#this could count as fanart or a practice/free day

[tsukasageorge]

anybody remember those screencap redraws i did? well, i liked this one, so i fully rendered it. yay :3

og ss:

[dead-man-in-the-grave]

Dinners and Dates (Can Be Really Stressful When You're In A Fake Relationship Or Two)

(Cross-posted on AO3 and with fanart by @freaky-fan-official.)

part one | part two (you are here) | part three | part four

Step one of "Getting Your Oblivious Friends To Realize They Like Each Other" (by GoodTimesWithScar) is to not tell them outright. If you do that, then the moment of realization won't be as sweet.

No, instead, you have to lead them into it, slowly but surely.

And that's exactly what Scar is currently doing.

He's been fake dating both Grian and Mumbo for the past two weeks, with little to no progress in getting them together. It's frustrating. Infuriating, even. He's gotten the urge to tear his hair out more times than he can count.

But it'll all be worth it, in the end. Well, as long as there is an end to this madness. Scar's not sure if there is, at this point.

Nevertheless, he will get these two together if it's the last thing he does.

His newest plan involves setting up a nice, fancy dinner date.

Now, fancy dinners aren't exactly Scar's specialty. He's good at massive, breathtaking megabuilds, he's one of the best terraformers on the server, he can even manage redstone, on a good day. But dinners? Nah. Scar's diet is made mostly of golden carrots and baked potatoes; not something that would typically be served for a dinner date.

But if this is what it takes to get Mumbo and Grian together, then he'll do it.

Now, first things first, finding a location.

None of their bases are particularly suited for hosting dinners, so that's off the table. He needs to find somewhere scenic, somewhere romantic, somewhere that will take their breath away.

Scar summons his vex wings and takes to the skies.

It takes a while, flying all around Boatem before deciding that Boatem doesn't quite have the vibes he's looking for.

He flies past Cub's biome and Xisuma's base, past Big-Eyed Cove and over the swamp.

He's starting to think he'll need to settle for something lesser than what he had hoped for, when it finally happens.

After flying for Void knows how long, Scar finds a spot. The perfect spot.

It's a remote clearing in the northern dark oak forest, somewhere to the south of Gem and False's bases. There are roses, lilacs, poppies, lilies, all sorts of flowers scattered across the clearing, soaking up the sun and hiding amongst the tall, wild grass.

Scar could imagine it now, a gazebo of spruce wood to contrast the dark oak in the surroundings, a round table piled with food of all kinds (vegetarian and chocolate free, just for Mumbo and Grian), with candles and lanterns being the main source of light.

It would be perfect, he'd make it perfect.

Scar just has to get to building.

He jots down the area's coords and flies back to his base for building materials. He digs through his chest monster, which is quickly growing out of hand, and retrieves some spruce and dark oak wood, a few candles, and some lanterns, and piles it all into an empty shulker box. He stashes it in his inventory and takes off, making a beeline for the clearing.

He has the design in his mind's eye while he's building the gazebo, and he frequently has to tweak things when they don't quite look the way he wants them to, but such is the nature of building.

By the time he's happy with the design and has put on the last finishing touches, night had fallen, and mobs kept attacking him. He'd had to call it a night. He's lucky that no creepers had shown up.

He'd finished the build, and it looks absolutely amazin' if he did say so himself.

Next, he needs food, but that can wait for tomorrow.

He's still excited when he gets tucked into bed with Jellie. It takes a while, but he eventually falls asleep.

It isn't the best sleep he's ever had – he's too excited for tomorrow – but he knows he needs to sleep or else he'd be severely regretting it tomorrow. So, he does.

And when he wakes up the next morning, Scar practically leaps out of bed. Scratch that, he does leap out of bed, summoning his wings to stick the landing before putting them away again. He grabs his cane from beside the bed, leaning on it as he checks the time on his comm. It's 11:47, later than he'd wanted, but still enough time. He still has to make all the food he has planned for dinner tonight.

So, plan in mind, he heads down the ladder to the lower floor of the Swaggon's main cart.

The kitchen in the Swaggon is small, just a small countertop, a cauldron, a couple furnaces, and an iced chest to keep the food from spoiling. It didn't really see much use after Scar got his hands on a reliable source of golden carrots, and with the layer of dust covering everything, it shows.

So, before he even considers doing any cooking, Scar wets down a rag and cleans off the dust. It'd just be gross to cook while the kitchen's dirty.

Cleaning the dust off doesn't take very long, but cleaning out the furnaces when he finds evidence of something living inside one of them takes an additional hour.

Scar really can't catch a break, can he?

And even after that whole ordeal, he still has to make all the food for the dinner in – Scar checks his comm – five hours.

Maybe it's just how much Scar's been through in the last week (Mumbo and Grian are both annoyingly good at being blind to each other's feelings), but this almost feels like more trouble than it's worth.

Almost.

Scar still loves both of them, and would do anything to see them happy. And "everything" does include all of this.

So, what can he cook that will be suitably romantic and fits both of their dietary restrictions?

Anything with meat is off the table, with Mumbo's vegetarianism, and there can't be anything parrots can't eat because it'd make Grian sick. That really doesn't leave many options.

Spaghetti could work, if there wasn't any meat in the sauce, but he'd have to make the noodles by hand… As much as he loves Grian and Mumbo, he's not sure he had good enough fine motor skills to make a reasonable amount of noodles for three people. So that's a no-go.

Scar wracked his brain for anything all three of them could eat. Bread, carrots, apples, beetroots, melon, and pumpkin are all safe, he thinks. But what kind of meal can he make out of all that? Beetroot soup with a side of carrots?

…Actually, beetroot soup wasn't a horrible idea. All three could eat it, and it was a "main course" kind of food, no one hated the flavor or texture…

It could work.

Cooked carrots weren't a bad side dish either. Bread rolls wouldn't be all that difficult. Pumpkin pie is a good desert. He could even make steak for Grian and baked potatoes for Mumbo, as long as he made sure not to cross-contaminate…

Plan in mind, Scar gets to cooking.

After several straight hours in the kitchen, all the food is finally done. And just in time, too, dinnertime is nearing rapidly. Scar tucks the food into his inventory and flies back to the clearing.

The flight seems to last forever. Scar watches as the sun grows closer and closer to the horizon, but he gets there before it truly begins to set. He sets the food out meticulously on the table in his gazebo, making absolutely sure nothing is out of place before taking a step back and admiring his work.

It looks amazin' if Scar has anything to say about it.

Though, it is a little dark…

He nabs a shulker from his inventory and grabs some spare torches from it. Not the prettiest - or safest, for that matter – but they'd keep the area lit. He places them on the trunks of some surrounding trees and prays to the Void they don't light the forest on fire.

Scar sends his coords to Mumbo and Grian individually, and then sits down to wait.

...

Mumbo is inside his base, tinkering away at one of his machines that just refuses to cooperate, when he gets a message. Its a private message from Scar.

Mumbo ignores his heart beating wildly behind his ribs.

<GoodTimeWithScar> 508/70/381

Mumbo stares at the message with concern. Are those coordinates? Why would Scar be sending coords?

Maybe he's in trouble? Mumbo's heart speeds up more at the thought.

He decides to wait a few minutes to see if any other messages were forthcoming, whether a private message from Scar or a death message saying he was blown up by a creeper or something.

No other messages show up in chat, so Mumbo switches to his own coordinates, and starts heading for Scar.

...

Grian's in the middle of restocking the G-Train when he gets Scar's message. It's just a set of coords, and that could mean anything when it comes to Scar, but Grian is ready to drop everything on a whim for that man.

And that's exactly what he does.

Grian stuffs the deepslate he was putting in his chests back into his inventory, spreads his wings and launches into the sky. He's fairly certain what direction Scar is in, but he'll probably have to check when he gets closer.

For now, he equips a sword and shield, just in case there's a fight.

He'll protect Scar until his dying breath (and then some), if he has to.

...

Scar isn't expecting anyone to show up for a while, and that makes Grian's divebomb from the forest's canopy all the more surprising.

He lands roughly, and Scar sees his windswept hair, ruffled sweater, and the way his wings are fluffed like they get whenever he's expecting a fight – trying to make himself appear bigger. There's a sword and shield in his hands. Why he thought he would need those, Scar doesn't know.

He's also gasping for air, like he flew here the second he got Scar's message.

That would explain how he got there so quick…

"Grian!" Scar says happily. He doesn't miss the way Grian flinches and spins to face him. "I wasn't expecting you so soon!"

Grian stares at him, still panting slightly, eyes roaming, searching for… something. He either finds what he's looking for, or doesn't find anything, as he huffs a sigh and relaxes. The sword and shield disappear into his inventory.

"Well, I thought you were in danger or something," Grian says, sounding exasperated, "I flew here as fast as I could."

For the first time since he got here, Grian seems to take a look around. He blinks a few times, rubs his knuckles over his eyelids, then takes another look.

"Scar…? What is all this…?"

"It's the venue for our dinner, of course! But, even if you're here, we can't start without our last guest… hm…" Scar trails off.

Grian stills.

"Last guest?"

"Hm? Oh, Mumbo should be here, too! I'm pretty sure I sent him the coords as well-"

Speak of the devil, Mumbo stumbles out of the treeline and into the clearing.

"-And there he is!" Scar claps once. "Now we can get started!"

Scar chooses to ignore the looks both his fake-boyfriends throw him.

...

When Mumbo stumbled into the clearing Scar had sent him the coordinates to, finding a candlelit dinner, put-together Scar, and a dishevelled-looking Grian wasn't something he'd planned for. But that's fine, he can roll with the punches.

What he can not roll with his how romantic this whole thing is!

Seriously, a candlelit dinner? In a remote area of a dark oak forest filled with flowers and soft lighting? Mumbo was either going to get lucky or he was going to get murdered .

Well, in any event, Scar was herding Grian and himself toward the table, and the food that was set out there did smell delightful…

Resigning himself to his fate – whatever it may be – Mumbo allows Scar to direct him to the seat closest to the baked potatoes. Grian is sat to his right, conveniently close to the plate of steak. Scar takes the remaining chair.

No one moves to take any food.

"Well gentlemen," Scar breaks the silence, "don't let all this food go to waste! Dig in!"

Scar grabs a bowl and fills it with, Mumbo assumes, beetroot soup.

Grian follows his lead, piling his plate with steak and bread rolls and wasting no time shoving a roll in his mouth.

"Jeez, Grian, did you forget to eat again? You're eating like a starved man," Mumbo jokes, serving himself baked potatoes and steamed carrots. Grian, thankfully, swallows him mouthful of food before he answers.

"Ah, maybe- but in my defence, I was mining deepslate. Hunger wasn't really on my mind." Grian then grabs a steak and rips a chunk out of it with nothing but his teeth, as though it's the normal way to eat steak.

Though, to be fair, Mumbo hasn't really seen him eat steak any other way.

"You need to get better about that."

"I know, I know."

Mumbo shifts his attention to Scar, who's been oddly quiet the whole time.

He has a dopey-looking grin on his face, watching him and Grian. His cheeks look slightly red. Maybe he's catching a cold?

"You okay there, Scar?" Mumbo asks. Scar seems to snap out of it, grin turning closer to his normal smile than it had been before. The colour stays in his cheeks.

"Oh, yeah, I'm alright!" He says, gesturing placatingly, "You guys are just really cute."

Mumbo's face heats up rapidly. He's 100% sure he's red as the beetroot soup.

"I- wha- I'm not cute!" Grian splutters. His face is red too.

"You are though!" Scar insists, "Cute like a little baby bird." Grian's face is completely flushed. In embarrassment or anger, Mumbo doesn't know.

"No-! Oh, whatever…" Grian rips off another bite of steak, but the slight quirk of his lips betrays that he's not really angry.

Scar and Mumbo share a laugh at Grian's angry bird act and return to their food.

They must spend hours there, talking and eating and laughing, but it feels like no time at all. Eventually, all the food's been eaten and the moon is high in the sky. The groans of zombies and hisses of creepers seem far away, but all three know they shouldn't stay out too late, regardless.

It's 12:28 AM when Scar mentions the time, and that they should all head home. Mumbo agrees, and Grian is eventually convinced as well.

Scar gathers the dishes, puts them in his inventory, and blows out the candles that are still on the table.

"You guys want to race back to Boatem?" Scar challenges, his wings shimmering into existence on his back.

Mumbo would never get over how cool that is.

"One two three go!" Grian shouts, launching into the air at, frankly, insane speeds.

"Hey! No fair!" Scar laughs as he takes off after him. 

"Wait for me!" Mumbo scrambles to equip his elytra and wastes several rockets catching up.

Grian, naturally, makes it back to Boatem first, landing next to the Boatem hole. He's gasping for air, and laughing giddily. Mumbo lands just in time to watch Scar shove him into the Boatem hole.  They are rewarded by one of the shrillest screeches he's ever heard from the avian.

"Scar!" Grian shouts in mock outrage as he flies back up.

"Oh, did I forget to mention that the winner gets to be sacrificed to the Boatem hole? Oops, silly me!"

Maybe it's just how late it is, but no one even tries to stop the fit of giggles that overtakes the three of them.

That is, until they're interrupted by Pearl.

"What are you three doing up? Go to bed." She says, stepping out of the nether portal.

"Oh, alright ," Scar says, "G'night Mumbo, night Grian!" He wraps one arm around Mumbo's shoulders and one arm around Grian's, which results in Mumbo being forcibly bent down and Grian pulled onto his tip toes. They must be quite the sight.

Grian returns the hug immediately, and after a moment's hesitation, Mumbo wraps his arms around Scar and Grian as well.

Grian's wings wrap around them all, feathery and warm. Mumbo can feel Scar and Grian's heartbeats where they're pressed together. He feels safe. He feels loved . 

The hug doesn't last long enough, in Mumbo's humble opinion.

They all bid each other goodnight and head back to their own bases.

Mumbo feels warmer and lighter than he has in weeks.

...

Scar painstakingly pulls himself up the ladder to his bedroom, joints aching and muscles protesting his every movement. It's possible that he'd overdone it with all the building and cooking and flying around.

He might have to stay in bed for a little while to recover.

Hopefully it'd only be a day or two; he doesn't want to worry anyone.

Scar carefully climbs into bed, trying and failing to reduce the pain under every inch of his skin.

 Jellie hops up after him and curls into his side. She immediately starts purring, as though she understands that he's in pain and doesn't know how else to help.

Scar runs a hand through her fur, ignoring the ache it causes.

[erensproudsimp]

Chef D'œuvre

Jean kirstein x Reader

⚠ Sexual Content Ahead ⚠

Content Warnings:Fluff, Sex on a canvas, established relationship, teasing Jean hehe, dirty talk, ultimate smut + this isn't proofread

Summary: Restraining Jean from touching you the whole day, a candle light dinner in the evening leading to sex on a canvas? The idea of Jean as an artist is just so hot.

Word count:4.1k

Fanart is by artworkbyzuli on insta

Cross-posted on ao3

Colorful tainted tiles, the smell of fresh paint hovering in the air, early hours of sunshine filtering from the beige curtains to fall on his face highlighting his features as his eyes concentrated on the canvas. Blanc frames waiting to be hued with a meaning or not. Teeth clenching, his jawline apparent, he looked like a Greek God, his brush being his weapon, almost out of this world. Shirt glued on his body like a second skin layer bringing out his honed muscled body, Jean truly was a work of art spreading his magnificence on cloth and paper. Standing by the door frame in his shirt two times bigger than your figure, you admired your boyfriend, his back facing you, drowned in his own world of aesthetic in his studio.

Tiptoeing to him, you wrapped your arms around his torso, your cheek pressed on his back catching him off-guard. You took a quick whiff of him. Sandalwood with a faint citrus.

"Woah there, good morning baby, did you have a good night sleep?" Jean's hoarse voice almost made your legs lose their balance. His free hand caressing your arms, you hummed as a simple yes still intoxicated by his scent.

"I'm going to go prepare breakfast, I'll call for you when I'm done." Jean gave you a quick forehead kiss before you left the room.

Cracking some eggs in the pan, you connected your phone to the speaker in the house to play some music while you proceeded to put fruits in the blender to make smoothies. Swaying your body to the music at the same time lip-syncing to the words, you spread butter on slices of bread unaware of Jean's presence behind you. The man crossed his arms, leaning on the wall he admired your actions which were nothing but alluring to him.

What made it even more hot to him was the fact that you were wearing his shirt. At first in the studio, he didn't realise but now that he noticed, he couldn't help but smirk to himself. He took in the way his shirt was practically floating on you, the flashbacks of last night suddenly raced through his mind. The way you were moaning his name, grabbing the sheets tightly as you let him take control of you made him take a deep breath before he approached you.

Now it was his turn to return you the hug from earlier. Surprised by him, he didn't leave you a second to react to his abrupt act of affection, he moved your hair to the side to plant a kiss on your neck making you shiver. His arms tightened around you just as his kisses went deeper all through your neck.

"y/n," his hot breath unsteady.

"Je-Jean, the eggs are gonna burn," you breathed.

"The only thing burning right now is my urge to fuck you right on this counter," Jean whispered in your ear almost making you lose your thinking pattern.

"Jean, I'm serious," you tried to wingle from his grasp to save your omelettes and placed them on two separate plates.

Jean looked at you disappointedly as though a puppy who had just lost its toy.

"Aww don't look at me like that, gimme a kiss, come on," you opened your arms, encouraging him to come to you.

Gladly he did and locked his lips in an instant.

"Jump," Jean demanded in between the makeout and you, of course, obeyed.

Your legs around his hips, sloppy lips fighting for dominance, Jean pressed your ass on the kitchen island. His arms snaking up and down your thighs, giving them a light squeeze here and there.

"Your legs are pretty, but they would be prettier on my shoulders hmm," his voice laced with a passion so hot like molten lava.

Your insides now ignited with flame, you pushed your hips into his by closing in your legs wrapped around him. Hard. Mischievousness coursed through your mind as you wanted to tease him for making you flushed.

"Want my legs over you? well catch them if you can," with that said, you jumped off the kitchen island freeing yourself from his clutches to run away from him.

"Hey! Get back here! I'm not done with you! " Jean called after you, laughing as he chased you down the corridors. A soft genuine laugh emitting from him when you threw pillows from the sofas at him to halt his movements only for him to catch the items and throw it back at you like a snowball fight.

A grin plastered on your face when you finally got tired of the running and collapsed on the floor with Jean kneeling beside you equally euphoric. The happiness was mainly because he felt so much at peace seeing your smile.

"Got ya," he breathed from exhaustion, encircling his arms around your waist and pulling you close so that he could rest his chin on your shoulder.

"You're so warm," Jean nuzzled his nose into your neck.

"Speaking of warmth, our food's getting cold in the kitchen, hurry up we need to eat," you mentioned.

"The only thing I want to eat right now is you-" you cut him off with your index finger pressed on his soft lips.

"Jean, I swear to god, let's go," you pushed him from back because he was trying to grab your ass, however, you receded.

"Your hands were so small on my back, but I'd prefer them jerking my dic-" again you shut him up by shoving toast bread in his mouth to save you from further embarrassment.

"Y/n baby, I need you so bad right now," he said swallowing that bread hard as your eyes widen.

From the look in his eyes, you could tell that this man was sexually frustrated, certainly because of your actions earlier but you didn't expect him to be so thirsty.

For a brief moment, a thought came up to you, basically telling you to refuse his current wishes to make him further agitated just so that you ravish the feeling of him taking the pent-up anger out harder on you later. Perfect plan, you internally agreed to yourself.

"Oh you need me badly? How about you show me that at night, okay?"a light smirk stretching the corner of your mouth.

" Y/n, I need you now, like right now, I can't wait till night or anything," Jean whined. How cute.

"Aww, you're that desperate baby? You can't hold yourself back? I thought you were tougher than this,"you cooed.

" Y/n, I can see damn well what you're trying to do, so stop messing with me please, "Jean reached out to grab your face only for you to pull back. Not going to lie that did hurt you when you saw the disappointed look on his face, yet, oddly that made you feel and realise the control you had over him and goddamn this felt good.

"Okay then, how about a little bit of challenge for you? If you manage to keep your hands off me the entire day and that includes any sort of contact, I'll make a surprise for you tonight as a reward. And if you lose then no sex for you until the next day baby. Deal?"

"Now that's going to be hard as hell but your surprises never fail to entertain me so deal."

"That was quick of you," you commented shaking his hand as a way of signing the contract.

"I just know that you're going to do something remarkable that will blow my mind so I'm simply looking forward to it."

His hopes were ridiculously high for the reward and luckily you already had something in mind for tonight.

After breakfast, Jean wasted no time to rush into his studio to keep you out of his sight. That was going to be a little too easy for him to win in this way. Not that you didn't want him to win, you couldn't help but want to push him to his limits. While you were scavenging your mind for the perfect way to catch him off guard, you heard a knock at the door. Outside was the postman with a package which seemed to be a delivery of one of the various things you kept buying online.

Taking the parcel inside, you opened it to find something that made you smiled evilly. It was a black transparent two pieces lingerie with lace straps. Not a second was wasted for you to change into that. To hide your plans, you wore a bathrobe and tiptoed to the studio.

Inside, Jean clearly concentrated on drawing when you creaked open the door, his attention now on you.

"Y/n why are you wearing a bathrobe in the middle of the da- oh-"

Right at that moment, you removed the robe letting it fall to your feet to unveil the marvel that was hidden inside of it.

Jean's breath hitched in his throat.

"You have no idea how badly I want to scream right now,"his pencil falling out of his hand, he covered his face with his hand and took a step back from you. He rubbed his temples as he inhaled deeply.

"Fuck y/n, why are you doing this to me?"he looked at you from up to down as though he was eating you up with his eyes, capturing every inch of what he's seeing and burning it into his memory.

"Do you like what you see?" your hands on your hips as you leaned on the wall.

"You have no idea."

You chucked and approached him slowly.

"If only I could touch you right now, you have no idea of what I'd do to you," Jean put his hands into the pockets of his pants to try to contain himself from not jumping on you like a hungry wolf who hasn't eaten in weeks.

Clacking your black heels on the cold tiles, your hands meticulously moving on your hips, you diminished the distance between you two. One foot difference. Jean licked his teeth from inside closed mouth and opened it slightly to let out hot breath, sustaining the proximity but you could see the intensity in his eyes.

"I can't stop staring, please y/n, "

"Where's the fun in that? I wanted to see you all hopeless for me and you're doing a pretty good job resisting," your finger pointing at his growing bulge.

Blowing air from his mouth, his hands on his hips, he walked to and fro.

"Is this the surprise you were telling me about in the morning?"

"Of course not, the surprise is bigger than this. I just wanted to give you a little sneak peak thought since I love you so much and don't want to kill you with a heart attack," you giggled twirling a strand of your hair. His eyes went big.

"If that's the case, you better prepare yourself for tonight because you seriously don't know what I'm going to do to you," Jean licked his lips.

"Can't wait," you blew him a kiss while you strolled out of the room, his eyes still fixated on the lingerie.

Not only did what happened turned you on, but it also motivated you to start the preparations for Jean to wreck you till you couldn't walk. Changing into pajamas for comfort, you took out scented candles of your preference and placed them on the nightstands and dressing table in the bedroom.

Jean's POV

'What the hell was y/n even thinking pulling that move on me? '

Sighing deeply I looked at my boner.

"Now what am I going to do of you? Jerk off to the memory of y/n in that black lingerie?"

On second thought, that doesn't sound bad, except for the fact that he was in an art studio.

Gosh, was he not turned when he first saw you in that. The way the cloth surrounded your soft breasts, decorating them to be perhaps the most flawless thing he'd ever seen or the way your stance screamed if confidence. He couldn't decide which of them were hotter.

The little ribbons on the strap did nothing but make you more erotic. How did you even manage to look that good, is a mystery that he will never discover.

"I really got the best of the best for me huh," Jean smiled to himself.

His art failed in front of you. Null and void. In his eyes you were the definition of what a beauty goddess was, hence proving that beauty indeed lied in the eyes of the beholder. Despite your imperfections which nonetheless still made you impeccable, Jean always attempted in copying your sublimity yet in vain.

Without a doubt, you were the best Muse he's ever had in his life. One day hoping that he would finally do you justice and be able to recreate his image of you in his mind on cloth, Jean kept trying albeit failing each time. However, he would absolutely never give up.

Collecting himself from the recent impact, he picked up his pencil from the ground and as much as he wanted to concentrate on his drawing of you, he couldn't prevent himself from picturing you from back then. You were beyond gorgeous. Maybe, that exactly was the inspiration he needed.

"I need to take a bath," Jean said to himself. Luckily there were two bathrooms in the house, as he wouldn't want to interrupt you while you were busy making whatever surprise.

To be honest, Jean was as impatient as you and full on ready to be taken by surprise by you.

Your POV

"Okay I've cleaned the room spotless, scented it, changed the sheets of the bed, took out towels and now time to bring the big thing,"you checked off everything on your mentally made-up list before you could continue.

Rushing to the wardrobe, you took out the art supplies required for the sex painting. Canva isn't the comfiest option for sex but you knew that it will all be worth the work at the end.

You honestly couldn't wait to see Jean's reaction to this.

Since the mattress can get a little colorful, you didn't want to run the risk of ruining the bedding either, you rather placed the sheet of canva on the carpeted floor that was still easy to the body. Laying down a cloth, that you taped so that it wouldn't dislocated when things get moving, on top of which you placed the canva and towels around it as well as a trail of towels towards the bathroom so that clean up of the post-art would be rendered easier.

"Okay now that everything is settled, let's go take a bath and prep myself up," you muttered to yourself, locking the door from the inside so that Jean wouldn't accidentally enter it.

-Time skip-

A private dinner in your dwelling makes for an magical evening. Silk sheet on the table, napkins neatly pleated on the white plates surrounded by tableware. Incorporating flower petals, slow romantic harmonious music, and low lighting to create the right atmosphere you as well added string lights for an added touch of enchantment. Aphrodisiac food was the obvious choice, you thought, placing down the lobster in the middle. Wine in glasses twinkling to the fairy lights for a further sizzle.

Not long until Jean made his appearance in a suit, top buttons of his shirt loose while you were in a black dress lighting the scented candles.

"Hey babe," his throaty voice called.

Turning around, you saw him, his hands in his pockets walking towards you. His large body towering yours.

"You look hot," he complimented looking down on you.

"So do you," you giggled bopping his nose.

Pulling a chair, Jean signaled you to sit as he pushed the chair then going to his seat facing you.

The empty wine glasses were delicately filled with the red alcohol, each of you raising your goblet for a cheers.

" Cheers to my pretty boyfriend."

"Cheers to my future wife," Jean smirked as you were busy turning fifty shades of red.

In comfortable silence, except for the clinking of utensils, both of you ate.

"Main course is done for, now time for dessert, "he said standing from his chair to yours. Lift you off the ground swiftly, he walked you to the bedroom in bridal style.

