traditional science are barely the tip of the iceberg.

In their self-appointed mission to save not only their life but their mind, as well as unmask traitors, Remy must harness their own ability to break scientific laws and unravel a conspiracy that goes deeper than Remy could have ever imagined.

[black-king-white-knight]

Nicoletto Giganti

Pairing: Romantic pining Logince. (They’re both Gay Disasters, what can I say?) Platonic Moxiety. Mild background platonic LAMP?

Word Count: 4,921. I swear it was supposed to be ~500. I am truly incapable of keeping my mouth shut.

Warnings: Logan’s oblivious, and despite the fact I didn’t really have time to include it, Roman’s pining too. A tiny little bit of swearing... oh and mentions of sword fighting, but it’s fencing classes and mentions of a competition. Nothing else I can think of, but let me know if there’s anything else anyone wants me to tag for.

Oh, and I know nothing about fencing other than what I remember from a couple of terms of it at school about a decade ago. Plus whatever I can dig up online. So any mistakes are, of course, mine.

Since I don’t have a beta, there might be some tense switches here that I haven’t fixed, if so, please let me know.

A/N: To my good friend and one of the two best artists I’ve ever seen. Happy Birthday Elli! I hope you like it. =)

 “So, have you asked him yet?”

Logan didn’t open his eyes, just gave a small sigh as he stopped counting and shifted position slightly. Eighteen seconds. Well, I had thought it would be Patton who asked, not you, Virgil.

“No, Virgil, I have not asked Roman anything yet, because, quite frankly, I don’t know what you except me to ask him or him to say in response.”

There was a short pause as Logan felt the unimpressed stare from Virgil and the... he wasn’t quite sure what kind of look Patton was giving him.

They’d both been acting strange since finding out about his... aesthetic fascination with Roman. That’s all it was, he’d quite clearly stated that, but for some reason, Virgil and Patton refused to accept it as such. They kept on trying to push for a confrontation and confession for illogical reasons Logan couldn’t decipher.

Whatever Logan’s interest in Roman was, Roman, very clearly did not reciprocate. It was nothing to be concerned about. Anybody looking at Roman could see the aesthetic appeal he held, and that’s all Logan was admiring about him. That’s it. Nothing more than that.

Virgil snorted off to Logan’s left, but thankfully didn’t press the subject any further. Patton was clearly worried about something, as evidenced by his constant fidgeting. It was a habit Virgil used to feel a little guilty about, thinking he’d inflicted it on Patton, but between Logan and Patton himself, Virgil had eventually been convinced that such a notion was rubbish.

“Don’t worry, kiddo, maybe he’ll ask you out...” It sounded like Patton mumbled something else after that, but Logan couldn’t make it out. If he was of a more fanciful nature, he might have guessed it was, “sooner than you think.”

Nevertheless, Logan’s brain short-circuited for a few seconds, involuntarily caught up in the notion of spending time with Roman. As much as he enjoyed the company of his other two friends, spending time with the theatre student would be...

No, it’s just an aesthetic attraction, Logan. You know this. Anything further is illogical. It was a mantra that Logan stuck to rigorously, especially recently. It had shielded him from the pain of rejection for several months now. Not that there was anything to get rejected over, of course. Wait...

“Patton, why would he need to ask me specifically? We’ve all agreed already that we would go as a group.” It sounded kind of weak, even to Logan’s ears. He didn’t even bother denying to himself that he wanted Roman to ask him specifically, despite how guilty it made him feel about excluding his other two friends.

He wanted his... definitely-not-a-crush to be reciprocated, of course he did, but not at the expense of his friendship with Roman. It was not a definite outcome, and Logan couldn’t bring himself to face such uncertainty.

Patton didn’t answer the question directly, but did send a quick glance at Virgil, again with that face that Logan didn’t know how to interpret. Something was clearly going on here, the two boys had a plan about something, but he couldn’t work out what it was and that made him a little uncomfortable.

When Patton and Virgil started plotting together, it was best to just hope you could stay out of the way. Patton didn’t look it, but he’d perfected his puppy dog eyes over many years and knew just when to deploy them to get out of trouble.

The teen in question shifted closer on Logan’s right side and gently pressed his outstretched leg to Logan’s and started carding his fingers through the other boy’s hair, and then moved on to gently scratch his scalp.

Logan wanted to pursue the subject further, and was about to ask Patton why he was clearly trying to distract him with physical affection when Patton hit that one spot right there.

This one particular spot on the back of Logan’s head had always been his weak point. It was a well established tradition between the four boys. They’d been best friends since before any of them could remember and had long ago grown so comfortable with each other that physical affection became a major method of communication, especially when they were feeling anxious about something.

Logan eventually gave up, just enjoyed the stroking, scratching sensations on his scalp as Patton moved his hand around, idly doodling puppy paws on his leg with his other hand. Virgil crouched against the tree, headphones on and looking like he was blocking out the world, but all of them knew that face well.

Roman had initially joked that it was Virgil’s ‘Taskmaster Face’, but the joke quickly proved to be a reality after Patton had gotten hurt in their first competitive fencing bout. Virgil had turned into a demon then, pushing them all to practice as much as they could to prevent any future injuries even after Patton’s protestations that he was fine.

At first they’d all rebelled against it in their own ways, but after Virgil had revealed his anxiety... Logan shuddered internally. The realisation that Virgil had been suffering in silence for years because he hadn’t wanted to bring them down had... not gone well for any of them, but at least Virgil was more open with them now, Patton especially.

Virgil wasn’t touching Logan, but he was offering his own silent comfort. Before Logan could demand an answer why, the bell rang out across the campus, and the three friends started walking back towards the buildings, Patton’s left hand having dropped from Logan’s head to his side, fingers entwining with his.

