#earl-of-221b

[swissmissficrecs]

A-Z Johnlock Tropes

This time it's all the tropes in my favorite fics! Limited to one fic per author, and I tried to include other authors than on my A-Z classics list.

A lternate Universe(s) - A Vintage Exceptionally to Your Liking by EmmyAngua (95K, E): A love story across alternate dimensions.

B DSM - Shames and Praises by s0mmerspr0ssen (51K, E): D/s AU with Dom!John / sub!Sherlock.

C rossover - More Things Than Are Dreamt Of by 1electricpirate (37K, M-E): HP crossover with Wizard!John / Muggle!Sherlock.

D omesticity - Where Else Would I Be? by cwb (34K, E): Retirement in Sussex with flashbacks.

E stablished Relationship - Breakable Not Broken by MissDavis (227K, E): Dealing with permanent injury together.

F uture - Software Malfunction by tiger_in_the_flightdeck (16K, E): Sherlock is a Companion android with a malfunction.

G en - The Green Blade by verityburns (72K, T): Serial killer casefic.

H istorical - The Beast of Baskerville by Mildredandbobbin (74K, E): 15th Century/fairy tale AU.

I llness - On Pins and Needles by 7PercentSolution, J_Baillier (588K, G-E): Sherlock contracts Guillain-Barré syndrome.

J ealousy - White Knight by DiscordantWords (69K, M): Sherlock fakes a relationship with Janine, to John's distress.

K idfic - Intentions by KeelieThompson1 (216K, G-M): Sherlock discovers he is the father of 10-year-old John.

L ongfic - Sketchy by serpentynka (876K, E): Johnlock and Mycroft/OMC slow-burn casefic(s).

M agical Realism - Shatter the Darkness (Let the Light In) by MojoFlower (109K, E): Sherlock is a djinn.

N SFW - The Great Sex Olympics of 221B by XistentialAngst (58K, E): Sherlock and John compete to see who's better at sex.

O megaverse - The Illusion of Control by starrysummernights (253K, E): Alpha!Sherlock / Omega!Johnwith mpreg.

P arentlock - The James Holmes Chronicles by prettyvk (338K, T-E): Sherlock and John raise Moriarty's son.

Q ueer Representation - The Adventure of the Consulting Woman by DancingGrimm (56K, E): Trans character assists in a case.

R etirement - Through the Clouds by Mazarin221b (20K, E): Sherlock and John retire to Sussex.

S oulmates - Colors by Quesarasara (140K, E): When you meet your soulmate, you finally see the world in color.

T eenlock - The Frost is All Over by Chryse (148K, E): 19th-century AU, Sherlock is an Earl's son and John is a commoner.

U ndercover - Corpus Hominis by mycapeisplaid (47K, E): Posing as a couple at a spa retreat.

V ampires - Bleed Me Out by antietamfalls (87K, E): Vampire!Sherlock with whump, hurt/comfort, and fluff.

W hump - All the Best and Brightest Creatures by wordstrings (188K, E): Moriarty is back and out for blood.

X enomorphism - Names for the Galaxy by evadne (191K, E): 22nd-century Alien!Sherlock.

Y enta* - May Your Heart Purr Like A Bumblebee by destinationtoast (14K, M): Harry helps Johnlock happen.

Z oomorphism** - The Horse and His Doctor by khorazir (128K, T): Vet!John and Horse!Sherlock.

*Used here to mean a female character playing matchmaker. Y-word tropes are hard, you guys!

**Not sure this is technically correct, but I'm using it here to mean fics in which a character has animal form. Z-word fanfic tropes are also hard and I already used zombies on my previous list!

[uovoc]

@earl-of-221b you were right the new Investiture of the Gods slapped actually. We walked in and I saw a bunch of guys in armor with swords and I was like "oh no it's gonna be one of those interminable war flicks" but then it was good. I was big crying at Ji Fa returning home and then it just ended. what the fuck. Also every scene with the God Squad was delightful.

[musicprincess1990]

Sherlolly trope duos: 2&15 please ☺️?

2: Bad day turned good; 15: Flatmates.  Taken from this list, prompts are closed for the time being.

Technically, this is a pairing I’ve done before, but since you’re one of my most devoted readers, I’m just gonna do it again. 😁 Read the first one here, and hope you like this second one too!

For some context, the setting is just after The Empty Hearse, and Tom is not in the picture. Nobody misses him. 😉

~*~

Quiet Strength

The door slammed with greater than usual force, the sound of which dragged Sherlock out of his mind palace, where he’d been sorting through and deleting files on his latest case.  Thunderous footsteps on the stairs soon followed, and he braced himself for a prospective client, or perhaps a former client who had been dissatisfied with the results of Sherlock’s efforts.  It certainly wouldn’t have been the first time.  But as the figure trudged into view, he was surprised to see…

“Molly?”

She ignored him, continuing up the next flight of stairs to her room.  Sherlock might have rolled his eyes at her theatrics and gone back into his mind palace, had he not caught a glimpse of her face just before she turned away from him.

She’d been crying.

For some reason, that bothered him.  He couldn’t account for it, which bothered him even more.  It wasn’t difficult to deduce that she’d had a rubbish day, perhaps an unpleasant interaction with one of her colleagues, or a challenging post-mortem with an uncertain cause of death.  There was also the possibility that it was related to her love life, or lack thereof.  As far as he could see, she hadn’t had any romantic paramours since the infamous “Jim from IT.”

Sherlock was relieved, to be honest.  Molly was more clear-headed, and more accommodating, when she had no dates or boyfriends.  Nevertheless, it always upset Molly, who wanted very much not to be alone.  He could understand that, and though he had no place for romance in his life, he admittedly did prefer to have people around him, especially at home.  It was why he’d offered her John’s old room in the first place.  221B was entirely too quiet with only himself and Mrs. Hudson, who was often gadding about with Mrs. Turner, or with this week’s lover, or simply insensible due to her “herbal soothers.”  He needed a companion, a friend, someone to fill the silence, and Molly was the only person besides John who fit the bill.  With John soon to be married, he was no longer an option.  So, he offered a key and a ridiculously low rent price, and she moved in a week later.

Three months had gone by since then, and his friendship with Molly had deepened. He had always trusted her, as he’d told her himself, but now he felt more confident in calling her his friend—a fact which he did not take for granted, as he had so few.

However, that did not explain why seeing her cry made him feel as though someone had kicked him in the ribs.

He didn’t like this feeling, and in spite of his attempts to relieve or ignore it, it persisted.  Well, there was only one thing to do: find out why Molly was upset, and help her to be not upset.  Not really his area, but the alternative was distraction and discomfort, and he was not about to give in to either of those.

Sherlock stood and made his way to the kitchen and put the kettle on, washing out a pair of cups while he waited for it to boil.  He smiled to himself as he imagined the look of complete shock that John would be wearing if he could see him.  Knowing Molly’s preferences, he prepared a simple herbal peppermint with sugar, and an earl grey for himself, then made his way upstairs with both cups.

Using his elbow, he knocked on the door.  “Molly?”  Silence.  Not entirely unexpected.  “I have tea,” he told her, and then he heard her soft footfalls inside the room.  He stepped back a bit, and she opened the door.  The rib-kick sensation doubled upon seeing she’d been crying even more.  Sherlock held out the peppermint, and she took it with a frown.

“Why are you giving me tea?” she asked, her voice timid and broken.

“Because you’re upset,” he answered.

Molly blinked slowly.  “Oh… well… thank you, that’s nice of you.”  She gave him the least convincing smile Sherlock had ever seen, then moved to close the door.

Thinking quickly, he placed his hand flat against it.  Her eyes flashed with confusion and anxiety, and he felt another imaginary kick to his ribs.  “I…” he hesitated, wondering why in God’s name his pulse was elevated.  Swallowing hard, he forced himself to continue, “I don’t like that you’re upset.”

Her expression softened, and she stared openly at him.  “You… don’t?”

Sherlock bristled.  “Of course not, Molly, did you honestly think I would?”

“NO!” she blurted out, then winced at her volume.  “Sorry, no, I just… I didn’t think you’d care one way or the other.”

That, he had to admit, stung quite a lot.  “I do care, Molly.  You’re my friend.”

Molly smiled again, this time sincerely.  “That’s good to hear.”

For a moment, they stood in awkward silence, neither of them quite sure how to proceed.  Finally, Sherlock asked tentatively, “Would you like to… talk?  About why you’re upset?”

After a few seconds’ hesitation, Molly nodded, and the two of them shuffled downstairs into the sitting room, he in his usual chair, she occupying the chair he’d always thought of as John’s.  It didn’t… bother him, precisely, seeing her sit there, but for some reason, it didn’t seem right to him.  Something to think about at a later date, he decided.

Molly took a sip of her tea before she spoke.  “I was called into a disciplinary meeting today.  Mike and his superiors finally cottoned onto the fact that I helped you face your death.  I don’t blame you,” she hurriedly went on, “and I don’t regret helping you, not in the least.  But it’s… it’s not good.  I’m on a forced leave of absence for the next two weeks while they determine the best course of action… and being sacked is not completely off the table.”

Sherlock went perfectly still, even held his breath.  Of all the possibilities he’d considered, that had not been among them.  The idea that Molly might face consequences for her actions hadn’t even crossed his mind, much to his shame and regret.  Worse still, she might lose her job, which she loved, and he would lose the only pathologist willing to work with him, the only one with any degree of competence.

No.

Without a word, Sherlock slid his phone out of his pocket and began typing out a text.

“What are you doing?” Molly asked, sounding both curious and wary.

“Texting Mycroft.  I’m sure he can use his influence to ensure your position is—”

“No, Sherlock, please don’t,” she shook her head, and he paused, staring at her in disbelief.  “I’m not afraid of facing the consequences.”

“Molly, it’s as good as done,” he insisted, then quickly finished his message and pressed send.  “There, it’s done.  You’ll probably still face some form of disciplinary action, but nothing drastic.”

“Sherlock—”

“You’re not losing your job, Molly,” he cut her off firmly.  “Not on my watch.  And it’s my fault you’re in this situation in the first place, so ensuring you keep your position is the very least I can do.”

Again, she shook her head.  “I told you, I don’t blame you.”

“I do,” he blurted out, surprising both of them.

They were stunned into silence, gaping at one another as the air around them seemed to hum with electricity.  Sherlock noted the subtle dilation of her pupils, and at the same time realized his own pulse had become elevated.  The electric current intensified, and Sherlock was on the verge of… something… taking some form of action, God only knew what… when his phone let out a chime, effectively shattering the strange and rather worrying moment.  He happily turned his attention to his phone, reading the response from Mycroft:

IT’S ALREADY DONE.  YOU’LL BE TAKING MUMMY TO THE THEATRE IN THREE WEEKS.

“There,” he gave a satisfied nod, rising to his feet as he pocketed his phone.  “I expect you’ll receive nothing more serious than a few months’ probation and observation, during which you will no doubt prove both your capabilities and professionalism.”  When his eyes finally landed on her face again, his chest constricted.  “You’re crying again, why are you crying?”

With a watery laugh, Molly wiped away her tears, then she stood and walked toward him. Time seemed to grind to a halt as she leaned in, placing a hand on his chest to steady herself, then reached up to press a feather-light kiss to his cheek.  A warm, tingling energy spread from the point of contact down each of his extremities, while his heart danced a samba beneath his ribs.  He was surrounded by the scent of vanilla and lemon soap and a trace of formaldehyde, and something else just underneath the more obvious aromas, something sweet and lovely and entirely Molly.

As he lingered within that moment, memorized her scent and the touch of her lips, he finally understood the feelings that had been plaguing him since he first saw her tears.  The pain of knowing she was upset, the buzzing energy surrounding them only minutes ago, and now the racing of his heart and the warmth of his skin as she touched him… they all pointed to one obvious conclusion.

He was attracted to Molly Hooper.

Shit.

Molly stepped away, perfectly oblivious to the turmoil raging inside his head.  She smiled bashfully, her eyes lowered, and Sherlock had to suppress a shiver at the loss of contact.  “Thank you, Sherlock.  I don’t know how I can ever repay you.”

He shook his head.  “This is me repaying you, Molly,” he insisted.  “And it is nowhere close to enough.”

“I’d do it again,” she said, her voice barely more than a whisper, but still resonant with the quiet strength he knew she possessed.  “Without question.”

The electric charge returned in full force as their eyes connected, and Sherlock began to question his resolve where sentiment was concerned.  Caring is not an advantage, his brother’s voice taunted from within his mind, and he immediately disregarded it.  What further proof could there be to refute that claim?  Here before him stood a woman who loved completely, unconditionally, and without restraint, and beneath her soft, slight, sometimes child-like exterior, she was a pillar of strength.

Sod it.

In an instance, Sherlock’s arms were at her waist and dragging her towards him. Molly scarcely had time to gasp and put her hands on his shoulders before his lips claimed hers.  Every sensation he’d felt thus far was amplified tenfold, and his hands curled into fists around the fabric of her jumper.  After the initial shock wore off, she relaxed in his arms, though her grip on him never loosened, as if he were the only thing that kept her standing.  Sherlock, acting purely on instinct, responded by hoisting her up, crushing her against him as he took advantage of the new angle and deepened the kiss.  Then Molly—his strong, brave, beautiful Molly—surprised him by wrapping her legs around his waist and raking her fingers through his hair.  He groaned against her lips, hungry and aching for more… but well aware that this wasn’t the time.

Slowly, with great reluctance, he ended the kiss, but unable to bear releasing her just yet, kept hold of her and touched his forehead to hers.  For a time, neither of them spoke, their laboured breaths the only sound.

Eventually, Molly broke the silence.  “Well… that was unexpected.”

“Quite,” he agreed.  She tensed, and his eyes shot to hers in concern.  “Molly?”

“Why did you kiss me?” she asked plainly.

“Because I wanted to.”

“Why?” she persisted.  “You’ve never… not once… and I just… why now?”

Sherlock shoved aside the flash of irritation at so many unfinished sentences, and answered her with a single word: “Sentiment.”  When her brow puckered with confusion, he went on, “I’ve dismissed it as a weakness for years… but thanks to you, I’ve realized that it’s anything but.  It’s strength.  And I am tired of fighting it.”

Her lips curved into a radiant smile, which soon turned mischievous.  “So… you fancy me?”

“Oh, for God’s sake,” he rolled his eyes, then silenced her giggles with his lips.

~*~

I live for Sherlock realizing he’s caught feelings for Molly and just going, SHIT. 🤣 Thanks so much for the prompt!

[relmint]

I was totally indifferent to Erlang Shen but you got me wanting to watch more media with him in it. All this time I've been sleeping on this deity and his family drama! :D

Wahh really? I'm glad my art made you more interested in him! I actually got interested in him coz of @ /antidotefortheawkward and @ / earl-of-221b. I just think Erlang Shen's rise to Heaven is very cool to think about and I freaking love thinking about the Yang siblings' relationship huhu

[turtlethon]

"Elementary, My Dear Turtle"

Season 7, Episode 13 First US Airdate: October 30, 1993

The Turtles head back in time and team up with Sherlock Holmes to stop his nemesis Moriarty from stealing the future.

"Elementary, My Dear Turtle" is the last episode in the “Vacation in Europe” side season of Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles. This is the final story in the series written by Dennis O’Flaherty.

April and the Turtles have returned to England today and join a group of tourists in listening to a historical lecture from a Beefeater, in what I assume is intended to be the Tower of London. Michaelangelo dozes off while standing, and after being scolded wanders away, expressing his disinterest in the subject. While the Beefeater returns to his spiel, Mikey manages to draw further attention to himself by launching into the air using a historical catapult.

Later, the Turtles regroup in the sewer beneath the Duke of Earl Hotel. Donatello takes receipt of a stack of pizzas from a bellboy whose design seems to stray from the show’s standard house style, the first of a few visual aberrations in this outing. As the team chows down, April reveals she’s off to Oxford to interview a noted historian. Raphael quips that they’ll see her again “at the end of the show”. Splinter then pops in to encourage the team to take a greater interest in historical events, telling them “The seeds of tomorrow are contained in the apple core of yesterday”.