"huh? HUH? Jean what are you doing?"

"Taking my dessert to eat, what else?" he replied kissing you. His kiss was a fever. Hot. Sluggish.

Opening the door to disclose the surprise, his eyes went wide until it hit him. The canva and towels on the ground, paint orderly laid on the bed.

"I was thinking the house needed some more decorations, so why not spice things up by creating this masterpiece and hanging it in the living room for everyone to see? " innocently you smiled at him.

"Hahaha y/n! You're amazing!" rosy cheeks, eyes twinkling with admiration and affection he twirled your body in air, "wait then that means that the whole day you preventing me from touching you was pointless," his expression now slightly frowned.

"I mean, yeah, I mean, I just wanted to see you desperate for me," you fumbled with your words.

"Bad girl. After this I will have to punish you for making me suffer for nothing," Jean put you down.

You didn't know whether to feel anticipation or fear knowing that this man was going to wreck you.

"Why are you acting coy all of a sudden? Weren't you the one to act like a whore? " with the cockiest smirk ever Jean said.

His hands previously placed gently on your hips began to tighten. The press only fueled your rapid beating of your heart. Tilting your head towards his face by lifting it with one finger on your chin, he locked eye contact with you.

Lust filled his irises. Skilfully, he unzipped your dress and pulled it off your skin. Skin that desired to be touched so badly. Skin that burned under his fingertips that grazed the surface. Under the clothes exposed the black lingerie that got Jean worked up since morning.

Even though he already saw you in it, it nevertheless felt like the first time. The same adoration that held his gape seemed to be worshiping your body.

"May I take your bra off? " Jean asked. You nodded, Jean elatedly removed it.

"Look at these perfect tits. Belonging and made only for me," cupping them in his hands, he growled against your neck.

Your mind going blanc and empty, you were left speechless. Only ravishing him. His presence. His hot breath fanning on you. As much as you wanted to take this slowly, you couldn't stop yourself from craving to feel him buried deep inside of you.

Your hand slightly sliding over his growing bulge, earning a hiss and restrained moan from him.

"No. You're not going to be the one to tease me anymore. It's my turn," biting your collarbone, he declared making you leap in his arms.

Feeling self-conscious that you were the only one in undergarment, you unbuttoned his shirt and ripped it off him while he was sloppily making out with you.

Grabbing your thighs, he insinuate for you to jump. Chest to chest, he then threw you on the bed making it sink under your weight. He was finally freed from his restraints of not laying a hand on you.

His body hovering yours, he kissed you passionately. He's never kissed you like this before. Maybe you should restrain him more often.

Jean swallowed your gasp when unknowingly his hand went down your stomach to press on your clothed clit.

"Huh? You like that?" laughs "yeah you like that don't you," he breathed his finger circling around the bud. Your response was a moan and your breath quickening. Your reaction turned Jean on more than he already was.

Going down on you, he sucked your soaked underwear, the room filled with slurping sounds. He gripped your hips by wrapping his big arms around it to prevent you from squirming away. You were practically a moaning mess. Aggressively, he ripped it off you, continuing to lick through your folds.

"Jea-Jean I think I'm going to c-cum," you manage to utter.

"Heh, not yet princess, we got so much more do," he wiped his mouth that was coated with your juices and licked the liquid off his fingers. You looked at him with pleading eyes as you were yearning for a release.

Legs trembling, you raised your body to be able to sit while Jean grabbed the body-safe paint and put a fair amount on the cloth.

"Come here my lady," he said as he picked you to lay your body gently on the canva, paint on your back.

Jean took off his pants and underwear, his hard dick slapping on his stomach whilst you were making yourself comfortable.

A brush in his one hand and a palette in another, he sauirted some paint on the flat item.

Impatience began to overcome you as you begged him to come to you.

"Wait a moment more babe, I'm just making the perfect colour," Jean finished his sentence by approaching you.

Jean maintained eye-contact with you, the brush gliding over your soft skin leaving colors behind its track. Chills ran down your skin after each stroke. Drowning in bliss, Jean slowly ran the tool down your belly to an inch higher up your pussy. You were waiting for him to pass the paint through your core but instead he stopped his actions making you internally more annoyed.

"I'm not going to let you get off so easily after what you did to me," Jean murmured.

Cold. Squeezing the paint tubes, Jean splat paint on your body, mainly on your stomach. He leaned forward and pressed his body against yours to spread the paint.

Lining his dick right outside your entrance, he thrusted in without warning. Your back arching, you let out a moan. His hands rushing behind your back, he hugged your body as he gave you time to adjust to him.

"Mmmm, fits perfectly. Look at how good you take me, yeah you see that? "Jean moaned in your ear.

" It's okay, you can move,"you bit back a groan because Jean didn't leave you a second before pumping in and out of you.

" I can't believe you're mine, all mine, no one but me knows how good you feel, just me,"Jean panted in your ears," listen to my moans, you he-ear how goo-od you're making me feel? "

"AH-yes Jean, yes," you purred.

His forehead rested on yours, mouth connected, swallowing each other's breath and sounds.

" Go faster Jeaann." This made him slow down instead of doing as you wanted.

"Oh? you want me to go faster? Go-o ahead, beg for it. Tell me how bad you need me," Jean's stroked your insides with long and slow thrusts.

"Pl-please Jean, need you so badly, you make me feel so good so take all your anger out on me bu-ut please make me cum alongside with you!"

"Lift your ass, my queen,"Jean satisfied with your answer commanded, which you did as he ordered as he pounded deeper into you mixing the paint on the canva.

"Look at you, such a good girl."

It wasn't long until Jean filled your insides with his hot seed making you scream his name loudly. Right before you could come that Jean could tell by the shaking of your breath, he lifted your body off the masterpiece so that your ejaculation wouldn't ruin it.

In his arms, you came so hard, your liquids dripping down Jean's skin.

"Y/n, I don't think you realised that but what you just did was so hot," Jean admired you.

"Also, thank you for fulfilling my fantasies as an artist," he thanked you kissing your cheeks fondly.

Walking on the towel leading to the bathroom, he put you inside the bathtub, opening the tap to let the container fill with hot water. While it was doing so, Jean got in with you between his legs and head on his chest heaving up and down.

Jean took some shampoo in his hand, and massaged your scalps with you basking. Heavenly was a word too light to describe the feeling. You were basically in paradise.

"In round two I'm not planning on going gentle now so just bite the pillow and take it," Jean sputtered against your hair.

[gamingblur103s]

alright so this is really fuckin petty

and halfway delusional because of how late it is for me as i’m writing this but i really really really hate the omori pursuit au (ie the one where hero loses it). i fully admit i have not read the sequel in full (as i really don’t want to), but i did read the original story as it was being published. plus, although i definitely wouldn’t count this as me reading the sequel in full, i am generally aware of how it goes from what i did read and from everything i would see of this story in the places i’d go looking for omori fanart.

i’ve got kinda a lot of qualms with the story this au originates from, but the one i wanna focus on here is character interpretation. i have problems with everyone in the group, but i wanna focus on hero. iirc, the author did explicitly state that the version of hero they were portraying was not how they actually saw him as. and i’m inclined to believe them on that, both because they have no real reason to lie about that and because i can tell as much from the other times they’ve written hero. 

despite all of this, it’s upsetting to see a character you love so much be interpreted in a way that is completely antithetical to what made them so important to you. it’s especially prevalent in what i’ve seen of the sequel, where hero is so comically far removed from himself that it’s practically diametrically opposed to his original character. where the good ending of that sequel goes completely against the sentiment of the original game (of course that’s not to say it isn’t a justified direction for its story to take, i just bring this up to highlight how far gone it’s gotten from the game). it’s a person that the original hero could never become (pretty much “he would never” but unironically lol). but all that’s really no big deal, not only because of what the author said about this not actually being how they see hero, but because even if it was, people are free to do whatever so long as it doesn’t hurt others. not to mention, it’s not like i was being forced to continue reading. the fact i did finish the original story meant it had something going right with its idea/execution/what have you. what outright frustrates me is that the interpretation got so popular for a time that it seeped way deeper into the general perception of hero’s character than it had any right to. as in, it was being conflated with the original character of hero and it felt like there was more art being made of pursuit au hero than the original character. now some major qualifiers to that statement: -there’s nothing necessarily wrong about this either. remember, i’m being insanely petty with all this towards a deeply personal work of a person i do not know. and i am generally happy to see when monumental fanworks such as this get celebrated. because they deserve it! -this was only from my position. it’s incredibly likely it isn’t nearly as bad overall as it was for me, and i only kept encountering it without wanting to as much as i did because of how much i entrenched myself in omori fancontent (and still do) -not to belabor the point, but this is truly so deeply fucking petty of me to feel this way, let alone type this all out. iirc, the creator’s stated before how personally fulfilling and therapeutic writing these stories were for them, and absolutely more power to them on that. my annoyance should not supercede that in any way.

so i guess my point in all this is that i’m very very glad that shit’s over because constantly seeing it when i didn’t want to got to the point where it deeply upset me. nothing day-ruining, mind you, but always saddening. especially when it’s a bait and switch and i think originally that it’s art or whatever of regular hero. but i digress.

here’s to the creator’s next project, and me liking it more if i end up reading it ever. sorry for all this.

[lovemeleo]

Piercing Surprise

I had piercing prompts for the Cubs as well as Remus, so I thought I would combine them. We’ve got Finn getting his piercing with Remus, hope you don’t mind anon. These lovely characters and their story belong to Hazel (@lumosinlove)! The amazing fanart at the end of the fic also belongs to Haz with piercing modifications made by yours truly. I hope you all enjoy!

_____________________________________

Finn had never done anything super wild in his college days. Even now he was pretty straight-laced. 

Well.

As straight-laced as a bisexual polyamorous hockey player could be. 

Anyways. There was always something he had wanted to do but with college, and then the NHL, he could never find the time to do it. But now the season had just ended and he had a few months of free time. It was perfect.

He had been chatting with Loops at practice when it came up, just an offhand conversation. 

“When I was a PT, they were really picky about tattoos and piercings, which sucked cause I wanted both.” Remus had said as they tossed the medicine ball back and forth between them.

That had surprised Finn. A tattoo he could see, but Loops with a piercing was unexpected. “You want a piercing?” He asked.

Remus nodded, “Yeah, there’s one I really like called a vertical labret. Goes through the lower lip and comes out the bottom. I really like how it looked. Might go get after the season is over.” 

And that was how it started. Finn did a lot of research, looked into different piercings and healing time. After a while, he decided he wanted the same piercing. Remus had found them a very well recommended piercer and they had made appointments for the same day.

Now the day was here. They hadn’t told their boys where they were going, but honestly they were so into whatever game Nado and Kuny had just brought over, they could’ve walked out only wearing a jockstrap and the three boys wouldn’t have noticed. So they left the Cubhouse and made their way to the piercing place.

“Nervous?” Remus asked as they got out of the car, heading towards the shop.

Finn shrugged, fiddling with the bottom of the hoodie he was wearing. Probably Leo’s. “Little bit. But also excited.”

The shop felt welcoming from the moment they walked in. Felt more like a home than a piercing place. It helped put Finn at ease a bit. The lady at the front desk smiled as they walked in. She had a warm smile as she stood, leaning on the counter in front of her. 

“Hi there, boys, welcome to A Jab Well Done. I’m Fae. Do you have appointments?” She asked, as they walked up.

Remus nodded, “Yeah, Remus Lupin and Finn O’Hara. For the vertical labrets?” 

Eyes catching on the different piercings shown on the shelf, Finn went to go look. He was excited to pick out new jewelry to wear after it healed up. A pretty one with blue stone stuck out to him, but he’d get all that later on. 

“Alright, just need the both of you to fill out the paperwork and sign a waiver, then we’ll get started.” Fae explained, handing them both a couple of papers. 

They all moved to the waiting area, where a very comfy couch and a couple chairs were set up. Remus and Finn took the couch, while Fae sat in the chair across from them as they filled out the forms.

Fae sat back in the chair, fixing her hair into a bun, “So are these your first piercings?” She asked. Both boys nodded as they wrote, Finn looking up, “Yeah, I’m excited for it.”

She nodded with a smile, “Piercings are a lot of fun, as long as you take care of them properly. You both have nice lips for the vertical labret. I can tell that it’ll suit you.” “Thanks, I’ve been wanting it for a while so I can’t wait to see it.” Remus said as he finished up the forms. When both of them were finished, they handed over the papers to Fae who led them back to the piercing room.

Setting the papers down on the counter, Fae looked back at the pair, “Alright, so you guys are my only piercings for the next couple hours so I’ve got it mostly set up. Who wants to go first?” She asked as she washed her hands before pulling on some gloves.

“I’m gonna go first, if that’s alright.” Remus said, rubbing his hands together nervously. They trembled slightly but it was a nervous kind of excitement that vibrated through him.

Gesturing towards the chair, Fae had him sit down, setting a marker, an odd pair of tweezers and the needle. “We use a basic steel piercing for the first couple months of healing. You’re welcome to switch it out after it’s healed of course.” She explained before going on to let them know the process. Finn sat next to Remus, recording him so they could show Sirius later.

Gently holding Remus’s lip, she used the marker to place a small dot on the lower lip and then directly below it. “Alright, Remus. I’m going to use these tweezers to squeeze your lower lip, and then I’ll be pushing the needle up from the bottom mark, okay? I’m gonna ask you to take a deep breath, and then push the needle through when you let the breath out.”

Remus nodded, letting out a shaky breath, “Yeah, I’ve got it. Harzy, hold my hand.” He said, wiggling his fingers toward the redhead. Finn chuckled, holding onto Remus’s hand, “Alright, but if Cap comes after me, I’m telling him it was your idea.”

Fae smiled at the boy’s easy friendship, grabbing the tweezers and positioning them on Remus’s lip, “Alright, time for that deep breath we talked about, Remus.” She said as she positioned the needle on the bottom mark.

Closing his eyes, Remus took a deep breath before letting it out, feeling the sharp pain as the needle went through. Finn couldn’t help the gasp as he watched the needle go through. 

Fae slid the jewelry in as she pulled the needle out, screwing the little ball in on the top, “We use one that’s a little bigger to account for swelling.” She explained as she pulled away, smiling. “All done. Want to take a look?”

Remus took the mirror she held out, looking at his lip with a careful smile, “I love it. Oh my god, I really love it.” He said, looking between the mirror and Fae. “Thank you so much.” 

Nodding, Fae began to clean and sanitize all of her equipment, “Of course. I’ll explain all the aftercare when I’m done with Mr. O’Hara here, that way I don’t have to repeat it.” 

Remus moved out of the chair and took the recording phone, letting Finn take his spot, “You ready, Harz?” He asked as Finn let out a breath. 

“As I’ll ever be. You gotta hold my hand though, Loops. I held yours.” Finn pointed out, reaching for the other boy’s hand. 

Fae repeated the process, marking two dots on Finn’s lip before grabbing the lip with her tweezers, “You ready? Take that deep breath for me, Finn.” 

Finn closed his eyes, squeezing Remus’s hand as he inhaled deeply before letting out. It took a lot for him to not burst out with every curse word he knew, because fuck that hurt. 

“And you’re done.” Fae said as she fixed the piercing. 

Finn leaned forward to look in the mirror, unable to help the grin that spread on his face, “Fuck, that looks good.”

Letting out a laugh, Fae began cleaning everything up and explaining the aftercare. She gave them a packet that went over it as well as the cleaning solution for it.

She led the way back into the front area after they were done, smiling, “Well, boys, I’m so glad you like your piercings. If you have any problems or questions, feel free to call or email. And come back soon!”

After paying and profusely thanking Fae, they headed back out the door towards the car. “Think they noticed we’re gone yet?” Finn asked as they got back in the car.

Remus smirked as he buckled up, “Well, I sent Sirius a snapchat of the piercing shop sign with a smiley face. So I think they’ve got a good idea.”

Letting out a loud laugh, Finn started driving, “Oh, Loops, you fucking mastermind. Is that why they were blowing up our group chat?”

“Yeah, that’s probably why.” Remus murmured with a smirk as they pulled into the driveaway.

As they closed the car doors, three heads appeared in the front window, faces practically plastered to the glass.

Finn couldn’t help the small smirk that appeared on his face as they walked into the house, “Boys, we’re home.” The piercing caused a slight lisp to his words which made him snort to himself.

When they got to the living room, they were met with a hilarious sight. Kuny and Nado were walking out as they walked in. Their boys on the other hand were all standing behind the couch, as if they had been waiting by the window for them to get home.

Nado smiled, “They look good, boys.” 

“You send snap, now they stand watch. We go now.” Kuny muttered with a smile before they said their goodbyes, heading out the door.

Remus raised an eyebrow, smiling, “You guys alright?”

A sound that could only be equated to a whine came from Sirius whose eyes hadn’t left Remus’s lips. 

Logan made the first move, his hands coming up to hold Finn’s face, “You got your lip pierced? A-And you didn’t even tell us?” He muttered, his thumb coming to trace below the other boy’s lip.

Shrugging as he leaned into his boyfriend’s touch, Finn smiled gently, “Wanted it to be a surprise.” 

“Do they hurt?” Leo asked, face curious as he looked the new jewelry attached to Finn’s face. 

Remus pulled Sirius to him, smiling, “It’s a bit sore. But it’s fine otherwise.” 

Leaning down, Sirius pressed a soft kiss to the shorter boy’s cheek, “It suits you, mon loup.” He murmured.

“Looks so good, Harzy.” Leo said with a grin, intertwining his fingers with Finn’s. He never thought either of his boyfriends would have any piercings, but now that Finn had one. Well he was definitely a fan.

Finn smiled, trying not to bite his lip as was a habit for him, “Well, we recorded the whole thing if you want to see.”

“Oh yeah, Pads, Harzy held my hand and everything.” Remus said with a teasing smirk.

Gray eyes were quickly on the redhead who threw his hands up in defense, “No! No, don’t look at me like that! He asked me to, Cap! I was being a good friend!” 

“Three...Two…” As Sirius counted down, Finn was off running away as the captain hit one. Sirius took off after him, running throughout the house.

Remus laughed, watching as he heard the teasing fight between the two, a thud as Sirius caught up to Finn.

“It was a nice surprise, Loops. Even if you did make our boyfriend hold your hand.” Logan said with a grin, leaning into Leo’s chest.

Remus nodded, “Well, it’ll suck for at least six to eight weeks where we can’t kiss anyone.” He mentioned offhandedly. 

There was a pause before three voices chorused, “SIX TO EIGHT WEEKS?”

Yes, a long six to eight weeks indeed. 

[skepticalkoi-catastrophe]

|Come Closer| Kuroo Tetsurou x Blackfem!reader

The following fanfic is an inspired spin-off of Deciphered by @hoeneymilktea , The Sunrise and Your Sins by @leia505 , and fanart by @aikk00 . Pls check them out as well as other spin-off authors. Comments, Reblogs, and Shares are heavily appreciated. I hope you enjoy~ ♡

Chapter [002] Comeback

Next Chapter》

You sat with your legs folded in the passenger seat of Iwaizumi's white Subaru WRX STI. Parked above the parking lot, you have a personal view of the crowded racetrack and the various racers and onlookers. Glimpsing at the racers, you could break the revelation. Smoke from Cyphers' car exhaust trails your vision. The mystery red car not far behind.

"You know she wanted to tell you..." Iwaizumi rubs small circles on your back. "This kind of lifestyle isn't the safest, so it's not like she kept everything secret on purpose."

"Iwa, I know but," you bite your lip, blinking harshly at his words.

"If her mom finds out, her ass is grass. Ms.Onishi put this behind her years ago and for good reason. Why do you think I didn't want her doing this either?"

Iwaizumi's lips tightened. "Like mother, like daughter I guess. Eventually, she was going to follow. We both knew she would."

"I get that, I just- I just wasn't expecting it to happen so fast." Your hands rest in your lap.

The whole situation was a minor annoyance. Fearful to say the least. Ms.Onishi, known as 'Oni' back in her racing days, was the best of the best. From being invincible on the track, to being a top drug dealer in all of Tokyo.

She's been wanted by cops and others alike. Imagine if she found out her daughter could potentially be participating in such acts?

His hand moves from your back to your hand, firmly holding it. His thumb brushing your knuckles.

"Did you tell your cousin yet?" You ask. "I'm sure she'd feel how I am right now."

"She probably will but I'll cross that bridge when I get to it. I don't want to think about it too much."

Daize stayed down with Kenma to talk. She's not a fan of you being pissed off. Even though you're not. Mostly not. When push comes to shove, a job is a job. You just wish it was something practical she could've chosen. Like working in retail or with children.

"She, uh, wanted me to give this to you." Digging in his glove box, he hands you what looks like a soda can but it's glass instead of aluminum. The label reads 'Choya Umeshu'.

"It's her peace offering for making you worry."

You shake your head, chuckling. Free Plum wine and a street race? Who are you to shy away from the thrill?

"Thanks, Iwa."

Deadlocked, the two cars close the distance to the finish line. In moments, they speed up, trying to gain an edge. Meters apart, Oikawa's car blasts ahead drifting in a circle leaving 360 tread marks on the asphalt in the middle of the crowd, winning the race. Congratulatory screams heightening throughout.

Both you and Izumi exit the car. Oikawa parks his car, exiting the drivers' side. You lean forward expecting a fight to happen, thinking the loser wouldn't take this lightly. To your surprise, they give each other a dap before bro hugging. You couldn't make out his features. Too much distance between you and them below.

Slumping over the railing, you get a text from Daize.

'There's someone you need to see. Get down here.'

Iwaizumi taps you. "We should head down."

The late night sky darkens further when you reach the bottom of the ramp. Oikawa talks to the unknown driver, pocketing his cash prize from Kenma. He swiftly counts the bills. The unknown driver standing on the opposite side of him.

You link arms with Daize, pushing past the crowded finish line. Iwaizumi not far behind. Closing in, your breath catches in your throat as you cover your mouth. Time somehow stops.

"Kuroo?" You gasp in disbelief doing a double-take.

The strangers' head swivels in your direction. His posture stiffening as he nods, giving a quick bark of laughter. "Y/n?"

In a dreamlike state, you dash towards him. At long last reuniting after what felt like centuries. Tossing your arms around his neck as you squeal in surprise. Him spinning you around before placing you back on your feet.

Your ingrained memory of his cologne makes the butterflies in your stomach flutter. Here, before your eyes, your boy next door Tetsurou.

You've got to be dreaming.

Though everyone's eyes widen when the lookout shouts. "COPS! COPS ARE HERE!"

Panicking, the crowd scrambles to their vehicles. Kuroo grabs your hand, rushing you inside his car. He peels out of there, gunning the engine until he reaches the highway. 

"Snake Eyes! Take Haymaker to the garage. Call me when you get there safe!"

Kenma snatches Daize and they disappear from the lot.

Avoiding the other drivers, he ducks off onto a shortcut. Red and Blue lights illuminate the pavement in his rearview mirror. Kuroo navigates down a pitch-black alley, tension creasing his features as he creates distance from the audible sirens. His foot never leaving the accelerator.

Rounds of gunfire erupt behind you both. You lower your head, sinking back into the seat. Making a sharp right, he steadied the direction of the car, his hand holding tight to the gear shift. You clutch to the seat as your gravity is yanks to the left. Kuroo's body rebounds in his seat with the harshness of the drift.

Pedestrians take notice of the car speeding along. You feel like you’re going to pass out. Maybe even puke. He drifts again. Taking a hard right towards the main street, he puts the car in reverse under an overpass. It leads to another alleyway. Your eyes squeeze tight, trying to breathe, exhausted from the chase. His arm tucked behind your seat, looking back. His bomber jacket hung off his shoulders.

"We should be safe now, Shortcake." Kuroo puts your mind at rest.

The Sirens speed past, unaware of your presence. Blood rushes to your brain, your heart in your ears. You rest your head on the dashboard. No way in hell do you want to meet like this ever again.

"Where to now?" You mumbled sitting back slowly.

He clears his throat, and puts his keys back into the ignition.

"From the looks of it, cops will be patrolling the highways all night. Your best option is to stay at my place."

With not many options to weigh, you agree, drawing shapes on your arm to keep you focused. Tonight should've gone differently and this isn't the meeting he was expecting.

For most of the ride back, he played some lofi music on his Bluetooth stereo. But the air reeked of intense awkwardness between you two. You'd admit, you're impressed by his driving and keeping calm in a cop chase but no outlandish event moving forward will top tonight.

Pulling into what looks like a penthouse, the automatic garage door opens. Driving into the parking lot, he parks the car and shuts off the engine. You unbuckle your seatbelt, Kuroo's hands dropping from the wheel. His head falling back against the headrest, he avoids your eyes.

"So much for a welcoming gift..." A long sigh leaving his lips. "I'll make it up to you in the morning. I promise."

You're sure if he had the time, he would've been better prepared for whatever this was you experienced. Something this trivial must be second nature for him. But you have a lot to learn.

You interlace your fingers with his. Eyes softening at his warmth.

"I'm sure you will..."

If you enjoyed this chapter, make sure to follow me for more. If you'd also like to be added to the tag list, comment below.

Taglist: @blissfullyrhea @nanastie @s-1-xx @aiyaaayei @melbugs1 @jfoxxarts

[meruz]

Aforementioned long ask post please excuse me while i try to figure out tumblr's new text editor. I’ll get into the art meme questions first and then the rest at the end.

Ok first of all thank you all for sending in questions! Giving me an excuse to talk hehe. I’ll address these in number order. Here’s a link to the ask meme for reference but also I’ll restate the question for ease of reading.

1. When did you get into art?

Super cliche answer but I don’t remember a time where I WASN’T the weird art kid! I started keeping a dedicated sketchbook when I was about 12? But here’s a page from my kindergarten journal about what I want to be when I grow up.

2. What art-related sites have you ever signed up for? 

LOL this is a weird question. Not sure why so many people want to know. Anyways I definitely had a dA. more than one dA account. I used to browse oekakis when I was a kid but I think I was only signed up to some small ones that internet friends owned. What else...? Mangabullet,Tegakie, Paintberri, iscribble back when that was a thing, instagram if that COUNTs, I used to post art on livejournal and dreamwidth too. Patreon, I guess. Gumroad, inprnt, bigcartel, storenvy all for selling stuff.

In terms of resources.. I have a schoolism account that I’m sharing with friends. Used to take classes on coursera for free. I signed up to textures.com for work recently haha. I can’t remember if I ever had an account on posemaniacs. Did they have accounts...? I definitely used to visit all the time.

3. Show us your oldest piece of art you have on hand.

Alright here’s me actually logging into my old deviantart account. These are from September 2008 So I was 13 years old. I don’t have a deviantart account from before then because 13 was the required age for having an account and I didn’t want to lie about my age because I wanted people to be impressed by how young yet clearly incredible at art I was LOL.