“Where’s Roman?” Logan asked, surprised that the theatre student hadn’t made an appearance all through lunch. A certain tardiness on Roman’s part wasn’t unusual, he had a habit of either getting distracted, especially when Logan was around, for some odd reason, and he often stayed behind to help the drama group.

Which they all did during productions, whether or not they were officially involved in them, but Roman did it year round, mostly tutoring the younger students.

But for him to not appear all throughout lunch was... odd. And Logan could have brushed it off as Roman being Roman except for the fake nonchalance that the other two on either side of him immediately came down with.

They knew something, and Logan wanted to find out what it was.

There was a moment of silence before Virgil shrugged, “He’s around.”

Seeing that Logan wasn’t satisfied with such an evasive answer, Patton jumped in with, “It’s nothing bad Lo; apart from that... It’s a surprise, you’ll see later. Just, trust us, please?” Patton then pulled out his puppy eyes, and Logan immediately caved. None of them were able to deny Patton anything when he pulled out that expression.

Virgil snicked and when Logan looked at him, he peeled away with a quick two fingered salute and headed towards English, while Patton and Logan moved to History, still hand in hand.

Logan felt out of place throughout his afternoon classes. He and Patton didn’t share many classes with either Roman or Virgil, since Roman was one year younger and Virgil was two, but even so, the lack of Roman and the secretiveness of the other two... stuck in Logan’s mind.

He knew Patton, the teacher and several of his classmates were all looking at him, wondering why he was so quiet, but Logan was too wrapped up in what his friends had told him during the day.

Roman was off, somewhere, doing something secret. It was a surprise that he would discover later, apparently, and then there was the issue of Patton’s insistence that Roman might give Logan a shot if he were to confess his feelings.

Logan couldn’t help himself; he started re-examining all of his past interactions with Roman. How distracted the theatre student was around him, frequently daydreaming and not paying attention to the tutoring help that Logan gave him. How, when they were fencing, they learned that out of all of them, Roman learned the worst when he was paired with Logan; it was like he was unable to focus full the way he was with Virgil or Patton.

But that was- surely his friends couldn’t be right, could they? Logan had seen enough romantic movies on movie nights between Patton and Roman, but everyone knew popular media didn’t imitate real life.

But Logan couldn’t (and to be honest, he didn’t want to) crush the spark of hope that was blooming in his chest.

“Lo?” Patton asked from above him. “You okay, kiddo?”

Logan looked up, realising with shock that class was over, and Patton had his arms full of his books and head cocked to one side as he looked at Logan.

“Uh, yes, everything is satisfactory, Patton.” Logan muttered, adjusting his glasses and trying to fight down the senseless blush that suddenly spread across his cheeks. Patton smiled at him and the two boys exited the classroom, only to be greeted by Virgil who was hanging around on the other side of the corridor, bag slung over one shoulder, hood up and headphones on. When he saw them though he pulled out his phone and turned his music off, pulled his headphones down and linked arms with Patton while they followed Logan to his locker.

He was still feeling off, but that feeling only spiked when he got close to his locker and saw other people looking at him before turning away, or people walking away giggling.

Logan turned the corner, gently but firmly working his way through the crowd that was milling around in the corridor, wondering what on earth was happening and-

...

Well.

That certainly explained what Roman had been occupied with.

Behind him, the sound of flesh smacking into itself, sounding very much like someone face-palming could be heard.

“When I said make it obvious enough even Logan couldn’t be that oblivious, that is not what I meant, Princey.” Virgil muttered from beside Logan’s right shoulder, and the gasping noise at his other side marked when Patton first saw the display.

The thing was, it was, almost, tasteful. There weren’t as anatomically inaccurate stuffed hearts as Logan would have expected, but what Roman had done was adorn them in the shades of black and blue that Logan tended to wear.

Roman was standing in front of Logan’s locker with two piles of hearts on his right, three on his left, a bunch of flowers in his hands, and a bright red blush on his face. On top of each heart pile was a large stuffed bear, each of them holding a letter or question mark to form the word, PROM?

Each bear was a miniature person.

The three outer bears, the ones holding the capital ‘P’, capital ‘M’ and the question mark, were miniature Logans. The two inner bears flanking Roman, the ones holding the capital ‘R’ and the capital ‘O’ were miniature Romans.

The three of the bears had been given Logan’s tie, glasses, shirt and slacks, but after staring in shock for a few seconds, he realised that not only did the bears have hair, it was his hair.

The Roman bears had the white Prince uniform, complete with gold trimming and red sash that Roman had worn in the only production he had so far directed, and it was Logan’s favourite performance he’d ever seen Roman give. The bears’ hair was also styled the same way it was in that performance.

Roman and whoever he must have had help from had given each one of the bears hair and clothes that was not only in his colour, but his style too.

Idly, Logan realised that such an effort must have taken hours, especially with five large bears to work on.

He was... amazed. Flattered. He couldn’t-

“Oh dear, I think Ro broke him...” he could hear Patton say from behind him, and Virgil snickered, saying something about “Windows”.

“Logan? Would you like to go to prom with me?” Logan was aware of Roman speaking, but he couldn’t seem to make his mouth work.

“Lo? Kiddo, you really should answer him...”

Logan snapped back to his senses, just in time to see Roman’s smile start to crack a little around the edges, like splintering glass.

“YES!” Logan yelled, rather louder than he meant to. But it did get his point across. Roman’s face burst into the biggest, most radiant grin Logan had ever seen across his face.

“Finally,” Virgil commented from behind them, and Patton sighed happily.

“Aww, they’re adorable together, aren’t they?”

“Yeah, Pop Star. Yeah, they are.”

 “What do you mean you had a crush on me?!”

“Logan! Sit down, please. You’re ruining my hard work,” Patton scolded from behind him, and Logan resumed his seat, chagrined.