Turning their attention to the TV, the team watch as newsreader “John Nose” informs viewers that Greenwich University is now host to the world’s most advanced atomic clock. Donatello is keen to see this for himself, and his team-mates agree to join him. The group sneak into the University’s observatory after hours, bypassing and disabling a laser beam security system. A whirlwind appears from within the atomic clock after Donatello picks it up; moments later, the Turtles find themselves in the same building, but the modern conveniences have all vanished, the surroundings looking more like something from a history exhibit. Before our heroes have a chance to make sense of this a bearded man in a top hat snatches the atomic clock from Donatello.

Michaelangelo attempts to stop the robber by hurling a turtle shell-shaped object at him that I assume was supposed to be his grappling hook. The man counters by lobbing a smoke bomb (drawn as a grenade), providing him with an opportunity to escape.

If the bellboy had an unconventional look, the guy who appears next is something else entirely: a 19th century night watchman who would be more at home in a Tintin book than he is here in Fred Wolf Turtles. The team inadvertently manage to scare the man away with their appearance before exiting the building.

The Turtles exit the building and pursue the thief, with Donatello colliding with a man with the weirdest head shape of any normal human to ever appear in the show. The stranger briefly gets into a fight with Donnie on the steps of the observatory before taking a tumble and injuring his ankle. Meanwhile the clock thief escapes in a horse-drawn carriage, giving his best regards to “Mr. Holmes” before making his exit. It’s at this point that the Turtles realise the man Donnie just clashed with is Sherlock Holmes, now being tended to by his friend Watson. After chewing out the Turtles for their antics, Watson reveals to the Turtles that they’re now in 1890; act one ends with the team realising they’ve been transported back in time, and have no means of getting back.

Act two opens with the Turtles, Holmes and Watson realising they’re all on the same side, and have a shared enemy in Professor Moriarty, the mystery man who snatched the atomic clock. Holmes invites the Turtles back to his residence at 221B Baker Street, and upon their arrival a shady man is seen spying on the group nearby.

Once inside, the Turtles watch as Watson tilts a bust of Sherlock’s head placed inside the window. Holmes explains that several attempts have been made on his life, and the bust is a decoy intended to fool any onlookers who might try to take a shot at him. The group are joined by Inspector Lestrade, who Mikey recognises from his appearance in the movie “Sherlock Holmes and the Spider Woman”. Lestrade explains to the Turtles that it’s believed Moriarty is stealing scientific equipment with a view to taking over the 20th Century. In the same evening that the Turtles arrived in the past, Moriarty used the power of a lightning storm to travel into the future, a time in which he determined the atomic clock would exist; As the Turtles agree to help Holmes in stopping Moriarty, an assailant takes a shot at the bust, as predicted.

The Turtles don disguises and take a train to Oxford, determining that as Moriarty was once a professor there, his hideout is likely nearby. In a staggeringly quick scene (literally four seconds), the team arrive at the station and spot some thugs, tracking them with a view to finding the criminal mastermind. It seems that the mystery men were supposed to have been on the roof of the train – something that was almost impossible to determine from the footage that made it to air unless you were paying exceptionally close attention. Leonardo spots their footprints, noting the soot present due to them being on top of the locomotive. Despite being warned off by a shot from an air gun, the Turtles continue to give chase, dropping into the sewers in search of Moriarty’s hideout.

Scrape marks on the ground point the Turtles in the direction of a wall that acts as a hidden door. Making their way inside, our heroes confront Moriarty, who explains that the atomic clock is the final component of his time machine: when his plan is complete, Sherlock Holmes will have been erased from history, leaving him free to rule the world. He pulls a lever, shutting off the lights; moments later, the Turtles find themselves standing above ground, in what appears to be their own time.

Exploring the city, the Turtles find a parade being held, the assembled crowd cheering for a car containing a victorious Moriarty. Act three opens with Michaelangelo noting that the team have wound up in “the wrong 1991” moments before Moriarty sends his personal army after our heroes. The team battle Moriarty’s troopers, losing a group of them under a crumbling archway before dropping into a nearby river, leading the remaining officers to assume this marks their demise. It takes more than a little water to finish off the Turtles, however, who re-emerge and are greeted by a familiar face: April, who soon grants them refuge.

Though this incarnation of April has never met the Turtles, she explains her willingness to protect them, on the basis that “anyone running from Moriarty’s troopers has to be a friend”. A sliding bookcase leads to a hidden passage; inside are Burne and Vernon, dressed in regal attires, who are both initially hostile until April confirms the Turtles are on their side. The group inform the Turtles that Moriarty keeps the time machine at the Imperial Science Museum, and so the assembled freedom fighters hatch a plan to strike back.

April guides the Turtles to the Science Museum via a secret underground passage. In another one of those utterly nonsensical moments that have been so prevalent throughout this side season, April is shocked as Leonardo whips out a katana, asking “is it an attack?!” for no apparent reason. Michaelangelo explains the noise  Leo heard was his own empty stomach, something that didn’t make it into the sound mix for the finished show, effectively removing the setup for the joke. April offers Mikey an apple, which he chows down on before passing the core back to her.

Donatello points out that if they’re successful, the reality they’re currently occupying and everyone in it will cease to exist. April takes this remarkably well, telling the Turtles that it’ll be worth it to stop Emperor Moriarty. Heading above ground, our heroes are confronted by a whip-wielding Moriarty and a group of his troopers. A battle unfolds, and in an indicator of how flaky this episode is, at least on my copy, even the familiar instrumental version of the Turtles theme sounds as if it’s malfunctioning as the video tracking also begins going off the rails. Donatello snatches the atomic clock from the time machine, another whirlwind sending the Turtles back to their own time. Moriarty has also made the journey, and makes another attempt to snatch the clock, being pinned down by the Turtles before he vanishes. A present-day version of the mutton-chopped night watchman from 1890 appears to confront the green teens, who toss him the atomic clock before leaving; notably his modern incarnation is slightly more fitting for the style of this show than the one from the past.

As predicted by Raphael, the Turtles meet up with April again in the concluding scene. After Leonardo makes a vague reference to their time-travelling journey, April is keen to cover a story she’s barely even been told transpired, reaching into her purse; instead of her tape recorder, she discovers an apple core. Splinter takes this as confirmation of his earlier remarks about the apple core of yesterday. As the Turtles inexplicably run away, Splinter suggests to April that perhaps they had too much time on their hands. A lousy joke to wrap up not only this episode, but this entire troubled story arc.

It’s one thing for the Turtles to encounter mythical figures like Merlin, but something else entirely for them to cross over with Sherlock Holmes, who having made his first appearance in 1887 is a relatively recent creation in the great scheme of things. This story perhaps doesn’t exploit such a crossover to its full potential, with Holmes and Watson only prominent in the second act, the Turtles handling the proceedings in the opening and closing thirds of the show. Leonardo becomes the de facto Holmes after the real one bows out, taking the lead in determining Moriarty’s plan. I’m sure keeping the Turtles the stars of the show helps in terms of maintaining the interests of the kids at home, but it does mean that we walk away with this story with a sense that the potential for a proper TMNT x Sherlock Holmes crossover remains untapped. Honestly, this entire side-season is running on fumes as we close things out and I doubt anyone was paying attention.

The most interesting aspect of this story from a continuity perspective is that it explicitly sets the Vacation in Europe season – or at least the end of it – in the year 1991. Keep in mind that this side season kicked off with the Turtles arriving in Paris on Bastille Day (in “Tower of Power”), but during their time in Austria we learned that it was winter, suggesting this vacation carried on for as long as six months or more. To the extent that all the stories in this arc could be considered canon, it seems entirely possible that the Turtles began their vacation in July 1990, sticking around into early 1991. Whatever the path is that the team took around the continent, it seems that it would need to be a convoluted one; no wonder they were away for so long. (Presumably while the Turtles were kicking back, the other assorted crime fighters of New York had to pick up the slack: Casey Jones, REX-1, Aunt Aggie, and perhaps Bugman, though technically these episodes take place prior to his introduction).

From all of this, a case could be made that if the events of Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles take place in any specific frame of time, it’s 1989-91; though the show seemed to default to just being set in “year of initial broadcast”, remember that early adaptations of the cartoon episodes sometimes stated the series was set sometime in the near future, which could easily be a couple of years ahead of 1987. Going with this theory, seasons one through three would all take place over a year from June 1989 onwards (in line with April’s dialogue in “Hot Rodding Teenagers From Dimension X” establishing that the first season occurs in June), the Turtles taking their extended vacation in the summer of 1990 and returning at the beginning of 1991. Season four then unfolds through the early months of 1991. “Turtles And the Hare” and “Once Upon a Time Machine” must both take place in Easter ‘91, the year being explicitly referenced multiple times in the latter episode; the rest of seasons five and six would then take place throughout the remainder of the year, with “Super Irma” taking us up to Halloween 1991.

Or maybe nothing that happened in this whole European vacation endeavour, this strange, half-baked waste of time which seems to have limped its way on to our screens years after it was made, should be considered canon at all. Perhaps we should simply put all this mediocrity behind us and prepare for the real season seven, a further fourteen episodes that will conclude the classic era of the series, beginning with our next Turtlethon entry, “Night of the Dark Turtle”.

[dorkshadows]

Qi Hun (2020)

@earl-of-221b Here goes, my thoughts on live action Hikaru no Go! I’m on ep. 7 now. I’ve seen the anime in passing but I never really watched it- like, my memories of it feel like a fever dream, right next to that other anime about this kid that wanted to be the greatest chef in China. 

Qi Hun had no clue, no right, no obligation, to be as good as it was. And yet?? This is legit the best C-drama of 2020. Perfect chemistry in the cast. Good acting, great script, fantastic pacing, good music, found family character development. IDK how to describe it- it just has the exact opposite energy of a CW live action reboot show.

Chu Ying is my favorite character because of course he’d be. He’s out here bullying 9yos and crying over fucking board games, and I’m like “this ghost man is adorable, beautiful, amazing, I love him”

The child actors from the first 2 eps?? Acting prodigies! Especially tiny Shi Guang. When he held up the umbrella for Chu Ying, that moment has lived in my heart ever since

Actually, I could have watched 20 eps of tiny Shi Guang interacting with Chu Ying. Watching TV together, showing him the wonders of the modern world, how did the director know stuff like that catered to my taste specifically

Teenage Shi Guang and his pals are great too! They’re obviously pushing for Shi Guang/Yu Liang naruto/sasuke style lol and it works. I just really dug the platonic/general love everyone had for everyone

Went “Nie Huaisang!??????” .beyonce.jpg

I still don’t know any more about Wei Qi now than I did before going in asdfasdfasdf reminds me of a toy I had as a kid and probably still have- it was this box that unfolded into a chinese checker set on one side and a wei qi/go set on the other side. And it came with a double-sided board, one for western chess, one for xiang qi. all the pieces were magnetic. I just wanted to wax poetic about that toy because it was big brained.

I never took the anime seriously because... it was GO. But somehow the #DRAMA surrounding weiqi in the live action sends me every time. Every time someone’s like “you are unfit for Go! how dare you disrespect the game! Go is my life!” I’m like adfasdfasdf it was especially amazing when they were screaming that at second graders. And somehow it works??? Like, they’ve convinced me Go > soccer world cup. 

I was losing my mind over the Xiang Qi club bullies and their captain’s disdain for Go. Like, the whole setup was so galaxy-brained. I can only describe it as, “The captain of the chess team shoves the captain of the other chess team into a locker” ajdasdfasdf

I love this show. Maybe my opinion will change after all 36 eps, but so far, it’s been an uphill battle.

[laryna6]

an oddly specific laryna trope

character 1: oh no, terrifying worldbuilding realisation about something canon

character 2: yes, but, rational explanatory takedown of dumb shit that could be avoided in canon

character 1: oh, so, informed speculation of poorly developed point with potential

character 2: hm, yes, love and support delivered in a low key but obvious fashion

character 3: ding, the cookies are ready

I love this. 

[raven-moon33]

concept

In Journey to the West, nearly every time Sanzang gets captured by demons, it is due to him wholeheartedly believing the half-baked sob stories disguised demons give him while simultaneously ignoring Wukong’s warnings on what these demons really are. (Despite the fact it’s been proven time and again over the course of nearly two decades that Wukong has Sanzang’s back and no reason to lie about demons-in-disguise).

I think (and correct me if I’m wrong here) that it can generally be agreed that even the most gullible and stubborn amongst us would quickly grow to trust Wukong’s judgement on these things by the third or fourth could’ve-easily-been-avoided encounters with bloodthirsty demons.

Now, keeping this in mind, we must also remember that, in order to attain Buddhahood, Sanzang had to undergo 81 tribulations. In fact, many of the group’s misadventures were the direct results of celestial interference in order to ensure Sanzang faced the neccessary number of trials.

Taking both of these facts into account, I would now like to submit before the jury that a conversation along these lines likely occured between Sanzang and the Bodhisattva Guanyin either before or very early on in the journey:

(Guanyin)G: What’s that you’re packing?

(Sanzang)S: This? It’s my long staff. My elders have trained me in the art of self defense so I will be sufficiently prepared for any dangers I may encounter on the long journey ahead of me.

G: Oh, you won’t be needing that. I have arranged it so that you’ll be getting four powerful disciples who will protect you on your journey.

S: That’s very kind of you Bodhisattva, but shouldn’t I be able to defend myself in case I get captured by demons or rogues? I don’t want to be helpless after all.

G: Yeah, about that...You remember that the journey to enlightenment involves overcoming obstacles?

S: ...Yes...?

G: Well, in your case it’s going to take 81 life-or-death type trials, so it’ll make things easier if you just let things happen y’know? So no weapons or self defense for you mister.

S: That...that seems a tad...excessive...must I really undergo 81 trials involving such danger? Is that a prerequisite for all monks looking to become Buddhas?

G: Well no, typically you just have to relinquish all worldly attachments and strive to do good in all things to become a Buddha, but see, I’m looking to redeem a few spirits- your future disciples fyi- and one of them in particular is going to have to save you A LOT in order to redeem himself for his past crimes. :)

S: ??! And who have you chosen to be my disciples exactly??

And, in no particular order, a few more similar conversations/events throughout the journey west:

S: There’s no way in heck I’m eating this chick’s food. She’s clearly a demon and that rice is definitely poison. I better yell for Wukong before Wuneng chokes on his own saliva or Wujing and Bailong try her food-

G: (Speaking directly into his mind) No wait! This is a perfect opportunity!

S: For what??

G: For one of your trials! We have to squeeze a lot of them in, so might as well start early. And this one wasn’t even planned!

S: But Bodhisattva, I’m pretty sure she’s trying to eat me.

G: That’s the idea.

S: ...Are you really trying to help me or were we enemies in a past life?

G: Great just like that. Okay now tell him you want him gone and to never both you or your disciples again.

S: But he’s only trying to protect me!

G: Oh don’t worry, he’ll ‘convince’ you to let him stay. It’ll take at least two more times before he actually leaves.

S: Don’t we need him to stay on the journey??

G: Well of course we do silly! We’ll just give him a few days to realize how he misses you lot and once you, Wujing, and Bailong get captured or immobolized by a demon we’ll send Wuneng back to get him. Wukong learns the power of friendship and Wuneng gets knocked down a peg. Win-win!

S: Is this demon really powerful enough to capture the three of us and make Wuneng desperate enough to beg Wukong for help?

G: Oh not a chance. I’m talking about the other one up the road.

S: WHAT-

S: Oh yeah, random child tied to a tree, supposedly for days yet showing no sign of dehydration or bodily damage. That’s not suspicious or anything.

G: Now Sanzang-

S: I know, I know. 81 tribulations yadda yadda yadda.

G: Atta’ boy! Oh, before I forget, it might be hard tied up and stuff, but could you try to make sure Wukong doesn’t do too much damage to this one? I’m liking the looks of him and think I might want to make him my disciple.

S: ...why- I don’t- WHY ARE YOU LIKE THIS?

(Wukong)W: Master they’re demons! If you go with them they’ll eat you!

S: (Cringing internally) Now Wukong, how could you say this slander about such honest, hard-working souls?

(Wuneng/Pigsy)P: Yes yes, such kind souls! You should listen to Master, eldest brother. Never could such fine-featured ladies harbor any sinister intentions!