4. What defines your artistic style?

You guys are probably more equipped to answer this than me but uh... I wanna say... Focus on colors. And... a slightly heavy hand? Like confident... not always well-considered mark making HAH...

Also I think I have a pretty healthy mix of american comics/manga influences. I feel like people who are into american comics always think my art is too manga and people who are into anime/manga always think my art is too american. And I’m taking that as a good sign.

5. Do you practice other styles/have you tried other styles in the past?

I like to think I switch it up a bunch! I mean, these are pretty different, right?

I think I’ve mentioned this before but one thing I really took away from art school is that, for an illustrator at least, art style shouldn’t be consistent. Your greatest weapon is changing the aspects of your style based on the task, the emotions and message you want to illustrate etc. So depending on the project I’m working on, the fandom I’m drawing for, whether I want something to be funny or serious or dramatic, I’ll change things about my style all the time.

One thing I don’t rly post on here is really tight polished work and that’s because I do that for my day job haha. If you’re not paying me... I’m probably not gonna color in the lines.

6. What levels of artistic education have you had?

I have a whole ass diploma LOL. Bachelor of Fine Arts in Illustration. from the Rhode Island School of Design. And I had a great college experience tbh. Besides the student loans. If any of you guys are thinking about art school feel free to e-mail or message me questions or concerns, I’ll be happy to help. Be as honest as I can be.

7. Show us at least one picture you drew or sketched recently that you did not put on a public site.

heres the wandavision kids. Uhh what else do I have...I feel like I’m rummaging for loose change here...

assorted valentines prep doodles

8. What is your favourite piece that you have done?

Well, obviously this is gonna change all the time and generally it’s gonna be my most recent piece LOL. So yeah, why the hell not. I’ll say it’s this one. I have a pretty short memory which I count as a blessing for an artist. I don’t dwell that long on older work and it keeps me moving forward.

10. What do you like most about your art?

I like that it’s something that only I would make! I had this thought fairly recently and I wrote it down in my sketchbook, it’s pretty cheesy and rambling but it felt revolutionary at the time:

So yeah. I like my art best when it’s the most me and for me. And I like it least when it feels like I’m just making something for social media or for other people’s expectations or whatever.

14. What do you like drawing the most?

Kids in baggy clothing are like my go-to LOL idk if that’s obvious. but also I like being challenged so lately I’ve really loved drawing multi-character compositions, environments, weird angles, etc.

oh i LOVE drawing the underside of shoes lol. And bandages. People that are kinda beat up.. I think it comes from getting a bunch of cuts all the time. I’m always patching myself up and I want to patch characters up too.

15. What do you like drawing the least?

mmm I try to find something to like in every drawing but lets see... I don’t like doing commissions of people’s dogs. Just because it’s normally like... a family friend and my mom volunteered me without my consent and I don’t even really know what they’re expecting me to draw and I don’t even get to meet the dog. Also I’m not that great at dog anatomy. Trying to learn though.

18. What is your purpose for drawing?

This could have a million answers! Uhhh to GIT GOOD??? But also to express myself... and also to make money... I mean it depends on what the drawing IS. I draw fanart mostly to connect to people in the fandom so if you ever see me drawing fanart please take it as like an open invitation to talk to me about the character haha. 

20. How would you rank your art? (poor, mediocre, good, etc.)

Good!!! I have a lot of self-confidence primarily born out of ignorance and a short attention span. If I don’t think too hard about how many other artists are mindblowingly unfathombly good... its easy to think I’m good too! LOL

In all seriousness though, I think the opinion a person has of their art is like a crazy balancing act, right? Like you have to think you suck enough to want to get better but also you have to think you’re good enough to not want to give up. I think we’re all walking that line, I know I am! But also I’m a glass half-full type of person so. Most of the time I feel good about it.

22. List at least one of your “artspirations.”

This is a good question because I’ve been trying and failing to put together one of those “influence map” memes for like a full month now. What’s giving me a hard time is I feel like none of these are actually really obvious “““influences”““ in my art? Like it’s hard to see a lot of them in the work I make...? But idk maybe you guys’ll see what I can’t.

And these are just a couple! God there’s so many more. I could talk about other artists for ages, from all different genres of art. Daumier, Rockwell like every illustrator out there, Dana Gibson, Alex Toth, Hiroshi Yoshida, a lot of the Brandywine School. Lots of current working artists too, Karl Kerschl, frikkin Masashi Kishimoto lol, Jake Wyatt, Richie Pope, Edouard Caplain, Matt Cook, Sachin Teng, - lots of big internet artists, Sophie Li, Freddy Carrasco, Milliofish, Angela Sung... like all my friends from art school too. I could just keep going but I’ll stop for now lol.

24. Do you have a shameful art past? (recolour sprite comics, tracing art, etc.)

I mean if that’s how we’re defining shameful?? sure LOL. It’s not sprite comics but I used to do pokemon sprite recolors all the time. And I used to trace manga panels and color them... Granted this was all when I was like under 12 yrs old so it’s not even embarrassing. Can you really call it shameful when a 7 year old wets the bed or whatever? Not really. In fact some of these are cool as fuck. Look

25. Draw a picture!

Man I’m so tired now but here.

I used to get a lot of compliments for drawing people smiling lol but I don’t think I’ve drawn a lot of smiling lately.. here’s proof I’ve still got it.

OK MEME DONE. onto the rest.

I read this ask first thing when i opened my computer in the morning and it made me really emotional.. I’m so glad my sketches could help you!!

I think a lot of artists on social media talk about the struggle of making art but imo not enough people talk about the joy! Like I know it’s corny but. I really meant what I said at the beginning of that sketchbook about re-contextualizing art around process and progress > product and perfection. I think its super important..! The strength of messy, unfinished, and energetic art! For the feeling of it, for the love it!

That's crazy!!! I hope you like 'em. The whole line of x-books is really good rn imo.

Hi! I totally have the answer for digital stuff on my faq lol. But in terms of drawing on paper.. it varies! I tend to use sketchbooking and any on-paper doodling I do as a way to loosen up/warm-up or experiment. But right now my go-to aresenal is:

from top > bottom

- kuretake no.55 doublesided brush pen

- tombow fudenosuke

- muji 0.38 ballpoint

- medium size poscas

- grey tombow double brush pens

- good ol bic mechanical pencil

not EXACTly sure which inking you referring to from my sketchbook but if I had to take a guess it'd probably be the kuretake no55. That's been my main inker, lately. Great for sketching with the thin end too.

You can print out and eat my art if you like. Just please don't mass produce or re-sell. <3

Thanks! I've come to accept that my art is always gonna be sort of gestural and painty naturally. It's getting it to tighten up enough to be legible that's hard lol...

uh yeah lol I agree actually. I think yolei is great.

I assume these asks are related? LOL

1) Yeah totally true. I love David.

2) I don’t take requests, sorry! But if you want to commission me to draw Legion i would be MORE than happy to. Just e-mail me at isellhotdogs@gmail.com.

<33333333333333333333333333

[korpuskat]

Kinktober Day 1 - Public [Tomura Shigaraki/Reader, Hawks/Reader]

[Ao3 Mirror] Rating: Explicit Word Count: 1,290 Summary: Keigo discovers something about the Paranormal Liberation Front he’d rather not have. Contains: Public sex, Voyeurism, Masturbation, one-sided Hawks/Reader 

=====

Hawks never expected the Liberation Army's influence had already spread so far. It was one thing to see the hundreds, thousands of people in the streets below or in their stupidly lavish headquarters. They had money, believers, they were threat enough- but it hadn't quiet hit home just how expansive it had become until he pushes open the ostentatious doors to the conference room. A simple report in, he thinks, any excuse to finally meet Shigaraki.

Keigo, for all his years of practiced coolness and carefully regulated distance, flinches. A single twitch of his eye, before he's playing it off as amused surprise. Nobody else seems to notice, nobody else seems to care. Tomura Shigaraki, the same damn villain he's been chasing for three months is finally before him- and it isn't even Shigaraki's face that Keigo can't look away from.

It's you.

Nobody else in the room pays any attention to the display at the head of the table, everyone averting their eyes in either self-preservation or genuine detachment. And Keigo can't look away. In his right hand, Shigaraki holds a tablet, reading through something unseen- and with the left, the half-glove of his prosthetic is wrapped around your throat as you bounce on his dick. With the terrible embalmed hand over Shigaraki's face, Keigo can't make out his expression, but with how frequently he scrolls, rage boils threateningly in his stomach at the thought that it might be disinterest.

You, you- Shigaraki is fucking you- the Liberation Army had infiltrated Hawks' own agency, had grabbed the cute little sidekick he'd kept close under his wing just to intimidate him and-

"Hawks?" You voice warbles out, weak and lilting. He sees it on your face now: your eyes half-lidded, mouth hanging open with lips swollen from kisses... or bites. Keigo's dick hardens immediately, shame only making the ache more acute. No, this isn't to intimidate him, it's merely some whim of Shigaraki's. And you- you just-

"Quiet." Shigaraki says, low and easy in your ear- and Keigo feels it with is feathers. There's no real threat to it any more than in the hand at your throat. It's about ownership, about making sure you don't forget your place in the room. It's as effective as it is simple. Your head falls back on his narrow shoulder, eyes closing as you sigh. Even hidden under the table, Keigo listens, burns with jealousy at the rhythmic shifting of your body over Shigaraki's. Every single feather on his back reports in with the near mute shhlk shhlk shhlk and the tiny, airy noise of your sighs.

"What do you have to report, Hawks?" Re-Destro is the first to speak to him.

Keigo wants to rip his throat out.

"I've been working to spread the beliefs of the Liberation Army!" He says instead, feels the aloof grin spread across his face like a mask. He ignores the twitching of his cock on his thigh, reminds himself of the stakes. Keigo hardly breathes as he reports in his saccharine tone, forces his eyes to slide across the other faces at the table.

He pauses only at Dabi. Everyone else had the good sense to be looking at Hawks or their tablets, but Dabi, no- Dabi makes no attempt to hide how he stares at Keigo's sidekick. As if everything else wasn't bad enough, to have that amoral, scarred bastard leering at you...

He's too well trained to let his smile falter, to pretend he could end this fight now- but his feathers prickle with the desire to be buried in the lieutenants' necks.

Re-Destro dismisses him with the same faux cheerful grin. Keigo lets himself look at you one more time- your mouth hanging open, drool spilling from the corner of your lips- before turning to leave. When he tucks the scapular feather between the door and the floor, he tells himself it's for surveillance on the League. They speak- he knows they do- but all he can hear, all he can feel is your little whines of desperation.

Keigo's cock aches and he can't stop himself- he ducks into the first dark corner he can find and pushes his pants open, fists himself without pretense. It should be him. Keigo had thought about having you cockwarm him at his desk more times than he can count and Shigaraki's joined with the Liberation Army not even two weeks ago and you're riding him like- like-

"Everybody out." Shigaraki demands. Keigo's hand stills on his cock, waits- but the lieutenants must be used to this order because they exit the conference room without preamble. Not a single one even looks near his secluded hiding spot-

and what Keigo hears through his feather makes his hand tighten. First, a harsh thump- and your sweet voice moaning. The sound of Shigaraki fucking you are louder now, the harsh slap of skin against skin and the wet noises of your pussy in between- Keigo can't help himself. He matches Shigaraki's pace, closes his eyes and pretends you're moaning for him, that it's his cock plunging into you over and over-

Your moans raise half a pitch and he can only imagine what Shigaraki's doing to you- in Keigo's mind he's rubbing your clit, making you writhe beneath him. Maybe he isn't that far off.

"Thank you, oh, thank you!" You cry so sweetly and fuck, you had to have been trained to do that and- your moaning crescendos. Keigo cums, bites the side of his free hand to keep quiet, to focus on all your little noises- even if most are drowned out by the noise of your pussy still being fucked until- a groan that's hardly more than a choked-off breath. A warbling little thing through grit teeth. Bastard.

Keigo tucks himself away, winces as he has to wipe his hand off- chooses the inside of his pants to be less conspicuous. He listens to the slick sounds of what he assumes must be Shigaraki pulling out and your still wrecked breathing.

"Good pet." Shigaraki's praise feels hollow, more scripted than sincere, but you give some weak whimper all the same.

Keigo should leave. He really, really should leave. Seeing you, talking to you would be a mistake- even with his cock taken care of, Keigo isn't sure how well he'd be able to control himself. You knew him from before this new façade, it's too risky. But he listens, listens as you adjust your clothes, give some formal farewell to your Supreme Leader. Something in Keigo aches with your awkward gait, the scuff of your shoes against the high-polish floors.

When you open the door, he keeps the feather well concealed, sliding along with the heavy oak as you go. He moves to follow you- and hesitates when he realizes another set of footsteps follow yours towards the door. Shigaraki must be headed out too. It's fine, Keigo can wait a moment to let the leader pass (as much as Keigo would love to take the opportunity to cut the head off the League here and now-)

but Shigaraki doesn't pass.

The footsteps get louder and louder in Keigo's head as they near the feather pressed between the door and the floor- and then just stop. Shigaraki's so close Keigo can hear his breathing now and Keigo gets that sickly feeling that makes sweat bead at the base of his skull. Shigaraki opens the door- and Keigo scoots the feather along with it. This time, it's not a vibration- fingers touch the feather, hold the crimson thing up by its quill.

"Enjoy the show, birdy?"

Keigo's stomach drops out through his toes- and is left with the sensation of his feather dissolving away into nothing.

=====

Now with FANART (fuckin WHAT dkfjdg) by @heart-chime​!

=====

If you like my writing, please consider reblogging or leaving me a tip!

=====

Tag List:

@annonymousbread

[residentanchor]

Probable Theorem Ch. 16

<<Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Summary: A search begins... Or the search TRIES to begin but phone calls keep happening! Warnings: Cursing, Panic, angry yelling, kidnapping, injuries(bruises) Word Count: 7944

Note: Savoir Faire Definition: the ability to act or speak appropriately in social situations.

Author’s Note: This chapter comes with some special fanart! [Click here!]  Also hi. These past 6 months have been terrible but I still love all of you and this story so it’s not stopping anytime soon!

The trek home took far longer than any of them had hoped. When they managed to make it back to their apartment, the sun was already in the early morning sky. Virgil jogged up the stairs and pulled out a key before running in ahead of the others. He tossed the backpack onto the floor next to the door and raced over to the couch. He spun around and fell back before pulling up his legs and burying his face. The fabric of his hood, which he pulled up a while ago on their journey back home, completely hid his face.

Logan closed the door, and Patton watched Virgil closely while tugging at the hem of his shirt. 

“That was good thinking, Patton,” Logan whispered. “Telling the cops you were looking for a friend’s missing pet. At least they have records of something happening to the Prince. It may come in handy in the future.” Patton nodded and looked back to the floor, silent. Logan let out a soft sigh when he hadn’t received any kind of verbal response. Patton glanced up at Virgil, and his frown deepened and he took a step back. Logan took the opening as an opportunity to slowly approach the couch. “I know you don’t want to talk about it, Virgil, but we need to make a plan if we want to get Roman back.” Logan waited for Virgil to move and the heavy silence between them grew. “We should rest a bit and then-”

“Are you fucking kidding me?!” Virgil threw his head up, his face barely visible from his hair covering his face. “We don’t have time to rest! Roman just got fucking kidnapped! The longer we wait, the more danger he is in!”

“Yes, and what do you expect us to do in our condition?” Logan raised his voice a bit in retaliation. “We can’t help him even if we do find him right now. We should rest and come up with a plan first.”

Virgil stood up and grit his teeth. “Fuck that!” His hands balled into fists and he stomped forward. “We go out there and we find him! Just like you found us the very first time, you can manage that, right?! Then when we know he’s safe, we infiltrate, and I bash everyone’s stupid face in! How’s that for a plan?”

Logan held up his hands in surrender as Virgil grew closer. “It took me days to check the whole city last time and the buses won’t be running this early!” Logan commented, hoping to ease Virgil’s anger. “The sun is only just starting to rise.”

Virgil backed off and began to pace. “No no no no no! We need to find him now. I can’t just sit around and wait!” Virgil growled and kicked a pillow on the ground from the bed he had placed before everything. The sight of the blankets and pillows seemed to be Virgil’s current target for his frustrations. He had been in denial about the whole thing the entire walk home. He was silent, almost in a daze as the reality of the situation started to settle in. Now he was simply frustrated with himself that he was so useless to stop it! When Roman needed him most, he stood there, frozen and too afraid and in shock to do anything. Now he was fired up and unable to stand by and wait.

Logan watched Virgil’s panic fueled rampage from the sidelines, unsure how to help as he looked over at Patton. “Any help here?” Patton looked up, his fists were now on his chest grabbing at his shirt, balling them up in his hands. Patton seemed a little panicked himself and shook his head quickly. Logan looked between the two as something clicked. Desperation. Panic. Empath. “Patton, please step out of the room for a moment while I try to calm down Virgil. Do those breathing practices like you taught me, alright?”

Wordlessly Patton nodded in agreement before turning to retreat into his bedroom, shutting the door loudly behind him. Logan turned back to Virgil and went to stop his pacing and destruction of the pillows before thinking better of it. He didn’t want to get caught in the crossfire. “Virgil, can you breathe with me?”

“This is all my fault, Logan. He’s hurt and gone and it’s all because of me.” Virgil finally stopped his pacing and let out a gasp of air. “I did this.”

“You were not the one that attacked Roman so I don’t see how this is your fault.” Virgil huffed out a silent laugh, shook his head, and started pacing once more. He almost looked like a caged animal searching for a way to escape. Logan’s mind raced as he tried to think of ways to deescalate the situation. “Vir-”

“Oh, let it go, Lo!” Virgil spun around with a shout. “I did this! I left him alone when I knew he was tired! Because I knew he likes to have a moment to himself before he comes home! And because I wasn’t strong enough to keep the portal open because I was tired, I let him get kidnapped! This is my fault!”

“That is factually and objectively not true!”

“Bullshit!”

Patton’s bedroom door let out a soft squeak as it opened back up, causing the other two to stop and turn. Patton stood there much more calm and at ease. He smiled and walked out, looking carefully between the two. “You both alright? Feeling any better, Virge?”

Virgil seemed to settle just enough to realize what he had done to make Patton step away for a moment. “Oh shoot, Patton!” Virgil ran over and held out his hands. “I’m so sorry, I made you panic, didn’t I?”

Patton smiled and pulled him into a hug. “You don’t have to apologize for how you were feeling, Virgil. I know you were trying to keep it together the whole way home. Besides, it was a bit of all of our feelings that kind of became too much for me.”

Virgil pulled away and tried to give a smile to Patton as reassurance. “I’m a little better after my freak out. I’m still sorry, though.”

Another Patton walked out of his bedroom and adjusted the collar on his button down shirt. “Now, none of that! We need to start making a plan, right?”

“Um…” Logan cleared his throat as the newly appeared Patton turned to him. “What’s with the outfit change?”

“Oh,” they looked down at their outfit confused. “What do you mean? These are just my work clothes, you’ve seen them before.”

“You’re going to work?!” Virgil cried out, turning to the other. “Today?!”

“It would be suspicious if we all called out. I already have for Roman, promising a doctor’s note after all of this. That should give us some time.” 

“Oh, no!” Virgil called out, searching his pockets. “I have work this morning!”

“Not anymore, you don’t!” Both the Pattons crossed their arms at the same time, giving Virgil a stern look. “When I got out of bed yesterday, you were up and cooking breakfast.” The first Patton spoke.

The second nodded. “Did you just get up super early or did you have trouble sleeping? You obviously didn’t sleep last night.”

Virgil ducked his head, confirming both their suspicions. 

“Virgil,” Logan spoke slowly as he turned to them. “Pat and Two seem to be insinuating… you are exhausted due to lack of sleep. Which I’m afraid I’ll have to believe since you just told me you were unwilling to keep the portal open too long due to exhaustion... When was the last time you slept?”

“Do naps count? Cause I took a short one...” Virgil flinched as the three looked at him. “Okay, so it’s been a day or two, so what?!”

“Virge, calm down,” the one Logan referred to as Pat Two said, reaching out, “It’s probably for the best you get some sleep soon.”

“I can’t just--I have to do something! I have to start searching or, or… I can’t just go to sleep right now!” Virgil turned and stormed out of the apartment, quickly grabbing the backpack he had left by the door as he did so. “Virgil!” Logan called out, chasing after him. “Wait, hold on a moment! Wait for us!”

The two Pattons looked at one another and nodded. The normal dressed one turned and ran out the door, leaving behind the other for them to head to work.

---

Roman was completely bored.

The kidnapping attempt, if you wanted to call it that, was absolutely pathetic. It only took Roman minutes before he broke free of the zip ties and threw them out of reach before inspecting the room he was trapped in. There were no windows lining the walls so there was no way to pinpoint where in the city he was located. Though, one wall was made completely of glass covered by blinds on the outside. He could almost imagine a long table with chairs all around the white room and people in suits having a meeting for some boring office job they had. It reminded him of his own old office job he used to have... He had to be in some office building downtown, trapped in an old meeting room if he had to guess though there was no way to be sure. They could look in on him from the other side, peering through the blinds to see what he was up to. The only thing that blocked him was the door, locked from the outside. It would be easy for Prince Charging to break free, but after much thought, he decided against it. He wasn’t willing to give them the satisfaction of being right. Not about his powers and not about him attacking to escape. He was going to be quiet and patient and wait it out.

Well, not completely quiet. After a bit of waiting, he started getting bored. A quick walk around the room revealed nothing but a few covered outlets and a paperclip that had been left behind. Sliding down against the wall, Roman sprawled out his legs in front of him and tapped his fingers on the carpet before he started humming to himself. They were not going to get the better of him. Seriously, they had no idea what they were doing. Still airing on the side of caution, he sat down and winced at his throbbing headache and rubbed his cheek where he had been struck.

Once the two he had labeled ‘Harry’ and ‘Marv’ made their first appearance, their tune was completely different than it had been last night. They offered him ice for his wounds and water to stay hydrated. While he turned down the ice, the water bottle was very much appreciated. He didn’t want anything they could have possibly tampered with. They were being polite and checking on him, though Roman wasn’t an idiot. He smiled and thanked them, fully aware he wasn’t wearing his mask and keeping his distance as much as possible.

Once they asked his name, he fell silent. His short responses had made them bold enough to ask but he wasn’t playing any games. They asked again along with a few more questions. They asked about his powers and how they worked and what he could do, but Roman did what he does best. Besides from being dashingly handsome, of course. He performed.

“Wait, you don’t think I have actual powers, do you? You know that, right?” He chuckled awkwardly as he took a sip from the water bottle they had given him.  “I’m just a guy in a costume. Powers like that are only things you find in comic books.”

They weren’t pleased to say the least. Their little kindness act dropped fast and the hero watched as they grew tired of his silence and lack of answers. One took out his phone and went to snap a picture before Roman panicked.

“Wait!” Roman covered his face and held out a hand toward the camera. The shouts were enough to get them to stop just long enough for him to come up with an excuse only a gullible moron would believe. “The only advantage you have against everyone else in this city is that you know what I look like. Would you really take a photo and ruin that?”

They looked to one another before nodding, and Roman watched the phone slide away… apparently he was dealing with two gullible morons. He wasn’t sure if that made things easier.

After that, they began whispering to themselves. Though, in a quiet secluded room with no one else around, Roman was able to pick up a few things. They were worried about someone but desperate for a solution. At least, those were the only pieces of the puzzle he was able to pick out from the murmurs. Eventually, they walked out and left the lonely prince once more.

That’s where they had left Roman now. Alone to entertain himself in a room blocked off from all outside light and noise. Roman flexed his hands in his gloves and brushed his face where his mask usually lay. 

He heard a muffled noise and glanced up, his hand falling from his face. One section of the glass wall was revealed, the blinds pulled up from the other side. With it’s reveal, someone new was standing there. It wasn’t ‘Harry’ or ‘Marv’ or anyone Roman had seen before. They stared at one another wide eyed and in a bit of shock. The figure turned to the side and spoke to someone he did not see. Then they glanced back and shook their head with a defeated look. They turned back and stared into the office before the blinds cut off their view of one another and left Roman alone once more.

Were these members of the APC? Were they trying to see if they recognized him? The blinds went up again with a new person once more. It happened a few times, again and again. With each shake of the head, the blinds fell and they vanished before the next person walked up. With each face, there was the realization that there were so many people who hated him… for what? For stopping a purse snatcher? For chatting with people who needed someone to just listen? What had he done that was so bad that warranted this much hate? It stirred something in his chest and made him shift on the floor, but he was still in costume. Mask or no mask, he swore Prince Charging was going to help the people of this city and nothing would stop him. Roman needed to distract himself, and he knew exactly how.

He started singing Disney songs.

“You feel like some classic Disney?” Roman leaned against the wall, shouting through the closed door to the people on the other side. Sitting down, he could see their shadows and knew he wasn’t alone. “Something slower? I can do some Mulan!”

The voices never gave a loud response as Roman started singing. He started with some classics and went to new school, only seeing one or two people check in on him while he did so.

Luckily, it was when he was in between songs when he saw her. Staring through the glass and frozen in shock was Patton’s mother. He was glad he managed to catch himself and keep his expression from giving anything away. As he watched her at a loss for words, Roman simply felt anger bubbling underneath the surface. Her own son was a man with powers just like his and she had the audacity to join a group that forcefully kidnapped him just to get what they wanted?

Eventually she jumped and mumbled something before running away, the blinds falling shortly after. To her credit, though, another person came in not long after as they continued their search. Had she not ratted him out? Or, he had hoped this wasn’t the case, was she planning on using this information against Patton somehow? He wouldn’t pass her, the scoundrel. Roman took the opportunity to keep up his charade and continue on as if nothing had just transpired.

“Oh, I just thought of a great song that fits perfectly! You’ve ever seen Oliver and Company?”

Roman sat up and crossed his legs before clearing his throat. He bobbed his head as he began to sing. “One minute, I’m in Central Park! Then I’m down on Delancey Street…”

They continued to ignore him as usual until he heard a loud bang come from outside the room. He paused a moment, listening carefully, before picking back up on his song. “Whoo whoo whoo whoo whoo! I’m street wise! I can improvise!”

Another resounding bang echoed out, causing Roman to pause once more.

“What did I tell you?!” Roman jumped at the new voice shouting from outside the room. His heart began pounding in his chest. He sat waiting in silence, the silent ringing in his ears all he could make out. Then the blinds from before began moving up, revealing yet another new face.

This man was older, bigger with a widow’s peak and a bushy mustache sat atop his upper lip. The man seemed to gasp in shock as he looked in on the unmasked prince before turning to the side, enraged. 

“I told you to leave him alone! What part of that told you to bring him here?!”

The man vanished as the blinds dropped, and the hushed conversation on the other side came to an abrupt end. Roman was once again left in silence, unsure of what had just transpired outside of the room.