“My apologies, Patton. I was just startled.”

Logan looked at Roman, who just shrugged, trying to pass it off as nonchalance, but failing spectacularly.

In the week after Roman’s promposal, Logan had come to realise many things, including that not only Virgil and Patton, but also most of the student body and the teachers all knew about Logan’s crush on Roman and, apparently, his crush on Logan.

It seemed as though the only two who didn’t know were the boys themselves.

“That’s why I asked you to prom like that, I needed something with extra oomph!” Roman replied, looking up in shock from where he was painting his own nails. Having done everyone else’s nails and make-up, he was now pushing through, trying to get his own done before their transport arrived. At Logan’s confused look, Roman continued, “That’s why I took Virgil’s advice and tried something more direct. Because I’d asked you out several other times and you never acknowledged it as anything more than friends, so I thought you were trying to let me down gently, but the they insisted you were just oblivious.”

They were standing in Roman’s bedroom, getting ready for prom that night. Patton was working on everyone’s hair, and Virgil was sorting out the finishing touches for his and Patton’s cocktail dresses that they were already wearing, and fishing the other boys’ suits out of the wardrobe.

And Logan was sitting there, unsure of how he could have missed all of these apparently obvious signs when no-one else did.

“No, of course I didn’t know. If I had I would have-” Logan sputtered.

“Would have what, Logan?” Virgil asked, from where his head was buried in Roman’s extensive walk-in wardrobe. “Here, this one’s yours,” he said, passing a suit-bag to Logan.

Tried harder to understand. “Thank you, wait, why is my suit in Roman’s wardrobe?”

“Because he had to make sure that your suit complimented his, of course,” Patton said from his position behind Logan, gently running his fingers through the other boy’s hair, styling it with the superior skill they all knew he had.

“I don’t understand. You were that sure I’d say yes?”

“Logan-” the other three say simultaneously, with varying degrees of exasperation.

“Logan... kiddo, the way you and Roman were staring at each other... you weren’t subtle.”

“Not even slightly,” Virgil added, his head still buried in fabric.

The teenager in question just stood there in shock, thinking that, if that were true, how had he missed out on it? He remembered realising Roman was staring at him a lot but he’d never...

“Hey,” Virgil said, nudging his shoulder, “Pat’s done with your hair, now go get changed before you start bluescreening again.”

“Yes. Thank you, Patton,” Logan said with a smile at the other bespectacled boy who grinned in response before shooing him away and making grabby hands for Virgil, who rolled his eyes and obediently sat down.

Just before he walked into the ensuite bathroom, the tail end of Virgil’s sentence caught up to Logan, and he turned and asked, “I’m never going to live down my reaction to that promposal, am I?”

The other three just stared flatly at him.

“Of course not,” Logan muttered, as he closed the door, but he couldn’t help his small smile at the thought of Roman’s display. And he knew that the others had seen his smile too, Roman in particular.

He unzipped the bag and pulled out the suit and gasped, in spite of himself. It was a charcoal grey, with a silk shirt of such a dark blue that it looked nearly black, with spots of silver glitter on the shirt, forming what looked like... no, forming what were constellations.

Logan’s love of astronomy and space was well known, but for any of them, or all three of them to go to such lengths just for his prom suit was... deeply touching.

The silk tie was a deep, royal red, presumably complimenting whatever Roman’s suit was going to be, and there was even a pocket square, which Logan attempted to fold many times, but then gave up, resigning himself to the fact that he would have to get one of the others to do it.

The make-up that Roman had so carefully applied to his face was... wonderful. Logically, Logan knew that Roman’s make-up skills were as impressive as Patton’s skill with hair, but there was a substantial difference between seeing it in action, and simply knowing about it.

Most of the make-up Logan couldn’t keep track of, he just sat back and trusted Roman to do what he did so well. Also, Logan was more than a little pre-occupied with not freaking out given his crush was so close for such a prolonged period.

The eye shadow was the same as his tie and the pocket square, dark blue and glittery. The eyeliner wings were ‘sharp enough to kill a man’ as Roman was so fond of saying, and Logan could certainly see what he meant.

There was also a faint shade of blue lipstick, lighter than his eye shadow; it matched the blue of Logan’s hair dye very pleasingly.

Shaking himself out of his stupor, remembering that they were all on a time limit, he got dressed, automatically sucking in his stomach a bit to get into the trousers, but pleasantly surprised to find they were perfectly tailored. How, he didn’t know, but recent events had taught him that he was clearly far less observant than he thought he was.

After he finished, he exited the bathroom, draping the empty suit bag across the back of one of the empty chairs before turning to the room at large.

“Can someone help me with my pocket square please?” Logan asked, stepping out of the bathroom. Virgil and Patton suddenly turned away from him, as Patton said, “Uh, sorry Lo, we’re both busy with this... thing. Maybe Roman can give you a hand?”

Logan was about to question them on their obviously fake excuse when he turned around and-

...

...

“Yep. I’ve definitely broken him this time.”

Roman stood there, looking the best that Logan had ever seen him. By a lot. Which considering Roman’s normal looks, was really saying something.

His suit was the same grey as Logan’s, and his shirt was the same red as Logan’s tie, but the glitter in his shirt was coloured white and gold. It took Logan a minute to work out what his glitter formed a picture of, but then it clicked. Castles and crowns.

A prince indeed, was the thought that went through Logan’s mind.

Roman plucked the dark blue and glittery pocket square out of Logan’s limp fingers and swiftly folds it into the ‘Three Stairs’ fold for Logan, Roman’s own pocket square, done in the ‘Four Peaks’ design, looking like a red and gold glittery crown on his chest.

“Roman, you look... splendid. Amazing,” Logan breathed in awe.

“Thank you, Logan. You look almost perfect yourself, there’s just one, final, touch...”