W: But Master they’re tricking you! 

S: (Internal pained sigh) Enough Wukong. I won’t listen to such stories. Go, get us fruit or rice before we leave for today’s travel.

W: But-

P: You heard Master! Go get some food for him!

S: Why do you do this Wuneng? I am THIS CLOSE to whacking you upside the head. This is difficult enough without you antagonizing him, so get your head out of your OH FOR THE LOVE OF BUDDHA QUIT DROOLING! JOURNEY OR NO JOURNEY I WILL SMACK YOU.

S: (Fighting the urge to bang his head into the nearest wall) Wukong how could this elderly woman possibly be a demon?

W: SHE HAS FANGS MASTER! FANGS!

S: She’s already explained about her family’s curse-

W: WHY DO YOU NEVER BELIEVE ME?!

S: Trust me Wukong, this hurts me WAY more than it hurts you.

S: They didn’t even tie the bonds properly. If I wiggle my wrists in a certain way I can probably get them off with no trouble-

G: No Sanzang stay where you are. Wukong’s going to be there soon. 

S: They are debating whether to bake or boil me and escape is literally RIGHT THERE-

G: But I have a thing planned! It’s going to be awesome!

S: (Screams in frustration)

S: (Tied up and hanging from the ceiling with his disciples in similar positions) (Deadpan) Oh wow. They turned out to be demons. Who could’ve possibly seen this coming?

G: Stop it! Do you want your disciples to catch on?

S: OH WELL NOW THAT YOU MENTION IT-

And such is our favorite monk’s life throughout the journey west. :)

BONUS:

(Wujing, Bailong, and Wuneng are currently captured by demons while Sanzang and Wukong are figuring out a plan to rescue them)

W: Master, my brothers’ lives are in danger. I know that you don’t trust me, but-

S: Alright you know what? No. That is it. I’m done with this.

W: Wh-

S: GUANYIN GET DOWN HERE!

W: ...Master, Guanyin is a holy Bodhisattva, you can’t just-

G: (Appears) Sanzang-

S: Oh no, don’t you ‘Sanzang’ me! I’ve been doing this for 13 Buddha-forsaken years! No more!

G: You know how much planning I’ve put into this?

S: I don’t care! I’m sick of playing the idiot!

G: But this was going to produce the perfect amount of angst and character development!

S: Angst?! CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT?! Are you serious?!

G: This story is going to become legend and be passed down for hundreds of generations, we might as well throw in some drama for the younger demographic!

S: YOU’RE PUTTING MY DISCIPLES THROUGH THIS FOR ENTERTAINMENT VALUE??

W: What are you-

S&G, in unison: NOT NOW WUKONG!

(Wukong sits quietly and watches the continuing argument in a mixture of growing confusion, amusement, and anger)

S: I DON’T HAVE TIME FOR THIS MY DISCIPLES ARE IN DANGER!

G: Is that any different than usual?

S: YES because my first disciple THINKS I DON’T TRUST HIM!!

W: Wait, you trust me?

S: Of course I do! I trust you with my life!

W: (With a gobsmacked expression) ...Oh.

S: (Distressed noises) (Gestures frantically at Wukong) Do you see Guanyin?! Do you see what I’ve done to him?!

G: (Relunctantly) Yes but, be that as it may-

S: No! We’re telling him! If you don’t want me to tell the others fine, but he at least deserves to know!

G: Sanzang we can’t just-

W: (Now a little less shell-shock at all the plot twists suddenly developing) Actually...(casually twirling staff with a sharp-toothed grin)...I think you’ll find you can tell me whatever it is you’re hiding. Wouldn’t want me to get bored of this argument and go looking for entertainment elsewhere- (significant glance heavensward) -would we?

G: (Nervous sweat) Well y-yes but your crown-

S: Which can now only be controlled by me. (Raises eyebrow and gives Guanyin a deadpan look) Correct?

G: ...

W: Wait, so you’ve really known right from the start when we’re dealing with a demon? Every single time?

S: It’s not as if any of them even TRIED to be halfway convincing. At least you’ll get into character; most of the demons we’ve encountered don’t even prepare their cover stories before they try fooling us! Quite frankly it’s insulting, even when I’m playing the idiot.

W: So when you take the pig’s word over mine...?

S: DON’T EVEN GET ME STARTED ON THAT TROUBLEMAKING LECHER-

When several days later (after Wukong has rescued the other disciples of course) they come across a beautiful young woman who’s been robbed by a group of bandits, Sanzang is at least able to take comfort in the quick look he shares with Wukong before they listen to her flimsy rambling tale. (And quietly laugh together in the moments they go unnoticed by the others over her very obvious tail).

[antidotefortheawkward-art]

HI!! Just want to say I adore your artwork, your ideas are so fresh and innovative and your colouring is vibrant and beautiful. I especially looooooove the Lotus Lantern comics you did, they're so hilarious- "But my Uncle is Erlang Shen!" *Banana goes squish* HAHAHAHAHA

!!!!! Oh gosh, thank you so much!!! :D

[uovoc]

hello. i have just watched moon knight and have thoroughly enjoyed your moon knight tag. what fics (besides best life, i already have that open in a tab) and comics would you recommend? spoons/willingness permitting, of course

For comics, earl-of-221b's recs are pretty solid. If you only read one Moon Knight comic run in your life, read Lemire run. Current run (Mackay, 2021) is also good. Bemis run is very bad, but to the point of being occasionally hilarious, and I enjoyed it. Fics: best life is actually the only moon knight fic I have read because I'm a fake fan and always have been and always will be. Can't help ya there sorry 😅. Godspeed

[mytigernacho]

The Butler and the Master

A Noblesse Fanfic.

Frankenstein glanced at the reservation list. Only one more reservation today, a party of two.

He checked the table setting and seating arrangements, satisfied with what he saw. The tableware was perfect placed, the silverware polished to perfection. He frowned slightly at the center piece, rearranging a few of the flowers before nodding his approval and retreating to the kitchen.

A few minutes later one of his coworkers informed him that his guests had arrived and, after collecting the menus, he retraced his steps back to the table.

His steps faltered ever so slightly as the two customers came into sight. They were both men.

It was a bit rare, but not unheard of, for men to visit the shop. Usually, though, they were accompanied by one or more women. And it was generally assumed that it had not been the man's idea to dine here. It was for this reason that, despite his own sexual orientation, he did not enjoy serving male customers.

In fact, the overall lack of male clientele was in large part why he had decided to work at a Butler Café in the first place.

For the most part, the Butler Café saw three types of female customers: shy and embarrassed, excited and talkative, or bold and flirtatious. Frankenstein excelled at making shy women feel at home, matching the enthusiasm of the easily excitable, and expertly returning the compliments and witty banter of the more flirtatious women.

Men, on the other hand, tended to either ignore him or make caustic comments when they thought he could not hear.

He had no patience for people like that.

Needless to say he was not looking forward to serving a table of exclusively men.

Not that he would let the customers know of his discomfort.

He walked confidently up to the side of the table and placed his arm across his waist, bowing slightly at the waist.

"Good evening, Masters," he said in perfect English as he laid the menus on the table. "My name is Frankenstein." He turned to the man of his right first. "May I pour you some tea?" He gestured elegantly to the traditional European teapot and tea cups that surrounded the center piece.

The man declined brashly, informing Frankenstein that he would pour the tea himself. Frankenstein nodded and smiled charmingly while inwardly scowling. Why would you come to a Butler Café just to serve yourself? Though now that he looked at him properly, it was possible he hadn't known it was a Butler Café. His long red hair and green eyes were distinctly Western, and Butler Cafes were certainly not common over there, if they existed at all. Perhaps he had made reservations without realizing what sort of Café they were, either because he lacked the language skills or simply because he did not know enough about this country's culture. It would explain why he had not only invited another man to accompany him, but also why he now appeared quite displeased with the whole arrangement.

Unless of course it had been his companion who had made the reservation.

He turned his attention to the man on his left, repeating his offer to pour the man a cup of tea. Almost before he could get the whole question out, the red-headed man interrupted.

"I will pour you some tea, Raizel." He smiled eagerly at his companion, completely ignoring Frankenstein.

Frankenstein kept his smile in place as he once again looked at the red-headed man, but he could feel his eyebrow twitching ever so slightly.

Well, it had certainly been this man who had made the reservations then. The reservation had been under the name 'Urokai Agvain,' not 'Raizel.' He couldn't help the small, vindictive voice in his head that cheered at the thought that this man was getting as little enjoyment out of the experience as Frankenstein.

Out of the corner of his eye he noticed the red-headed man's companion shake his head in a dignified manner.

Frankenstein looked at him, momentarily confused. The man stared back at him expectantly.

Oh? So this man wanted Frankenstein to pour him tea, and not the red-haired guy? Well at least this man understood the responsibility of a butler.

He gave the man a genuine smile, and the man returned it with a very small smile of his own. It was then that Frankenstein stopped to truly assess the man before him.

He was tall, likely near his own height, with hair the color of onyx that fell almost to his shoulders. His skin was very pale and completely unblemished, as if he had never spent a day in the sun in his life.

The man was unquestionably handsome. And Frankenstein was used to handsome. But nonetheless he stared into the man's eyes.

He had never seen anyone with eyes like his.

They were royal blue. Or at least they seemed that way on the surface. The longer Frankenstein stared the more colors he found. Midnight blue, sapphire blue, Persian blue, even sky blue. It was a sea of colors, and underneath was an even more fascinating sea of emotions. To the unobservant he would simply seem detached, but Frankenstein could see that there was so much more to him than that. His eyes spoke of great loneliness and small pleasures, perpetual dignity and occasional child-like wonder.

How was it possible for one man's eyes to be so expressive and yet so distant?

Their eyes only met for a second or two before the man – Raizel – broke the gaze, turning his head completely to look out the window.

Frankenstein blinked. What had he been doing?

Ah!

Frankenstein gathered himself and smiled widely at Raizel, seeing him glance in his direction, and hurried to comply with the man's wishes. He was a tad bit flustered at his lapse as a butler. He had never made a customer wait unduly for a request.

Though he had also never been so captivated by a customer's eyes before either.

A quiet 'tsk' brought Frankenstein back to reality and he looked over at Mr. Agvain with wide eyes. He had almost forgotten the man's existence. Really, this was all most unlike him.

Frankenstein cleared his throat, as if by clearing his throat he could also clear his mind.

He quickly arranged his expression into his normal smile.

"What may I get for you to eat this evening?" It was probably best to stick to his routine, otherwise he might continue making mistakes.

Mr. Agvain glanced briefly at the menu before pointing at one of the first items on the menu.

Frankenstein smiled and jotted it down on his notepad.

He turned toward Raizel, pen in hand, as he waited for him to speak.

Raizel stared wide-eyed at the menu, eyes moving rapidly from each picture to the next. Frankenstein smiled slightly. So Raizel enjoyed sweets? Well then Raizel, at least, was likely to enjoy the Butler Café. They had nothing but sweets.

He watched Raizel stare at the menu for another minute before a small frown appeared on his face. Was there nothing that he wanted? Perhaps he didn't like sweets and was trying, and failing, to find something more substantial.

"Is there something wrong Raizel? Should we go somewhere else?" Mr. Agvain's tone made it clear he was hoping for an affirmative response, but Raizel simply shook his head definitively.

And if Frankenstein hadn’t been watching the man so closely, he might have missed Raizel's eyes glancing quickly up to his before darting back down again.

Frankenstein froze for a moment. The man had looked so perplexed. But what was confusing about a menu? Did he not know what any of it was? Did he not know how to read the menu? Did he have a question about one of the items and wanted Frankenstein to help him? Frankenstein watched as an almost imperceptible crease appeared between Raizel's eyebrows.

Was it because….?

Frankenstein chuckled quietly, earning a curious glance from Raizel and, unknown to him, a death glare from Mr. Agvain.

"It is rather hard to decide, isn't it?" Raizel's frown deepened as he nodded solemnly.

So he had been right, Raizel was just trying to decide what to order.

"May I make a suggestion?" Raizel's eyes shot to his and after a moment he nodded slowly.

"There is a special item that we offer that is not on the menu. I can assure you it is quite sweet and very delicious. Normally we only offer it to long-time customers, but for you I'll make an exception." He flashed Raizel his most charming smile and was quite pleased (extremely pleased in fact) when he noticed a very faint dusting of pink on Raizel's cheeks.

"Hmph. How can you know it'll be delicious when you're just the butler?" Frankenstein turned slowly toward Mr. Agvain after his scathing question and smiled. Not his normal smile. This was the smile he used when someone broke or spilled something and made a mess. It was a smile that made the recipient's blood run cold.

"Because I'm the one who makes it," he responded darkly. Frankenstein's smile widened when he noticed that Mr. Agvain shrank back at his tone.

He then turned and spoke directly to Raizel, ignoring Mr. Agvain completely as he collected the menus. "I'll have your food out for you as soon as possible."

Raizel nodded to him as if nothing had just gone down between him and the man's companion.

                                                                               -O-

Frankenstein smiled slightly to himself as he gathered up his belongings and prepared to head home.

It had been a strange day for him. Normally he was the perfect butler. Precise, cordial, efficient, perceptive, and obedient.

Yet he had blatantly ignored and provoked the rude Mr. Agvain while doting on his companion, Raizel. He had surpassed himself on the quality and presentation of his special dessert for Raizel, and had been rewarded by wide eyes and a satisfied nod when he had asked if the dish was acceptable.

The man hadn't said a word the whole time he was here, and yet despite this (or perhaps because of it) Frankenstein was easily able to read the smallest changes in facial expressions and react accordingly.

He didn't normally expend so much effort purely for the sake of one first-time customer, but he did not regret it.

It was the first time he had felt like a true butler, not just butler at a Butler Café.

                                                                              -O-

"Hey Frankenstein, can you do me a big favor? I really don't want to serve this customer." His coworker Shinwoo had his palms pressed together in front of his face and his head slightly bowed.

Frankenstein glanced at him, confused. Not long after he had first started working here he had told his colleagues that he wouldn't mind taking difficult customers from them if they wanted. He had always enjoyed a challenge. To say nothing of the fact that he prided himself on the fact that he was an excellent butler who could handle any customer.

But this was the first time any of his coworkers had asked him so sincerely and desperately for help. Exactly how difficult was this customer?

"Well, I don't mind taking them off your hands, but why are you so adamant against serving this person?" Shinwoo was fairly competent himself, and rarely asked to be reassigned.

Shinwoo frowned. "Well, this is the second time this week he's showed up, and I served him last time. He comes by himself, which is kinda weird, but he's so rude! Not belligerent or anything, but he barely even glanced at me when I spoke to him, and he didn't say a single word the whole time! It was so awkward! And now he's here again and I just don't think I can deal with him again."

Oh, so it was a male customer? Frankenstein sighed a little, but told Shinwoo not to worry. He had already agreed anyway.

Shinwoo cheered and thanked him wholeheartedly before telling him the table number, and Frankenstein grabbed a menu and headed for the single-table with the difficult customer.

As he rounded the corner he stared at the table in the corner by a window, more than a little surprised.

It was Raizel.

Raizel was here, by himself, apparently for the second time this week.

Frankenstein approached him slowly, feeling a genuine, slightly incredulous smile start to form on his face. He never thought he'd see him again.

As he reached the side of the table Raizel turned away from the window and met his gaze.

Raizel smiled.

"Frankenstein."

Frankenstein breathed caught momentarily as Raizel spoke. It was the first word Frankenstein had ever heard him say, and it had been his name.

Frankenstein placed his arm across his waist and bowed deeply from the waist.

"Welcome back, Master. May I serve you some tea?"

                                                                    ------xxxxxxx------

A/N: This is dedicated to @earl-of-221b, who, in their Noblesse Icebreaker post (@spectralmelon) said they wanted more Franky and Rai fics. I've never really written a Franky/Rai fluff fic so I decided to give it a try when I saw their post. I hope you like >.<

I had a lot of fun with this fic. I wanted to keep Franky and Rai as in-character as possible, but I also wanted to make them both human (no supernatural stuff or anything) and my first thought was BUTLER CAFÉ!