With a deep breath, he kept singing to keep himself calm.

“Why should I worry? Why should I ca-are? I may not have a dime, but I got street savoir faire!”

---

They chased Virgil down the street, who was marching on with determination to an unknown destination. They both managed to catch up quickly and struggled to keep pace with him. 

“Virgil,” Patton spoke up, walking in step next to him. “Where are we going?”

Virgil finally stopped and turned to Logan who almost ran right into him. “I don’t know, where do we start, Lo?”

Logan blinked and reached for his glasses as he gathered himself. “Well, anywhere is a good start. We know where they started but we couldn’t eliminate any part of the city. We can always start downtown and work our way there, it’ll cover the most ground. But they could just as likely have left the city. It could take days before we find him.”

“Wait, we’re starting now?” Patton looked between the two. “Shouldn’t Virgil get some rest? He’s exhausted! He even said so himself!”

Logan shook his head and frowned. “His anxiety has him wide awake and is causing a sort of ‘fight or flight’ response from him. Since there is nothing to fight or to run from, having him burn off the energy can help lower his anxiety and settle him enough for him to rest.” Logan turned and smiled at Virgil who huffed in response. “Until he gets to that point, it’s best we let him be. We just need to figure out a plan first.”

“That makes sense…” Virgil mumbled to himself. “I should try it more.” Silence quickly fell over the group as they all started to think about their next plan of action. Virgil quickly began to shuffle his feet and grow impatient before letting out a sigh. “Let's walk and talk. We need to come up with a plan, right? I can’t just stand here anymore.”

“Yes, though it is not quite as simple as that.”

They walked in silence a bit before Patton chuckled awkwardly to himself. “Talk about deja vu, am I right??” Both stopped and turned to Patton. “I mean, we are looking for a danger but we don’t know where or who it is and when it will strike. Kinda… less supernatural this time but just as scary.” Patton shrugged. “All we need is to call Thomas about all this and it’s just like last time.”

“Thomas…” Logan murmured. “Do you think we should warn Thomas about this? Like we had in the past?”

“Maybe…” Virgil fussed with the backpack strap over his shoulder and shrugged. “Even if he said he wanted space, this is kinda big.”

“Well,” Patton interjected, “he might feel bad if we don’t tell him, right? He is Roman’s friend. We could give him the choice.”

“Excellent,” Logan clapped his hands together. “Patton, you call Thomas while Virgil and I discuss what to do next.”

“Oh, um…” Patton shuffled on his feet and shoved his hands into his pockets. “I don’t have it on me.”

Logan paused for a moment before turning toward Virgil. They stared at each other a moment before Virgil shook his head. “Mine is dead, dude. I’ve been out all night and my human phone charger got shoved into a van a few hours ago.”

When both Patton and Virgil looked at Logan, he immediately grew uncomfortable. “Well, of course my phone is on me and charged! B-but Thomas would never--I mean I really shouldn’t bother him. He wouldn’t want to hear from me anyway.”

Patton smiled and placed a hand on Logan’s arm, causing him to stop his rambling. “Lo, I can call him for you, okay? No need to worry.”

---

The vibrating and generic default tone of the phone rang out across the room. After a moment, the lump laying next to it groaned and lifted their head, tiredly blinking the sleep from their eyes.

Another groan let out from the other side of the couch. “Shut the fuck up, noise.”

“Joan…” Thomas mumbled as he blinked down at his phone. Logan. The call ended and Thomas sighed as the time appeared on the screen. Who calls at eight in the morning? Thomas dropped the phone and laid his head back down on the pillow. He had stayed up late last night with Joan while catching up on a show, and they both fell asleep on his couch. His phone was nearly dead, and the sun was trying to shine through the blinds, though it wasn’t nearly bright enough to succeed just yet.

Thomas shut his eyes and snuggled into the warmth around him, ready to go back to sleep when his phone went off again. Joan groaned and rolled over, covering their ears from the noise.

Thomas tiredly picked up the phone and huffed in annoyance before answering. “Logan, tell me someone is dying or I’m hanging up.”

“Oh, um…” Oh. That wasn’t Logan’s voice. “Well, we don’t actually know? Sorry, Thomas! Want me to call ya back later? I was just planning on leaving a message. I forgot the first time and--oh. Sorry, you’re right Lo, I’m rambling.”

Pulling the phone away, Thomas looked down at the caller id once more. Logan. “Patton?”

“Yeah, good morning! Sorry, we’ve been up for a while, and I guess we just lost track of time.”

Letting out a yawn, Thomas flopped back onto his pillow. “What’s up? Everything okay?”

“Oh, um, not really? I really didn’t want to do this over the phone, maybe we can meet up later?”

“Patton, the last time we met up for you to tell me something important, you almost died.” A flash of a memory went through his mind. Patton, or more specifically a Pal, grabbing Thomas’ hand and running out of the alley and away from the danger they had found themselves in. The same pal panicking on the bus while the others fought that smoke monster. Though, Thomas was grateful they told him…

It was a memory he had completely forgotten about until just then. The memory took a second to flash in his mind before he let out a gasp and bolted up. “Wait, you wouldn’t call me unless it was something super bad.”

“No! Well, we don’t really know? You should be fine!”

Thomas groaned and ran a hand through his hair. “You said that last time… I think.”

“I did. I’m, sorry… I don’t know how I should say this.”

“Just say it or I’m going to start panicking.” Thomas saw Joan turn back over and look at him a bit confused. “What’s wrong?”

“So, um. Prince Charging was kidnapped last night.”

“He what?!” 

“Thomas?” Joan sat up looking concerned.

“What do you mean Prince Charging was kidnapped?!”

“Wait, the fuck?!” Joan threw the blanket off of themself and walked over to the other half of the sectional couch.

“We are looking for him, but we just wanted to warn you! You might hear some stuff, and we didn’t want to leave you out of the loop. I’m sorry, this could have waited until you actually woke up. I didn’t know what to say when the voicemail popped up the first time.”

Thomas immediately shook his head. “No, no! This is definitely something important I needed to know. Thanks for telling me.”

“Don’t worry, we’ll find him, okay? Leave everything to us! We will update you if anything changes!” Thomas bit his lip as he heard Patton trying to reassure him over the phone. “I’m sorry, try and get some sleep if you still need it, okay? We’ll talk soon.”

“Yeah, okay bye.”

Thomas pulled his phone away and watched the call end before letting out a big sigh.

“Well? What did he say?” Thomas looked at Joan and shook his head. “What happened?”

“I dunno, I didn’t…” A million questions suddenly hit him all at once as he shook off his sleep. What did actually happen? Where? How?! He didn’t even think to ask, the shock of the news was a bit overwhelming and it seemed Patton was in a rush, panicking and tired. Why did he use Logan’s phone in the first place? “He just told me they were looking and would give me updates when they could.”

Joan mumbled to themself before leaning back onto the couch. “Well, that’s one way to start the day.”

Thomas looked at his best friend as a feeling squirmed inside of him. He wasn’t exactly sure what it was, but he felt the need to move. He stood up and stretched before looking back to the couch. “What now? I don’t think I can sleep after that.”

“Me neither. I mean… maybe if I wanted to, but…” They trailed off and shrugged. “You think Roman’s okay? Maybe that group had something to do with it? Or it could have been like, a super obsessed fan or something.”

“I dunno…”

Joan shook their head and smirked to themself. “Alright, well, what are you gonna do?”

“What?”

They leaned over and patted Thomas on his shoulder. “Come on, we need to get some more sleep before your big day.”

“Joan, what are you talking about?” Thomas whined, unsure of what was happening. 

“Thomas,” Joan turned and looked at him seriously. “What do you plan on doing about it?”

Thomas stared at Joan confused for a moment. “Doing about--what? About Roman? I don’t, I’m… I'm way over my head here, I think it’s best I just sit this one out.” Thomas gripped his hair as he nervously ran his hand through it again. “Right?”

“Whatever you want, Thomas. As long as you’re sure. And I get pancakes beforehand.”

---

Patton tapped on Logan’s phone to end the call and handed it back. “There. Taken care of. So, come up with anything?”

“Yeah,” Virgil huffed out angrily. “By the time we find Roman, if he’s still alive, I’m going to kill him myself.”

“Virgil-”

“That’s enough, Virgil.” Logan cut off Patton, holding his arms out. “Of course Roman is still alive. What is a pity party going to do?”

“I can’t do anything else! What do you want from me? There’s three of us and a city full of people! They’ve had him for hours now, who knows if we will even find him!”

“Yes, we will, alright?” Logan spoke in a softer tone. “We will find him, I promise you that.” Giving in, Virgil nodded and shoved his hands into his hoodie pocket before turning away. “Now, Patton,” Logan spun around and looked down at the other. “Virgil is right, there’s only three of us. However, I know you can help us increase the odds a bit.”

“Oh, well,” Patton spoke, flustered.

“With a few more of us, we will split into groups.” Logan turned and faced Virgil. “We will split the city into divisions and spread out from there. Patton and I will start with the westside while a pal and you search where we last saw Roman.”

“Logan, I-”

“Then the other groups can search remaining parts and search for the Prince’s fan club and give them a heads up about what happened. Surely one of them might know something.”

“Logan!” Patton looked flustered as he yelled, completely red in the face with his hands balled into fists.

“I am sorry, was there something you needed to say?” 

Patton flushed when Logan spoke and gave him his undivided attention. “Oh, um… yeah. I can’t.”

The other two waited for Patton to elaborate before growing confused. “I’m sorry,” Logan shook his head. “You can’t what?”

“I can’t make more pals. I, um… I’m Two?” The words slowly sank into Logan’s brain as his eyes slowly widened. “Tada? Sorry, I should have said something sooner.”

“That’s why you don’t have your phone.” Logan mumbled to himself before shaking his head. “No matter, the real one simply went to work, correct?” He reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone once more. “I’ll simply call him there, they should be open by now.”

“He’s not.” Logan froze half way through dialing the number. 

“What did you just say?”

“He’s not at work?” Two chuckled awkwardly and cleared his throat. “Three went to work today.”

Logan took a step closer and looked Two directly in the eyes. “Tell me the truth. Was it Patton I saw wearing his work clothes before we left.”

“It was.”

Logan frowned and paused for a moment. “Then he made a pal after he left to go to work for him?” Two nodded and Logan leaned back. “So where is he?!”

“About that…”

Not waiting for an answer, Logan pulled out his phone and pressed the button to speed dial his boyfriend’s cellphone. The other two waited quietly as Logan silently seethed, waiting as his phone rang over and over and squeezing it tightly in his hand. “Pick up, pick up,” he mumbled to himself impatiently, his back turned to the others on the sidewalk. He heard a click and a noise as the ringing stopped. “Patton?”

“Logan? Everything alright?”

“Care to explain why Two is here and Three is at work?” Patton sighed and looked up at the others as they watched him nervously. “Did you really find it necessary to sneak away from us like that?”

“Would you have stopped me from doing this if I had told you?”

“I…” He knew the answer. If Patton was going to talk to his mother, he would have wanted to be there or would have tried to talk him out of it completely. “We’re just worried. I don’t want you rushing into anything.”

“She’s my mother, Lo.” Logan’s heart broke at the soft tone. “I have to be able to talk to her about things.”

“I don’t want her to keep--” Logan bit his tongue before he said too much. “You always forgive her...”

“Not for this.” Logan tensed at the serious tone he heard through the phone. “I’ll call you back when it’s done. Trust me on this?”

Logan nodded and closed his eyes. “Yes, of course. Always. Just be careful.”

“Don’t worry. I have her outnumbered.” Logan chuckled and managed to relax. “I’ll see you later.”

“Right, of course. Later.”

Logan heard the phone call end and pulled it away, watching the numbers on his phone fade into darkness. He took a moment to let everything sink in before spinning around to the others.

“He went to visit his mother?!” Logan knew shouting so early in the morning would only get him in trouble, but his brain was buzzing with everything that happened and the new information he was just given was a bit too much. “What would he go to her for?”

“This is it, we’re doomed.” Virgil began biting his fingernail and started to pace. “If only I could have stopped this from before. I could go back, couldn’t I?! There must be something I can do!”

Two held out his hands, unsure of which one to attempt to soothe first. “She will know something, we know she will!”

“That’s not the point.” Logan lamented. “She’s trouble! He didn’t have to go alone.”

Two pulled his hands to his chest and rubbed them together for warmth. “We aren’t even sure it’s going to work. We wanted to try first and if something came of it, we were going to tell you.”

“When?” Logan looked heartbroken as he spoke. “When were you planning on telling us?”

“Today, I promise.” Two reached out and grabbed one of Logan’s hands. “We were going to tell you even if nothing came of it, but you were going to find out after it happened.”

“I would just have to go back and follow the truck, right?!” Virgil spun around, still pacing back and forth. “I just have to find where he went then return to the present! Then we can just go rescue him!”

Logan squeezed Two’s hand before letting go and turning around. “Virgil, you know how dangerous that could be to mess with the past, let alone let a portal sit there in the open like that.”

“Then I’ll take his place! Something! I have to be able to do something, Lo!”

A sudden ringing rang out and all three of them looked at one another. Logan patted his pocket and shook his head. “That’s not my phone.”

“I don’t have one on me.” Two responded.

Virgil’s face lit up with recognition and he threw the bag he was carrying over his shoulder onto the ground. The ringing had stopped briefly before starting up again as Virgil dug around for the source of the noise. An old flip phone sat in his hand, vibrating and demanding to be answered.

“He has a burner phone?” Logan asked.

“In case of emergencies, but I thought I was the only one who had the number.” Virgil stared down at the phone as it stopped. A brief moment later, it started up again. “So who is this?” Virgil looked at Logan and Pat Two who both seemed as lost as he did. He sighed and flipped the phone open before answering. “Hello?”

“Oh, goodness! Finally! You know you worry me when you don’t call!” The feminine voice over the phone threw Virgil for a loop.

“I’m sorry, who is this?”

“Wait, who is this?”

“I asked first!”

“Where did you find this phone?” The voice yelled back with a bit of anger.

“In a backpack.” Virgil was vague, wondering if it’s a wrong call at this point.

“In whose backpack?” Virgil looked up at his roommates. 

“In… Prince Charging’s backpack.”

“Yes, so…” Did they know who they just called? Who did Roman give this number to? “Where is Prince Charging?”

“Who wants to know?”

“His mother!”

Virgil gasped and gripped the phone tighter. “Elizabeth…?”

“Wait,” Two furrowed his brow as he started to remember. “Roman’s mother?”

“Who is this?!”

Virgil suddenly became frozen in fear just as he did hours before. What was she going to do when he found out he failed to protect her son? 

“Hello?”

“Yes, sorry. Um, it’s, uh… It’s Virgil, ma’am.”

“Oh! Virgil sweetie, hi!” The harsh tones from before vanished completely. “I should have known. I was concerned for a second there!”

“Yeah… How do you have this number?”

“Come on, now. I know what Roman’s been up to! I told him to call me before and after every patrol to check in! He knows I tend to worry. But he hasn’t checked in last night and his phone is going straight to voicemail! I got worried and tried calling you but I got the same thing.”

Straight to voicemail? Then Roman’s phone shut off too. Probably forgot to plug it into a charger before he left it at home, so used to it always being charged thanks to his powers. “Yeah, um, about that-”

“Something happened to him, didn’t it?” Virgil couldn’t find an appropriate way to answer. “I was worried as much. Are you alright?”

“Oh, yeah, I guess.”

“Good. Then I’m coming over.”

“What?!”

“I’ll be there in a bit and you can tell me everything!”

“Wait a minute-”

“Virgil,” Roman’s mother spoke over the phone in an assertive tone, demanding to be listened to. “Is Roman in any trouble that I could be of any help with?”

“Well, yeah? I guess, but Elizabeth, that’s not really-”

“Then I will not stand by when my son needs my help! I’ll see you soon, Virgey!”

Virgil heard the phone click and the call ended before he could get another word in. He flipped the phone shut and turned around to see Logan and Two staring at him confused. 

“Virgil?” Two asked, approaching carefully. “What happened? What did she say?”

Virgil glanced at the phone before looking back up at Two. “She’s coming over.”

“Over?” Logan questioned before jutting a thumb over his shoulder. “You mean over to the apartment? Where we currently are not?”

“We have to go back and meet her there!” Two jumped and spun around, marching down the street. “She has a car, right? We have to hurry back!”

Logan looked between the two before turning to Two. “What about Patton?”

Spinning around on his heel, Two looked at Logan with a frown. “He’s fine, alright?” Two placed a hand over his heart. “I’ll let you know if anything changes. Don’t you trust us?”

“Of course I do. Sorry, I’m just worried.” Logan sighed and gave in. “Right, so, back to the apartment as quick as we can.”

Virgil threw the phone into the backpack and began to follow them down the street. “What kind of plan is this? We’re getting nowhere! Couldn’t we, like, split up?” He fell in line behind them, looking down at his feet as he walked. “There’s got to be a time I can jump to in the past to do something so we’re not wasting time, right? Maybe I could-”

Logan spun around and stopped on the sidewalk causing Virgil to almost walk right into him. “Virgil, I know this is hard, but his mother needs to know. Besides, our best bet is to trust Patton’s plan works. Okay?”

“Okay…” Logan nodded and turned, continuing to walk down the street. “But, wait, what is his plan anyway?”

“My mother.” Two called out over his shoulder. “She’s part of the Anti-Prince Club. We’re gonna convince her to take us there. Or at least tell us where they could be keeping him.”

“Wait, what?!” Virgil jogged up past Logan to fall in step with Two. “She might know where he is?” Two nodded and pursed his lips. “If she sees him, would she…?”

“I don’t know.”

---

Roman wasn’t anywhere near exhausting his vast library of Disney songs, but he was almost out of water and had opted to stop. He turned and layed on the carpet and stared up at the tiled ceiling, tracing it with his eyes and desperately trying to convince himself to not count them just yet. He had to save himself something to do later, after all.

The door creaked open and Roman turned his head away. He didn’t care if it was a new face or not, he was on a break thank you. He could entertain these fools later.

“They haven’t kept you in here long, have they?” Roman heard the door click shut and listened for the figure to approach. “This place was empty last night. You could have only been here a few hours tops.”

“Yeah, sorry, don’t exactly have a clock in here.” Roman waved a hand toward the voice. “Also, can I complain about the room service? It’s dreadful.”

“I know, I’m sorry.”

Roman sat up and gave in, glaring at the older man. It was the one from before, who had yelled at the others for bringing Roman here. “What is your plan, exactly? You gonna just keep me here until you figured out who I am? I have a life and people who care about me. You can’t keep me here long without repercussions, you know.”

The older man sighed and ran a hand through his thinning hair. “I know, I am truly sorry. I’ll get you out as soon as possible. I promise.”

“Okay,” Roman answered slowly, squinting at the older man. “So what is it you want in return for my freedom? My name? Where I live? You gonna drop me off at my house so you can keep tabs on me?”

“No! I didn’t want them to do this in the first place! What kinda morons kidnaps anyone anyway?! I’m surprised they managed to sneak you in without anyone noticing.” The man placed his hands on his hips as he began to pace. “Now that they let everyone know you’re here, I have to figure out how to get you out without suspicion!”

“Hold up, what are you talking about?” Roman crossed his arms and leaned back against the wall. “You act like you don’t hate me.”

“That would be because I don’t’.” The man turned to Roman and slowly approached him. “My name is Bruce. I’m, well, there’s not a leader to this whole thing really. I help organize the meetings and keep track of everything.” He stopped a few feet away from Roman and kneeled down. “I’ve been trying to keep these people off of your back for months by working from the inside. I don’t hate you, Prince. I promise you that.” Roman watched as the man sighed and reached out before reconsidering. “Look what they did. You okay there, son? Is your cheek still hurting, there?”

Roman reached up and gently brushed his cheek that had been struck by the bat. Obviously it had left a mark, not that he could tell. “Oh, not really, it’s fine. The one on my head hurts more but it’s manageable.”

“I’ll go get some ice.” Bruce stood up and turned toward the door, pausing as his hand rested on the door knob. “Do you need anything? I’ll come back and we can plan your escape.”

“Um, no.” Roman pulled his legs in closer, feeling uncomfortable at the sudden kindness he was being shown. “Why are you doing all this for me?”

“Because,” He smiled sadly, “you’re not the first person I’ve met with powers.”

---

The walk back home was quiet just as it had been that morning. The difference now was that Two led the way walking with determination unlike Virgil who was marching furiously and with impatience hours before. Cars drove past as most of the city had already started the day. Virgil lamented in the back of the group, worried about what Roman’s mother would say when she heard the story.

“She’s going to be so mad at me. I’m doomed, she’ll hate me after this.” He bit his thumbnail in worry. “This is all my fault, he’s probably dead and I’m next.”

“Virgil, you need to stop thinking so negatively.” Logan turned and watched Virgil stare at him with a blank look. “Yes, I know that’s not easy for you but you’ll be fine. I promise.”

“You can’t promise that.” Virgil pulled his hoodie closer to himself as his worries grew. “There’s nothing we can do now but accept we’re failures and wait for the end.”

“No.” Two perked up as they turned onto their street. “I refuse to give up. We’ll get through this, Virgil, together.”

The rest of the walk remained silent until their building came into view. Virgil groaned and mumbled out loud. “So glad everything we did was pointless since we ended up right back where we started.” 

Two ignored him and waited for Logan who had a key to unlock the door. He stepped aside as Logan pulled his small keychain from his pocket. The apartment door next to theirs suddenly swung open, causing Logan to jump and fumble with the key, almost dropping it. “Sweet Newton’s cradle!” Logan grabbed his chest and felt his heart pounding. “A little warning next time, Clyde?”

Clyde kept his eyes on Two and marched up with a look of worry. “You’re back! Did you find him? Did you see the guy?”

Two raised an eyebrow and leaned back. “Uhhh, no idea what you’re talking about there, kiddo.”

Huffing at the nickname, Clyde took a step back and crossed his arms. “Roman. Did you find him? And did you see the guy I warned you about?”

Virgil and Logan exchanged a look as Two shook his head. “We didn’t, but I don’t know what guy you’re talking about.”

“The… The guy! I told you like, not even two hours ago?!”

“I get that, but that wasn’t me.” Two held up his hands defensively. “You talked to Patton. I’m Two. He’s still out.”

“Perhaps we continue this conversation inside so you can enlighten us, Clyde?” Logan held up the key and turned to their apartment door, quickly unlocking it and making his way inside for the others to follow.

“Oof, who made this mess?” Clyde eyed the pillows and blankets on the ground as Logan began to pick them up. “You always this messy?”

Virgil ducked inside and hunched over a bit. “Princey and I were gonna nap on it when we got back this morning.”

“Eww,” Clyde scrunched his nose at the thought of the two together. Virgil turned and glared, causing fear to spike in the younger man. He didn’t forget the threats Virgil made toward him in his apartment from before. “I mean, aww. What a shame…”

Virgil scoffed and sat down, staring at the floor as Two began to help fold the blankets from the floor. “So, while we wait for our inevitable demise, mind telling us who you warned Patton about?”

“Because I know exactly what you’re talking about. What ‘demise’ is coming for you this time?” Clyde shoved his hands in his pockets. “You managed to screw anything up in the two hours you were gone? That’s a new record.”

“No, Roman’s mom is on her way here.”

“Roman’s bad enough, I do not want to be here when she shows up…” Clyde mumbled, not exactly hiding what he said. “It was nothing, anyway. Just have a bad feeling that someone I sort of know may be involved.”

“Oh?” Two turned, holding a blanket to his chest. “Who is-”

A knock on the front door cut Patton off, silencing the room. 

“Oh, great. She’s here already. I’m dead.”

“That was rather fast,” Logan commented, making his way to the door. “I was under the impression she lived in the suburbs, does she not?”

Logan opened the door and found himself once again somehow surprised what the day had brought him. “What…?”

“Heeeey, Logan.” Thomas chuckled and awkwardly smiled, running a hand through his hair nervously. “Mind if I come in?”

---

Chapter 17>>

(If your name is in italics, I was unable to tag you. Please contact me before you are removed.)

Tag list: @cyberpunkjinx @phlying-squirrel  @equipodeleo @ace-anx @tisithelittleelephant @fandomsofrandom @thestoryofme13 @herequeerandverytired @too-random-for-me @midknight-mania @sleepyssnail @dragonsight9 @queer-human-being @ab-artist @arandompasserby @musikasworld @hellomusicalnerdhere @izzynuggets @noahlovescoffee @rosesisupposes @detective-lemon @kanejandkruge @draw-till-die @dreaming-about-kittens @nico-holly @maxwithanxiety @cornycornfriendo @pixelysparklez @icequeenoriginal @coloursintheblur @omg-rainbowgalxy-things @myqueen4art @billy-jeans23 @llamaly @len-art-trash @i-know-im-smart @nightmaretyrantvantas @mooniecoockie @prettymuchpugs @itsalexiastuff @littledog-draws @harmonyjewl @the-better-bard @the-lavender-creator @skskskkskskskk @starry-knight-skies @lynnthefander @notkolaidoscop

General: @helloisthisusernametaken @entitydark @lightningbug04 @moonstone-fox @another-sandersidesblog @thesynysterunknown @roo-kangas @singingjo @unikornavenger @rememberfateau-nowoffical @sanders-sides-trasshcan @sleepyssnail @jemthebookworm @spectralheartt @fandomsofrandom @johnlaurensadmirer-johnsenpaiowo @rosie601 @ultimate-queen-of-fandoms2 @izzyfandoms @zaidiashipper @enbyamy @romanmustberomantic @daylnvale @that-one-sunfish-with-a-wig-on @squiddney69 @decayingfoxx @watchoutforthefanfics @pigeonsinatree @lynnthefander @k1ngtok1 @wewuzraw @lovelyisthesunrise @sparkedawg @pukingdraws @pixelatedrose

[sohotthateveryonedied]

And Now I’m Covered in the Colors, Pulled Apart at the Seams

Alternate universe in which we gather soul strings as we fall in love, with different colors representing the different kinds of love you experience over time. Tim has loved and lost so many times over the years that, as rare as it is to find someone who actually loves him back, his strings are mangled like barbed wire. What's the point of loving if it only ends in heartache?

(Or: Tim’s experience with love, a story told in snapshots.)

Based on some awesome fanart by @omgiamwish​!

It starts with two blue strings looped around his index finger. Tim doesn’t remember when he got them or how they came to be, which leads him to assume that they have simply always been there. Always been a part of him.