Logan felt a tugging on his cuffs and looked down. Roman was holding a small, velvet covered box, and blurted out a question before he even knew what he was saying.

“What- Roman, are you asking me to marry you?”

There was a crash from behind Logan that made all three of them turn around in shock to find that Virgil was currently laughing hysterically from his position on the ground, where he’d tripped over a chair in shock at Logan’s question.

“No, Logan, I’m not asking you to marry me,” Roman said, failing to keep the laughter out of his voice as Patton helped Virgil up.

“Oh, okay then,” Logan said, not quite sure how he felt about that.

“After all, we’ve got to save something for after the prom, don’t we?”

Logan was sure he couldn’t have heard that correctly, but Roman grinned at him, then went back to the box. Which, when he opened it, turned out to contain cufflinks, not a ring.

The cufflinks themselves though turned out to be another surprise, since the design on the links was the logo of the team the four of them had formed together.

Again, Logan felt his heart swell with love for the three people around him. Even without his new relationship with Roman, (which he still couldn’t quite believe) the deep love he had for the three people around him, and the love they had for him was something he would hold onto for the rest of his life.

Logan caught Roman’s eye, just as the other boy raised an eyebrow in a silent question. Logan nodded mutely, and extended his arms, giving permission for Roman to press the cufflinks into the end of his sleeves, standing closer than was strictly necessary, but Logan had zero intention of pushing him away.

“There. All done. Now, you look perfect, Logan.” Roman said softly, he took a step backwards, running his fingers down Logan’s forearms and across his hands, sending electric sensations up Logan’s spine, which made his fingers twitch in response to Roman’s ministrations.

Logan inhaled, and he didn’t know what cologne Roman was wearing, he couldn’t even really say what it smelled like, all he knew was that Roman smelt fantastic.

Logan turned around, feeling his face heat up as he felt Roman’s fingers slip into his own, and they turned and looked at each other before both blushing, looking away, and catching sight of Patton and Virgil, who were looking at them with what had become their standby expressions over the past week.

Virgil’s fringe was hanging down in front of his eyes, with his lips turned up in a small smirk, but this one was his private, ‘you’re a dork but I love you anyway’ that Virgil kept just for the three of them. Patton, meanwhile, was looking at the two of them like they were puppies he’d just been handed.

A honk of the horn outside confirmed that their transport had arrived, and the four of them hustled downstairs, quickly slipping into their shoes, (heels for Patton, dress shoes for Logan and knee-length boots for Virgil and Roman,) and hurrying outside, to be greeted with the sight of an actual limousine.

They all started talking excitedly, getting more and more excited for what the night promised, as they walked towards the limo.

They climbed inside, spreading out across and sinking into the luxurious leather upholstery as the driver shut the door, settled into the front and pulled out into the traffic, heading towards the tower the prom was being held in.

The trip was quiet, mostly, because despite the fact that Roman and Patton were almost constantly talking, with Virgil occasionally joining in, it didn’t annoy Logan like it would have if it were other people.

He just leant back, still not quite able to believe that he was this happy, this fortunate just a week after being so sure that he would be attending tonight more for his friends than he would for himself.

When they arrived, they found the entrance to the tower was filled with students from their high school, all milling around in their own little friendship groups. As the four of them walked past towards the lifts, Logan heard someone mutter, “Damn, Patton wears that dress so well,” and Logan couldn’t help but agree. So did Virgil, but there was something about the way Patton moved, that just made his dress look a lot different, despite them being identical except for the colour.

They took the lift up to the 21st floor, exited the car and found their way up the stairs to be greeted by the sight in front of them. The ballroom had a dance floor and stage immediately in front of them, a bar tucked into one of the far corners of the room, opposite the kitchen doors and well out of the way of the tables spread throughout the far half of the room. Floor-to-ceiling plate glass windows completed the effect, with a pair of French doors leading to a balcony.

They took their seats at one of the tables near the front, joining a few of their other friends who they spent the first part of the night chatting with, as they ate dinner.

Eventually, though, Roman and Patton both jumped to their feet as the rest of the table hurriedly vacated, along with most of the other students. Logan and Virgil looked up sharply, Virgil’s eyes already widening, no doubt fuelled by his anxiety, when Roman said, “Come on, Lo, we’ve got to dance!”

What. “I beg your pardon?”

“Dance, you know, that thing where you move your feet and body in time to a piece of music?”

“I’ll have you know I’m well acquainted with the concept of dancing, Roman. I just wasn’t planning to dance tonight.” Which was true, Logan had no intention of dancing tonight, but seeing Roman’s face fall, to be quickly swallowed by a neutral expression hurt him deeply.

“O-oh, well that’s okay! Pat’ll dance with me!”

“Wait, Rom-!” But the two boys were gone before Logan could finish.

Virgil looked at Logan sympathetically. “Scared you’d look stupid on the dance floor?”

“I... do not understand, dancing. It’s a sequence of steps in time to a beat, it’s almost mathematical, yet no matter how much I try, I am unable to even acquire basic efficiency at it.” Logan said, still trying to work out how to fix the sudden problem he’d caused.

“Logan, look at them. Not Roman, you’ll just end up feeling hurt. Also, Roman’s great at this, he’s not my point.” Logan was confused, but let his eyes drift across the other students, seeing them dancing, laughing, having fun.

“Really look at them, Logan. What do you see?”

“Teenagers dancing. What am I supposed to be seeing, Virgil?”

“Teenagers dancing badly. But they’re having fun doing it. If someone’s dancing like that, they’re thinking about more than looking stupid on the dance floor. If you go out and dance badly, no-one’s going to look twice at you. All four of us fence, but Patton does ballet as well and Roman... is Roman. People expect them to dance well because they know they can. People don’t expect it of us, so if it turns out we can’t do it, then it’s not a problem. They don’t take any notice of it.”