So I did some research and loosely based this Café off of one in Tokyo called "Swallowtail," which looked very European-based, professional and elegant.

And yes, Urokai had asked Raizel out on a date, and no, it did not go well. Urokai was not Rai's type.

This fic is kinda cheesy, kinda cliché, very fluffy, and I enjoyed writing every word of it :)

[ghostantine]

@earl-of-221b replied to your post: But will they use Bear McCreary's theme though?

It’s been years and I had no idea this was coming out until recently, thanks for bringing me the Constantine News

I thiiiink they announced this back in 2016 (I have a feeling but someone correct meif im wrong) but very vaguely and saying it’ll happen in 2018, probably, maybe. Last spring there was actually more serious news about it and Matt Ryan had hard time keeping quiet about it at Wales Comic Con.

Spring/Summer they said it’ll “adapt a well known and loved Hellblazer story”. Lot of people were obviously guessing Dangerous Habits. Week or so ago Matt revealed in an interview it’s gonna be All His Engines. In my opinion a VERY good choice. It’s one of the stand alone ‘spin off’ books and works lot better as an animation series. 

Last night when the trailer dropped I was glad to see they are actually taking the comic to heart and adapting it to the point. I was little wary of the animation style DC is using right now but with colouring and contrasts they manage to really capture the mood of the comic.

Always happy to bring all the news :’)

[romantichopelessly]

Talking to the Moon

This fic is somehow my favorite thing that I’ve ever written. It started out as a Halloween fic, and then I wanted it to be my longest one shot and aimed for 8k. Now it is so much longer and so much more and I really really hope that you guys like it.

Words: 15,400+

AO3

Summary: Logan is a man of routine. Routines are sensible. It's perfectly sensible that his routine revolves around his roommate. Virgil. Even though his roommate doesn't know that he's a vampire. Even though his roommate doesn't know that he is in love with him. (Or: Virgil and Logan are vampires. And neither of them know about the other. And they were roommates.)

Pairings: Analogical, Background Roceit and Intruality

Warnings: Blood, blood drinking mentions, kidnapping, non-graphic violence 

----

Bright fall leaves littered the cracked sidewalk as Logan made his way home from work. The satisfying crunch of them underneath his loafers was something that he would never admit to enjoying as much as he did. Past the buildings lining the city street, a soft orange hue was beginning to light up the dark sky, encapsulating what most would see as the perfect morning.

Logan glanced down at his watch. 6:53 A.M. He picked up his pace. The stop at the early morning coffee shop had been on an ill-advised whim, and though the warmth that the cup of earl gray tea radiated into the chilled skin of his palm was welcome, Logan did not want to end up regretting the indulgence by arriving at his apartment after sunrise.

An early morning breeze stirred Logan’s scarf and nipped at his nose with a bite that would cause most to shudder and hunch back into their coat. Logan, however, maintained perfect posture, completely unaffected by the temperature as he rounded the corner of the block with purpose, the door to the apartment complex that he lived in now in sight.

Long fingers fished in his pocket for a moment before hooking through his keyring. The black fuzzy keychain that his roommate had gifted him weeks ago brushed against his palm as he climbed the concrete steps and pushed open the door with force, anticipating the way that it stuck, just as it had every morning for the past year and a half.

Logan stepped inside, an unvocalized sigh of relief smothered in his chest. Behind him, the door fell shut, locking out the cold breeze and rising sun.

Logan picked his way across the lobby, keys still in hand. He paused for a moment at the mailboxes, glancing over boxes 221A and 221B. Nothing new. He hummed softly to himself and continued up to his apartment.

His keys turned with a satisfying click in the lock and Logan finally let himself breathe, a habit of relief more than a need.

A deep inhale. In through the nose. Out through the mouth.

Was that tomato soup that he smelled?

Thirst burned at the back of Logan’s throat. He swallowed it down as he toed off his shoes and deposited his keys in the bowl by the front door, the jingle alerting anyone listening to his whereabouts.

“L?”

Which, of course, was exactly what Logan wanted. A completely artificial warmth bloomed in Logan’s chest.

“Virgil.” Logan called back, an inexplicable smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. Padding down the hallway, Logan rounded the corner to the community room to see his roommate curled up on the far corner of the couch--a position that Logan had found Virgil in more times than he could possibly count.

Though he supposed that he would have had to count them had he been asked.

“Hey.” Virgil’s voice was as gruff as it always was. His legs were curled beneath him, cushioning his laptop on his lap, and his hands were curled around a mug of something deep red. Likely the soup that Logan had smelled when he entered. It reminded Logan of the cup of tea that he was still holding. He turned and headed for the connected kitchen for his add-ins before he could drink it. “How was work?” Virgil called after him.

“Satisfactory.” Logan replied, depositing the paper cup containing his earl gray on the counter before opening the fridge. “There were not many visitors at the planetarium tonight. Just the couples.” Logan wrapped his fingers around the jam jar that he was searching for. He pulled the top off of the to-go cup with one hand and rooted around in a drawer for a spoon with the other. He shoveled two or three (most definitely three) spoonfuls of the red gelled substance into his tea and stirred it quickly before closing the cup and jar both, putting the jar back in their shared refrigerator and finally turning to fully face his roommate.

“That’s good.” Virgil watched him with pensive eyes, eyes that made Logan’s mind do funny things, like imagine that Virgil’s look was a bit more fond than it really was. Logan crossed the room again and sat on the middle cushion of the couch, taking a slow sip of his tea. Virgil immediately stretched out his legs and nestled them underneath Logan’s thighs.

“What about you? How was your day?” Logan asked, politely.

Virgil shrugged with a single shoulder. “Same old, same old. Do a bit of work, read a ton of emails, get bored and listen to music and stare at the ceiling on the company dime.”

“You are self employed, Virgil.” Logan felt the need to point out.

Virgil shrugged again, this time with a coy smile on his face. “What can I say? I’m a tough boss. Sometimes you just have to stick it to the man. And by the man, I mean me. And by you, I also mean me.”

Logan watched, emotions that he could not name despite all of his years welling in his chest as Virgil leaned forward and took a long sip from his mug of soup. To suppress the sudden insatiable urge to say something stupid like ‘you look like a dream, sitting on this musty old couch with tomato soup on your upper lip’, Logan took a long sip of his own drink, hiding his wry smile at Virgil’s antics.

Despite the emotions rolling and bubbling within Logan, the silence that followed was not uncomfortable. Rather, the quiet felt full in a way. Virgil’s feet wiggled underneath Logan’s thigh, searching for a warmth that Logan wished he could provide more of. Virgil let out a quiet sigh as he leaned back against the corner of the couch that he was nestled into. Logan let the coppery twinged tea in his throat warm him for a moment, as the stresses of the day rolled off of his shoulders and evaporated, as they were wont to do when Virgil was around.

“Want to watch some Cosmos?”

Logan perked up, a slight smile on his lips. Not so wide that he would show his fangs, which had, of course, descended due to his thirst, but a small quirk of the lips that never could be pulled back in Virgil’s presence. “I’d love nothing more.”

----

P&J’s Coffee Shop was never truly busy. It was a nice coffee shop, to be sure. Virgil’s favorite, in fact. Where else in the world could he get a perfectly brewed O negative espresso?

Of course, the secret menu being absolutely sublime had nothing to do with the reception of the café, as most of the daytime customers would be appalled by the contents of the midnight drinks. Which was quite a shame for the general public, but the lack of popularity was quite the plus in Virgil’s book, especially on nights like this, when he came to the café specifically to whine to his two best friends.

“Patton isn’t going to let me give you another espresso if you finish that one too soon. I’m already on their list for allowing you four shots in the first place.” Janus was leaning against the back counter, decidedly not restocking the refrigerator like Patton had asked him to.

Virgil grumbled in response, taking another long swig of his drink out of spite.

Janus rolled his two-toned eyes. “You’re a piece of work, Noir.”

On the very rare occasions that Virgil left his apartment, P&J’s was usually his destination. The small, soft gothic inspired coffee shop fit his aesthetic perfectly. P&J’s was one of the few creature-of-the-night-friendly spots in the city that wasn’t completely overrun. This lesser-known energy was exactly what kept it from being a target of hunters as well, which was quite the blessing, even though there were less and less incidences of slayings being reported as time went on.

And while Virgil was glad to be living in such a progressive time, he still was not about to put a target on his back by heading out to the more popular vampire and werewolf bars, clubs, restaurants and coffee shops around town.

“Shut up, Janus. I’m your best customer and you know it.” Virgil paused, thinking. A sly grin formed on his face. “Except for that fae you’re always talking about, of course. But I know that you’re biased towards him.”

Were Janus a vampire, Virgil was positive that he would have hissed at that moment. As it was, Virgil could tell that Janus was just suppressing a growl. “Untrue. Shut up and drink your coffee, I no longer wish to speak with you.” Janus sniffed, turning his nose up at Virgil’s words. Despite the dramatics of the gesture, Janus somehow managed to look poised. He always did.

In Virgil’s--albeit limited--experience, it was very difficult for a werewolf to look so poised all of the time. However, Janus constantly defied those expectations. Even the three long scars that crossed the otherwise blemishless medium brown skin on the left side of his face and his left, caramel colored eye didn’t stop Janus from looking aloof at all times. Even on days like this, working in the café, with his long, dark and curly hair twisted into a loose knot at the base of his neck and a pastel yellow work apron on, Janus could make anything look as sophisticated as if he were about to attend a grand ball, and honestly, Virgil was a bit jealous.

Logan would probably be into Virgil if he took his appearance more seriously.

Janus was watching Virgil with a knowing look now, and the vampire scowled back.

“You know, Virgil.” Virgil hissed, pulling his cup closer to his chest defensively. He knew that tone. “I wouldn’t really be throwing around accusations like that. Glass houses, and all.”

Virgil’s shoulders rose up to his ears. An onlooker would say that he looked remarkably similar to an angry black cat. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh you don’t? Must be hard being so old-”

“I’m 38.”

“Let me jog your memory.”

“Physically I’m only 24.”

“Cobwebs in your head aside,” Janus plowed on, “Logan Doyle? Your current roommate who you’ve been obnoxiously pining for for the past few months? The one that you come into my café to bemoan about at least once a week? You know, the studious, oblivious, wonderful, handsome-”

“Okay! I get it!” Virgil snapped, interrupting Janus’s infuriatingly accurate imitation of his voice. “All things unholy, why do I never come in when Pat is on the clock?”

Janus shrugged, a shit eating grin on his face that almost made Virgil want to take his drink and leave. Almost. “It likely has something to do with the fact that you only come out here during Doyle’s working hours. Suspiciously sentimental, wanting to spend every moment you can with your roommate, don’t you think?”

Virgil bristled. “Stop saying stuff like that, Janus.” He knew that the barista was joking. Hell, Janus had teased Virgil about this exact subject far too many times. He really should not be so touchy about it. It was very likely that the only reason that Janus’s ribbing was rubbing him the wrong way today was the events of the night--dawn?--previous.

Logan had looked so… fetching coming home that particular early morning. The soft wool of his sweater vest looked almost irresistibly touchable. The contented look on his face as he took slow sips from his tea. The way the corners of his eyes crinkled slightly as he fought away laughter at Virgil’s not-actually-that-funny quips while they watched Cosmos.

“Ugh, are you reminiscing? Didn’t you see him less than an hour ago?” Virgil curled in on himself, glaring up at Janus’s feigned disgusted look. “Keep that out of my coffee shop.”

Virgil was about to retort when a light, melodic voice piped up from the front door. “Your coffee shop? Well darn! You should have told me that you were taking over, Jan! I wouldn’t have come in.”

Virgil turned on his stool to look at Patton, who was smiling widely, unabashedly showing their fangs for all the world to see. Behind him, Virgil could hear Janus’s amused snort.

Patton Darling was an older vampire than Virgil was, though by all other standards they were still rather young at 49. They looked younger than Virgil, and although their physical appearances only differed by three years, Virgil couldn’t help but feel like he paled in comparison to Patton. Patton had that ethereal beauty about them that all vampires were supposed to have, but on them it looked effortless and… simply put, right. Their smooth, deep brown skin and sapphire blue eyes glowed in an inhuman sort of way that could enchant any mortal, and most immortals that Patton happened to meet. This week, their hair was a pastel purple. The previous week it had been a sunflower yellow. It was like Patton wanted to call attention to themself, something that Virgil and most other vampires avoided.

Between them and Janus, Virgil wasn’t sure who was more mysteriously stunning. Had Logan been in the room, the sheer amount of beauty in the café probably would have knocked him unconscious.

“Hey, Pat.” Virgil couldn’t help but smile back at the older vampire.

“Hi, Virgil! How are you today?” Patton pat Virgil’s shoulder genially as they slipped past him to get behind the counter with Janus.

“He’s pining again.” Janus answered before Virgil could. “Also he snuck four shots of espresso when I wasn’t looking.”

Virgil glared at Janus with a renewed vigor as Patton gasped. “Virgil! You know that that isn’t good for you!” Janus nodded from behind Patton, a smug grin on his face.

“I don’t really digest it.” Virgil pointed out. He certainly was not pouting under Patton’s stern gaze.

“Hmph.” Patton looked dissatisfied with that answer, but they didn’t push it, thankfully. “Well, what did Logan do this time?”

Then again, maybe Virgil would rather they continued to chew him out for his coffee choices.

“He just-” Virgil sighed. If he had a beating heart or blood running through his veins, Virgil just knew that he would have been blushing by now. “You know.” He gestured helplessly.

“Existed in your presence?” Janus quipped.

“Exactly!”

Patton hummed sympathetically. Virgil knew that they could relate to hopeless crushes. For all the time that Virgil had known them, they had been in love with some man or another. “I’m sorry, kiddo.”

Virgil grumbled. “I look older than you.”

Patton paid no attention, but dropped the pet name. “You should really just tell him. Be honest about your feelings! What’s the worst that could happen?”

Janus and Virgil glanced at one another before leveling Patton with their best ‘are-you-actually-serious’ look.

“So many things.” Virgil could almost name them by heart by now. He had run them over in his mind so many times. “For one, he doesn’t even know that I’m a vampire. I’d have to drop that bombshell on him, and you know that he’d just be scared off. At least now I have him as a friend.”

Suddenly, Janus had turned his dubious stare away from Patton, and Virgil had both of his friends staring at him with matching looks of… amusement? Surprise? Sympathy? Virgil couldn’t tell, but he very much felt like Janus was not on his side in this conversation any longer.

“Are you kidding?” Janus’s voice held a note of high pitched incredulity that only confused Virgil further. Janus turned to Patton, unhidden laughter in his tone now. “Is he kidding? Does he not know-”

From the way that the werewolf winced, Virgil got the distinct impression that Patton had just stomped on his foot. Bewildered, Virgil turned to Patton. “Know what? Pat, what is he talking about?”

Janus looked like he was about to break into a laughing fit. “You-”

“Shh!” Patton nudged Janus, sending him a very severe pointed look. They turned back to Virgil, who felt extremely lost. “It’s nothing, V. He’s just being stupid.”

“Hey!”

“What Janus means to say is that you can’t be sure how he’ll react. You really should tell him, Virgil.” Their eyes were kind, but Virgil could not shake the distinct feeling that he was being made fun of.

Knowing that he would definitely not be following that advice, and that Janus was about two seconds away from laughing in his face for some reason, Virgil pushed away from the coffee bar and stood up, clutching his O negative espresso.

“Yeah, alright. Look, I’ve got to be going.” He gestured lamely over his shoulder.

“Oh! Okay, Virgil. Well, good night!” Patton waved as Virgil backed away from the bar towards the door. Janus looked like he was in a lot of pain. Probably because Patton was standing on his foot. “Sucks to see you go!”

Virgil turned and dashed out of the store. As the door to the café swung shut behind him, he could hear Janus break into a deafening cackle.

Weird.

----

The view of the night sky from the planetarium never ceased to amaze Logan.

Despite the fact that he had worked at the planetarium as a lecturer for approximately two years now, the sight from the observation deck would always be a sight to behold. Logan had spent many, many years under the same stars, and he had never once beheld anything as beautiful as them.