And that makes sense because most children grow up loving their parents—they’re the first true bonds they ever make. Tim’s mom and dad may not be the most affectionate parents in the world, always going off on business trips and leaving Tim at home with the nanny, but that’s fine. They’re important people. Tim should be grateful to have parents that he can be proud of, even if it leaves him feeling a little detached in their absence. The strings themselves start out strong, thick and bold. But the farther from Tim’s body they reach, the thinner they become. By the time he’s ten years old, they’re practically threadbare as they snake to his parents who are completely indifferent to the way Tim’s heart breaks every time he sees the frayed ends lying at their feet, unnoticed. It is odd that he can’t remember when the strings fell? If Tim didn’t know any better, he’d think they had been that way all his life.

Even when Tim has nothing else, there’s always Dick Grayson. From that fateful day at the circus, Tim has frequently lain awake at night and imagined what it would be like to have an extra blue string, stretching directly toward the last Flying Grayson. Toward the first (and last) person who made Tim feel seen. And maybe that means he’s selfish because Tim already has a family of his own, which is more than so many others can say. Clearly. So what if Tim’s parents don’t love him as much as he loves them? He’s grown used to it by now, so he has no logical reason to complain. It’s just the way things are. Still, when Tim bullies Bruce into making him Robin years later, it injects him with a brand of excitement that he hasn’t felt in years. Finally he has a hold on something bigger than himself, than his empty house, than waiting week after week for his parents to send him a present in the mail the day after his birthday. It gets even better when Dick—the Dick Grayson, Tim’s role model since the day he met him—takes Tim under his wing, and surely this can’t be Tim’s real life. The fact that he not only meets his hero of ten years, but that he gets to learn under him too? It’s a dream come true. Dick teaches Tim the secrets that make a Robin, what it means to be Batman’s partner, the ins and outs of crime-fighting. Tim absorbs it all like a sponge. “And if you stay on your toes like this,” Dick says, demonstrating, “you’ll be lighter on your feet and quicker in a fight. Don’t let the bad guys see you motionless, got it?” Tim nods. “Got it.” Dick raises his practice staff. “And remember—in a real battle you’ll be wearing your domino, so be mindful of your blind spots. Accommodate for them while keeping yourself on target at the same time.” Tim adjusts his stance on the mat. “Uh-huh.” “And don’t be afraid to turn your offense into your defense. Always be prepared to switch it up at a second’s notice in response to your opponent’s moves, so your brain needs to work ten times faster than—” “Will you just hit me already?” Dick laughs. “Fine, fine.” He strikes, coming at Tim with a hit that Tim blocks with his own staff. There’s something about sparring with Dick that gives Tim a sort of insight into the inner workings of Dick Grayson—things that most other people wouldn’t pick up on if they weren’t looking closely. As graceful as Dick is, there’s a strength in him. A secret power that lurks within the acrobat, ready to turn the tides at a moment’s notice. Dick’s plucky, carefree attitude is as much a mask as the domino is, leading enemies into a false sense of security. Dick blocks more often than he strikes and never stays in one spot for longer than a few seconds at a time, as if the floor is lava. It’s a dance. Tim has almost gained the upper hand of their spar—something that happens so rarely he can count his victories on one hand—when Alfred comes downstairs holding a tray of sandwiches and protein shakes. While Tim is distracted, Dick knocks Tim’s staff from his grasp and sends it skidding across the floor. He points the end of his own at Tim’s neck. Checkmate. “Most important rule of Robinism: Never take your eyes off of your opponent.” Tim rolls his eyes, batting aside Dick’s staff and walking over to Alfred. “That’s a made-up word.” “I’m the first Robin and I invented it, which makes it real.” Dick takes a sandwich. “Thanks, Alf.” “As nauseating as I find your mayonnaise and pickle concoctions, let it never be said that I don’t give you boys what you want.” And really, Tim’s got to admire Alfred for that. The guy practically had a stroke when Tim confessed that his favorite after-school snack is potato chips dipped in ketchup. Months later and Tim’s got a new blue string on his finger because it’s impossible not to love Alfred, guilt over ruining his faith in the human palate be damned. At least Dick shares Tim’s love of unconventional food combinations. Tim bites into his own sandwich, the wonderfully sour taste of picklenaise flooding his mouth. “You’re just jealous that you have weak taste buds.” “Yes, that must be it,” Alfred says, wrinkling his nose. As he goes, Tim finds himself wondering about Alfred’s strings. Bruce definitely has one, but what about Thomas and Martha? What about Jason? What about friends from the British military? Is Alfred’s string collection a graveyard of frayed ends? “I was thinking,” Dick says around a mouthful, diverting Tim’s attention, “I’m heading back to Blüd in a little bit but I’m free all next weekend. The fair is supposed to be in town so maybe you and I could check it out? They’ve got a ferris wheel.” Miraculously, Tim doesn’t choke. Dick has never invited Tim to spend time together outside of Robin training. In fact, Dick has always been quick to leave with a thrown-together excuse any time he sees Tim in the Robin uniform—in Jason’s uniform. Tim schools his expression into something remotely casual. He doesn’t think it works. “Really? Just you and me?” “Sure. I’ll talk to Bruce and see if he can let you off training early on Saturday. We can tell him the carnival games are for aiming practice or something.” He winks. “Okay. That would—that would be cool.” Tim tries to hide his smile behind a sip from his shake. He shouldn’t be this excited about the smallest gesture, but he can’t help it. Just the fact that Dick acknowledges Tim and treats him like an actual person puts him on a golden pedestal as it is. Tim tries to ignore the way his string warms on his ring finger, seeking to betray him. Dick’s thread started out green but has slowly shifted to robin’s egg blue over time. Tim is fully aware of how silly it is to care about Dick this deeply like he’s a manic fanboy and Dick is his celebrity crush, but he can’t help it. Dick changed Tim’s life, and for that he will never stop being grateful. In the back of his mind he’s always wondered if Dick felt the same way, but Tim never lets himself check. He’d rather be ignorant than find a tattered string sitting at Dick’s feet, which is almost definitely the case. Dick barely knows Tim. He doesn’t have the attachment that Tim does, and Tim can live with that. He can. Besides, it’s probably better than Dick doesn’t return the feeling anyway. Tim would feel bad knowing that he stole yet another spot away from Jason.

Continue reading on AO3!

[deliciousscaloppine]

Hot Takes Galore: A brief overview of fandom backlashes that influenced fanfiction writing traditions as I have personally experienced them:

In today’s segment I am going to talk about copyright infringement.

First let me preface this by saying I have only ever been in 3 fandoms, starting from 2008 and I have never been terribly active - like this blog has been the most active I’ve ever been in any fandom ever. I am not going to talk about particular fandom dramas because I am pretty clueless about that. What I am going to talk about is that friction between “reality” and online spaces that brought about changes that are still in effect today in the way fanfiction is written and perceived.

In 2008 as I was entering, nearly every piece of fanfiction had a disclaimer about the author not owning the characters, which were the property of Corporate Entity X, or Author Y, and also not profiting from the work in any shape or form. At the time getting money from writing fanfiction was a gigantic taboo, and almost no one did it, or advertised that they did. 

But as I understand through convention culture printed writing did circulate in exchange for money (zines), and at least in Japan one could sell doujinshis (self-published stories and comics, often within the framework of another work) in certain events. Although this was largely considered “illegal” under copyright laws, and artists could be persecuted or blacklisted from entering the industry if discovered. That’s also why fanartists often to this day may screen where and when their work is viewed, and move to take down reposts, or call others to protest if artworks are circulated without permission outside of the artist’s page.

Older fandom people also hated authors that moved against fanfiction, a big case being Anne Rice, the vampire lady everyone - including me - copies when writing about vampires. And now I am going to talk a little about that.

Usually, writers, just sit somewhere cosy and write, and often they have no idea, absolutely no idea, on how to manage their writing properties - usually a lawyer does that, and lawyers want A Lot Of Money (A brief brush with justice and lawyers over a civil dispute I won, cost me 1000 euros out of nowhere, in a single day, and no I couldn’t avoid it because I was the accused one, so I had to appear with some representation). 

So sometimes, quite often, it’s a lawyer that activates a writer or other artist to move against “smaller” copyright infringements, in order to make bank. And if one suffers such a case, they should make it as apparent as possible to the other party that they have no money, and the pressure will go away immediately. But even MORE OFTEN a small copyright infringement, may lead to a sequence of bigger ones, and ultimately the de facto loss of rights from one’s writing properties, and of course revenue. 

And for a lot of published authors, they just don’t know for how long they can publish things - publishing houses that have them signed can close, book sales can drop, tastes change, personal problems, and anything else may mean that they could find themselves without a source of income at any point in the future, while they are aging and becoming more and more irrelevant. 

A very famous case currently, is that of Alan Dean Foster, the writer who has done some novelizations for movies like Star Wars and Alien, and is no longer receiving revenue from that - while his wife is hospitalized and their family needs the income - because Disney absorbed the company that had signed the contract with him, and chose to not honor the previous contract. To make them pay he will have to go into a huge legal battle with a corporate giant, which he cannot afford. But they still absorb income from these novelizations.

But how does fanfiction tie into that, and Anne Rice’s case (which if memory serves right, also went through a series of personal problems, including her husband’s death during that time). 

So for a lot of writers, fanfiction may be that tiny breach that may threaten their rights in the future from tresspases of distribution networks. Meaning, people write vampire fanfiction based on Anne Rice’s work? What if another publishing house used the template of her works (historical settings, bleeding orifices, religious themes, homosexuality and sexual trauma etc) and produced a royalty free series of such works with a team of professional writers that do not own the work - who often have less rights, like not owning the characters, or the storylines, participating in a very small scale, so their payment goes down etc)

And in this way EVERYONE SUFFERS. Big Name Published Author fades into obscurity and goes into poverty and payroll writers are horrifically abused.  

A lot of hobbyists, and hobbyist writers whose sole dream is to be published in some shape or form, do not really care, and do not concern themselves with the legal aspect of creation, or the technical skill that it takes to produce writing on a consistent basis, which can only happen if you’ve got your basic needs covered. So they might see this type of backlash as inherently privileged. 

But it’s not really a privilege, there has been a global recession in basic working rights for everyone, and lovers of fiction don’t have to condone, of course, attacks against them, but they need to put that kind of backlash in perspective. Someone did write the content you enjoy, THEY ARE NOT DEAD YET, and may have opinions on how it should be managed, especially when it pertains to their livelihood. 

It’s a delicate balance that we all must keep in order to keep corporate regulations out of it.

For instance with the recent danmei explosion The Untamed brought forth, Ao3 was banned in China. Now a lot of you might know that this was caused by some real person fic involving the actor Xiao Zhan, which led to a whole other level of drama. But make no mistake this was a political act to protect the interests of the domestic publishing industry as it prepares to do an international opening that will bring in several billions from foreign markets.

Because Ao3 has been expanding as a platform globally it brings about changes, and in many cases steals readers away from traditional publishing, so it becomes unacceptable economically for a bunch of hobbyists to influence tastes, market mores, and create sensationalism around certain properties out of literally the blue. This is not a good thing for a lot of corporate thinking, they set the product and we are supposed to buy it. We are not supposed to go, it would look greater with a bunch of anal, and then put forth a million words altering the character of the intellectual property.

Why you ask? Again, because another publishing industry might choose to imitate the style of danmei fanfics and produce works that hijack readership, or lead to breach of contracts, making an unsafe environment for workers in this industry (Xiao Zhan’s case.)

Nowadays I see more and more fanfic authors coming out of their shell to ask money for writing in the form of donations, patronage and commissions, as fandom involvement is also becoming vastly monetized. The market of conventions coming into social media platforms. A strange more exists still in which while “legally wrong”, as long as money is not asked on the publishing platform (Ao3), it may not count as copyright infringement. But fanfic authors, may still be treated with hostility for this, for not “deserving” to profit from someone else’s properties, or even worse for “stealing” readership. 

For instance a recent argument I have seen from lgbtq authors, is that they remain unsupported by fandom spaces, who often proclaim themselves as lgbtq or lgbtq friendly (something that is not true), but at the same time they are not looking for published lgbtq stories, or authors, or even treat these with open hostility, or a lot of bias.

Fandom is not comprised from “readers” in the traditional sense, definitely not friends of literature, and it’s free, no one really has to pay anything to read a published fanfic.  So it’s a pretty loose demographic with no set characteristics, and no interest in investing time and money in something for long. It’s an online social activity and not a readers’ movement, highly influenced by peer pressure and branding. It’s basically a gigantic group of people who don’t really do anything for no one, and may develop a parasitic connection to intellectual properties (I am sorry peers, it’s the truth). 

And it’s perhaps the biggest counterculture scene at the moment in the developed world. To this day it treats even its own authors with tremendous suspicion, disregard and dismissal, meaning that even if someone can get some money and recognition locally through writing fanfic they are on thin fucking ice at all times for all the reasons but mostly attracting unnecessary attention to themselves and subsequently the scene.  A pattern that we will see is endemic to all forms of fandom backlashes.

So to this day in contrast with fanart, fan writers may not be compensated for their troubles, but may also be ousted from their domestic professional spaces for writing fanfic that may infringe on their intellectual property. 

The thing is, for me, that fandom culture can become incredibly supportive of corporate practices that harm actual people (writers, they are people too) but when they realize that the same corporate practices may be used against them, it’s too late to realize that it’s not a lottery of who wins by crying more, and by the time that happens, a corporation or industry who has used them to do its dark bidding, can stop catering to them  because ultimately they have become again irrelevant once a well defined demographic of  readers and viewers has been secured.

So if you are going to do counterculture, at least do it right. Be respectful of the writers/authors of the content you consume and mindful of their troubles, do not generate public strife that brings in political regulation in favor of corporate interests. Become interested in writing culture, support your fanfic authors with lasting engagement in their work, even if it escapes the narrow confines of a certain fandom. It’s simple. Eat, live, pray, fuck, or something.

[mybunnyparadenme]

Truce

Summary: A late night conversation between Mysterion and Professor Chaos. A/N: New Snapshots chapter! This one’s silly, hope you guys enjoy~!

It was a peaceful night, unusual for this part of town given how late it was. There had been some heroic action a few minutes prior, but now two costume-clad teenagers were relaxing on the rooftop, leaning against the back of a billboard and deep in conversation.

"Wait, let me get this straight." Chaos said slowly, attempting to make sense of Mysterion's last sentence. "You're saying we have a... following? Of people who write stories about us?"

"Well, they're not exactly 'straight'..." Mysterion said, a wry smile forming beneath his mask.

Chaos couldn't help the laugh that escaped his mouth. "Okay, I guess that makes sense, since you said it was mostly the asian girls doing it. How'd you find out about it?"

"My sister found this website and showed it to me. I have it bookmarked here, look." Mysterion dug around in his pocket and pulled out his phone.

Chaos scooted closer towards him, peering down at the tiny screen riddled with cracks. "Oh, that's in real bad shape. Do you need a phone case? I've got a really nice one in my evil lair somewhere."

Mysterion raised an eyebrow at him. "I don't think a phone case would help at this point."

Chaos shrugged, his face carefully neutral. "It couldn't hurt though. And besides, it's purple. It would match your whole color scheme perfectly, Mysterion."

He narrowed his eyes at Chaos, though there was a sly smile starting at the corner of his mouth. "It kind of sounds like you're just trying to lure me into your evil lair, Chaos."

Chaos gave him an wide eyed look, way too innocent to be real. "I don't know what you're talking about, mister. We called a truce ten minutes ago."

The best part of a truce was the moment you could go back on it, but Mysterion wasn't about to ruin the fun by admitting what they already knew. Instead he turned his attention back to his phone and nodded. "Alright, I'll take you up on that offer. We can head over there after I show you these. Damn this is taking forever to load."

"This area never has good reception." Chaos said reassuringly.

"Nah, it's probably my shitty service. Ah, here we go." Mysterion moved so that they could both see the screen better. There were a few more stories now from when he'd last checked the page.

"Wow that sure is a lot!" Chaos leaned in closer, his arm pressing against Mysterion's. He didn't seem to notice as his eyebrows came together while he read through the titles. "Super Craig and Wonder Tweek Love Story... Wonderlust... Superficial, oh that one's kinda clever. Looks like a lot of these are about those two, huh?"

"Yeah, but it makes sense when you realize the writers are the same girls who drew all that yaoi fanart of them."

Chaos smiled. "I think it's sweet. It's like a love letter to their relationship. Oh here's one that's not about them. It's called... A World of Chaos?" His eyes widened. "Wait, is this one about me?"

Mysterion scanned the summary underneath the title and bit the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing. "Yeah, it's your villainous backstory! Damn, check out that word count."

Chaos looked like he was fighting back a grin. "I can't believe people are writin' stories about me! I figured they'd want to focus mostly on the good guys, seeing as nobody likes villains."

Mysterion didn't bother hiding his laugh this time. "Dude, are you kidding? People cream themselves over a good villain backstory. Bonus points if the hero has a thing for the bad guy at some point." He gave Chaos a playful nudge and wagged his eyebrows suggestively. "Or the other way around."

Chaos turned pink underneath his silver helmet. "S-So they probably write about you an' me huh?"

"I've seen a few, yeah." Mysterion said, clicking onto the next page. His eyes lit up, a teasing edge lifting the corner of his mouth. "Though Chacoon's way more popular on here."

"Chacoon? What's that?" Chaos asked. He peered down at the screen, his curiosity slowly morphing into quiet despair as he read through the page. "Me and The Coon? Aw, why are they linking the two of us like that? I could do way better than him."

Mysterion grinned, taking just a bit of pleasure in the disappointment on his Chaos' face. "Yeah, I can think of at least three other heroes you'd be better off with. And if it makes you feel any better, I've seen a few stories with me and the Coon as a couple too. There was even one the other day with me and him fighting for Human Kite in a love triangle."

"Well that's just drama for drama's sake." Chaos said. He looked relieved to hear that though, and a small smile brightened his face. "Who ended up winning in the end, you or The Coon?"

"Hell if I know, I only skim the stuff." Okay, that was a lie. He wasn't actually invested in the love triangle! Redheads didn't really do it for him the way cute blondes with twangy accents did, but the writer's style was actually really good. He got caught up in the suspense and well, he was now eagerly awaiting the next update... He cleared his throat loudly, trying to hide the embarrassed flush creeping up his face.

"You okay?" Chaos asked.

"'m fine." He said, slouching lower against the back of the billboard. "Just feeling tired after the workout you put me through earlier."

"We were running around an awful lot, weren't we?" He reached into his pocket and pulled out an energy bar, holding it out to Mysterion with a cheerful smile. "Here ya go, it's not much but maybe it'll help?"

"Oh." Mysterion blinked at the colorfully wrapped offering for a second, then took it gratefully. "Thanks, dude. Hold my phone while I get it open?"

"Of course." Chaos scrolled through the rest of the stories on the page while Mysterion tore open the energy bar, humming a little tune under his breath. He didn't go snooping around like Mysterion had expected him to, and gave it back the second his hand was free again.

"Kinda weird that you didn't take advantage of that moment, Chaos." Mysterion said, scrolling down in between bites of his energy bar.

Chaos tilted his head curiously. "What do you mean?"

"I literally handed you an opportunity to do something chaotic." He said, gesturing to the phone in his hand. "You could've changed some of my contacts or deleted a few photos, or even let it drop into the alleyway."

Chaos frowned, his eyebrows coming together just under the line of his helmet. "But why would I do that?"

Mysterion didn't say anything. The energy bar was starting to taste less like blueberries and more like guilt. "Because that's what bad guys do?"

Chaos shook his head immediately. "Well yeah, but we're still in a truce, Mysterion! And well, doing something permanent like that would just be mean."

Right, the truce. Out of all of the people that still played this game of good and evil, he and Chaos were the only ones who would take breaks like this in between fights. Chaos was the only one he trusted enough not to get in a cheap hit, and here he was assuming things like an asshole. He sighed. "I'm sorry, dude."

"Aw, no need to apologize!" Chaos said, giving him a reassuring smile. "You're just following your heroic instincts, and it's always good to be wary around your enemies, truce or no truce."

Mysterion groaned, though the hints of a smile were starting to form on his face. "God, stop being so nice, Chaos. If you keep this up you're gonna make me look like a total dick."

"To who, the asian girls?" Chaos laughed, a light, contagious sound that quickly got Mysterion going too. Their voices echoed in the still night air, and it was a couple of minutes before it was quiet again.

"Hey, Mysterion?"

"Yeah?"

Chaos stared down at his shiny silver boots, dangling off the edge of the scaffolding. His face was serious now. "You mentioned before when we were looking at the website, how you could think of heroes I'd be good with..." He brought his hands together, tapping his knuckles in an all too familiar gesture. "Just out of curiosity, who were you talking about?"

Mysterion felt his shoulders tense at the pointed question. He cleared his throat, wishing he had some water to wash down the now too dry energy bar. "Ah, nobody in particular, really. I was just letting you know you'd have better options."

Aluminum foil crinkled underneath his hands. "Well, I could've sworn it sounded like you had specific people in mind. You were sayin' that you knew three heroes I'd be good with."

"So... are you asking me to hook you up with someone?" Mysterion asked, a heavy feeling settling into his gut. He'd been wanting to cheer Chaos up when he'd said that, and it wasn't like he was lying or anything. A few of his teammates in the Freedom Pals would sometimes look at Chaos the way Mysterion did when he thought no one was looking.

Chaos was quiet for a long time, a pink blush creeping up his face even as a nervous frown tugged his lips down. "W-Well, I... I kinda-"

He was cut off by a bell sound coming from Mysterion's phone. They both blinked down at the screen, and Mysterion felt a wave of relief go through him at the sudden distraction. He didn't know what Chaos had wanted to say, but right now he wasn't sure he was brave enough to hear it. He cleared his throat. "Hey look, a story's been updated!"

"The website gives notifications?" Chaos asked. He looked interested, but was also clearly relieved at the change in conversation.

"Not exactly." Mysterion said, his shoulders relaxing as he clicked on the story. "I'm actually following this one."

There was a teasing glint in Chaos' gaze, all the tension from earlier disappearing from his face. "I think you're more invested in these stories than you're willing to admit, Mysterion."

He couldn't really deny it at this point, no matter how embarrassing the truth was. "Fine, go ahead and laugh at me but this person's really talented! Check this out, they add illustrations and everything."

"Ooh, really?" Chaos leaned in so close he was practically in Mysterion's lap. His eyes lit up at the pictures that were scattered through the page. "Wow, this person's really good! I like the way they drew your costume, but they got your hair color wrong."

Mysterion grinned. "I think they gave me dark hair to fit that 'tall, dark, and handsome' vibe. Do you think I should dye my hair to match?"

"I think the color's great, you could definitely pull it off." Chaos looked away from the screen for a moment, his eyes settling on Mysterion's hair. "But you look good like this too. Especially now that it's not hidden under a hood."

Mysterion ducked his head, hiding the blush that rose to his cheeks at the compliment. "Too bad my head's always cold, huh?"

"Yeah." Chaos agreed, reaching into his pocket to get an energy bar for himself. His expression froze when he saw that the next picture was of him. "Oh gosh is that supposed to be me? I look like a rockstar!"

"They always draw you looking really cool." Mysterion said, smiling at how shocked Chaos looked. "I think the writer's a big fan of yours."

A huge grin lit up his face. "I'm so flattered! And I think the eyepatch is a great addition to the costume, I kinda want to start wearing one for real. Is there a way to talk to them on this website? I wanna tell them they're awesome!"

"Hang on, you don't want to risk compromising your secret identity." Mysterion said, careful not to scroll to far down to the comments section. He was willing to follow under a pseudonym, but he'd be damned if he was going to start a conversation with yaoi fangirls.

(Well, more damned than he usually was.)

Chaos looked disappointed as he took a bite out of his energy bar, but he nodded. "I guess you're right. But I could still wear the eye patch though, just for fun."

"And hide those big doe eyes?" Mysterion placed a hand dramatically over his heart. "Oh say it ain't so, Buttercup!"

Chaos jolted at the nickname, and suddenly the bite he'd just taken out of his energy bar became lodged in his throat. He started choking and it took Mysterion a few seconds to register what was happening. Of course he then immediately sprang into action, delivering several hard thumps on his back before Chaos finally coughed up the half-chewed mess onto his hands. They both winced at the mess, but Chaos flicked it out into the alleyway next to them and gave Mysterion a shaky smile. "Th-Thanks, you really saved me there."

"There's a plot for a love story if I ever heard one." Mysterion smiled back, but his heart was racing in his chest and his hands were shaking. Holy shit, that had been terrifying.

Chaos laughed, softer than usual after the trauma his throat had gone through it sounded no less genuine. "The hero saves the villain's life. That's not a bad idea at all, Ken."

Mysterion shivered at sound of his real name. They always stuck to their personas while in costume, but he'd gone and slipped up first and now Chaos... Butters was doing the same. He bit his lip nervously, heart hammering in his chest for a different reason. "Hey Butters, about before-"

"There you are Professor Chaos!" A voice called from the opposite rooftop. They both turned to see General Disarray standing on the ledge, waving a hand in their direction. "Are you okay? Do you need me to come over there and help you out?"

"I'm fine General, don't worry!" Chaos said waving back cheerfully. He turned to face Mysterion, revealing a smile that showed way too many teeth to be friendly anymore. "Looks like our truce is over for now, hero. Next time we meet we're enemies again. Oh, and I'll bring you the phone case tomorrow at school, okay?"

"Okay, looking forward to it." Mysterion said, not moving as Chaos stood and joined his sidekick on the other rooftop. He watched as they disappeared into the night, not bothering to follow after them at first. It was only fair to give the two of them a headstart, let them have a chance to actually do something villainous before he swooped in to stop them like always. His feelings could wait until the morning.

After all, tonight they had their roles to play.

[ahiddenpath]

My Current Thoughts on Writing Fanfics

I’m so glad I’ve had this bloggity since 2012, because I can see how much my approach to writing has changed!  I wanted to touch base on where I am now, plus answer the most common questions I receive about writing fanfics beneath the cut.

Obligatory disclaimer: I’m a hobbyist writer, this is meant to be taken as opinion/reflection, not advice, different approaches work for different people, annnnd also check out my digimon fanfics (FFN and AO3).

How do I develop a regular writing habit?

I’d start by setting aside 15 minutes a day to write.  Don’t focus on word count- writing x number of words can be intimidating, but most people can sit for 15 minutes and get something down.  If you’re writing on a computer, turn off the internet and place your phone out of reach

Gradually increase the session length.

Never worry about the quality of your writing while you’re drafting.  That’s what editing and subsequent drafts are for.  I have a post on utilizing successive drafts to combat writing paralysis here, but the tl;dr is that the pressure to write a perfect story in the first draft often turns writing into an agonizing trial instead of creative play.

Your first draft is bad, period, at least compared to what it will be.  In the kindest way possible, get over it.  Your value as a writer- or as a human!- isn’t tied into your questionable first draft.  Please explore your story in the earliest stages with enthusiasm, not criticism!  You’re going to make it so much better by the time you’re finished!

How do you write so much?