“That is... surprisingly observant of you, Virgil.”

“Yeah, well, that’s anxiety for you. I’ve had a lot of time to spend watching from the sidelines. But if it makes you feel any better, they’ll do some slow songs later. Slow dance with your man. No skill required, and you get to hold him close.”

“Thank you, Virgil. I will certainly... try, to do that.”

“That’s all I’m asking, Pocket Protector.”

The song ended, and almost in answer to some unspoken wish of Logan’s, the band switched from a fast song to a slow one.

Patton and Roman returned, cheeks flushed with exertion when Logan suddenly sprang up. “Roman, would you please dance with me?”

“What? But I thought you didn’t-”

“I do! I was just, surprised.”

“Oh. Yes. Yes. I mean, I would certainly love to dance with you,” Roman said, the flush on his cheeks deepening a little as he grabbed Logan’s hand and they walked briskly towards the dance floor.

The two boys turned to each other and had to take a few seconds to sort out who was holding the other where, but eventually they got themselves sorted and Logan leant his head on the taller boy’s chest as they swayed together slowly.

They spent the next few hours like this, either on the dance floor, sometimes in pairs, sometimes all together, sometimes all alone in Roman’s case, or all together at the table, eating or resting.

Around midnight, when the dancing was starting to wind down and the room was starting to get to everyone, Logan suggested they go sit out on the balcony for some fresh air, and Virgil decided to ask Patton to dance for the first time tonight. Unwilling to say no, the two left, leaving just Roman and Logan together.

They both rolled their eyes at the total lack of subtlety the other two possessed, but were also grateful to them, so they left it at that and headed outside.

The balcony was quiet, the cool air pleasant on Logan’s heated skin as he leaned into Roman’s side, both of them staring up into the night sky, quietly admiring the constellations as the sound of the bell striking midnight rang out across the city.

“I love you, Logan.”

“I love you too... my prince.”

   End Notes: The title is another awful, awful pun. Except this one isn’t really a pun. You do get to see a cute puppy if you understand it though.

There’s a lot here I want to change and expand, but since I’d also like it to be done *before* the end of the year, this is where it ends.

 Oh, and if you’re wondering about the dresses Virgil and Patton are wearing:

https://au.shein.com/Fit-and-Flare-Sleeveless-Glitter-Dress-p-551409-cat-1727.html

Obviously, the purple one for Virge, and a lighter shade of that blue for Pat.

 And finally, I do apologise if the quality seems a little... lacking. I wrote all but 179 words of this in about 16 hours. So... yeah. Actually, subtract all the time I spent distracting myself... it’s probably closer to six hours. I have a cramp in one hand, it is now 2:41AM and I’m off to bed. But I do hope you enjoyed, despite all that. =)

I somehow forgot to tag anyone. >.<

@ellistruggle @pipapatton

Thanks for the reminder Pipa. =)

Edit: I’m not sure what’s happening with the spacing, why it won’t separate like I want it to, I’m sorry about that, I’ll try and get it fixed as soon as I can.

[black-king-white-knight]

King Hiero

So, I’ve been going through a bad patch lately, and @ellistruggle, the utter angel she is, drew a li’l motivational Remy for me. And she’s been having an art slump lately, so… this is some Remy/Roman bonding time, a thank you from me to her, and hopefully some helpful words to her and any other content creator out there, struggling or not.

Pairings: Platonic Roman/Remy. Hinted romantic Prinxiety.

Warnings: Slight angst, (with a happy ending) self-deprecating talk, artistic block, drink mention, (green tea and hot chocolate, not alcohol) and hopefully that’s it. Please let me know if I need to modify or include anything.

This is edited by me and un-beta’ed, so if I missed any mistakes, particularly my terrible habit of switching tenses, that’s my fault and please tell me so I can fix it.

Word Count: 3,370

The incessant tugging at the back of Remy’s mind had been going on for two hours now. The Sleep Side was used to this; the rest of the Sides all had their own night-owl habits, and of course Virgil gave Remy the most headaches (figuratively and literally) but he knew Virgil hated his insomnia and tried to fight it as much as Remy did.

This though… this was different. This was someone clearly not wanting to go to sleep. Actively avoiding it. And that just wouldn’t do. Thomas couldn’t fall asleep until all the rest of them were down for the night.

Remy let out a frustrated sigh as he shifted in bed for the umpteenth time, before switching the TV off, flinging back his blanket and quietly padded over to his wardrobe. It was winter in Florida right now, and the mindscape always reflected the weather Thomas was experiencing, and while Remy’s panda onesie, (a birthday present from the other Sides) was warm, he didn’t think it was really appropriate for hunting down tonight’s insomniac.

He started flicking through it, grabbing a plain black and white tee and jeans, pulling them on before slipping into his trademark leather jacket and sunglasses.

While getting dressed, his mind was drawn to the potential culprit. His first thought was Virgil, as the Anxious Side had been having a tough time lately, first with the second episode of Cartoon Therapy and now with the new push for more scripted Sanders Sides videos. They’d all been feeling the strain, but Virgil had been feeling the most pressure from the situation.

This in turn affected Thomas, which then subtly influenced the mood of all the Sides.

Remy had been doing what he could for both of them, but in a situation like this, Virgil held more sway over Thomas than he did.

Stepping out of his room and quietly easing the door closed behind him, he started slowly walking down the hallway, past the other bedrooms with his eyes closed, listening to the silence of the mindscape, listening for…

There. Remy’s eyes snapped open when he heard a faint shuffling and mumbling behind the door that, when he looked up, wasn’t Virgil’s.

Huh, weird, Remy thought to himself, but just as he was about to knock, he had an idea.