Well, perhaps there were one or two things that rivaled starshine from the heavens.

Like his roommate’s crooked smile. Or his alluring violet eyes, and how they lit up with a fond twinkle that Logan used to think could never be aimed at him. Virgil’s laugh also rivaled the constellations that Logan knew by heart--the way it dipped and fell, how it was low and gravely sometimes, stirring something deep in Logan’s stomach.

Even now, Logan was staring up at the sky--his one true love for over a century and a half--Logan found himself wishing that he were at home, sitting with Virgil on the couch, watching a sitcom.

Logan was startled out of his musings by the clearing of a throat.

Blinking, Logan tore his eyes away from the open sky. A man--a customer--stood before Logan. The first thing that Logan noticed were the sunglasses that the man was wearing. They were perched on top of his curly black hair, almost unnoticeable in the dark of the planetarium. Why on earth would anyone be wearing sunglasses in the middle of the night? Judging by the rest of the man’s outfit, a black leather jacket, a nondescript gray t-shirt and ripped jeans, Logan presumed that it was simply part of this man’s aesthetic.

Virgil would probably have approved. Or called him a try-hard. It was hard to predict Virgil’s opinions.

“Yes, sir?” Logan finally got around to responding, his polite customer service voice on.

The man smiled charmingly. It was quite unlike Virgil’s unsure smile, which often left Logan feeling as though he were the only one in the world who got to see it. This man looked like he handed out smiles to any and everyone.

There was something… familiar about him. It nagged on the back of Logan’s mind.

“I was wondering when the next lecture was.” It wasn’t a question. It was a statement of a question. Again, Logan explained it away. Many customers were entitled and downright rude to him. This certainly was not out of the norm, or even noteworthy.

Logan glanced at his watch, as if he didn’t know the planetarium’s schedule by heart. It was nearly 5:30 A.M. “I’m sorry, sir.”  Logan answered as he looked back up. The man was a bit closer than he had been before. Logan took a step back. “We are actually about to close for a couple of hours before morning tours of the museum can begin.”

That was another odd thing. Not many customers stayed around the planetarium as morning was arriving. Logan usually had the last hour or so of his shift free of customers on weekdays.

“Bummer.” The man did not sound too put out by this information. “I was really looking forward to hearing your lecture, Mr. Doyle.”

Logan felt distinctly uncomfortable now. He knew, logically, that the man could know his name for any number of reasons. It was all over the pamphlets set out around the room. It was on the badge stuck to Logan’s turtleneck. However, the way that the man said it…

“It is Doctor, but thank you.” Logan said, stiffly. “If you return another night, I’m sure that you can make it to a show.” Logan very much did not want this man to return another night.

“Do you work any day shifts?”

Logan hadn’t seen the man move, but he was closer once again. Logan took another step back, hoping that his distancing himself was not too obvious. “Sadly, no. I am here most nights, however. There are schedules on our free pamphlets.” He wished that there were not schedules on their free pamphlets.

The man was just opening his mouth to speak again when the doors to the planetarium burst open, and a young man in a pale pink sweater tumbled through.

“Came in early, Doc! Couldn’t get much sleep last night, so I thought I’d come in a few hours early and let you go! I can do the cleaning before my shift starts, and you can get home to- Oh. Hello.”

Logan held back a sigh of relief. It helped greatly that he did not need to breathe. “Hello, Dr. Picani. I was just telling this customer-”

“Nate. Nate Miller.” The man, Nate, had looked very disgruntled to be interrupted, Logan had not failed to notice. Now, however, he was smiling charmingly once again as he crossed the couple of steps between Logan and the door to shake Dr. Emile Picani’s hand.

“Nice to meet ’cha!” Emile exclaimed, sending a slightly confused look over Nate’s shoulder to Logan. Logan shook his head. No. He did not know this man. Emile, the saint that he was, stepped in gracefully, making up for his clumsiness at the door before. “Well, I can answer any questions that you have now! My friend, Logan, here is going to be going home early. You can stick around while I clean up before we close for a bit.”

Nate looked very much disgruntled with this turn of events, but Logan did not give him a chance to respond, grabbing his messenger bag as quickly as a human possibly could.

Nodding his thanks to Emile, Logan tried to maintain a neutral stature and pace as he left the planetarium, scanning out at the buzzer by the door and grabbing his keys.

He felt eyes on him all the way out.

----

When Virgil got back from P&J’s it was only 4 A.M.

Which meant that he had about three hours before Logan got back from work.

Was it odd for one to measure time by their roommate’s whereabouts? Virgil wasn’t quite sure. To be fair, he had never had a roommate that he was so attached to. Logan was… special.

Virgil shook that thought away. Logan wasn’t even home yet, and all Virgil could seem to think about was him. It was Janus and Patton’s fault. What they had said was sitting in the back of his mind and making him think all kinds of crazy things.

Like that he should possibly… maybe consider telling Logan his feelings.

Virgil bit the inside of his cheek harshly, shoving that thought as far away as he possibly could. No. Not an option. Logan was just a human who was unluckily living with a vampire. Virgil could never ruin his life like that.

Determined to distract himself, Virgil placed his phone face up on the kitchen counter and turned on some music.

Usually, around the apartment, Virgil would only listen to his music with his headphones on. Music was a very personal thing. Not to mention that blasting music that other people may not like was too much of a risk for is anxiety ridden self.

However, tonight--that morning?--Virgil needed to blast the traitorous thoughts out of his mind, and he didn’t feel like dealing with the headache that would surely come with wearing headphones on full blast. So, Virgil queued up his favorite distraction playlist of early 2000s punk songs and played it for all the empty kitchen to hear.

For the next hour or so, Virgil bobbed his head along to bands that reminded him of when he was still alive and worked on his computer. Being a web developer and consultant had its perks, the greatest among them being the lack of strict hours and the absence of human interaction.

Just after half past five, Virgil was bored. Not that his job was particularly thrilling most nights, but what Janus had said earlier was still bothering him.

What had the werewolf been insinuating? He had acted like he knew something that Virgil didn’t. And Patton hadn’t exactly proved Virgil’s suspicions wrong. In fact, they had seemed just as amused by whatever secret Janus was keeping from Virgil.

It was infuriating. His two best friends, and he couldn’t for the undead life of him figure out their angle.

Why did they want Virgil to out himself as a vampire to Logan? If it were just Patton, Virgil would simply assume that they wanted him to be happy, but Janus… Janus knew a bit more about what could happen if their secrets were outed. And yet he had still acted like Virgil keeping his blood drinking habits a secret from Logan was some sort of joke.

Virgil groaned, burying his head in his hands and pushing his computer aside.

Looked like he was going to get that headache whether he liked it or not.

Just as he was lamenting his choices in friends, the song changed and Virgil reached for his phone without thinking. With only a few taps on the screen, Virgil closed out of his current playlist and pulled up one that he had clocked many an hour listening to in the early hours of dawn, shut up in his room, curled up on his bed and hugging a pillow.

It was simply titled “Logan” with a blue heart emoji.

He never had been very creative.

Before he could think about the ramifications of his decision, Virgil had pressed the shuffle button and set his phone back down.

“Now that she’s back in the atmosphere

With drops of Jupiter in her hair

She acts like summer and walks like rain

Reminds me that there’s a time to change”

Virgil closed his eyes and let the music wash over him. It was silly. It was really, really, really silly, and Virgil knew for a fact that if Janus were here to see what Virgil was doing, Virgil would probably die for the second time.

That knowledge didn’t stop him from getting up and sliding slowly around his own dark kitchen in his socks, though.

For a good couple of songs, Virgil danced alone in the kitchen. Not really danced, just sort of swayed in place and slid around, but that didn’t matter. All the while, he thought of Logan. His roommate who wore hideously outdated, probably thrifted, sweater vests like they were the height of fashion. His roommate who watched bad documentaries with him and ate terribly sugary jelly right from the jar in the fridge. His roommate who still used that ugly black fluffy keychain that Virgil had given him as a joke weeks ago.

Maybe he should tell Logan. About his feelings or about his nature, he wasn’t quite sure. He hadn’t decided when a pair of smooth, comfortably chilled hands slipped into his and a soft voice spoke.

“Can’t say I’ve ever come home to this before.”

Virgil’s eyes flew open. He had been so deep in his own mind that he hadn’t even heard the door unlock. For the tiniest of moments, he tensed, all too aware of the type of music that was currently pouring from his phone, but he quickly relaxed.

Logan tended to have that effect on him.

Maybe he should have been more wary of that. He wasn’t.

“You’re home early.” He responded, trying to hide his burning embarrassment. It was quickly overshadowed by the sudden, all too visceral knowledge that Logan had placed one of his hands on Virgil’s waist and was now leading the two of them in a real dance.

In the middle of their dark kitchen, illuminated only by the light of the refrigerator clock and the glow from Virgil’s abandoned laptop, while the jazzy notes of Fly Me to the Moon played in the background.

He could die again happy.

Logan was nodding. “Yes. My coworker, Emile, showed up early and let me take the hour off. Something about being unable to sleep. I probably should have been more worried for him.”

Virgil couldn’t stop his lips from quirking up in a small smile. He didn’t even try to. “Lucky me. And- I mean, lucky you, of course. An hour off. That must be nice.”

Logan hummed. “It’s turning out to be, yes.”

The two of them turned slowly as the song faded out. Logan didn’t let go, so Virgil didn’t either. Feeling uncharacteristically brave, or perhaps just a bit too comfortable, Virgil leaned forward and rested his head on Logan’s shoulder.

His turtleneck was soft against Virgil’s cheek.

“I know you're somewhere out there

Somewhere far away

I want you back, I want you back

My neighbors think I'm crazy

But they don't understand

You're all I have, you're all I have

At night, when the stars light up my room

I sit by myself

Talking to the moon

Trying to get to you

In hopes you're on the other side, talking to me too

Or am I a fool, who sits alone, talking to the moon?”

They were silent as the music played. They swayed slowly. Logan led them in circles effortlessly. Distantly, Virgil wondered whether Logan had some professional training on his front. At one point, during the chorus of their second song, Logan pushed Virgil back slightly. Just as he was about to apologize for taking liberties and invading Logan’s space, though, Logan lifted their joined hands.

Virgil spun underneath, an incredulous laugh floating easily from his chest.

His fangs flashed in the laptop’s glow just as he was facing away from his roommate.

Logan caught Virgil back in his arms easily, pulling him back to their original position and rubbing his thumb along Virgil’s waist in a way that gave him goosebumps.

It dawned on Virgil as the sun dawned on the city streets.

He was desperately, irrevocably in love with Logan Doyle.

----

“I’m in love with him.”

Remus choked on his thai food, noodles still half out of his mouth. “What the fuck?”

“I am in love with him.” Logan repeated. “What did you think that I said?”

Remus spat out his noodles in a frankly disgusting display that Logan was sadly used to. “No! I heard you, I’m just flabbergasted!”

“Nice word.” Logan commented.

“You’re in- I can’t even say it! You sound like Roman! I knew that you had the hots for Virgey, but in love-” Remus fake retched.

Logan bristled, but before he could make a sarcastic remark about how much less disgusting his feelings were than Remus’s… everything, Roman stepped out from the back room.

“You know that I can hear you, right?”

Roman rounded the counter, his knee length skirt swaying against his legs. Roman and Remus were starkly different. Where Roman wore flowy, soft and stylish clothing, Remus was all hard lines and punk outfits. However, both had plenty of tattoos. Roman’s right arm was nearly covered with brightly colored tattoos that looked like a watercolor project. Remus had a similar, monochrome sleeve on his left arm.

Roman and Remus were co-owners of the tattoo parlor known as King’s Inks, named for their own last names. Logan never came in for an actual tattoo, they weren’t really his style, but the brothers were always welcoming to him. It wasn’t hard, even when living in a big city, for the creatures unknown to most humans to find one another. People like Logan… and people like Roman they stuck together. No matter if they both enjoyed tattoos or not.

Roman King and Remus King looked like normal, human twins to most. Other than Roman’s slightly pointed ears, of course. If someone was not in the know about fae or changelings, then they may just assume that it was just a part of Roman’s unique style.

“I don’t care! Lolo’s lost his mind!”

Logan scoffed. “I assure you, my mind is very much intact and in my head, thank you. Do not insert me into your arguments with your sibling.”

“Please, Rem.” Roman rolled his eyes, completely ignoring Logan, as if the conversation were not completely about him and his emotions. “Stop acting like you’re so disgusted by displays of emotion, already.”

“Acting? Bold of you to assume that I can act. You’re the acting one. Your entire existence is based on acting like me.”

Roman huffed, dramatically. “As if you weren’t waxing poetic about Patton last Thursday! Logan remembers! Don’t you, Logan?”

“I was under the impression that we were talking about me this week.”

Roman waved his hand dismissively. “He means he remembers. So cut the bull, Remus.”

Remus rolled his eyes, but did not defend himself. His mouth was full of thai food again anyway.

Roman glared at his brother for just a second longer before returning his attention to Logan. Instantly, his expression was brighter, almost giddy. “In love?! Finally you got around to admitting it! What happened? Did something happen? Was it cute?”

“We danced.” Logan answered, simply. He had long surpassed any feelings of embarrassment around the King twins.

Roman squealed. Quite literally, squealed. Logan winced and leaned away. Remus fake retched again.

“You’re not going to just say that and not tell us everything, are you?” Roman hopped up to sit on the counter across from where Logan and Remus were sitting at the small table in the waiting room.

And so Logan did. Not because Roman King was particularly good at convincing, but because, not so secretly, Logan really had just come to the tattoo shop to tell his friends everything. That was what these weekly meetings were for, after all. It wasn’t official, or anything, but it had become expected for Logan to turn up at the tattoo parlor every Thursday to chat with Roman and Remus about all manners of things.

Most particularly, their individual romantic endeavors.

As Logan recounted the events of the previous night, Roman looked more and more excited. Usually, Logan would be frightened by such a level of sheer giddy enjoyment on the fae’s face, but today Logan could feel nothing less than happy. Content.

He still didn’t really know where his own courage had come from the night before. What exactly had possessed him upon entering their apartment to find Virgil swaying alone in the kitchen to music? Why had he suddenly acquired the romantic prowess it took to lead his roommate in an impromptu dance around the linoleum floor? Was it simply love?

Did it really matter?

Apparently not, according to the twins. Even Remus looked begrudgingly moved at the end of Logan’s tale.

“So when are you going to tell him?” The human twin asked.

“What do you mean?” Logan asked, confused. He had only just discovered these feelings, why on earth did Remus believe that he should instantly confess them? Honestly, Logan was much more comfortable enjoying this discovery in private, thank you very much.

“You should tell him!” Roman nearly shouted. “Don’t tell me that you’re just… not going to.”

“That was the plan, yes.”

“Wh- Men.” Roman exclaimed, falling back dramatically to lay across the bar that he was still sitting on.

Logan huffed. “This has nothing to do with my gender, Roman.” He wasn’t really offended by the comment, of course, he was just deflecting. Roman himself was genderfluid and was quite liberal with his comments about men, whether he was using he/him pronouns at the moment or not. “I just do not plan on telling Virgil about this right now. I see no reason to.”

“The reason is that you can be happy, Logan.”

Logan blinked, turning to face Remus. The moustached twin looked shockingly somber. Serious. It was like spotting a unicorn, seeing Remus like this. “I-”

“Logan, just listen and don’t talk for once.” Logan desperately wanted to point out that coming from Remus, such a statement was frankly laughable, but he bit his tongue. “You’ve been alive for nearly two centuries.” Logan barely held back a wince at the reminder of his age. Remus continued, completely carelessly. “And how many times have you really, and I mean really let yourself fall in love and stick with it?”

Logan could feel a lump of shame forming in his throat. He swallowed around it.

Roman picked up this time. His voice was much more soothing than his brother’s, but no less stern. “You’re always working, Logan. You’re always going, and we get it. You’ve been stuck at twenty-six years old for over a hundred and fifty years. You keep moving because the world keeps moving around you.” There was something sad in Roman’s golden-green eyes for a split second, but it was quickly masked. “You have to take a chance every once in a while. You should tell Virgil about your feelings. You know that you would be saying the same thing were it either of us.”