See, here’s one of the biggest changes in my mindset compared to my early days as ahiddenpath.  I used to think that doing all of this writing was like... extra credit, like a stretch goal I pushed myself to achieve.  

I learned in therapy starting in 2018 that the reason I keep writing is because I have to.  I have general anxiety disorder, and my brain...  Have you seen an old-timey cartoon with a boiler?  They are drawn swollen, metal distorting with steam pressure, rivets groaning and popping free.  That’s how I feel if I don’t write.  Don’t ask me why or how, but writing is like turning a valve to release the pressure.

(Quick PSA- my therapist calls creative outlets “coping skills.”  If you feel like you have boiler brain, make time for your hobbies, no matter how tired you are.)

For me, writing is challenging play.  Although I’m often conveying messages that matter to me or exploring ideas I want to work through, and I try to make the best product I can...  I don’t take it seriously, and I don’t sweat over it.  I’m here to wander, play, and take care of myself.

So basically, I think the recipe for producing lots of writing is: regularity/habit (do it every day, even for just a little while), minimizing distractions, separating the processes of drafting and editing, turning off criticism in the early stages of drafting, and writing for yourself and your own needs.

 Do you feel embarrassed about writing fanfic?

Nope.  I write for my mental health/because it’s fun, period.  However, I also don’t tell people IRL that I write fanfic!  But I’m a private person (I don’t tell people IRL that I’m asexual, for example, and I only tell them I have anxiety if I freeze up in front of them).

Do you feel embarrassed about writing OCs/fakemon?

Hahahaha!  Look, I know there are lots of people who won’t read OCs and fakemon.  I know there are probably people who wish I would stick to more canon stuff (both in terms of OCs and my strong preference for AUs).

But I’m here to write what I want, and while it makes me happy when people read and enjoy my work...  It’s no skin off my back if they don’t.  I already fulfilled my goal of taking care of myself.

Don’t you want to get published and make money for your writing?

No, not at this time.  For everyone who has said that I have the writing skill to be published, thank you so very much.  That’s so kind, and I truly appreciate it!

But...  The United States has the enormous capitalistic attitude problem that endeavors are only worthwhile if they generate capital.  I can’t even begin to tell you how damaging this concept is- literally, I’m not equipped with the sociopolitical educational background.  

Sometimes I think I’d like to become a published novelist?  But sometimes I recall that I have a dope research gig, and I wanna play around with writing in my free time.

To be clear, I’m not saying that you shouldn’t pursue your creative career dreams!!!  And, who knows, maybe some day I’ll get tired of research and want to try swapping to the hobby/skill I’ve spent so much time refining.  Just...  Never stop doing something fun and harmless you enjoy because “it doesn’t make money.”  

I’m not gonna sit here acting like I know what the purpose of life is, but I think having fun and meeting your needs is pivotal.

Okay, so how can I support my favorite fandom content creators?

Bless you, f’real.  The easiest way is to comment on their stuff.  For meta writers, leave comments, engage, ask questions.  For fanfiction writers, leave reviews.  I have so many lovely folks who chat with me over Tumblr or discord after reading my stuff, which is so great.  But it’s hard to find those sweet messages later.  I can always click on reviews any time I need a little positive reinforcement/boost.  So, even if you’re going to talk to the writer later...  Leave that review!

If the content producer uses social media, reblog their stuff to give them more exposure.  Likes are for you, so you can find a post later.  Reblogs are for the creators, so other people can see their work.

Things like fanart, fanfic of fanfic, cosplays, and other... fan content of fan content make our year, I promise!  We love that so stinkin’ much!

Some fan content producers have a ko-fi and/or a patreon, so sometimes there are monetary ways to show appreciation.

If you’re intimated by a content producer, please remember that we are all massive dorkasauruses.  I absolutely guarantee it.

How do you have so many ideas?!

Ah, I have a Future Projects page on my blog- I don’t think pages work on mobile.

But here’s the secret: ideas are the easy part.  They are literally a dime a dozen.  Heck, there are AU generators!  Just pick characters out of a hat and use an AU generator and bam, you’re off!  And even then, you don’t need a real idea to start writing!  I launched Four Years on the thought of, “hahaha, wouldn’t it be a mess if the Chosen went to college together?!”

We’re writing fanfic; we’re here to play.  There’s no need to crush yourself with the expectation that you must write the next hit thriller plot.

In my opinion, the much better question is: how do you manage your projects such that you complete them?

So, uh, how do you manage your projects?

I’ve established that I write fanfic to play and to take care of myself, but I do want to grow as a writer along the way.  And the best way to learn how to craft narratives is to practice completing them.  If you launch stories over and over and only write roughly 1/4 to 1/3 of the way through the story...  All you’re practicing is how to start a story.

When I first started writing as ahiddenpath, I did exactly zero planning (see the Four Years reference above).  I ended up with longfics stretching as long as 400K+ words- that’s over six novels (based on the average adult fiction novel length)!!!!!  It is so daunting to work on longfics, because you feel like the ending is nowhere to be seen.

SO most of my pointers circle around always writing towards your ending, even before you start!

-Decide what you want to say with your story before you start writing.

First, “what you want to say” doesn’t have to be a big, grand theme.  It can be as big as “how the trauma of their adventures impacted them after” or as small as “I think these dorks would have a good time at laser tag.” 

I’m not talking about a detailed outline (in fact, I personally hate outlines).  Just know what your story is about and make sure what you write points to it.  If you can make the structure of your story mimic your theme, even better!  But no worries if that doesn’t work out, it’s not always possible.

-Write linearly

The best way to keep moving along in your story is just to... keep writing it in order.  This helps achieve regular updates, and prevents you from potentially “losing” material if you change your mind about the plot before reaching the bit you wrote already.  This happened to me so frequently that I stopped writing ahead of myself.  If I have an idea, I write it down, but I don’t draft future scenes.  In my experience, they often never see the light of day.

I’m told people often write the bit of the story they most want to write first?  If you have a single scene that you’re really longing to write, but you don’t know how to get there/don’t want to write the rest...  May I suggest that you... don’t write the rest?  If your scene works as a oneshot, write that oneshot!  Don’t torture yourself with a lot of writing you don’t want to do.  Most often, people end up forcing their way through 1-4 chapters, then stalling before ever reaching the Good Bit. 

A moment of silence for all of the unwritten Good Bits out there.  Now, some Enya.

If you can’t reduce Good Bit setup to a oneshot, reduce as much as possible.  I think that sometimes, people underestimate the incredible advantages of writing fanfiction?  Everyone knows your characters already, and maybe even the setting, if you keep it canon.  You can cut out the setup and dive right into what you want to do with the characters! 

-Think about the structure of your story before you start

Considering the structure of your story is a fantastic way to estimate how long it will be/ensure that there is an ending in sight from the start.  For example, in Voices, I covered a single school year in Japan, writing a diary entry for a different Chosen every day, so I knew that I would write the story for roughly a year.  After August had one chapter per Chosen, so each child could help Taichi deal with his post Adventure trauma in their own way, plus an opening and closing chapter.  My Tri story, Tri: Integrity Lens, is written and posted in installments covering each Tri movie.

It’s fine if no particular structure strikes you.  I could see forced structure turning into a gimmick, you know?  But if it naturally works out, it’s a great way to have a solid idea of how much story is ahead of you before you start, and where the story will end.  And being cognizant of how and when a story ends from chapter one yields a tighter, shorter fic, one that you’re more likely to complete.

-Consider writing in batches/sections before posting

So lately, I’ve been experimenting with how I deliver fanfic updates.  I mentioned that my Tri fic follows the Tri movies.  Each movie is covered with a few 3,000-6,000 word updates that I post every other week.  I cover an entire movie before posting any of it, and then I plan to take a break in between movies to work on either the next movie or a different fic.

AND THIS IS SO GREAT!  Having large chunks of my story written is such a fantastic way to do things!  I keep thinking of little details I can add/things I should mention and noticing inconsistencies I can fix before posting.  Giving myself a larger picture and time to mull over it by spreading out updates is making a huge difference for me.

Plus, giving yourself little breaks between installments can help keep you fresh and motivated, while leaving your audience waiting at a nice, natural stopping point.  Plus, this way they know that you haven’t just... up an vanished or dropped a story.  You’re just taking an announced break.

How do you plan stories?

I believe I mentioned hating outlines.  I personally respond best to “structured freedom.”  I focus on things like: what are my themes/what do I want to say, how will the characters grow or regress, how is this story structured or formatted, what is the overall tone and mood.  Other than that, I keep things fluid...  Which is why it’s so important for me to enforce some kind of ending point before I begin.

Basically, for me, too much planning = a boring slog where I can’t inject the moods and ideas of the day into my work without derailing meticulous plans.  Too little planning = longfic hell.  I’m guessing that everyone has to decide for themselves where they land on this continuum!  Exploration is vital.

Okay, I am out of steam for today.  If you have any other writing/fanfic questions you’d like answered, please let me know!  Here are some other resources I’ve made.

-Combating writing paralysis with successive drafts

-Dishing with an artist

-Tips for Fanfic Authors

-More Tips for Fanfic Authors

-Tips for Winning Nanowrimo

-Resources/Advice for Digimon Adventure Fanfic Writers

[counterpunches]

those who rot in the dark

Also known as Rhea was not the one captured after the Battle of Garreg Mach

inspired by this piece of fanart also on AO3

Her eyes closed to one type of stone and opened on another.

The last thing she remembered were the walls crumbling. And the screaming. So much screaming. Unable to move, her students' cries pierced her flesh and weighed far more than the rubble.

The screams haunted her still, in the darkness.  

***

They never told her what happened, no matter how much she begged or how loudly she shouted into the long corridor outside her cell. They never gave her anything.

They rarely came at all.

She never recognized anyone, and not just because in full armor, helms covered their faces. Voices never sounded familiar. Months of wandering around the monastery and exploring every new part of a life with people had her soaking up every small detail, from each stray cat to the faceless soldiers she grew to know like her own students, down to even the gatekeeper.

What she would have given to be greeted like that, again.

There were never such interactions these days, only the sound of iron shifting as bars slid and the door opened long enough for food to be pushed inside. The bowl rattled against the ground as it skidded over the stones toward her. It had been a long time since she stopped trying to pry small talk from them, let alone ask for details of her capture or the world beyond her four walls.

***

Only Rhea came with words, but it had been what Byleth could only guess were months since she last paid a visit. She bothered less and less often as time dragged on. The questions Rhea demanded Byleth had no answers to. She never did. Sothis had been silent for years now.

There were no answers for either of them. Only questions about her students’ well-being that picked at and bothered her more than the nits.

Did Petra manage to pull Bernadetta to safety? Was Linhardt able to heal Ferdinand in time to get him off the battlefield? The last thing she heard that day was a shout of warning from Hubert followed by Edelgard’s scream. Did she-

A cold feeling enters her chest. She presses her forehead into the stone.

***

She never heard other voices or cries from the cells nearby. No one else must be down here with her. Either the dungeons sprawled far larger than what she could sense, the Black Eagle Strike Force escaped capture, or they died. She’s not sure which option brings more comfort.

And what about the others not in her house? Are they alive, fighting in the war or been killed because of it? Is there even still a war at all?

She’s not sure which faction rules or who the Church has allied itself with. What little she does know is that it’s colder here than at the monastery. Somewhere further north then, she guesses. Faerghus, perhaps?

It doesn’t matter much, in the end.

***

Endless rats scratch in the dark.

Not for the first time, Byleth understands certain forgotten details far too late.

She misses the cats.

***

Even while at the monastery, she was never a devout woman. Despite the presence of a goddess dwelling within her, Byleth has long since stopped praying.

***

She almost misses the torture. At least it was something more than the stillness of the cell that pressed heavily from all sides. No stranger to pain as a mercenary, there was always the chance of capture and being pressed for information on who employed them.

It was madness, she feared. Returning to the blank, unfeeling numbness that had been her life before the monastery. Pain was something to hold onto. It ground her back to the world, made her feel. And for that, Byleth was grateful.

Sometimes she snarled, a bloodthirsty beast barely contained  - “I know she’s in there, you wretched girl.”

Other times, Rhea’s sweet voice would drizzle like honey. “Come now, mother. It’s time to be free.”

No matter how much she wished otherwise, no one ever answered. Not even her own blood.

***

It had been several days since she’d eaten. That wasn’t unusual, they’d tried the tactic before. But this time, a parade of footsteps. Clattering of armor and dangling weapons. Voices. Would they finally make up their mind about what to do with her? It’s certainly taken them long enough.

“I’m telling you, a body was never found! We searched, for weeks- ”

The cell bar is unlocked with haste and a hunched cloaked figure is pushed through first, arms bound behind their back. Byleth’s eyes are weak, and it takes her a moment to make out a jaw slack in shock and his eye (eye. Huh, that’s a new hallucination) widens through long hair in disbelief. “P-Professor?”

A blurry flash of red.

“This is what faith in the Church leads to. More lies to keep people in the dark for false truths that suit their purposes.” Edelgard practically spits in disgust. “Tell me, Dimitri, do you believe me now?”

She closes her eyes, exhausted by the noise, light, and tricks of her mind, leaning back against the stone wall once more. Silence must be answer enough because the phantoms shuffle back out of the cell and all is blissfully quiet once more.

Too much. It’s all too much and she’s so tired.

She’d imagined this all, of course. Thousands of times. Hundreds of ways. She must be growing weaker than she thought. It’s been weeks since the last vision. Perhaps death is finally near? She would welcome it this time, having cheated him more times than she could count, even before Sothis’ Divine Pulse came into play. One either became a very good mercenary or ended up dead. She’s long overdue.

She’s not certain if the manacles or her mistakes weigh more heavily. It doesn’t matter, she supposes. Both chain her to the past.

She folds into sleep’s embrace blissfully; it takes her in tender hands. Sleep is an old friend now. Her touch lingers in a gentle caress, cupping Byleth’s face.

It’s...cold. Like metal.

Something tickles against her cheek.

Inside, something soft and warm churns. This must be...a kiss. Yes, she decides, a kiss. She remembers seeing them before.

Lips pull back ever so slowly, and Byleth is suddenly keenly aware of how cracked and dry hers feel. Hot breath pants against her cheek. So that’s what the tickle was.

A sob breaks, cracking on the last syllable, “My teacher.”

***

She awakens to a cry and shuts her eyes immediately in pain, blinking against light shining through the window.

Window. Right, she remembers. Upstairs.

It must be morning. She raises her hand to shield her eyes and cringes as her palm smacks into her face instead. The weight is different, she realizes, glancing down at her scarred, bare wrists, feeling foolish. She used to be better than this.

“Professor!” Hurrying over, Edelgard looks concerned and relieved at the same time. “Are you alright? Why are you on the floor?”

A hand gently hovers behind her back as she sits up; guiding but not touching. Byleth looks over at the untouched bed piled high with pillows. “It was too soft,” she frowns. “It didn’t feel like anything at all.”

Quiet falls, again. She’d never been very good at speaking and years of imprisonment haven’t improved her conversational skills. She opts to stay silent, not knowing what else to say.

Only the quick clearing of Edelgard’s throat indicates a shift in tone. But the intimate concern from a moment ago evaporates, pulled back into formality. The Emperor speaks. “Forgive me, my teacher. I forgot myself yesterday and my actions were inexcusably inappropriate.”

Yesterday. The dungeon. She touches her wrist instinctively. Still bare. “I’m grateful,” she says.

Despite the lavish armor, cape, and crown, Edelgard somehow seems small. She blushes, “Grateful?”

“You freed me,” she says simply.

The blush deepens, but this time tinged with bitterness and sorrow. “I must beg your forgiveness for that as well, my teacher, for I was five long years too late. But that is not the matter to which I speak.”

“The kiss.”

Edelgard refuses to meet her eyes, locked in an almost half-bow. “Yes.”

Byleth’s brows knit together. “Don’t be.”

Edelgard pulls back, confused, finally looking up.

“It made me feel...human. Thank you.” It’s all the explanation she has to offer, but it seems to be enough. Embarrassment melts away until only Edelgard remains, who stands and after straightening out her cape, leans down and reaches out her arm.

Byleth smiles, takes her hand, and returns to the world.

[alchemist-shizun]

Sic itur ad astra?

Read on Ao3!

See the marvelous fanart!

Taglist: @bookwormscififan @be-more-chaotic @logicalberry @softanxiouspatton @pushussmollworld @kim-argent-moon @jeevashun @whizzie72 @jajathelivingmeme @mylifeisadeceit @sometimeswritingsometimesdying

General taglist: (tell me if you want to be added) @whizzie72 @sapphire-knight @burningpersonflapsuitcase

Word Count: 13,024

Characters: (prince!)Roman, (vampire!)Deceit, (mage!)Remus, (kid!)Virgil, (mage!)Logan, (mage!)Patton [These are all sympathetic]

Pairing(s): Roceit, (background) Logicality

Warning(s): Violence, blood, eye and face injury, crying, kissing, toxic parenting, death mention, swearing, locking up

Summary: He could see nothing from his left eye but there was no pain, there was no adjustment to be made because it felt like he had been like that his whole life. In the middle. Between pain and numbness, recovery and illness, sight and blindness. Life and death, light and dark. Because of his condition, all that he was, also wasn’t.

A/N: Holy stars. I did it. Okay Pardon me for taking so long, I realized it was going to be pretty long and I would have never been able to write it in less than a month. This idea originated from this post, but in the end it is really nothing like the Princess and the Frog. If you want easter eggs, check the name meaning of the places! And now, I’ll leave you to your hopefully enjoyable reading.

✾

Amnemoneo Town (Former Dukedom), 1865.

« I believe we reached your destination, sir. »

« I suppose so. »

A young man stood beside the gate of a manor, which was glimmering under the blinding sunlight of a Friday morning.

Baroque keys were placed in his hands while his eyes scanned the vividly emerald gardens that looked like real crystals, and contrasted the obsidian exterior of the manor. The building, decorated with gothic features, dominated the area and stood imposing.

The dark of the night would have made the sight … eerie, for sure. The sound of the carriage taking off brought him back to his senses, he turned to raise his arm in a greeting motion.

« Take care, sir … » he couldn’t hear his name over the rumor of horses’ hooves.

His hands moved swiftly over the lock, as if he had done the same motion daily over the years, one of those things you learnt to do with your eyes closed.

With a twist, the gate was open and he followed the rocky path towards the door. His short boots touched the ground in a consistent but not loud one-two, one-two pace.

Bronze plaques and other decorations beautified the entrance; the handle, picturing a lion’s head as the banality of that age’s symbolism wanted, made the young man smirk.

« How pompous. » he mused, and wondered what kind of high power once ruled over the land. A forgotten one perhaps?

With a twist of the handle to the right and some pulling toward himself, the man was surely not ready for the wondrous sight laid out in front of his eyes.

Not only the rooms were immensely spacious, but the expensive-looking furniture, the flooring and ornaments inside together with the perfect usage of dark and light spaces, made it seem like the world and nature around it existed in function to the manor itself. As if that space had always been meant to stand for that building alone.

The heels of his boots clinked against the marble pavement, his fingertips traced invisible discontinuous lines on the voile and velvet curtains he had started to open up.

He smiled as the house started to come to life.

Exploring new spaces often had this cathartic effect on him, as if he’d locked himself in a quiet small room and he had been in need of fresh air.

And when he stepped into a room, in the far back of the house, with dark curtains covering the entrance, when he heard the slight change of sound in his steps, that was when he allowed himself to look down from the garlands hanged on the walls.

Pulling odd familiarity. It was what he felt, what he was finally aware of sensing as soon as his honey-colored irises set their glare upon the pavement.

Tiny tiles of black, orange and white were the background and a frame for a yellowish skeletal figure, seemingly facing the earth. They were giving their back to the man, venturing in the void in front of themselves.

So he smiled. The pulling energy made him slowly move closer to the mosaic, lowering himself on his knees right next to it. His hand seemed to be moving with a mind of its own, hovering over the air right above the depicted skeleton.

Lower.

Lower.

He touched it and, as expected, nothing happened, except for amusement to wash over him.

Of course, what was he thinking? His fate wasn’t going to be like that, at least for a long while.

That wasn’t how beings like him ended up, trapped in a wooden box six feet under the ground. Most times, they were burned alive through howling screams of inhuman pain.

His smile faded and found himself lying next to the figure, his back on the uncomfortable tiles that dug into his skin.

Sure, he could have focused on the beautiful chandelier on the ceiling, the candles still extinguished from years of neglect.

Instead, his mind traveled toward mysterious paths and his hand went from the mosaic to his upper lip, narrowing his eyes and zoning out.

The tip of his tongue went over his upper teeth, causing his lips to part ever so slightly.

With the same hand now raised above his head, a sunray allowed itself to let his yellow glove glow into its presence. He took it off and his white skin shined along with the black of his nails.

People would have thought he’d have it burned off in a matter of seconds.

Legends were curiously foolish.

The man stood up in an agile movement, leaving the skeletal figure behind the same way the idea of death disappeared from his destiny when he had become a vampire.

« Let’s go get some sunburn. » he joked.

It was extremely painful, seeing how the gardens were practically bared of any kind of plant, the wild flowers that hadn’t yet died already wilting under the weight of their stem.

There was a saying back in his town. “Looking high and looking low”, a reminder of being aware of your surroundings in every situation.

Now, our marquis swore he had been careful.

At least, until the moment in which he only looked up at a cloud right above him, ignoring the acuminated object that he was about to step onto.

He could only face the ground before he shut his eyes in a flash and a metal object gripped half of his face, digging into his skin with a merciless push.

To that, the man contrasted a frantic pulling, removing the object as he felt a liquid substance leave his insides and spread all over his hands and face both.

If it hadn’t been for his pretty decent strength, he would’ve probably taken much longer to take it off. Then again, a human being would have been dead by then.

That wasn’t an option for him.

He clutched his face with his left hand, trembling with shots of pain, that traveled through his entire body.

Eyes squeezed shut, he stumbled in the dark and fell to his knees, seething with every doleful scream that escaped his lips wide apart.

He was hunched over himself, the sun rays hitting his exposed skin felt like violent poles through his neck, as he forced down his left arm and lowered it on his legs.

His non-injured eye tentatively opened to be met with nothing more than the contrast between his black clothes and his lavished white skin.

And …

he got blinded by something flickering on his palm. Did some of the rocks end up on his arm?

The unnamed man went for another try, shielding his eye with his free hand.

Gold.

His vision was dark and red with suffering, but all he could see was gold.

He bit hard at his lower lip, breaking it apart just enough to feel more of that same fluid flowing down. He raised his finger and wiped off some of it.

Again, gold.

His mind raced and, as he fell to the ground, blacking out of exhaustion, he came to a single conclusion.

“Royal blood.”

✾✾✾

And just like that, he was awake. The light was … dimmed. Not because grand part of the day had passed, but he felt like he was in the shade.

Well, that would have certainly helped prevent him from getting sunburnt, in the least.

Hold on a moment. Why was he lying face first in the middle of the garden?

« It’s him. » whispers came from around him, he turned his head and was met with three curious children faces.

Curiosity that soon turned into horror. Disgust.

Two children backed away and ran, like two dashing bolts of lightning, deep into the forest that separated him from the inhabited part of town.

One, though, was still staring at him.

He stared back, narrowing his eyes, confused by their reaction, the shadows that he thought he could see with his left eye – which had yet to focus on the scene – and the fact that he had barely woke from his … what? It wasn’t like he had decided to drop down and take a nap just like that.

« I know there’s someone that can help with that. » the kid in purple simple robes spoke softly, but with the typical high pitched voice of an eight-year-old.

Why wasn’t he able to see clearly from both of his eyes?

« Help? » he hoped they didn’t find out about him so quickly.

« Yes. » the boy had his hands wrapped around the gate bars, his face in between them. « For your scar and your eye. »

Everything came back to him at once, like a kick right to his teeth.

The hit, the pain, the screams.

The golden blood.

His hand went to his cheek and, even through his gloves, he could perceive the uneven section of his skin, as if someone had clawed it away. The left eye could only see shadows of the outside world.

Around him, as inexplicable as it sounds, bushes full of flowers had appeared on the grass where the blood had touched it.

So not only he was a vampire.

« Go away. »

But he now would have to also endure be called a monster.

« Now. » the urgency in his voice matched the harshness in his eyes.

The boy gave him one last glance, visibly more intimidated than earlier, and slowly walked away. He made sure to leave a certain piece of paper on the ground, though. Not because he wanted to litter, of course, the kid had manners!

It was just … in case the man needed him.

And he knew the man wouldn’t have lasted, as everything was going according to plan; before we may carry on with the marquis’ fate, we need to first introduce him.

His name was Remus, and he was a prince.

Hah.

Who are we kidding?

The name was Remus and he held the title of the most unfortunate soul of the kingdom he had wanted to forget the name of for about … as long as he’s had a conscience.

Still not convinced?

Let me tempt you to change your mind by starting from the beginning.

Remus was a duke and it was high time that he dropped in our story. Now, be mindful that we said was and not is.

The town he now lived in was once the Dukedom of Amnemoneo, which may sound familiar for our sharpest readers who were careful of our beginning statement.

Even for them, though, we need to go back to a couple of years earlier, when laws weren’t discarded and superstitions were stronger than a man’s own reason.

1839 was the rampant year of the estimated birth of the prince of Ameleia, an event which was awaited by all the people with profound trepidation: the face of the future ruler had always been a privilege for the world to see as soon as the opportunity presented itself.

What they didn’t know, though, was that they would have been blessed actually by two princes that year. What was wrong with that?

They were twins.

In the kingdom of Ameleia, during that particular age of radical puritanism, having twins was the equivalent of selling your soul to evil external forces of hell.

The thought of the good and evil twin, the angel and the literal Antichrist, it was so deep-rooted in the souls of the people that, despite the royalty’s awareness of how fake those beliefs were, the two brothers were forced to separate.

One destined to be a prince, the other to be the duke of an inconsequential land of the kingdom.

The good and the evil.

Only that, the dukedom wasn’t exactly … standing out in any field. Misery had started to pour down on its citizens which led to, eventually, fall into the pit of seemingly non-existent lands that the kingdom had forgotten about.

The sovereigns had also tried to forget Remus.

Judging by how often they made sure he was still alive, which was zero times since they parted ways as he was still a child to be raised by servants in the dukedom’s manor, they had probably made it, too.

So, just like that, when misery had devastated the town so much that any existent title fell and Remus found himself at sixteen locked out of his manor behind the woods, the servants declared their retirement to major families and parted ways with him once and for all. But most of all, he felt the utmost loneliness.

People in town didn’t know much about him, he was aware of his condition, but had always been refrained from talking about it with anyone other than the servants in the building he hardly ever left.

Until one day, around his- their eighteenth birthday.