If Roman was having difficulty sleeping, then a mug of hot chocolate always put him to bed. It was odd, but the sugar rush of hot chocolate and marshmallows (Roman was very insistent there be marshmallows) caused Roman to crash, and actually resulted in him sleeping faster overall.

He sank out of the corridor and appeared in the kitchen, where he busied himself with making a green tea for himself and a hot chocolate for Roman as quietly as he could. With a travel mug in each hand, he sank out again, this time reappearing in his room. He strode over to his bedside table, and laying the two mugs down, opened the top draw and withdrew the two cases inside.

He carefully put them both in a backpack, and sliding the bag onto his back with one hand and collecting the drinks in the other, he finally sank out one final time to reappear just in front of Roman’s door.

The noise had become slightly more distressed, and Remy was already lining up a couple of jokes in his mind about Roman’s trademark “offended Princey noises” when he knocked on the door, and there was a loud crack and then silence.

Remy rolled his eyes, “Gurl, if you’ve just fallen over something, get your butt up and lemme in, I bring presents.”

Nothing.

“Ro Ro, babe?” Still nothing. Remy shifted from one foot to another, annoyance beginning to give way to concern.

Behind him, Virgil’s door cracked open and Virgil looked out, first at Remy and then at Roman’s room.

The toll of the recent creative push was evident on Anxiety’s face. Even when he’d recently fallen asleep in the commons or Remy was helping him in his room, his face, his entire body still held a little tension, but it was the deep bags under his eyes that disturbed Remy the most.

Given his habit of wearing eye shadow, it wasn’t unexpected, but to see it the shadows so very dark… Remy was tempted to put Roman aside for the night and give Virgil some of the rest he so clearly needed, but another tug in his mind from Roman’s room convinced him not to. Virgil had been sleeping before, so tonight was one of his better nights.

“What’d Princey do now?” Virgil asked, looking at Remy a little oddly. The other Side realised he must have zoned out for longer than he thought.

He leant back against the door and shrugged. “Dunno. He’s not letting me in.”

Virgil snorted at that, a small smirk creeping onto his lips. “What’d you do to him now?”

Slightly needled by Anxiety’s suspicion, Remy clasped a hand to his heart, “Storm, I would never do something so-.” Virgil clearly didn’t believe him, so he dropped his act and continued, “Seriously, V. I didn’t do anything to him. He, however, is keeping me awake, so I’m going to get in there and put him to sleep no matter what.”

Anxiety took another look at Sleep, and nodded to himself, leaving Remy feeling like he’d passed some kind of test. Or maybe Virgil had decided that tonight was not a night to be antagonizing him since the other Side was clearly tired and annoyed. He paused for another second, looking at the door to the Creative Side’s room, before nodding and going back into his room, the door clicking shut behind him.

Virgil’s tether in his mind was still pulling, signaling he was awake, but was fading quickly, and Remy knew he’d be sleeping again in another few minutes.

Creativity’s though… if anything, it had gotten worse.

“Prince Charming, if you don’t let me in, I’m going to break this door down.” The Sleep Side couldn’t keep the concern out of his voice now, his usual tone now completely replaced by worry for his creative friend.

Roman was as dramatic and inclined to be playful as he was, but he’d never intentionally kept Remy out for this long, especially not late at night or without any form of reply. Roman would be horrified if any prince acted in such a rude manner, let alone himself.

Remy racked his brains while he gave Roman one last chance to open the door. When had he last seen the Creative Side? He’d seen all the others today, in various states of stress, but Roman… this morning? No… Remy realised he hadn’t seen or heard from the prince in two days.

Since he was Sleep, that wasn’t unusual, he interacted with the others a lot less than they did, mostly helping from the background like Virgil used to, but this was serious.

He tried the door of Roman’s room, and it turned under his grip. He walked inside and almost dropped the mugs in shock.

Roman’s room looked… wrong. The doors to the Imagination were dark, almost opaque, having lost most of their sheen and the land beyond looked dull, the colours muted. The normal blanket of stars above, which should have been twinkling in the background while Roman slept were barely visible now.

Papers were strewn about the floor, boxes having been opened, the contents spilled and then cast aside, but worst of all was the mirror. Remy realised that the crash he’d heard earlier and that had woken up Virgil must have been from when the mirror cracked, one long, thin line that ran up the centre.

Scratch that, the worst thing by far was Roman himself, flung face down on the bed, his pyjamas rumpled and his hair an absolute mess. His prince uniform was discarded on the floor, Sasha was… somewhere, Remy couldn’t see her.

“Babe…” Remy breathed, but Roman still heard him.

“Go ‘way,” he said, voice muffled by the pillows his head was currently buried in.

“Ro, talk to me? What’s-?” Remy began, but then he reconsidered when he took a couple of steps closer to the bed and got a better look at the other Side’s face. “What do you need?”

“I can’t do it Rem, I just can’t.”

“Can’t what, Princey?” Remy had been spending a lot of time with the Anxious Side recently, helping him sleep and had apparently picking up his nickname for Roman while doing so.

“Ideas. Thomas needs them and I can’t help him! He’s relying on me, as is Joan, Camden… each and every one of the fans…”

Remy set the mugs down on Roman’s desk, walked over to the edge of the bed and sat down with his arms open.

Roman looked up, hesitated for a few seconds and then dragged himself into Remy’s embrace. They stayed like that for a minute, simply enjoying each other’s warmth and presence.

“Gurl, here, drink this,” Remy said, getting off the bed for a minute and snagging the drinks, handing him the still hot travel mug full of hot chocolate, before pulling the smaller Side back into his arms. Roman peeled the top off of his drink and took a deep sniff.

“Prince Charming!” Remy mock-gasped, injecting a bit of his normal drama back into his voice to try and get Roman to play along and hopefully focusing on that rather than whatever was bothering him, “Do you think I’d forget your marshmallows?”