Remus continued. “Listen to your besties for once, Logan. You’ve been coming in here and going on and on about Virgil for weeks. Months. I don’t even know, it’s been so long. But the point is that you need to tell him. It’s been long enough, even Roman is tired of it. Not to mention, I’d bet my ass he feels the same.”

There was a moment of silence. Those were few and far between in King’s Inks.

Remus broke it after a few seconds, as though continuing his thought from earlier. “And you desperately need to get laid.”

Logan wrinkled his nose, distastefully. “Honestly, Remus, can you resist being vile for longer than ten minutes?”

Remus grinned, proudly digging back into his thai food. “Nope! It’s what I’m here for.” There was a momentary pause. “No, literally. It’s why the fair folk brought me back after switching me with Ro.”

Roman rolled his eyes. “It is not. Stop talking bad about yourself, or I’m going across the street and telling Patton.”

Logan may have been mistaken, or too caught up in his own issues, but for a moment there, it looked as though Remus’s cheeks were brushed with a light shade of pink.

As the brother’s began to bicker, Logan pulled back into his own thoughts. Perhaps… Should he tell Virgil? Despite the raging swarm of butterflies that attacked the pit of Logan’s stomach at the very thought, he had to admit that letting his emotions out in the open would feel a lot better than continuing living with Virgil for however much longer, pretending that he felt nothing more than friendship for him. It was already agony just in his mind’s eye.

There were so many possible downsides, though. Logically, Logan knew that Virgil would not become angry if Logan were to confess. It was highly unlikely that Virgil would cut off all contact with Logan or kick him out of the apartment, either. In fact, after the previous night’s display…

Logan, holding Virgil against his chest as though he were something precious--because he was, of course--the two of them twirling around their tiny kitchen, as though they were the only two people in the world. Soft music playing from Virgil’s phone, the perfect songs for them luckily playing back to back, as if hand picked. Logan had had the lyrics swirling in his mind on repeat ever since. It had been… magical. Lovely. Wonderful. Everything that Logan had never known he needed.

And it was well worth the risk of mortification that he could forget in fifty years if Logan had even the slightest of chances to hold onto Virgil like that again.

“I’m going to do it.” Logan’s voice rang out, perfectly clear, over the twins’ quickly heating argument.

Roman gasped. “Really? I didn’t think we would be able to talk you into it!”

“You didn’t. I simply decided that it was a low risk, high reward situation. Statistically, I have more to lose by not attempting to tell Virgil my… discovery than I do by telling him.”

“Cut the bull, nerd.” Remus was grinning again, in a way that would have appeared almost… menacing, were Logan not so used to Remus’s odd expressions. “We all know that you did not actually calculate the statistical risk of telling Virgil you’re in-” Remus caught up to his own words and dramatically retched again, as though the very word he was about to say was an allergen.

“In love,” Roman finished for his brother, “I can’t believe you’re going to do it! Oh- You should get some flowers for him from the shop down the street! The warlock who owns it is always so perceptive about what to get for which occasion. Oh, this will be so romantic-”

Logan cleared his throat. “You do know that if- when I tell Virgil, you will not be in attendance, correct?”

Roman waved a hand dismissively. “Details.”

Remus stood and stretched, his back cracking loudly. “Alright, well if you two are about to plan the most boring pre-fuck in the world, I’m going down to the café. You two want anything?”

The vampire and the fae both shook their hands, and Remus left the tattoo parlor, the bell above the door jingling jovially over the quick chatter from Roman as the door swung shut behind him.

----

Virgil couldn’t focus on his work.

To be fair, Virgil had never been good at focusing on his job. When he wasn’t actually consulting, Virgil was a developer. Which meant that he essentially made his own schedule. Which also meant that he had no accountability for any sort of timeline.

It became especially hard when Virgil’s mind was completely occupied by Logan Doyle.

Virgil, lately, had spent quite a bit of every day thinking about Logan. But after the night before… Virgil couldn’t stop thinking about him. Every time he closed his eyes, he was there again, in the middle of the kitchen, breathing in Logan’s vanilla scented cologne. Every time he paused between keystrokes, the notes from the music that had played that night floated through his mind.

It was unbearably distracting.

Patton had texted Virgil at about 1 A.M., asking whether he would be at the café that night. At first, Virgil had considered sending back a snarky text telling them that he would not be returning to P&J’s until Janus stopped being a little shit and avoiding telling him what his little laughing fit during his last visit had been about.

Instead, however, out of his own gracious nature, Virgil held back his sarcasm.

It certainly had nothing to do with the fact that he had spent the past 20 hours feeling as though his chest were full of bubbles, imagining Logan’s hand on his waist.

Virgil: not tonight. I’ve got work to do.

What happened? Patton texted back immediately.

Virgil cursed his friend’s intuition.

Virgil: nothing! I just don’t feel like coffee.

Pat: And you do feel like work?

Virgil: no, I feel like being at home.

There was a pause. Virgil watched as a bubble indicating that Patton was typing appeared and disappeared about three times in quick succession.

Pat: Hold on. I’m moving this to the group chat.

Virgil cursed. If Janus got wind of what was happening, Virgil would never hear the end of it. Janus could sniff out Virgil’s emotional turmoil like no one else. No pun intended.

Before he could respond and tell them to not tell Janus under any circumstances, Patton had sent a text in the trio’s group chat.

Pat: What’s going on, Virgil?

Janus: Something’s up with Virgil?

Virgil: no. I just said I wasn’t coming in today.

Janus: Why not?

Virgil: I have work to do!

Pat: We’re just worried about you, honey.

Virgil groaned, but didn’t correct the pet name. Even though he didn’t like being coddled, sometimes the affection Patton put into their words wasn’t so bad. It certainly wasn’t a decision ruled by Virgil’s current good mood.

Virgil: I just wanted to stay home today. I’m fine.

Janus: That means you’re either mid depression spiral or-

Virgil softened a bit. His friends really did get him. It wouldn’t have been the first time that Virgil had fallen into a spiral since he met the two, and Janus and Patton were sadly well acquainted with Virgil’s moods. He knew that if he really were in the middle of an episode that Patton and Janus wouldn’t hesitate to close the coffee shop for the night and come keep him company.

Pat: Are you? V?

Virgil shook his head and texted back quickly.

Virgil: I’m not. Really.

Janus: Oh fuck.

Pat: ???

Janus: Are you in bed with Logan right now?

Pat: !!!

Virgil: NO.

Janus: Are you about to be?

Pat: !!!!!!!!!!!

Virgil: no.

Janus: What happened, then?

Virgil: none of your business. I just answered Pat’s text. I do not deserve to be interrogated.

Janus: This is not an interrogation. It is a series of educated guesses and negations.

Virgil: I plead the fifth, then.

Janus: Not an interrogation. You have no rights.

Virgil: didn’t you drop out of law school?

Janus: After my girlfriend nearly killed me, actually.

Pat: Boys, let’s not fight. Are you sure you’re alright, Virgil?

Virgil: yeah, I promise.

Oddly enough, Virgil was considering expanding on what was actually going on--Patton tended to have that effect on him. They were amazingly good at pulling Virgil’s deepest thoughts from him. Something about their trust and gentle concern was surprisingly convincing. Just as he was about to respond, there was a knock at the door.

Virgil instantly tensed. It was only 1 in the morning. Even on Logan’s off nights, like Virgil knew tonight was, Logan never got home before 2 or 3.

And even when he was early or late, Logan had his own key. Of course he did. With that stupid fluffy black keychain that Virgil had clipped onto his key ring weeks ago.

Had something happened?

Virgil glanced back down at his phone and sent a quick dismissal text to his two friends.

Virgil: I’ll see you guys later. Gotta go.

Janus: Chicken.

Pat: Alright! Have a good night, Virgil!

Virgil couldn’t stop the way his lips quirked up at the texts. He was still looking down at his phone as he took his first few steps towards the apartment door. There was another, slightly less polite sounding knock on the door.

“Coming!” Virgil called, clicking his phone off and sliding it into the pocket of his hoodie.

The light from the hallway outside cast a shadow that Virgil could see in the crack underneath the door. Whoever was on the other side was standing rather close to the door. Virgil couldn’t quite shake the sense that there was something off. He tried not to focus on it too much. He was in a good mood. Whoever the hell it was knocking on his door at one in the morning was probably just at the wrong door.

Any other night, Virgil would have been more cautious.

Any other night, when Virgil was in any other mood than completely besotted, Virgil may not have answered the knock at all.

As it was, Virgil opened the apartment door with little to no hesitation.

On the other side, standing in the dimly lit hallway stood a man with a nest of curly black hair and a form-fitting leather jacket, a pair of sunglasses hanging from the neck of his plain black t-shirt. If Virgil didn’t feel the hairs on the back of his neck standing up with some sort of instinctual unease, he may have thought that the man in front of him was handsome.

“Can I help you?” Anxiety seeped into Virgil’s tone. He looked the man up and down. The large boots. The perfectly straight posture. The tense shoulders. He suddenly wished very much that he had not opened the door.

The man smiled. There was something distinctly menacing about it. “Is Logan here?”

Virgil’s stomach twisted. He knew, suddenly, that he should not, under any circumstances, tell this man where Logan was. He felt his fangs poking at his lower lip, descending involuntarily. “Who are you?” His voice was gruffer than intended. The question was polite enough, but Virgil’s tone was nearly a hiss.

“I’m Nate Miller.” The man put a hand on the outside of the door. He didn’t push it open any wider than Virgil held it, but Virgil got the distinct impression that he would if Virgil made any sort of move to shut the door in his face.

“And you’re Virgil Noir, aren’t you?”

----

The warlock from the flower shop suggested that Logan go with a traditional bouquet of a dozen red roses.

Logan, however, while a traditional man of 182 years old, wanted something a bit more creative.

Roman had hovered over his shoulder for the entire exchange, offering his two cents with each choice that Logan attempted to make. His helpfulness was suffocating, but Logan didn’t let it deter him.

By the time that they were done, Logan had a beautiful, and rather pricey, bouquet picked out.

It was beautiful. It was wholly unnecessary, of course, but Logan didn’t mind getting caught up in Roman’s dramatics from time to time too much.

Virgil deserved as much.

The walk back to the apartment passed by Logan in a blur of cracked sidewalk and brisk air.

Logan had made this walk plenty of times before, but that time it felt… different. The air was full of promise, and though he was hesitant to admit it, even to himself, a sort of… hope that Logan hadn’t felt in a long, long time.

It was a breath of fresh air. Possibility.

Probability, if Logan allowed himself to make a couple of more hopeful assumptions based on that look in Virgil’s eyes the night before.

It wasn’t until he got to the door of the apartment complex that any sort of anxiety started to catch up with him. Seeing Virgil usually brought a calm over Logan. Coming back to the apartment to see his roommate was in itself like unwinding after a long day. Virgil had an uncanny ability of loosening every ward that Logan set up around himself.

But as Logan ascended the stairs--the elevator would definitely take too long right then, especially since Logan had noticed that it was descending right as he walked into the building--he took note of the fluttering sensation in the pit of his stomach.

The bats taking nest in his gut quickly fell into a pit as Logan saw the door to their apartment.

The open door to their apartment.

The bouquet fell from Logan’s hands, tumbling to the carpeted floor of the hallway.

Logan was at the door in less than a second, much faster than any human could move.

The bolt on the door was scratched, as if it had been forced open. If Logan’s heart hadn’t already stopped beating, this would have put a halt to it. He pushed the door open lightly, slowly, as though the seconds that it took to do so would stop this from happening--stop what he was seeing from being true.

Carefully, residual training from his years of being a detective when he was alive kicking in, Logan picked his way into the room so as not to disturb what was inside.

The apartment, for the most part, was exactly as he had left it. Further in, Logan could see that the living room was undisturbed.

Whatever had happened hadn’t made it past the entryway.

The entryway itself was a mess. The corkboard that Logan had hung up on the wall was crooked, the miscellaneous take-out menus and schedules were either barely hanging on by their push pins or scattered across the floor. The umbrella stand was knocked completely to the ground, as was the dish that usually held their keys. It was laying on the wood floor, shattered. Virgil’s keys underneath.

The knot in Logan’s throat that had nothing to do with thirst tightened. Finally, emotion overtook care. “Virgil?!” Logan called out into the empty apartment. His voice echoed off of the walls.

Dashing forward, past the wreckage of their entryway, Logan entered the living room. He glanced around quickly, desperately, but it was empty. “Virgil?!” He turned on his heel. So was the kitchen. Fast as he possibly could, Logan was at the door to Virgil’s bedroom, throwing it open and finding it silent and desolate. Desperate, Logan shot to the door to his own bedroom and flung it open, only to find the same thing.

Shaking, Logan was back at the kitchen in a blink. Virgil’s laptop was sitting, untouched on the counter. Just as he was about to give up, something caught the corner of Logan’s eye.

A flash of white. Instantly, Logan was back at the front door, pushing it closed.

There, pinned to the door of his and Virgil’s apartment with a silver knife was a slip of paper.

Logan felt sick. It was paper from a pad that they kept in the kitchen. Paper that he usually wrote notes for Virgil on before he left for the night.

Doyle,

I believe I have something you want. You know where to find me.

-NM

The shaking stopped. The paper nearly tore with the force that Logan was gripping it. Clutching the note in one hand, Logan reached into the side pocket of his messenger bag for his cell phone. By the time that he had dialed Remus’s number, he was already out the front door of the apartment building.

----

It was barely fifteen minutes later when they all made it to King’s Inks.

Fifteen minutes too long, in Logan’s opinion.

Roman had just barely been able to talk Logan down from taking off after Virgil.

Rationally, Logan knew that he would have done the same thing if he were in Roman’s place. If he had snatched Remus's phone from his hand and heard himself, desperate and earth shakingly angry, raving about going off alone after a hunter of unknown ability, he would have talked himself down too.

That didn’t mean that he was any less angry about it.

When Logan had reached the tattoo parlor, only one twin had been waiting for him. When Roman told Logan that Remus had gone down the street to get the owners of the local coffee shop, Logan had nearly gone off on him. Thankfully, Roman’s bullshit detector and friendship was stronger than Logan’s ferocity.

The bell above the door had jingled not too long later, and Logan had stopped his pacing to look at the new arrivals.

Remus entered the tattoo parlor followed by two rather eclectic characters that Logan could only assume were the owners of the café down the street. He barely listened through introductions, just gathering the essentials--that Patton and Janus were friends of Virgil’s and here to help.

Roman then had to pry the--for lack of any other possible description, though it made Logan sick to the stomach to think it--ransom note from Logan’s hand to pass it around to the other three.

“Who is NM?” Janus’s voice was gruff, enough so that Logan didn’t even need to register the wet dog smell to know that he was a werewolf.

“Nate Miller.” Logan hissed out. His foot tapped impatiently against the polished concrete floor of the tattoo parlor. “He approached me at my work earlier this week.”

Janus raised a single eyebrow but didn’t challenge it. If Logan were in a better state, he would have noticed the worried tilt to Janus’s mouth, or the way that his back was ramrod straight. He would have noticed that Janus was just as worried for Virgil as he was.

To Janus’s left, holding the ransom note and staring unblinkingly at it, was Patton. They were trembling, their eyes glassy. Remus was leaning over their shoulder to read the note as well. Logan barely noticed the supportive hand that the human twin had placed on the new vampire’s back.

“And there was no sign of Virgil?” Logan swallowed back the urge to snap in his reply, only because of the waver in Patton’s voice. “How long ago do you think-”

“I don’t know.” Logan clipped. “Not long before I arrived back at the apartment. It still reeked of him.” Old Spice and gunpowder. Logan could still smell the phantom of it. “I need to find him.”

Roman placed a calming hand on Logan’s shoulder. “That’s what we’re trying to do, hothead. We’re trying to get your boyfriend back, but you shouldn’t go running off after a hunter alone. Especially not one that is obviously targeting you.”

Janus nodded along. “For once, Roman is speaking sense.” Roman’s cheeks flushed a soft pink at the low-bar praise. “I thought that you were supposed to be smart?”

Logan leveled a glare at the wolf. “I’m sorry, do you know me?”

Janus shrugged. “Might as well. Virgil talks about you enough.”