He had tried his best to survive in the oblivion of poverty, he lived in an abandoned shop; Remus wasn’t exactly aware of how many rats he had crossed paths with while stumbling around the tiny rooms. Not to mention the cats that, seldom, decided to invade his vital space and scare him out of his life when they woke him up by hopping on his chest.

He should have considered windows, had there been any shop of that kind in town.

Don’t even get the people started on food, the subject that made the worst come out of them.

He had tried to go out in a moment that wasn’t the dark of the night. It didn’t exactly go as he had wished.

In front of him, two imposing royal guards blocked his way out of the door. Their faces edgy, expressions hard and eyes dull. It took him a moment to recognize them. Were they going to take him back? After all those years of neglect?

He flinched as both the men unsheathed their swords at him.

« Woah, nice to see you again, too. »

« Silence! » now who were they to behave like that in front of a person of such importance?

« Excuse me? Alright, I might look raveled but a couple of years rotting would do that to anyone. Even a prince like m- »

« Silence. » another repeated.

And hit Remus in the stomach with the hilt of his sword-

The boy contorted with pain with a hand on his stomach and the other on the ground, to alleviate his fall.

His mind raced trying to give himself a reason for their attitude. Two soldiers in disguise? Had he done something illegal? Did they mistake him for someone else?

His ears were ringing, but the only thing he actually heard was his mind going why, why, why, why?

« The royalty is coming. »

Remus regained that tiny bit of strength to look up at them and spoke with a broken voice. « Y-You mean my parents? »

A kick came to his face and he decided against speaking any further.

« Prince Roman is going to visit the Royal Manor, too. »

Oh, and who exactly cared?  Just another name in the “people that turned their back on you their whole life” list.

Why was he bothering to show up after eighteen years?

« And you, » the taller guard leaned down, spitting out his words. « Won’t be allowed out of this place until he leaves. Clear? »

Remus could only eye him from the ground he had been trying to get up from. « Crystal. » he muttered, without missing his sarcastic tone as the two men left.

So his parents were embarrassed of him to the point of not showing up in his presence? Big deal. Who cared?

He ended up spending a week of almost literal imprisonment before he was let out.

There was no living soul able to tell how he managed to survive. The boredom, though, had brought him to actually clean the place around for once and find out about its origins.

It happened when a singular book stood out of a shelf, as if eager to be picked up. Remus did as it desired. Pages flipped in front of his eyes before he had been able to touch a single scrap of paper and he was directed to a particular segment of a paragraph which seemed to be handwritten years earlier, before the former owner left the place.

Magic antiques were the only readable words.

After some looking around – and a myriad of unrecognizable unknown objects inside cabinets – he decided he was going to get to the bottom of it.

Thus the years spent into mastering the Art of Transfiguration all the bookshelves of the abandoned shop seemed to offer.

Of course, mistakes happened almost constantly at first, especially the permanent one that turned a streak of his hair white: he had been trying to recite a formula to turn one of the rats into an inanimate object.

He ended up transforming himself into a white animal, but that was beyond the point and he wasn’t going to bring that up to anyone. He’d have preferred to fake a heart wrenching and tragic backstory.

And, well, when he heard of the northern man coming to town on the same period of time as Roman used to yearly come back for some reason, when Remus learnt to automatically lock himself in his shop, an idea dawned on him.

And with it, he was sure he was going to get his Manor back.

That was the reason why, when he saw a boy in purple robes walking with a couple of kids in the deserted streets, mumbling about the gossip going around on the newcomer, he carefully approached with a piece of paper in his hand.

« Hello there, children. » he crouched down at their eye level. « Do you want to know a secret about him? »

And children? Well, they were far too gullible. What was even better about it was when fate was on your side; fate that, in that moment, had the name of a certain metallic trap he had left in the middle of the manor’s garden he hadn’t seen in years.

Everything was falling into place.

✾✾✾

Just like Roman thought earlier that day as both he and the newcomer had just arrived in town.

He had been walking around towards a lesser known path he used to take to reach a certain family’s residence.

That was when Roman saw him, standing next to an open carriage led by a pair of black horses that seemed to sternly stare him down.

He was … odd. Unlikely to be common part of the citizens, the man stood out compared to the commoners roaming in the streets and he was unable to tear his eyes off of him.

Unknown, however, kept his back facing the prince, as he helped the coachman heave up a bag on the carriage. He moved with delicacy even while stretching his muscles.

Roman wondered for a moment if he were living some kind of lucid dream.

Since there was no way for him to turn his head 360°, he forced himself to keep his gaze straight ahead and forget about that crystalline laughter he just so happened to overhear while walking on to other side of the road.

And, oh, what a particularly handsome look he portrayed with his features and-

Right, the household.

Blood that just overflowed left his cheeks and he crossed the hidden path: it was pretty weird how none, apart from the family he was about to visit, in that town seemed to recognize him. Still, his parents were always eager to remind him to let himself be seen the less he could, ever since he had decided to travel to Amnemoneo alone.

« Ro-bro! »

Roman’s head snapped up and a huge smile automatically spread on his lips, recognizing whose voice it was in an instant. He was only able to see a flash of purple running towards him as tiny arms were lacing around his waist.

A kid’s face looked up at him, big lilac eyes boring into his own.« You’re back! »

« Of course I am, Vivi. »

« I told you not to call me that. » the kid whined, frowning at him and loosening a bit of his embrace.

« Alright, alright, as you wish, my lord. » Roman lowered only to pick him up from under his shoulders.

« That’s a better title. » no ten-year-old should have been able to have that kind of sarcasm.

Roman scoffed. « I should tell Logan and Patton to stop spoiling you. »

« Falsehood! »

The prince couldn’t help but laugh as the kid mimicked his father, failing in sounding as serious as him. Roman held his hand out to the boy.

« Come on Virgil, let’s go in. »

✾✾✾

He loved visiting his friends. When he surpassed the limit between the street and the gate of their property, a welcoming warmth washed over him and he felt at home, like he’d always belonged there, a mystical comfort that eased up whatever worries concerned him.

Patton was to blame for picking up a few tricks from his wizard husband, for sure.

Roman knocked on the door and it didn’t take long for Patton’s arms to be wrapped around him with a gasp.

« Woah, hey buddy. » the prince stumbled backwards before releasing his friend.

« We sensed you were coming. » Patton confessed, pointing behind himself where Logan was standing, smiling and waving a hand in their direction.

Roman waved back, amused. « I literally can’t hide anything from you, can I? »

They invited him, basically being pushed and pulled by both Virgil and Patton, excitedly, towards a certain cake they all helped to make (especially Virgil for the little precise decorations.) in honor of his birthday.

Everything in their home sparked a magical energy: Logan had always been a mage in the shadows, careful not to be discovered thanks to his profession as biologist and doctor, in some way. After Patton made his way into his life, magic started being part of him, too. The barrier around their home was his doing, it kept away people with malevolent intentions and let the other ones be welcomed in a soft invisible embrace.

As for Virgil … they didn’t really talk about that. Roman knew something about a scientific experiment and a reject they found. He knew they had saved him and given him a life. But the kid wasn’t ready to know the truth yet, so it wasn’t a topic to bring up.

« Oh, speaking of which. » Logan lowered the cup he was bringing to his lips. « Did you hear of the marquis moving to town today? »

Roman snapped back to reality. « He’s a marquis? »

« You saw him?! » Virgil leaned forward with wide eyes and curiosity written all over his face.

All gazes were set on him. « Well, I believe I might have seen him before coming here. » the memory of the man’s figure flashed in his mind. « He didn’t look like he was from town. » Roman didn’t mention his other considerations.

« Are you going to marry him? »

Children and their perfectly embarrassing questions. But there was definitely nothing awkward about it, was there? He didn’t even know the man.

« Calm down, Vi, that’s not how it works. » Logan softly pushed him back against his seat to sit up straight.

« But he has a title, like Ro-bro. Isn’t it logical? »

He smiled. « Well- »

« You have to admit, » Patton chimed in, repressing a giggle. « Virgil has a point. »

Virgil turned to Logan with a toothy grin, a silent “see?” was understood between the two of them.

« Why don’t you ask Roman about it? »

« Yes. » the prince admitted with a defeated sigh. « I was planning on bringing him here to announce our engagement but you had to ruin that! » he faked an accusing tone.

« That’s what you get for betraying me! You said you were going to make me a prince. » Virgil pouted and Roman really had to stop himself from pinching his cheeks.

He stood up and approached him, crouching down next to his seat. « Let me tell you a secret. » he began stage whispering. « I can still do that, when I am king, you can become my prince son!  Come with me and run away from these two oldies. »

A chorus of “excuse you?” followed with the other two’s laughter.

As hours flew by and Virgil left to play with some friends, Roman found himself back at the front door, which was being held for him.

« Are you sure you don’t want to stay and eat something? » Patton searched the prince’s face with instinctual concern.

« You know it’s not a problem for us to conjure a seat for you. Or anything else, if you desire to stay. » added Logan, with a tone softer than usual.

Roman had always found endearing how protective they were of him: before they settled in Amnemoneo, they used to meet each other quite often. Logan and Patton seemed to be on every path Roman had to cross and, eventually, they grew attached to each other.

Then again, the prince visited their town every year around his birthday, in a sort of tradition, to have a little theatrical representation in his honor.

Only that he had to be given permission to occupy the manor, so …

« I must go to the town hall, to check the availability of the building, same old required formalities. » Roman half-smiled. « Thank you, regardless. »

And exchanging goodbyes, off he was, unaware of the fact that he had to make yet another trip to the building which was occupied by our beloved marquis.

✾✾✾

A beloved marquis who had left that same building a couple of hours earlier than when the prince had gone to the town hall.

He was … defeated. So, he surrendered to the will of persuasion and picked up the piece of paper left at the gates by the purple clothed kid.

A visiting card?

Looking like this, it was unlikely for him to show himself with the sun still shining up above in the surprisingly limpid sky. It would have rendered his scarred face just as clear to the ones roaming mindlessly in town.

For some reason, most of the population seemed to aimlessly wander about all the time, in a state of daze.

Was anybody actually going to notice his presence at all?

As if pulled by an outer force that had already made up his mind, the man crumpled up the paper card in his hand he clutched to his chest and moved through the forest like it was his second home.

He dragged his feet between the crunch of autumn leaves and the damp grass still suffering from the rain of the day before. His fingertip brushed the injured side of his face a second time.

And he felt nothing.

He could see nothing from his left eye but there was no pain, there was no adjustment to be made because it felt like he had been like that his whole life. In the middle. Between pain and numbness, recovery and illness, sight and blindness.

Life and death, light and dark.

Because of his condition, all that he was, also wasn’t.

So when he hurt himself to the point of almost mortally wounding himself, he also didn’t. The bleeding stopped in no time and the injury only left an ugly mark.

But, of course, on top of that, he had to discover he had golden blood. Royal blood, which meant not only sharper senses and abilities than average of his kind, but also an overly deadly power roaming in his insides.

Maybe that was why, years earlier, that old woman inexplicably died the day after she wiped his face clear of tears and offered him shelter. One of the many places he had to run away from.

The marquis had no time to ponder about his condition, as his feet stopped right in front of the entrance of his destination.

« Well, well, well, what have we here. »

He looked to his left and saw a man hanging upside down from the opened window, looking amused in his direction.

« I didn’t expect you so soon. You didn’t leave me time to make myself presentable! »

In all honesty, he had to agree. That other man looked … absolutely disheveled, as if he had dressed in the dark and hadn’t looked in a mirror for a lifetime.

Not that most of the citizens here didn’t send the same aura.

He looked down to the visiting card. « You’re Remus? »

« The one, » he began, moving swiftly from the window to the door he opened right after, stepping aside to let the man see the desert inside. « And lonely. » he theatrically bowed.

The marquis was then pulled in by Remus, who shut the door behind them and led them to a counter at the centre of the modest room.

« Now, let’s see. » he flipped through the pages of an enormous tome. « A curious spell for our particular vampire. »

The man’s eyes widened in shock.

« Wh- » he was met with a smirk. « How- » the marquis backed away, the utmost fright rising in his chest. His back touched the shelf against the wall.

« Aw, now, fear not, my dear foreigner. » Remus let the door open with a swift movement of his wrist. « You can leave, if you so desire. »

The newcomer eyed him warily. There was no way that wasn’t a trap.

Remus tilted his head and contorted his mouth. « You don’t want to? Fine with me. »

« Wait. »

« I’ll make you leave … as a newer person than how you entered! »

The marquis’ eyes were blinded by a flashing light that seemed to have completely devoured him.

He felt his body shrink, twist and contort under the weight of a thousand formulas that were operating on his form.

A thundering headache caught his forehead and he curled on himself until he couldn’t feel his limbs anymore, his eyes squeezed shut.

When he was able to open them again, he recognized exactly in what condition he ended up.

Remus had turned him into a bat.

But wait, he was already able to do that, what was the usefulness behind that?

He tried to get back to his human body.

And tried.

And tried again.

Nothing happened.

Dear god.

« Hope you enjoy your whole new life, special costumer, and remember, » Remus managed to drive the bat out of his shop. « No take-backs! » he slammed the door shut.

And the marquis flew away frantically for his life, which was probably going to change forever.

Only that he didn’t know it was because the encounter he was about to have at the manor.

✾✾✾

Gosh, that was inconvenient!

Roman played with the lock at the gates, going over the bass-relief decorated on top. The consistency of the material noted that a very long time had passed since someone had inhabited the place. Yet, now there seemed to be someone?

Waiting for them was the right thing to do and not totally creepy, right?

Ri-?

Like a flock of ravens storming away in the morning from the local farmer’s terrain, Roman heard an erratic drumming of wings toward his general direction and ducked whatever was coming down at him.

There was a thud and a screech before the prince was able to spot a barely moving bat lying painfully on the ground.

« Oh. » Roman stood in his place for a few seconds. « Oh, dear. » he crouched down next to the animal, which appeared to be a diurnal bat.

Perhaps it had gotten lost?

« Hey, little one- woah! » it tried to move, as if in fear of his presence, when Roman’s hand motioned toward its body.

He examined it to look for a way to heave it up and his eyes fell on the left wing. The broken tissue was tangled in a leaf on the ground.

« Oh, you poor thing! » there had always been this complex but profound understanding when it came to animals: he felt like they had some kind of connection with him.

As he leaned over the bat, he could almost feel its pain. He had to help.

Roman tried to pacify it by speaking softly, while he attentively eased it in his hands. He had a single place in mind.

« No panic, little friend. » he whispered, mostly to himself, biding his farewell to the manor and the unseen marquis behind himself. « We’re going to get you all better in no time. »

He had to find Logan again.

✾✾✾

« Did you change your mind? » Patton abruptly cut off as Roman stormed into his and Logan’s home for the second time that day.

« I require a hand. » the prince announced, approaching Logan who had been eyeing him since he entered the room. « A scientific one, if that’s possible. » Roman added, showing the animal cupped in his hands.

The bat tried to stretch both wings, failing miserably.

« That’s odd. »

« Huh? »

Logan searched for something specific none but him could name. « This is an adult bat and yet he seems to not have adjusted to his body entirely. » without taking his eyes off the creature, he moved them both towards the table Logan used for his experiments and works. « Furthermore, there’s no such thing as bat hunting here. And yet it looks like something might have scared him. Plus, there are no bats around here. »

The animal was laid on a piece of cloth on the table’s surface and the doctor started taking his tools out.

A pair of curious eyes stared from the other side of the room.

« Do you want to assist, Virgil? » Logan looked at him with the corner of his eyes, offering him a smile. The kid beamed and rushed to his side, while Roman observed their work from the other side of the table, Patton joining them shortly after.

« Be careful, please. » Roman stared in anticipation at the bat, as if expecting to feel pain in an empathetic sort of link.

Logan stopped and glanced at him through his glasses, a grin on his lips. « You still emotional over animals? »

« Shut your mouth and do your magical science. »

Though he was baffled at the oxymoron, Logan complied regardless, with Virgil handing him what he needed at his side.

It didn’t take long before Patton and Virgil were the only ones left in the room to tend to the creature as the other two discussed the happening over coffee.

« Could you imagine if he could talk? » the kid abruptly turned to his father. « He would tell us what he was escaping from. »

Patton made a humming sound, considering the idea. « Well, there might be a way. » he conceded, opening a small notebook and flipping through the pages. When he found the right spell, he turned to look at his son.

« Just for a couple of minutes, okay? » a mischievous but child-like smile formed on Virgil’s lips, satisfied.

That one was the exact moment in which all of our stories converged.

With Patton’s magic flickering in the room and toiling with the chains of the incommunicability between two beings that don’t talk the same language.

« Hey, Mr. Bat, you can talk now! »

« Oh, can I? » a sarcastic satin voice broke the anticipation. « Wait. Was that me? » the marquis’ day was already so weird, that might as well have happened too.

« This is so cool! It worked! » Virgil leaned enthusiastically over the animal, which was questioning the insanity of his earlier choice. Not that he could do much else.

« What worked? » Logan’s voice sounded hurried across the room.

« Oops. »

Patton revealed a sly smile to his husband, pretending they did nothing big like giving a previously non sentient creature the ability to speak.

At least they thought he wasn’t sentient before.

« What’s going on? »

« Virgil? »

« Patton! »

« Excuse me! » all those present turned their heads toward the source of sound, who was none else but the animal himself. « I believe I might be the most perplexed one in here. »

Logan sighed deeply and approached the table. « I apologize … » he stopped, unsure of how he should have carried on. « How do you address a bat? »

« Let me do the talking. » Roman shoved him aside, the buzzing feeling of his connection to the animal lingered. « Greetings, amiable creature. It just so happens that- »

« It’s you. » the bat stared intensely in Virgil’s direction after heaving himself up the best he could.

« Huh? » was all the kid could say.

« You gave me the card. You told me he would have helped. I wouldn’t actually call this helping, you know? »

Then, it dawned on Virgil. « You’re the marquis? »

« Precisely, somehow. »

Everybody’s behavior seemed to change at that; the kid realized his mistake, Roman slowly backed away in sudden shyness while Patton and Logan connected the dots.

« You sent him to Remus? » both of them demanded in unison, surprised. They had warned him plenty of times in the past not to approach the man’s shop: it wasn’t exactly because they believed him to be wicked, as they had never interacted, but any magician was at war with another unless stated otherwise. It seemed to be an unspoken rule, none was to be trusted.

« You know him? » the man, now bat, felt hope rise in his chest.

« Barely. » Patton admitted. « His shop has this weird peculiarity which causes it to change place within the town every day. He doesn’t seem to be bothered, but it’d surely be a pain to find him now. »

If bats could sigh in defeat, the marquis had just done that.

« Let’s start from the beginning. » Logan gathered some chairs with a swift movement of his wrist. « What exactly happened to you? »

Ah. That was going to be fun.

How to tell your story in detail while leaving out the plot points that determine that you’re a vampire while talking to four most likely intelligent people that could connect the dots in no time?

Truly a piece of cake for our favorite man of town, wasn’t it?

I came here, I contemplated my dead life on a mosaic, I injured myself with- I actually still have no idea what it was, a bunch of children saw me, your son handed me this visiting card, I went there and this charming guy had the nerve to transform me into a bat to solve my aesthetical issue.

Nailed it.

Okay, maybe that wasn’t exactly what he told them, but it was around there more or less.

Fortunately, they didn’t ask further questions; the real issue presented itself when Logan pointed out the hex Remus had thrown on the marquis was too powerful for his own magic.

After some discussing, they resigned to having to find him and force him to reverse the spell. Of course, in the meantime, Roman was the one to offer himself to help the bat in their mission.

« Oh! Are you going to marry him as a bat now? »

Roman sprinted out of the house with the animal in his hands as he heard a “What was that?” coming from him.

✾✾✾

« It must be tough, this whole situation I mean. To you. Finding yourself randomly flying at once. » Roman had no idea where all his eloquence had gone to, while he kept the bat steady on his shoulder.

They were on their way to the manor, just a few meters away from the gates, so that they could have made their plan to reach Remus while also arranging the place for the theater production.

Which was also never going to take place.

But Roman didn’t know that.

« Not really. » the marquis responded. « It’s easy to adjust to this condition. » he also was quick to add, as there were no means of explaining to the prince of the truth about his identity.

Mostly for his safety.

« Well then, that’s good. »

Awkward silence followed until the gates presented themselves to their eyes, now only a meter away. Of course, as the man’s body disappeared with his belongings, the key was gone too.

He guided Roman to a clearing in the bushes he had noticed before the inevitable had happened.

« Oh! That’s pretty. » the prince immediately marched towards a group of flowers seemingly put in a random disposition.

The marquis didn’t remember them being there.

He did remember golden blood, though.

« Wait! »

Roman halted altogether, confusion written all over his face. « They’re not going to eat me, sir. » he commented, as he crouched down in front of them.

« Please, you need to listen to me. » an urgent tone filled the silence of the gardens. « They weren’t there before. » an half-lie. « Knowing what happened to me, we better not touch anything else. » to preserve oneself.

Still baffled that simple plants could hurt anyone, Roman complied and slowly rose to his feet. His new direction was the wooden doors and, ultimately, that one very comfortable-looking sofa right in the middle of the vast living room.

The bat was placed on top of the coffee table and Roman leaned forward with his elbows on his knees to give him more attention.

In all honesty, he knew that was actually that tremendously handsome marquis he saw earlier that day, but gosh darn if he didn’t have the urge to pet the little animal every time he looked at him. Not his fault if he looked soft, now.

The prince cleared his throat. « Alright. The production can wait until we’ve found a way to turn you back. What do we know about Remus until now? »

« His spells are irreversible unless he’s the one to break them. »

« No asking Logan or Patton for help, then. »

« His shops shows up at random places at random times. »

« Unpredictable locations, we’d need to search the whole town every day. »

« He also looks a bit like you. »

Roman did a double take. « I’m sorry? »

If bats could shrug, the prince was sure he had just done that. « I’m just stating what I know about him. » he was given an odd look. « Don’t you worry, your majesty, you still win in attractiveness if that concerns you. »

And there Roman was, getting flustered because of a bat.

A handsome bat in person though.

He meant the person, of course.

Was he ever going to stop thinking about-

« I’m sure you do, too. »

« What was that? »

What the hell, Roman?

« Nothing! » he dramatically got up opening his arms. « So yeah, planning. »

« Sure. » the man didn’t sound convinced.

« The moment you heal your wing, you could fly up above the place so we can find the shop sooner. Until then, I could stay here and keep the rumors about your disappearance down by focusing the chattering on me, rather than you. »

« Am I wrong to believe you have a natural instinct of putting yourself in the spotlight or …? »

« Absurd. I am merely sacrificing my image to protect yours. » the ghost of a grin painted Roman’s lips.

« Oh, I am more than honored to be blessed by such generosity. » a giggle filled the room.

« I will grant you my protection. »

« I must thank you for your kindness, your Royal Highness. »

They would soon find to absolutely love that kind of bantering.

✾✾✾

Things … developed from there.

Between walks in town, with the bat rigorously on Roman’s shoulder and his claws gripping tight on his clothes, talks about their favorite interests.

Chasing.

They had almost made it once. They had seen a suspicious figure roaming in the narrowest streets. The man they saw had immediately pulled up his hood at their sight and vanished in the darkness of a dead end.

Underwhelmed by the event, they had called it a day and withdrawn to the manor.

That was when the marquis found out Roman actually recited lines from plays he had never heard out loud when dreadful feelings caught him.

He would lie on a mattress and throw an arm over his eyes. Then, his voice did the magic. He didn’t even need his body to express his emotions, already clear with the tone he used.

And yet, he whispered. He almost only mouthed them, but in his head, they were perfect.

To the bat’s ears, they were divine, to say the least.

Theatre was something they occasionally talked about, starting from the production that should have taken place in that very building, to every little piece of memory Roman held dear of plays he’d seen in his past.

He noticed his eyes shining bright as he jumped between different specks of his life, the excitement in his storytelling intensified every day more.

And with it, also the marquis’ … appreciation for the prince.

All the little details changed in his point of view as the weeks fled.

For instance, goodness, did he like his singing.

It was as if Roman went from reciting troubled monologues when sad, to singing his heart out in his happiest moments. And it was beautiful.

« Hold me. Whatever lies beyond this morning is a little later on. Regardless of warnings, the future doesn’t scare me at all. Nothing’s like before. »

When his wing had started to heal so much that he could fly a little, he often rushed to reach the prince and see the show.

And at some point, especially as Roman noticed him, he started partaking in them too.

Although he didn’t have a single idea on how acting worked and often ended up just mesmerized by Roman’s voice and the beauty that shined in him when he explained plots and intricate points with a fiery passion.

If somebody had asked him, he wouldn’t have been able to tell which was the exact moment where he developed feelings for the young prince.

Maybe upon hearing his giggling in the forest, while walking towards town. Maybe when he discovered yet another of his talents. Or maybe when he mixed singing with acting in the most splendid of exhibitions he had ever witnessed.

He had definitely come to terms with it when a thought dawned on him, the thought of having to leave him once his body was back. It ate away at his stomach, it was as if something inside him told him he should have stayed that way forever, if it meant keeping the prince by his side.

He didn’t want to lose him anymore.

Getting his body back would have meant having to part ways forever. The marquis knew he had to leave as soon as he could have. And it simply and utterly sucked.

He also knew he should’ve gotten rid of those feelings, none would have agreed to keep up with his lifestyle anyway.

Constantly on the run and go.

As he watched him dance alone in the mosaic room, he recognized that no, that wasn’t going to happen anytime soon.

✾✾✾

For Roman, it was a little different.

Sure, he had always thought that the bat looked kind of adorable, but he couldn’t shake off the realization that he had seen the marquis’s human body. He knew what he looked like and it was kinda like he was hugging him constantly when he kept him in his hands, close to his chest.

And it wasn’t like he actually wanted to change that, once the issue was over.

Though, the thought of that made his heartbeat a tiny bit faster than usual, which made him an awful lot more flustered, as if he had just told the person concerned.

The feeling didn’t vanish with time, but only strengthened.

He couldn’t even imagine his baffled expression as the marquis trailed off in one of their conversations as he started talking about issues deep within the human soul.

The bat’s immense knowledge of both psychology and philosophy was to be admired, maybe the biggest Roman had ever encountered even between the royals around him.

There were some literary circles, but sometimes human sciences were frowned upon and the royalty was denied any kind of education on them.

« Roman? » the marquis had called out to the man lying on the couch in front of him.

Who was, at the moment, inexorably asleep with his face in his arms.

He was going to apologise about that for the rest of his life, but hey, when you’re tired, you’re tired.

It was also pretty endearing how he woke up to a blanket messily laid onto his body.

What demoralised him, despite all the giddiness in his stomach, was when he noticed the marquis seemed to be keeping something from him. Nothing he could pinpoint exactly, yet he knew there was a topic he brushed off.

Mostly when he talked about his family.