Roman laughed weakly, “Yeah, I guess I should have known better. You never forget them.”

“Damn straight,” Remy replied, and they both rolled their eyes at the joke.

“Now, sit down,” he continued, patting Roman’s luxurious bed, “lemme unpack my tools.” Sleep removed the two cases he’d picked up earlier, pulling out one case full of tiny detail brushes and other tools, as well as all sorts of nail polish, oil, remover, and everything else he needed to give someone’s nails a complete makeover.

The other case held a full make-up set, which Remy set aside for now, after a brief glance at the other’s eyes, decided that it was better to focus on Roman’s nails, give him something he could see without having to look into the cracked mirror.

“Here, pass me your hand,” Remy said, making grabby hands in Roman’s direction until the prince dutifully passed over his right hand and Remy set to work. They shuffled around a bit until the two were facing each other, Roman’s arm outstretched towards Remy.

But just as he was about to start, he noticed the uneven ends of Roman’s nails. He’s been biting them, Remy realised. On Virgil, it wouldn’t be that odd, but on Roman? He kept his nails as well groomed as Remy did… well, almost as good as Remy did, but if Roman was ignoring them, he was severely stressed.

Remy felt like bashing his head against a wall. Of course. They should have seen it coming. All of them. Roman was Creativity. Virgil was anxious about the fans’ reactions to any new video, but when it was being scripted and filmed? That was all Roman. And with the attempt to push out two separate scripted full-length Sanders Sides videos within a few weeks of each other… Remy was amazed he hadn’t been kept up every night by Roman.

For a few brief seconds, he considered getting Patton, or even Logan. But he didn’t want to wake them up, and Remy knew Roman. Having anyone see the prince like this… he got annoyed if anyone barged into his room before Roman had his hair fixed, make-up applied and nails perfect.

But Remy had never seen the other Side disregard his appearance so totally before.

He shook himself, Now is not the time Rem, get it together, he thought angrily.

He pulled out a small file and got to work on Roman’s nails, filing them down smooth before beginning to apply the nail oil.

After that was done Remy leant back, took a sip from his green tea, and wrapped his fingers around Roman’s right palm, gently blowing on his nails to help the oil dry a little faster.

He gently laid Roman’s right hand on his thigh and began work on Roman’s left hand. He sat quietly, gently sipping his hot chocolate and watched as Remy worked. “Could we…” he trailed off as Remy looked up, but his gaze flickered behind him.

Remy turned his head to look, and saw the wall mounted TV, and the collection of Disney movies lined up neatly beneath it.

“Of course, Ro Ro. How about Lilo and Stitch?”

He thought for a second quietly, then nodded.

After Remy got up and put the movie in, neither Side spoke for a while. Roman was wrapped up in a blanket, staring at the screen but not really focusing on the movie over Remy’s shoulder.

He wasn’t really bothered by that though. It was a distraction, background noise to help Roman get out of his own head, they’d all seen his entire collection of Disney movies often enough to quote sections from memory, and Roman could probably quote this one word for word.

While the prince watched, Remy studied Roman’s nails.

“I failed.”

Remy looked up at him, but the prince didn’t seem inclined to say anything else, so Remy just hummed in response and left it at that. Every Side was different when they were feeling sad or overwhelmed. Roman was the best at hiding behind his Disney Prince persona, but a couple of times, something struck deep enough to get past it.

When it did, Remy and the others had found that Roman would say what was troubling him, as long as he could do it at his own pace.

With the prince’s nails prepared, Remy started work on the designs. Each hand carried the same designs. On Roman’s thumbs, Remy doodled his own logo. A dark grey background with a dark orange hypnogram in the middle of an open eye. On his index finger, Patton’s heart and glasses went next while he waited to see what Roman would say next.

Remy shifted position slightly, blowing on Patton’s logo to dry it before moving on to the nail of his middle finger. A deep royal red went on first, then a snow white edge, before Remy swapped the brush for a toothpick and very carefully drew a little gold crown in the middle of the shield.

When Roman still didn’t speak, Remy decided to push the conversation forward himself.

“Do you want to… Can you tell me why you feel like that?” Remy asked softly, not letting go of Roman’s hands or stopping his methodical movement, letting the noise blend in with the nearly muted movie running behind him.

“It’s my job to supply Thomas with all the creative ideas he needs! If I can’t do that, then… then-” Roman said, getting more agitated as he spoke. “If I can’t do that, then what use am I?”

“Babe… it’s not your job. It’s what- it’s one of the things you’re best at, sure, but it’s not your job. You don’t need to earn or justify your right to be here. Especially not by supplying anyone with anything.”

Roman looked up at Remy, eyes brimming with unshed tears. He didn’t say anything, but his single-word question was obvious.

“Yeah girl, really,” Remy smiled at him, before starting work on the prince’s left thumb. “We all love you because of who you are, not what you are or what you can do for us.

“If you need a break, then you need to take one. All those times Thomas’s friends and fans are asking… and frequently yelling at him to take care of himself? That’s to every part of him. Logan, Virgil, you too.

“I see Thomas’s dreams, I make most of them. I know the grand ideas you have for him, how much time and effort you put into crafting situations for him. And sure, sometimes they don’t work out, but that doesn’t invalidate the work you do or the time you spent doing it.

“I can feel when you’re all awake late into the night trying to help Thomas, Joan, Camden, everyone get ready for the next video… I know how hard you all work, especially you, even more so recently, but you’re pushing yourself beyond your limits. You have to enjoy what you do, or you’re not going to produce your best. And that will start a vicious cycle.

“And then you’ll end up like Storm,” Remy finished his mini-rant, staring at Roman intently, trying to make him see himself like Remy did.

Roman smiled weakly, “And we can’t have another Emo Nightmare around here.”