“What does it mean?” Patton interrupted before Logan could respond. “‘You know where to find me.’ Do you, Logan?”

Logan nodded curtly. “The observatory. There’s nothing else that it could mean. That’s where he confronted me before.” Just thinking about it stirred up Logan’s anger again. He ran a frustrated hand through his hair, tugging on it at the ends. “I just don’t understand! Why would he take Virgil if he wants me? He’s a human! He has nothing to do with this!”

The whole room froze and went suddenly, unbearably silent.

“What?” Logan snapped. He should probably feel worse about being so harsh with his friends--and, apparently, Virgil’s friends--but at the moment he couldn’t bring himself to care.

“Are you kidding me? Still?” Remus’s voice was shrill. More shrill than usual, even.

All four of the others were staring directly at Logan, with varying looks of disbelief and resignation.

“Logan, honey.” Patton’s voice was unbearably fond, despite the fact that Logan had only really known them for a couple of minutes. “Virgil is a vampire too.”

Logan blinked. Then blinked again. For a moment, just a moment, he forgot all about where they were and what was going on. And suddenly, everything made sense. “Shit.”

The others watched him, concerned, for just a moment before Janus spoke again, redirecting them all back to the matter at hand. Logan, however, felt as though his head was spinning. Everything that he had known was suddenly turned on its head. He took a deep breath.

There would be time to deal with his revelation later. For now, he needed to focus. Virgil needed him. Virgil needed all of them.

Logan looked up, refocusing back on the others. They were talking quietly amongst themselves. Logan cleared his throat.

“We need to make a plan.”

----

The planetarium was silent when Logan arrived. Anyone would have assumed that it was deserted.

The planetarium was closed for the night, which is why it was Logan’s day off. Usually the planetarium and, specifically, the observatory was a place of comfort for him. Tonight, however, he wanted nothing more than to not have to be here.

Well, that was untrue. He did want one thing more, and Nate Miller knew it.

His footsteps echoed through the empty halls. Spinning diagrams of planets and moons that would normally have been mesmerizing hung from the ceiling. During the day, the planetarium was beautiful.

Logan had the path to the observatory memorized. He walked down the halls quickly but with caution, not using his vampire speed. There was no way of telling what Nate had been prepared for when he demanded that Logan meet him here. There could be any number of traps and Logan needed to keep his head on his shoulders, as Janus had not so politely warned before they had split up.

Despite his admirable restraint, Logan still moved more recklessly than he probably should have on his way there.

The door was cracked when Logan reached the observatory, propped open with a stopper. Logan didn’t hesitate before crossing the threshold and entering. It was just as quiet inside the observatory as the rest of the planetarium had been. The aisles of plush, fold theatre-style seats innocently lined the rounded walls and radiated inwards, completely empty. The ceiling was rolled back and open to the heavens. A clear night sky shown down on Logan and the empty rows of seats. It was beautiful, but Logan knew the implications of the sight.

It was nearing dawn now. The sun would be rising within the hour.

Behind him, the door slammed shut. Thankfully, Logan had just enough dignity and composure not to flinch at the sound, although he did turn to see that the door had in fact been closed behind him.

“Well, well, well.” The voice--Nate’s voice--seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere. The intercom system. Logan scanned the room for movement, quickly and imperceptibly. To the human eye, he would have simply appeared unmoving. Almost bored. “You actually came. Took you long enough.”

Logan’s hands clenched into fists at his sides. He had never hated anything more than he hated that voice. “I got caught up.” He responded through clenched teeth. Logan wasn’t thrilled with the concept of conversing with Nate at all, but he needed the time. “Next time you should call.”

The laugh that followed sounded like nails scraping against a chalkboard to Logan.

“Oh, but darling, you never gave me your number.”

Logan’s fingernails were digging crescent moon shaped wounds into his palm. “Enough small talk. Where is he?”

“Who?” There was laughter still in Nate’s tone. Even though Logan couldn’t see him, his stomach was boiling with rage at the audacity.

“Enough of the games!” Logan hissed, striding a few purposeful steps further into the circular room. “Where is he? Where is Virgil?”

There was a despondent sigh from above, and suddenly, Logan could hear the stage in the center of the room rising.

Logan had been on that platform many times before, giving lectures and presentations to excited audience members. He was always filled with a warm sense of anticipation and excitement before those speeches, no matter the fact that he had given them countless times before.

Now, he felt nothing but dread as he watched the stage rise up from under the floor to eye level.

The figure in the center of the stage was strapped to a chair. Logan’s heart lurched to see Virgil, slumped over and limp, but his worry was rapidly overcome by venomous fury when he saw Nate Miller, standing just behind his unconscious roommate, a wooden stake in one hand.

“The monster is alive. For now. You and I have business to attend to, Doyle. It should be coming around any moment now.”

----

Virgil’s head was pounding. The world was spinning, and he hadn’t even opened his eyes yet.

It was worse than any hangover that he had ever endured as a human. His vision was blurred as his eyes cracked open, spots of brilliant color dancing at the edges of his vision. He felt his fangs poking against his bottom lip.

Virgil twitched, raising--or at least, trying to raise--his hand to rub at his temples. His eyes shot open as he realized that he couldn’t move his hands. Chest rising and falling rapidly with breaths spurred by increasingly rising anxiety rather than an actual need to breathe, Virgil jerked against the shackles on his wrists. Matching shackles, he realized, locked his feet to the legs of the chair that he was in.

He couldn’t move at all.

“I’d stop that if I were you.” An almost bored voice spoke in Virgil’s ear. Jerking away, Virgil turned his neck to face his captor. Distantly, Virgil recognized the face.

His mind was still swimming, but he remembered it. Opening the door, half expecting Logan to be on the other side, and being met with this man. Knowing almost immediately that something was off, being forced back into his own home, barely having a chance to fight back, barely getting to call out before a sharp pain was radiating through his skull and everything was fading to black.

Virgil hissed, desperately leaning away from the man and the wooden stake that he was gripping with obvious intent.

The man’s eyes flashed, the patient facade disintegrating before Virgil’s eyes, revealing a manic sort of rage that terrified Virgil to the core.

“Virgil.”

The voice snapped Virgil out of his terror. Virgil’s eyes flew across the room, down to where Logan was standing, in the middle of an aisle--where were they?--worry and--Virgil’s heart panged with hurt--fear in his eyes.

Logan took a single step forward, but before he could move any more, the man behind Virgil was pressing the tip of the stake right against the spot where his unbeating heart was.

“Not another step, Doyle. You even try and move and this monster is dust.” The man growled the words in a way that reminded Virgil of someone barely hanging on to sanity. Virgil kept his eyes trained on Logan. The man’s voice smoothened suddenly, as though he were getting himself under thinly spread control. “We can just talk, can’t we? Just the three of us.”

Virgil sent Logan a pleading look. Logan needed to get out of there. He had to leave before this hunter--because he had to be a hunter, there was no other explanation--hurt him. Logan met the look with a determined shake of the head.

“Why don’t you introduce us all, Doyle?”

Virgil swallowed thickly, glancing back at the hunter before returning his eyes to Logan, confused. But Logan wasn’t looking at him any longer. His gaze was trained on the hunter behind him and Virgil felt as though he were missing something distinctly important.

Logan’s eyes narrowed. Virgil knew that face. Logan was biting back what he really wanted to say, and if there weren’t a stake pointed at his heart, Virgil would have wanted Logan to speak his mind and push this arrogant bastard right off of his soapbox.

Logan’s eyes flicked back to Virgil’s, and once again Virgil could see that little flicker of fear. Virgil swallowed down his own hurt.

“Virgil Noir, my roommate and… my friend.” There was something hesitant in the way Logan said it. Virgil tried desperately to focus on his anger. He had every right to be angry right now, and it had everything to do with the hunter threatening to kill him. He had no right to feel so… betrayed by Logan.

Logan, however, had every right to be scared after finding out that his roommate was a monster.

“And you are Nate Miller.” Logan continued. Virgil grimaced. Fuck Nate Miller. Virgil hated even his name. “A hunter who approached me yesterday at my place of work, and who is not targeting me. Why?”

There was a shocked, deranged sounding laugh from behind Virgil, and the hunter placed his hand on Virgil’s shoulder. Disgusted, Virgil shook it off, only to freeze when the sharpened end of the stake pressed threateningly against his chest. “Are you joking?” Nate’s voice was nearly an octave higher than it had been before. He sounded incredulous. “Don’t act like you don’t remember me, Doyle. Stupidity is unflattering for you.”

Logan’s face remained impassive. Virgil curiously looked him up and down. As someone who considered himself very good at reading Logan, Virgil could confidently say that he genuinely looked confused.

Virgil forced a laugh past his monumental anxiety. “Looks like you’re not that memorable, dude, sorry to break it to you.”

Nate grabbed a fistful of Virgil’s hair at the back of his head, tilting it back. “Shut up, bloodsucker! Don’t think I won’t put you down like the monster you are.”

Virgil gritted his teeth to hide the pain. “Do it then! By the time you turn me to dust, Logan will be gone.” Virgil looked down from where his head was still tilted at the uncomfortable angle to meet Logan’s eyes.

Logan shook his head minutely and Virgil’s brow furrowed in confusion.

Nate chuckled, breathlessly, releasing Virgil’s hair from his grasp and stepping around the chair so that Virgil could finally see him fully. Virgil’s first thought was that he was rather short, for a hunter. “Nice try. Goading me into focusing on you. I’m not an amateur. Doyle wouldn’t leave his perfect little boyfriend. That’s why he’s here, you know. For you.”

Virgil ignored the words, though they made something that wasn’t strictly fear squirm in his gut. He wasn’t going to get hope for his relationship with Logan from a hunter who was threatening to kill him. “Sounds like someone’s jealous.” He said instead, taking a vindictive sort of joy from the fury that was clearly written on Nate’s face at the statement.

“Virgil.” Logan warned, taking a single step forward.

Nate held up the stake again, menacingly. “Don’t move, Doyle.” Logan froze. “You want to pretend you don’t remember? Fine, I’ll jog your memory.” Gripping the stake tightly but lowering it, Nate took another step closer, his eyes trained solely on Logan. It made Virgil want to kick him. Luckily for the hunter, his legs were still shackled to his chair.

“We met three years ago, before you moved here. You were working at that bookshop, remember?” Virgil frowned, his eyes lobbying back and forth between Logan and Nate. He was confused. Why was a hunter so obsessed with Logan? “You were always wearing that cute little scarf. For a few weeks there, I came to the shop to see you every day.”

Logan’s eyes were widening in recognition, surprise and confusion warring on his perfectly smooth features. Virgil swallowed thickly. Logan knew this hunter.

“I remember.” Logan’s voice was low, barely there. His hands, which had been tense and balled into white fists since he first arrived at the observatory were relaxing slightly. “But- I don’t understand? If you were a hunter-”

Nate laughed, an odd mixture of pleased--likely at the fact that Logan suddenly remembered their connection--and cruel. “Please. If I had known right away what you were, I wouldn’t have wasted the time. When I found out, it was right before you moved away. I was disgusted. Wasting so much time and energy on a vampire-” Nate spat the word like a curse.

Virgil sucked in a shallow breath. A vampire? Logan? No. That couldn’t possibly be true. The hunter had to be mistaken. There was no way that Virgil would not have known that Logan was also a vampire. Except…

It did sort of make sense. Why Logan was also only ever awake at night, even on his days off. Why he was always just as cold as Virgil was. Why he kept so many jars of jam that Virgil was just realizing were definitely not full of jam. Virgil cursed himself. How had he not known-- How had he not noticed?

He remembered the other day at the café with Janus and Patton. If he got out of this alive, he was so going to kill Janus.

Then, of course, it dawned on Virgil exactly what sort of situation they were still in. If Logan was a vampire, then both of them were in danger right now. Logan had come for him, putting himself in grave danger. A hunter may spare a human, but they saw all creatures of the night as the same. Virgil’s eyes widened and he stared at Logan, trying to convey his urgency with his eyes.

Above all else, Logan had to get out of this observatory okay.

But Logan wasn’t looking at Virgil anymore.

“So you followed me?”

“I had to track you down!” The hunter cried, as if the alternative were impossible. “All you monsters are the same. I couldn’t just let you get away with tricking me-- with seducing me, masquerading as if you could possibly be normal. You’re a killer.”

Logan looked incensed. “If you’ve been watching me for so long, then you know that I haven’t killed anyone recently.”

“But you have before.” Nate spat, his eyes wild. “Don’t deny it. All of you are killers, whether you fancy yourself reformed or not. You need to pay for what you’ve done.” Nate gestured to Virgil, hatred burning in his eyes, despite the fact that he couldn’t even deign to look at him properly. “From the research I’ve done about this one, it took it three years before it managed to stop slaughtering humans. You’re all the same, no matter how much better you think that you are.”

Virgil winced. Guilt clawing at his insides. He barely remembered the three years after he was first turned. It was the darkest period in his past, and having it so gracelessly laid bare in front of Logan made him want to do nothing more than disappear. But when he managed to look back up at Logan there was something… understanding in his eyes.

And that was when Virgil knew that whatever his past, whatever this hunter said and did, Virgil would do anything in his power to get the man that he loved out of this safely.

Even if it meant putting his neck on the line by riling up a deranged hunter.

“And how many lives have you ended in the past year alone?” Virgil hissed, staring defiantly up at his captor.

Nate scoffed. “None that matter, vampire. You dare to compare the lives of you creatures to human life-”

“Say,” Virgil drawled, his voice low, “are we just here to listen to you spew your manifesto about how much more pure than us you are, or are you actually going to do something?”

“Actually, I did have something in mind.” Nate’s face was unnervingly calm again. A pit of dread settled in Virgil’s stomach. Nate nodded up at the ceiling.

The open dome of a ceiling.

Virgil looked up and couldn’t help but notice the tell-tale signs of a sunrise along the edges of the circular opening. The clear implications dawned upon him--Patton would be proud that he could manage to think a pun even in such a dire situation--quickly. His eyes slipped closed in momentary resignation.

The sun is going to rise--likely within the next few minutes--and Virgil was there, shackled to a chair just under the open ceiling. The stake in the hunter’s hand was just for show. He fully intended to burn Virgil alive, and there was nothing that Logan could possibly do about it without risking his own life.

Logan himself just seemed to be putting together the implications of Nate’s thinly-veiled threat.

And suddenly, as though a switch were flipped, Logan’s calm demeanor changed. No longer was he feigning interest in Nate’s monologue or humoring his explanations. His fists were once again balled at his sides, white with tension, and for the first time ever, Virgil could see his fangs.

All at once, Virgil knew that Logan would not be letting this go quietly. He wasn’t completely sure what tipped him off, but he knew that if it came down to it, Logan would not be leaving him to burn alone under any circumstances.

It’s a sobering realization. Logan was going to risk his own life for no reason at all--because, honestly, how would his death help anyone? Virgil was still stuck there. If Logan really was a vampire--and he obviously was--he could have been out of there and safe before Nate could even blink. Virgil could not fathom why he looked so determined to waste his life, but he already knew what he needed to do about it.

Virgil forced a laugh. It was loud in the otherwise silent observatory. “Burning me? Really? That’s the best that you could do?”

Nate looked hilariously offended by the complete lack of shaking in his boots that Virgil was doing.

Virgil continued. “No, honestly, did you sit in your sad little apartment, surrounded by cut out pictures of Logan and red string and come up with this plan? Did you rub your little hands together and laugh maniacally? Did you honestly think that using the sun as your choice of weapon was poetic or something? What are you going to tell your little hunter friends? That you tracked down your old vampire crush and just sat and watched the sun rise with him?”

Nate turned an absolutely alarming shade of red. Really, it would have been funny had it not been immediately followed by his fist colliding with Virgil’s nose.

Virgil barely had time to hold in a grunt of pain before Nate was being pulled off of him and shoved to the ground. Virgil opened his eyes to see Logan on the platform with them, his knees straddling the hunter’s chest, and his hands wrapped around his neck.

“Logan-” Virgil desperately called out, completely ignoring his throbbing nose.