Nothing came out of those conversations, which led Roman to think of the worst: he couldn’t imagine what kind of relationship he must have or have had with his parents, or what sort of situation he was in.

What he was sure about was that he felt for him.

Felt happiness around him, empathy when the other was down, sorrow in words never spoken but events that had already happened and scarred the marquis’s heart.

He felt way deeper than how he felt for other people.

Thus, he could recognize that, ultimately, he fell for him, too.

✾✾✾

When you look for the perfect sign, you tend to withdraw until the right occasion presents itself.

« Goodness, » Roman laughed quietly in the kitchen, turned to the cupboards on the wall. « It seems people started spreading rumors about me being a vampire because they saw you on my shoulder. »

And when that happens, an anxious buzzing starts shaking your insides.

« That … would be a shame. » the bat looked down, unsure of his own words.

« Why would that be? » Roman turned with curiosity. « Sure, I’d lose some colour, but heightened senses? Amazing powers? »

« That depends. »

« How so? »

« Blood chaste. How you were turned. The assets of the vampire that turned you or gave birth to you. »

The prince smiled through pursed lips. « Seems like someone read a dark ancient book from the Index of forbidden books. »

« Well … » and the buzzing grew louder. « I can talk from experience, too. »

He waited for the realization to hit.

« W-wait. Do you mean you met them, or …? »

He sighed the same way a bat could. « It is not a curse, Roman, you can say it. But yes, the latter. »

What he was also waiting for was fear. Disgust. Rejection. Anything but whatever crossed the prince’s mind.

« Oh my- »

« I know- »

« -I haven’t been giving you proper food for weeks! »

What now?

The man wasn’t sure whether he thought it or actually said it out loud.

« How long can you go without blood? It’s been six weeks tomorrow, oh dear, you must be starving. » Roman put his hands on his hair. He had this instinctual habit of worrying for others’ well-being before actually thinking rationally about the situation around him.

Maybe it was his princely duties to make him think that way, maybe he really didn’t want to think about the wonderland he felt like he stepped into when he realized he fell in love- he fancied a vampire.

Actually, a myriad of thoughts swirled in his head.

« I- No, I’m perfectly fine. My blood chaste is the highest, meaning I can go a very long time without drinking. »

« Oh. »

« You don’t have to … worry? » the marquis tried.

“But I always worry about you” was what Roman wanted to answer.

« Are you, like, some kind of royal in your chaste? » that was when they started traveling down dangerous paths.

« Sort of. I only just found that out, when I bled because of the garden trap. » the marquis remembered how confused he felt at the glimmering liquid on his hand.

Roman’s voice and expression both softened up. « You … don’t know who turned you? »

« Honestly, I only have a name. It’s kind of complicated. »

« Very well then, » Roman placed a cup of hot flaming tea on the surface of the table, not too far away from the bat. He sat down. « I’m willing to understand. »

The marquis took a deep breath and paused, sorting out the thoughts in his head.

« I’m from a country in the north. You may think I’m wealthy because of my title, but its value is actually nonexistent. My parents barely had anything to survive and … well, when they felt their life slowly fade away, they knew I wasn’t going to make it on my own. Barely anyone in my town would have been able to. »

« Apparently, they had someone they could rely on. The only thing I know is his name is Thomas … » he paused. Maybe he should’ve gone to look for him ever since. « They had told me to open a box as soon as things went wrong. Inside, I found a vial and a letter with all the instructions. I followed them and prepared myself before, well, committing to the act. After that, I learnt everything I needed to know and started to look for different places to stay. »

The bat seemed to shrug. Roman had now his arms crossed on the table and his face half-buried in them, paying careful attention. He also wanted to hide the frown in his face.

« And now I’m here. »

« I wish- » the prince instantly commented, rising from his slouched position. « I don’t know. I just wish we would take better care of every single spot under our reign. »

« Roman. » the marquis spoke in a reprimanding but softer tone. « Both you and I know that’s impossible nowadays. »

« It still should be my duty to not let things like these happen. » he looked to the side. « But does the assembly ever listen to me? Absolutely not. You have no idea how many times I’ve told them about how we could change this town for the better. I’ve been rejected at any given prompt. »

Were he an actual human at the moment, Roman would have probably seen the compassion flooding the man’s face.

« I really don’t get it. It’s that simple! » the prince opened his arms. « And then- and then something like this happens. » he pointed to the bat. « Because people have no other choice, thanks to us. »

« It isn’t a wrong choice, though. » a pair of perplexed eyes set on him. « I mean, to some extent, I’m still alive. And I think, with the right knowledge and time to adjust, it isn’t so bad after all. »

« Well … »

« No, I’m serious. You might need to change your life, but years after you know your routine. And I don’t have to worry about many other issues I was constantly anxious about before. »

A small smile crept on Roman’s lips at that. « You sure? »

« I’m fine, Ro. Really. »

The prince considered, staring at the marquis with his head tilted to the side. There had to be something else he could have done, apart from giving him back his body. Something that could have assured his safety, to say the least.

Roman wished to erase all of his concerns.

« I want you to find a place where you can stay until it doesn’t fascinate you anymore. » he gave voice to his musings. « Maybe … you could come with me when we’re done here? » he suggested, slowly brightening as ideas formed in his mind. The theatre production didn’t matter anymore, anyway.

« How so? »

« A prince always has his ways. There are infinite possibilities! Think about it, I know where everyone is all the time, I would know where to keep you. My parents don’t even remember the servants’ faces. »

« Oh, to be a humble servant in love with the prince. » the bat mocked.

« In love? » Roman repeated, amusement in his expression. And a very invisible and sudden twist of his heart.

« For sure. »

Jokes on them.

« Well then, my humble servant. » the prince got up and moved the cup of tea he definitely didn’t forget on the counter and walked towards the door of the room. « We have a big day ahead so I’m going to rest. You should try to get some sleep too since you won’t tomorrow. »

« How many times do I have to say bats aren’t strictly a nightly species? »

« One more, please. »

When their laughter was done, Roman lingered on the entrance.

« Thank you for opening up to me. And … please consider what I told you, okay? »

« I will. » the man answered warmly.

With that, they were both left to their sleepless night, daydreaming about possibilities they hoped could come real.

But the marquis had already made up his mind.

✾✾✾

His blood ran cold as he felt the tip of a sword being pointed to his back. Well, fucking shit.

« Hello there, is the shop open? » Remus knew exactly whose voice that was despite the fact that he had never heard it once in his entire life.

When he turned, he was met with none else but the prince’s figure standing tall behind him, while a tiny bat sat attentive on his shoulder. Of course.

Remus got up, his hood still covering the majority of his face.

« To what do I owe the pleasure? »

« No playing around. » Roman demanded, serious in his tone and eyes. He stared at Remus as he moved, sword raising with every movement. « Change my friend back this instant. »

Oh, marvelous. They were friends now, how could he have not taken that into account?

« Sorry, business is closed at the moment. » he retorted, spitting his words out. The sword flew to his chin in an instant.

« Are you sure about that? » venom, nothing but venom, more than the marquis had ever felt in his own body.

Remus sighed and eventually lowered his hood, revealing his identity once and for all. « You sure do know how to have fun, my dearest brother. »

And Roman almost dropped his weapon on the ground.

He had called him what now?

The prince went quickly over the facial features of the man in front of his eyes, it felt like looking at his own mirror, minus the facial hair and the white streak.

Or the dark circles around his eyes and the pale almost ill-looking skin.

Maybe it felt actually like looking at a mirror that showed an alternate life in which all he had found was misery. And he couldn’t help but be overwhelmed by a sense of pity.

« We’re- You- I’m sorry. I apologize. I’m … I’m confused. »

Remus arched an eyebrow. « Confused? What’s there to explain? »

« How in the world I have never known I had a twin brother, for instance. » Roman placed the bat on a stable surface next to him, afraid he would have made him fall as his entire body seemed to be trembling with an overflow of emotions.

What was happening?

« Never known? » the former duke opened his arms. « Hadn’t you refrained from acknowledging me this whole time? »

« What? » the prince’s mind was racing. « I’d never do that! I don’t even know your name! » tears welled up in his eyes from frustration. He had to keep it together, gosh why was it so difficult?

« Okay, okay. Hold on a second. »

« The bat talks? »

« I know. Mages. »

« Both of you, sit down. » the marquis demanded, seriousness fading as, sadly, his size didn’t help in making him believable enough.

The two brothers complied anyway.

« Now, you may take turns in speaking. »

« Yeah, what the hell happened? Mom and dad never gave you the evil twin speech? »

Roman shrugged in confusion. « I guess not. I promise to you, I was grown to believe to be an only child. They never told me about you … I guess that’s the reason why they never wanted me to come here alone in the first place. Have you always been here? »

« Since I can recall. » Remus nodded, his mind traveling as far back as it could. « This wasn’t a town at first. It was my dukedom. But our beloved parents destroyed it before I could even reach the age of ruling. I lived here with some servants, but they left as soon as they declared negated all the titles in this land. I was locked out of the manor and I tried to survive on my own from there. » the rage in his brother’s chest filled the gap in his childhood that could have been taken by his time with Remus.

« Every time you came here, I was locked inside my shop for days. As you can see, I got bored and studied whatever magical stuff was in there and this is where I ended up. » he pointed to the bat who was staring at them.

« This is insane! » Roman talked still in disbelief.

« You can say our parents may be two pieces of shit. »

« Doing this only to protect their image? » the prince seemed to be talking to himself, until he turned to his brother again. « I’m sorry on their behalf. I literally have no words to describe how awful I feel. » he rested his face in his hands and sighed deeply. What was there to say? It’s not like he could have done much else with no knowledge of his existence.

Then, an idea.

« We’re going to get your manor back. »

« Huh? »

« And the dukedom. I’ll make sure to restore your titles. Unless you don’t want to come back as a prince, as it should be your right. »

Remus considered the possibilities, he did want to get at least his early decent life back, but … the idea of his parents in front of his eyes and constantly around him didn’t sit right with him.

« I’ll … think about it? » his gaze stopped on the bat. « What about him? »

« Believe me, if you turn me back right now I can leave the entire town to your own needs. »

He chuckled. Ah, the sweet sound of desperation.

Remus focused just that itty bit he needed, before muttering a spell under his breath and sending a green flicker to hit the animal’s body.

And that was it.

As if nothing had ever happened, there the actual marquis stood, in flesh and bones, as alive as his condition permitted him to be, leaning against whatever he was previously standing on as a bat.

The scars were still splitting his blind eye and cheek in a half.

As the man checked his body for anomalies, Remus didn’t definitely miss how his brother held his breath involuntarily. He side glanced both of them, as the eyes of the two met holding the gaze for a few seconds.

Yeah. It seemed kind of obvious.

« This is all? »

He nodded.

Roman stood up in a rush, as if he had just remembered how to move his limbs, and launched himself at the now anthropomorphic figure of the marquis.

« Gosh, finally, we made it! »

Though, the other’s enthusiasm wasn’t exactly as strong.

« You can’t do anything for the scars? » he looked over to Remus, who didn’t even have the time to reply as Roman, well, he didn’t really think he was going to let him go down that way.

« I think he shouldn’t. » he offered the hint of a smile. « You look absolutely fine with them. »

« For the love of the greatest Sorcerer, if you need to get it on please stay away from my manor. »

Roman really really wished he still had the sword in his grip in that exact moment.

Gay panic ensued, together with very flustered people and a soon to be again duke leading the way back to the town centre. Before they could reach the manor, Remus stopped, his shop nearby.

« I’ll think about your offer. » he informed Roman. « In the meantime, I think I’ll have some packing to do. » he pointed to his left, revealing the door of his shop right next to him.

His brother nodded and saluted him with a movement of his hand and a subtle smile. When he turned, Remus grabbed the marquis’s shoulder.

« Listen, I see how you look at each other. »

The man arched an eyebrow. « And? »

« Just. Don’t do anything stupid. »

« Nothing you would do, then? »

« Precisely. »

The marquis laughed quietly. « I’ll do my best. »

Remus honestly didn’t know what to expect from that.

✾✾✾

« Hey. »

So close.

His hand lingered on the gates’ bars. He turned and was met with a figure standing beside him, arms crossed and a dull expression adorned by hurt eyes.

« Going for a walk? » Roman’s tone was everything he didn’t want to hear.

The man sighed. Doing this the hard and painful way hadn’t been his intention. Yet, he knew he had to break Remus’s promise as soon as he had made it.

« Roman- »

« You could have just told me. »

He took a minimal step back. « What? »

« That you weren’t even planning on staying. » Roman was looking him in the eyes and it felt like keeping your gaze close to the fire. « You didn’t need to lead me on until now only to leave me like this. »

« It’s not that. » he intruded, speaking softly.

« Say it. » the prince sounded exasperated. « Just say it already. At least I can convince myself it isn’t my fault. »

« It’s not. » was there someone at fault? The marquis pressed his fingertips on the inner corner of his eyes. He didn’t want to do this. He really didn’t want to. « I can’t stay. »

« Why? »

« Because I’m constantly running away! » his hands flew away from his face. « I can’t stay anywhere long enough because I’m just wrong in comparison to everyone else. I’m different and I have to escape before anyone could pick up on that. »

Roman still stared at him; they had gone through that already once, why was it so difficult for him to stay just because he was a vampire? Why couldn’t he come with him?

« This life sucks and I couldn’t ask you to endure it. You wouldn’t be able to. »

« Who says that? »

« I do! I’ve been doing this for years and even I can’t handle it. » his hand was clutched to his chest in a fist. He didn’t want to, « I kill everything around me. » but the tears had already started running even without his permission.

Roman stepped forward as his expression shifted slowly to sympathy. No. The man’s mind raced. No, no, no.

He took a step back. « I come here and I discover I have golden blood, » Roman stopped a few feet away. « I get to know I belong to the royal chaste of vampires, as if a regular one wasn’t bad as it is. » his breathing turned heavier. « And because of that, everything inside my body is poisonous. Others can track me down easily and we aren’t exactly the friendliest species. You’d be in danger. »

If the prince had come forward again, he hadn’t noticed.

« I am constantly running away and a constant risk to the ones around me. » Roman was raising his hand and he gently shoved it away, fearing the worst.

« This isn’t a fairytale, Roman. It’s a horror story and it ends badly either for the protagonist or the monster. Are you even listening? »

« Are you? » Roman’s hand hovered over his arm, waiting to move further. « You’re asking me not to follow you when I’m already attached to you by a chain? » he ducked his head to make the other look at him directly in his dark eyes.

« You want me to stay still when I’m inches away from being able to console you with a sole touch? » the prince could see the veiled freight in the man’s eyes as he raised his hand again, a moment away from his cheek wet by tears.

One.

An instant.

His fingers were already caressing his cheek as new tears soaked it while the poison stuck to his skin.

And it was over.

« You’re telling me- »

« Roman, what did you do? »

« You’re telling me, » both of Roman’s hands were on his cheeks, thumbs brushing away his crying. « That I wouldn’t be able to kiss you, when there isn’t a single thing in the world I want to do more? »

The man’s heart almost completely stopped in his chest, melting as Roman’s lips moved to form ulterior sweet words he didn’t feel he deserved. He had his back pressed on the gates the same way an overwhelming feeling weighed down his stomach.

He was dying. Roman was dying and there was only one thing to do.

Killing him even faster, but only just.

His lips were the weapon, his teeth were the bullets and the poison was the god of Death. As he kissed the prince, pulling him close, the thought of that blatant murder allowed contrasting feelings.

He saved him by signing his death certificate, he could have stopped and yet he didn’t.

What was desire? An abstract concept inherent in human race. As you satisfy a wish, a new one makes way into your mind.

There was no actual satisfaction, but a constant yearning for more than what you already own.

They knew, because their lips weren’t able to break apart if not for a few seconds, before diving in again into something they knew they couldn’t fill.

Yet, nature envied them. The flowers desired to stand tall, plants wanted to show their vivid colours, the rivers wished they could shine limpidly even under the moonbeam.

But they had to wait, left unfulfilled and in permanent disquiet until they got what they wanted.

The lovers, though. They were unstoppable and invincible for as long as their hands touched and their hearts were connected.

Finally, Roman smiled. His arms lowered on the marquis’ shoulders and he chuckled.

« It appears I am bound to you, now. »

« You’re the stupidest person I’ve met. » the man gripped at his clothes and pulled him in for another quick kiss. « You’re stupid. I can’t believe you’re such an idiot and a prince at the same time. »

« I’m thinking about retiring. »

« Oh my stars, he’s gone. »

« Think about it! I could send Remus rule in my place, let our parents deal with what they’ve left behind. » Roman heard him snort with laughter. « What? It’s a perfect plan. »

« Yeah, right. » the man searched his eyes. « What about you? »

« We can run away together. You won’t be alone to fight off the ones that want to take you down. »

« This isn’t going to be easy. You’ll turn any moment now and you’ll need time to adjust to your new condition. » Roman nodded at that. « We’ll have to stay out of sight for a while, can you do that? »

« I can. » Roman’s determination made him want to take on the world with his bare hands.

Then, something in Roman’s eyes shifted. « Also, am I going to pass out or are you actually extremely stunning right now? » the prince’s eyebrows narrowed, his vision blurry.

That was the red code.

« Let’s get you in before everybody sees you. »

« I love you. » the marquis almost tripped over himself. That man needed to stop.

« I do too, but please refrain from speaking until later. »

✾✾✾

« Please, take care, okay? Visit as soon as you can. » Patton hugged the two one last time, nostalgia already washing over him. Logan had just given his own goodbyes and was keeping a very unhappy Virgil still.

One week had passed since Roman’s turning, they had decided to leave as he looked stable enough.

« Are you sure you don’t want me to, I don’t know, hex the whole town or something so you can stay longer? » Remus offered as his brother stifled a laugh. That was low-key endearing. Odd, as not much time earlier he had despised him under false accusations.

They shared a hug, too. « We’re going to be fine. » Roman promised and handed him the princely stuff he wasn’t going to need anymore. « And as you would say … » his expression contorted deep in thought. « Fuck ‘em up? »

« What did you say? » Virgil interrupted, while his parents collectively sent death glares at Roman.

« Duck the cup. » the marquis offered, eyeing the brothers with a sharp look. « As a metaphorical good luck wish, I suppose. »

« Like when they crash bottles against ships? »

« Definitely. »

When their last conversation came to an end, the prince and the marquis started walking away.

Roman looked back to them, his pace slowing down. He locked eyes with Virgil.

« Now! »

Virgil broke free of his dad’s grip and sprinted forward to them, laughing like he had just told the funniest joke in existence. Roman scooped him up in his arms and started running while his lover stared at him in utter disbelief.

« Roman, what the hell! » Logan ran after him, causing the laughter to spread between all those present.

« You absolute mad man! »

It took twenty minutes for the real departure to happen. But at least, they were all smiling.

And, maybe, teary-eyed too. But they were not going to mention it until later some months, or even years, where they could all finally meet again and catch up with their incredible lives.

Until then, they would keep smiling.

✾✾✾

They had been traveling the whole day, the sun shone from behind the mountains in the distance, almost completely hidden, so that the light coloured in rosy tones.

It did feel like a fairy tale, in the long run.

Roman was already smiling to himself when a small giggle escaped his lips.

« What’s so funny? » his lover turned enough to both look at him and be aware of their path.

« You never told me your name. » the prince was looking ahead, quite amused.

« Were I to tell you, you’d never be able to fly among the constellations like you’ve always dreamt. » he remembered one of the many stories he had told him while still a bat.

« I believe I can risk that. »

« I wouldn’t want to bear the guilt of taking that away from you. » they stopped in their tracks and faced each other. « But there might be a way I can help with. »

With no warning, the marquis leaned in and pecked Roman’s lips, softly, so that he could have sensed that small spark in his chest before it transformed into a thunderous firework.

« Is that how you reach the stars? »

The man only smirked at Roman, going back to lead the way through the yellow field. Their road towards a new life was starting to clear.

And their kingdom shone for evermore.

[bettycooperoutfitwatch]

3x01 Chapter Thirty-Six: Labor Day

I’m so hype for this episode’s p e a k summer vibes, I cannot even tell you. These outfits were perhaps the ones I was most excited about diving into, not necessarily for any thematic work they do, but just because I love them. It’s that simple. Summer is ~my season. And from this ep it would also appear to be Betty Cooper’s. 

She has so many different looks here! It’s the most caps I’ve made for an episode so far, topping out at 631 (don’t look at me like that). She wears A Lot of clothing in this episode, in a lot of different iterations—and this post is lengthy as a result. As such, I’m deigning to try out a read more cut on this one, which is a thing I go back and forth on for this blog—but I’ll save that chat for later.

It wounds me how briefly we get to appreciate this adorable look. The denim shorts?? With the rolled cuff? The gingham?? My god. 

I think this dress is incredibly cute (I’ll probably say that a lot this post). Sometimes I think of it randomly and wonder if I can find it for sale on the internet somewhere. I’m just very fond of it. 

There’s a moment here where Archie, Jug, and Betty reminisce about Sweetwater Swimming Hole—Betty doesn’t remember an incident involving some leeches (a la Stand By Me—and not even the most overt allusion to that film this season), but Jug and Archie do. This isn’t the only moment Betty will seemingly fail to recall a childhood memory throughout this season. Put a pin in it. 

Her envelope purse, introduced near the end of season 2.

It’s quick, but we see her pop an adderall in the courthouse. 

Murder me, please, because this is really too cute to be dealing with. 

We saw Betty wear (her first!) white v-neck tee in 220. This might be the same one, it might be new, who knows. The short overalls are defo new tho. 

Please note she wears her hammer necklace to do some work on Archie’s jalopy, which in the comics is called...Betsy. Which is potentially confusing. 

Let’s appresh that Betty has consistently been down to get dirty, as exhibited again and again and again in season 2. 

I am a sucker for a floral Reformation dress! I’m weak. Purple was certainly a season 2 color for Betty, and that carries on here—if in a softer, more lavender-leaning fashion.

It looks like the wardrobe team have made some alterations to the back, too, unless this is an earlier iteration of Refo’s Rosehip dress. 

(Okay, I’m an avid journalist, but damn girl. What’s the date range we’re talking here?)

Betty’s actual bathing suit (as opposed to her daydream suit—but we’ll get to that later) very much falls under the purview of her brand. Am I crazy, or do bathing suits just work for Ms. Reinhart? 

(She also dons a pair of on-brand flip flops I could not capture).

Baby’s first Serpent jacket! Right on top of her pretty purple floral dress, bless. 

And yes, indeed, it has the standard patch. 

Now this purpley pink is indeed a very season 2 color for Betty, worn with her B pendant necklace, another s2 staple. The shirt has a very subtle ribbing to it, too. 

This is a romper, and Betty wears it to both be confronted by her family about what she’s been up to, and to camp out with her friends. 

The points that Alice and Polly make to Betty in this episode—that Betty should not be avoiding the trauma of having a serial killer for a father, that she should not be forging prescriptions for adderall, she should not be faking having a therapist—are not so crazy. That said—the Farm’s anti-medication stance, its burn-your-diaries-and-forget-your-past methods are also not the way to go. No one’s fully in the right here. There’s middle ground to be found.

As an aside, I’ll say that I’m near positive that at this point Alice is fully on board with the Farm, and is not yet an FBI informant. People join cults because they find personal benefits, and community, and because it can better their lives. They don’t join cults knowing it’s a cult. There’s a fine but very identifiable line.

Anyway.

We last saw this bra in the pilot! Betty’s very first scene! Can u believe? She wears it with a lacy high-rise brief in a sea foam or light blue color. As a firm proponent of a mixed set, I can only approve. 

Her post-swim hair is truly fab. Floral Keds!

Betty self-soothes by building some very nice cairns. She talks about quitting adderall, about getting a non-fake therapist.

Hat: model’s boyfriend’s own.  

Short-sleeve floral sundresses appear to be Betty’s summer courtroom go-tos. Love the mustard. 

Towards the beginning of season 2, Betty began to wear a lot of sporty stripes, and these pajamas certainly fit within that space. We’ve also seen her in athletic shorts with piping before.

Maybe she did quit her adderall? Maybe she quit cold turkey and she’s having a reaction because of this. (Guys, never stop a medication cold turkey, t a p e r, with the help of a professional.) Please recall Betty was forging her prescriptions—a criminal offense, but let’s not get into it. She doesn’t have the medical advice to do this the right way. But hallucinations are a not symptom of adderall withdrawal (per the internet.) Hallucinations can occur in a seizure, however.

In addition to...whatever’s going on here, we have two moments in which Betty appears in the subconscious of others in this episode: in seemingly both Archie and Jughead’s daydreams, and later in Archie’s nightmares. Fittingly, one outfit is imagined out of whole cloth (pun); the other, we’ve already seen Betty wear. 

How do we know Jughead and Archie are daydreaming? Well, they’re each given a moment of perspective, and Jughead is wearing a different outfit in each scene.

Jug’s POV.

Arch’s POV. 

It’s hard to get a read on Betty’s suit—but I’m almost positive it is a bathing suit, unlike the skivvies-swim that happens elsewhere in the episode. This trip out to Sweetwater Swimming Hole was preplanned (...in Jug’s daydream), the Labor Day trip was spur-of-the-moment (per Archie’s ‘livin’ his last weekend as a free man’ vibe). It’s a teal color, which we really have not seen her wear at all. It could be a two piece, it could be a one-piece of a similar backless design like her pink polka dot suit, who knows.

In Archie’s version of the dream, his friends go off to live their lives without him. Betty’s wearing the pink denim skirt we last saw in 216, and what looks like a sleeveless denim top (we’ve seen her in two of those before).

Betty and Veronica are indeed wearing the same bathing suits in each day dream, most evident by Veronica’s suit—but you can also see Betty’s straps. This is probably for practical reasons; two costume changes for a wet scene is probably enough to deal with, three is asking a bit much, especially if it can be easily fudged. 

The moods of these scenes are totally disparate, as are their lighting schemes. Jug’s is full of possibility (peep how Betty gives him the eye); Archie is literally being left behind in his. Archie and Jughead are on two separate paths, and here’s your metaphor.

In Archie’s nightmare, we see the gang in their Shadow Lake get-ups from 214. Betty wears her wool moto jacket (a season two outwear staple) and her plaid knit crewneck from that ep. 

Summary: Eight outfits in real life: she changes out of her purple dress to put on her bathing suit, so we’ll count those separately; but she wears the underwear she swims in underneath that romper, so that counts as one. In addition there are two dream outfits, bringing this episode’s total to 10. Whew. 

I Own This: Yeah, you know this, I own quite a few of those Natori bras (but have never swum in one. Yet.)

Key necklace appearances: Key necklace maybe not be as supreme as it once was. We might have to retire this count. 

Best outfit: Excuse u hdu. How am I supposed to pick? I will take one of each.

Please also enjoy this wonderful piece of fanart depicting Betty’s myriad lewks this ep!