“Exactly. You would never betray Sasha like that, would you?”

Roman gave a hiccoughing gasp, mock offended, “My dear Sasha, I would never abandon such a fine lady!”

Remy smiled, glad that his mission of distracting Roman seemed to be working. This wasn’t and never would be as simple as just offering a few kind words and expecting Roman to snap out of his funk, but at least the tugging in Remy’s mind was starting to lessen, meaning Roman was falling asleep.

They sat like that for a bit longer, Remy painting Virgil’s and then Logan’s logos onto Roman’s ring and pinky fingers respectively. Once he was finished, deciding the make-up wasn’t necessary tonight, he got up one final time to insert the next movie in his mental, ‘make Roman feel better’ Disney line-up. Mulan.

He heard a rustling behind him and turned around to see Roman now under the covers, staring at his drying nails.

Remy had intended to go back to his own room to sleep, but Roman still looked far too unsure for his liking. But he was still going to walk out when Roman asked, “Stay with me, Rem? Please.”

Remy nodded, crossing to the bed in a couple of quick steps and slipping under the covers Roman held open for him, he pulled the prince over, laying Creativity’s head gently on his stomach, gently scratching Roman’s scalp. “Go to sleep babe, I’m right here.”

“Mmm, thanks Rem. And ‘m sorry for keeping you awake.”

“It’s good you did, I wouldn’t have known otherwise, but we should have seen it, or thought about how tough this push would be for you. All of us. But any time you’re having difficulty sleeping, just text me, okay? I want you to be healthy and happy, and that doesn’t happen with you avoiding me.”

“You sound like Padre,” Roman replied, but the affection in this voice was plain.

“Pat knows what he’s talking about.”

“Mmm…” Roman hummed, the tugging in Remy’s mind fading fast.

A couple of hours later, Remy woke up when Roman started... Purring? That… was pretty much the last thing Remy expected Roman to be doing. At some point in the night, Roman had curled up, wrapping himself in the blanket and then curling into Remy, the Creative Side’s head buried into Remy’s neck.

While he lay there looking fondly at his friend doing his best cat impersonation, he realised what must have been happening earlier. Anxiety was subconsciously feeding off of Roman’s creative block. Thomas was feeling the pressure of not being able to create, which in turn ratcheted up his anxiety. Remy knew the next few nights were going to be a busy time for him, but he wouldn’t let them down again.

He was so relieved the prince was finally getting his long overdue rest that Remy couldn’t even bring himself to be annoyed about being left in the cold. He shifted out from under Roman, reaching across to snag his favourite plush toy, (a knight in dark purple armour, to the surprise of no-one) in his arms. Now lying on his back and staring up at the ceiling, he pulled his phone out of his pocket and held it in the air above him. He took a ten second video which he then captioned and posted to the group chat.

“A Purrito fit for a Prince.”

Author’s Notes: So that’s it, I hope you enjoyed. =)

Now, Roman’s room is based entirely off of @ellistruggle’s gorgeous Room concepts, which can be found here:

http://ellistruggle.tumblr.com/post/175489773003/he-should-be-asleep-by-now-virgils-room-logans

(The rest of her art tag is equally amazing.)

Also special thanks to @pipapatton for staying through my late night worrying about the story, and also for pointing out that it makes sense for Remy, as Sleep, to have a calming/reassuring side to him.

Sasha isn’t mine, that’s the name the fandom gave to Roman’s sash. Because we will adopt *everything*. =D

Roman’s room is in such a state because the same way that we’ve seen both Virgil’s and Patton’s rooms affect the people in them, I’m thinking that works both ways. So, in this case, Roman’s creative block and subsequent self-deprecation damages his room. Nothing permanent, but I needed some noise to attract Remy and didn’t want Roman actually trashing his room, so, *shrugs*.

Oh, and the title comes from King Hiero of Syracuse.

Alternative title: A Princely Purrito. It’s up to you which you prefer.

[black-king-white-knight]

Current writing mood: The Fairy Godmother from Shrek 2 singing, “I Need A Hero” except instead of singing about needing a hero, she’s singing about needing motivation.

Ugh. I hate my brain.

[black-king-white-knight]

Jeez, I’m just going full mental bond between Remy and their semi-sentient animal companion tattoos. It’s borderline silly, even by my standards, but it means Remy gets a literal purry kitty in their ear, so I can’t even bring myself to care.

[black-king-white-knight]

Oh dear.

Um... Okay. Does anyone happen to have any Cyberpunk style hairstyles I could give to Remy please?

Because I have an undercut for them, and ideally I’m looking for two more, but the options I picked and the reasons for it... let’s just say Remy’s hair shouldn’t be getting erect in combat.

Or, ideally, at any time, but when they see someone they really want to murder, their hair probably shouldn’t go from floppy undercut to fully erect spikes. Electrical charge or no.

[black-king-white-knight]

Me: Okay, I’m grateful that I’m getting ideas for my latest AU again, but could I maybe not get them at 2AM?

My brain: So you’d rather not get them at all?

Me: No! No! 2AM is a totally acceptable time to get an hour’s worth of ideas.

[black-king-white-knight]

Is anyone familiar with The Rook Files (preferably book one but mini-series is also good) and Sanders Sides? I’m working on an AU right now but I’m stuck on which Sides match up to which characters. Specifically Patton and Virgil...

If anyone’s willing to help me brainstorm some ideas, please hit me up either in DMs or asks. =)

[black-king-white-knight]

I hate writing. I really, truly do. I mean, it’s great, it’s fun, it requires me to use my brain. Which wakes up my anxiety. So I start over thinking everything. Yaaay.

I’m now going through my AU wondering if my titles are too pretentious. If I’m over explaining things. On a brief outline fic that probably no-one’s going to read anyway, even if I do publish it. Thank you, anxiety.