Nate was resisting, thrashing against Logan’s hold, and although Logan had the upper hand with the element of surprise, Virgil could do nothing but watch as the hand that was still clutching the wooden stake rose behind Logan.

“Logan!” The scream tore it’s way out of Virgil’s throat before he could think of the consequences. Logan’s grip on Nate faltered.

Before anything life shattering could happen, the stake was kicked from Nate’s hand by a black combat boot. Virgil’s eyes snapped up to see what--who--the boot was connected to, and his eyes were met with a man dressed in quite a bit of leather that Virgil had never seen before.

His first, terrifying thought is that this was another hunter, but no, this man was very obviously not on Nate’s side.

“Not on my fucking watch.” The man growled, kicking the stake even further away now that it was out of Nate’s grasp. The man looked angry, albeit not as angry as Logan, who was still apparently attempting to choke the life out of the hunter. His wild eyes were matched by a wild nest of shaggy brown hair that had a couple of glinting silver streaks in it, and offset by what appeared to be a very carefully maintained moustache.

He was altogether the strangest looking person that Virgil had ever seen, and he hadn’t even glanced in Virgil’s direction yet.

Virgil’s eyes were pulled away from the struggle by a light touch against one of his wrists, just above the shackle.

“Patton?” Sure enough, Patton was hovering over Virgil now, their eyes kind and concerned.

“Are you okay, V?” Their voice shook a bit. “What am I saying? Of course you aren’t okay. I’m sorry, Virgil.”

“Wh- How did you-?”

Patton smiled kindly, their eyes flicking over to Logan. “Logan called us--or, well, he called Remus,” They nodded in the direction of the punk guy, “and he told Roman, who called me and Janus. We’re going to get you out of here.”

For the first time since he had been texting Janus and Patton earlier, something loosened in Virgil’s chest. Relief.

Before he could say anything to thank Patton or perhaps ask who the hell Remus and Roman were, Patton was gripping the shackle that held Virgil’s left hand in place and tearing it away as though it were nothing.

Sometimes Virgil forgot just how strong they were.

Patton quickly repeated the process with Virgil’s remaining restraints.

“Logan. Get off of him.”

Virgil craned his neck, looking over his shoulder to see what was happening. The scuffle had moved. Logan still had the upper hand, but now there were two more figures standing over him and the hunter. The first was nearly identical to the one in the combat boots, though minus the moustache and with much tidier hair. The second--

“Janus.” Virgil almost felt like smiling at the sight of his friend. Janus looked up, his two-toned eyes flashing in the light.

Right. The light. The sunlight that was quickly approaching.

“Logan.” It was the second unknown one, the one with the perfect hair, that was speaking. Virgil just noticed the pointed ears that were poking out between his curls. “You have to stop. Remus, Jan and I have this. It’s almost sunrise. You have to get out of here, Logan.”

But Logan wasn’t listening. Virgil’s chest constricted. There was something dark--something dangerous--in Logan’s eyes. Nate wasn’t fighting much anymore. Any words that Virgil might have said were stuck in his throat.

Beside him, Patton whimpered.

“Logan!” The one with the moustache snapped, reaching down and grabbing one of Logan’s biceps. “Logan, you need to get Patton and Virgil out of here.”

Something of what the human said must have registered in Logan’s mind, because his grip on Nate loosened until he was no longer strangling him. Luckily, Nate didn’t get a chance to recover, because as soon as Logan was pulling away, Janus had Nate in his grasp, his eyes flashing golden.

Virgil could breathe again. He trusted that Janus, and whoever those other two were, had this.

“Logan.” He called, breathless. His voice was still raw from screaming earlier. His nose was still gushing blood and very likely crooked, but he didn’t care in the slightest. Not when Logan looked up at him.

In an instant, Logan was across the room and pulling Virgil into his arms. And Virgil let him. He didn’t resist for even a second, willingly letting himself melt against Logan like he’s a lifeline.

And in some ways, he was.

“Are you alright?” Logan’s voice was achingly tender. So heartbreakingly tender, given what he had just been doing seconds ago. “Did he- Did he hurt you any more than-”

Virgil cut him off because that dangerous note was coming back into Logan’s tone. It shouldn’t have been as hot as it was. It shouldn’t have been hot at all. “I’m fine, L. Are you-”

“If you’re safe, I am.”

And it was terrible timing. Just feet away, his best friend and two other people who he could only assume were Logan’s friends were fighting with a hunter. Patton was still right behind him, standing just off the stage, watching. But Virgil found himself leaning just that much closer to Logan. It was as if Logan had his own gravitational pull that tugged only on Virgil. He glanced down at Logan’s lips. One was split, but otherwise they looked just the same as they had the other night, when they were safe in their apartment.

Virgil let out a shaky exhalation. When he looked back up, Logan’s eyes were trained downwards. Towards his own lips. Virgil licked his lips.

Behind him, Patton gently cleared their throat. Virgil whirled around.

“I don’t want to interrupt, kiddos, but the sun is going to rise any minute now. We need to get you home.” They didn’t speak for themselves, but Virgil knew that Patton wouldn’t be leaving without them, and he didn’t want his friend to burn alive either.

He glanced back at Logan, but Logan’s expression was shuttered once again.

“Yes, you’re correct, Patton. We need to leave now.”

Virgil glanced back at the other four one last time. They had Nate under control once again. Swallowing, Virgil turned back to Patton and Logan and nodded once. “Let’s get out of here.”

----

In the end, they did indeed make it back to their apartment before the sun rises, if just barely. Patton left them only once they were sure that Logan and Virgil were okay enough to be left alone at their apartment.

Which was perfectly fair, because they had just had a home invasion only a few hours ago.

When they were back in the apartment building and safe from the approaching dawn, the two of them began to clean the apartment in silence.

It really wasn’t that big of a mess, but both of them seemed to silently agree that they would not be able to rest until the apartment was returned to the state that it had been before. When things were safe.

Virgil’s tongue felt too big in his mouth as he helped right the entryway. Only hours ago he had been trying and failing to fend off Nate in this very spot. And, sure, things were okay now, but somehow it feels suddenly much  more real than it had when they were leaving the observatory.

As for Logan… He looked tense. It was understandable. Because Virgil had gone and got himself kidnapped like some sort of damsel in distress-

His stomach curled in on itself. He couldn’t shake the anxious thought that Logan was… angry with him for it.

And it was stupid. It was so stupid, and Virgil knew it. After everything that Logan just went through to get Virgil back, there was very very little chance that Logan would blame anyone other than Nate for this turn of events. And even if he did blame someone else, Virgil knew Logan, and he knew that if anything, he was likely blaming himself.

Which was even more stupid.

Once the entryway was presentable again, Logan cleared his throat. Virgil paused, halfway through taking his hoodie off. Usually he wore it even when inside their apartment, but right now everything that he was wearing felt… dirty.

“Are you sure that you’re alright?” Logan’s voice was soft. Quieter than usual. Almost… unsure. Which was almost unheard of for Logan.

Virgil softened, pulling his jacket the rest of the way off. “I’m… I won’t lie, Logan, I’m pretty shaken but… I’ll be fine. Are you…?”

Logan dodged the question, finally looking over at Virgil with thinly masked guilt in his eyes. “Your nose stopped bleeding.”

Virgil reached up a tentative hand to his face. To be honest, he had forgotten about it. The pain had numbed, but when he prodded it gently with a finger, he could tell that it was definitely broken. Patton would have said something if it had needed to be set, though, so Virgil wasn’t too worried. “I’m sure I’m a sight right now.” He chuckled weakly. It fell flat. There was silence in the apartment for a moment. “Logan-”

“I’m sorry.” Logan exclaimed, before Virgil could continue. “This is my fault. I… If you were hurt, I would… I never would have forgiven myself.”

“Don’t say that.” Virgil tried, stepping closer to Logan.

“It’s true.” Logan insisted. “If he had hurt you, or heaven forbid-” Logan made a little choked noise. “I couldn’t have lived with myself. You did nothing wrong. You didn’t deserve-”

“And neither did you.” Virgil’s voice was firm, pushing back against all denial. “You didn’t call this upon us, Logan. I don’t care if he thought that he knew you, or if he had hurt me any more than he did. None of it was your fault, and none of it would have been your fault. He is a hunter. I’m- We’re vampires. It could have happened at any time with any hunter.”

“But it didn’t! It was him, and he was targeting me. He only hurt you because I-”

Virgil’s mouth felt very dry as Logan cut himself off. “What matters is that we’re safe. We’re okay.” He tried to reassure Logan.

Logan closed his eyes, defeat settling over his features. “You don’t understand. He only hurt you because of how much I love you.”

The words hung in the air, heavy. They certainly weren’t how Virgil had ever imagined that they would be said for the first time. Still, a soft warmth blooms in Virgil’s chest. There were nerves there too, but he found it easy to ignore them. Mostly, he felt an overwhelming sense of rightness. Two days ago it had been impossible to consider that Logan loved him back.

But now… it was like he could see that Logan had been saying it for a long time now. He had said it earlier, when he had been so obviously terrified for Virgil. He had said it the night before, when he held Virgil close and they swayed around the kitchen. He had said it even before that, when he made sure to be quiet every evening when he left for work just after sunset, when Virgil was still holding on to sleep. He said it when he picked ocean documentaries for Virgil, even though he was not-so-secretly terrified of the ocean. He had said it countless times since they had met, even though Virgil was only just now hearing it for the first time.

Virgil took the remaining few steps forward to close the distance between them. Logan looked almost pained. Before Virgil could lose his confidence in himself--in this--he reached out and placed a hand on Logan’s cheek.

When Logan met his eyes, Virgil damn near melted into the ground. Logan’s deep, chocolate brown eyes always were a weakness of his. He wanted to say something. But, then again, Virgil never really had been the one that was good with words. That was definitely more Logan’s department. Instead, Virgil just leaned forward and closed the distance between them completely.

Logan’s lips were soft, just like the rest of him was, although he was loathe to show it. He gasped softly against Virgil’s mouth, but he didn’t even try to pull away.

Logan leaned into the kiss with an insistence that made Virgil’s still heart pirouette in his chest. Virgil exhaled, and it felt as though he had been holding his breath his entire life, despite the fact that he hadn’t needed to breathe in just over fourteen years.

Kissing Logan was like finally coming home. And though it was terribly cliché, Virgil couldn’t bother to imagine another way to describe it. Virgil couldn’t imagine ever getting tired of this sensation. From his head to his toes, he felt warm.

He felt alive.

Slowly, Virgil parted his lips under Logan’s and even though Virgil had been the one to initiate the kiss, he was surprised when Logan took his lower lip between his own. Virgil didn’t bother to hold back the low noise that arose in the back of his throat, thankful once again that he couldn’t blush.

The noise seemed to be appreciated, though, because Logan made a rather audible noise of appreciation. Right before Virgil felt a sting on his lower lip.

Logan pulled back almost immediately after, a startled--no, a shell shocked--expression on his face. His fangs were descended and Virgil knew instantly that that was what he had felt. He bit back a laugh.

Logan looked breathless. He looked breathtaking.

“I love you too.” Virgil confessed, his hand still cradling Logan’s cheek. “Of course I do. I would have done exactly the same thing if it were you.”

And Logan.

Logan laughed.

And it was the tension break that they needed after the completely awful night that they had both just experienced.

It was not a loud laugh. It was not really hysterical, either, though Virgil would have understood if Logan had lost his mind just a bit after the night that they had just had. It was a laugh of disbelief, mostly, and Virgil wholeheartedly agreed.

He couldn’t hold back a smile, and as he often couldn’t when he was with Logan. He didn’t even want to try. So instead he smiled.

Logan’s eyes turned serious. “I love you.” He repeated, this time with more conviction. He brought up a hand to cradle Virgil’s face, just as Virgil was. Virgil ran the pad of his thumb across Logan’s perfect cheekbone.

“I love you too.” Virgil replied. And after everything, that was enough.

[earl-of-221b]

i watched rurouni kenshin origins just now (with zero previous context for the series) and was on ao3 poking around for saito fic. i only found a couple that looked interesting so i went to tumblr. thought to myself 'hm i don't remember where any of the rurouni kenshin stuff on my dash has ever come from. i'll try earl-of-221b?' LO AND BEHOLD YOU WROTE THE SAITO FIC I READ.

At one point I was a Saito historian flipping through Shinsengumi material to learn about this freak for RK fic - such an interesting character and amazing foil to Kenshin! Everyone talks about Battousai almost in a mythical light -- in walks this man who actually knew Battousai personally. All of Kenshin's cohort from war died, except this guy, who was on the opposite side. And now 11 years have passed and the government has changed and through no effort at all on their parts they're on the same side now. How would you deal with that??? Absolutely adore what Yosuke Eguchi did for Saito in the movies -- and you're definitely in for a treat for the next instalments in the series. He plays huge parts in Kyoto Inferno and The Legends Ends!

[dorkshadows]

Jiang Ziya (2020)

@earl-of-221b I finally got to see it! Finally saw Legend of DILFication! General thoughts: oh wow, your review of Jiang Ziya was spot on. Overall, it was nicely animated and there were some cool things about the story/designs. But it did feel a bit “empty” and incoherent towards the end.

At first, it was kinda slow to me, but once I got used to the tone, it was really engaging. Jiang Ziya’s dad vibes just like, grew exponentially through the film until he achieved his final dad form lmao. Anyway, it was a lot more somber and “quiet” than I expected (which is also really funny because of all those upbeat promos Jiang Ziya starred in with Nezha and Wukong asdfasdfsd that Nezha easter egg at the end absolutely sent me). 

Shen Gong Bao not being the same leopard man from Nezha? I consider that a microaggression TBH. Also he and Jiang Ziya were like, a gay couple. Living in their little cabin together. probably planned to adopt some kids too. 

Spoiler thoughts:

Wasn’t expecting who Xiao Jiu turned out to be! That was an interesting twist. I thought she was going to be Jiang Ziya’s illegitimate kid or something

The trailers gave me the impression was that Xiao Jiu was a generic good girl, so her personality here was nice- really dug the attitude

Wasn’t expecting a certain cute animal creature to die adjfasdfasdf 

Was also not expecting Shen Gong Bao to die(?), then wasn’t expecting him to come back, which he apparently did(?). 

Either way, there was 100x more chemistry between Jiang Ziya and Shen Gong Bao and Jiang Ziya and the pet dog reindeer thing than that viral destiel clip

I was so confused by the end LMAO but I appreciated them not going the “celestials are evil! demons are good!” route. It was a nice balance, where a lot of actions where interconnected

I too went feral at that 2-second cameo of Yang Jian and go. Never even saw their faces but I was going “Erlang Shen!??????” And I saw his three edged sword. The #experience!!

Overall, very nice and fluid animation with a serious, lonely atmosphere. Only thing I didn’t like visually was how “human” Xiao Jiu and Shen Gong Bao (at first) leaned. They really thought adding a tail and ears were enough smh, the cowardice

Nezha had me screaming at the end. The full promo was a religious experience.

Solid 6/10!

[laryna6]

earl-of-221b replied to your post “The new chapter -[[MOR] Yeeah, that wasn’t the Garda reveal I was...”

Same here. I was actually pleasantly thrown off by the Garda reveal before - that she went into the tube willingly and had a grudge against Muzaka. (For thinking that Muzaka was choosing humans over her/them, for disappearing without a word.... It was interesting because that would have been the werewolf equivalent of 'Rai betrayed the nobles and lead the rebellion' thing.) I guess it's just more mind wipe now.

I’m just.

Are they re-using Edian’s plot? 

It was bad enough once, but twice? Are you effing serious?

It’s stuff like this that makes people call this arc filler. 

Tragic female character not actually evil because that would mean a woman having her own motivations - and what motivations she does have are centered on a male character - being used/brainwashed by male villain? If Garda dies in his arms I STG...

I think that’s why I want her to be responsible for Muzaka’s wife and Ashleen. Because even if that would be a painful cliche, at least then something she did would have had an impact on the plot. 

Look over her character. Literally nothing she’s done has mattered. Ever. For her to have made a choice that caused stuff to happen would be a massive improvement over the current state of affairs. I’d rather have her be one of the movers and shakers of the tragedy 820 years ago than yet another female character turning out to be a puppet.