#Because at the same time it add some artistic sense in her design

[dartalias]

I think the fact that Kyoshi canonically knows how to dance and sing is severaly overlooked in this fandon

Its such a cool thing to put in her character, especially in how it complements her design

Its also so weirdly funny

[maddascanbe-blog]

Part 1 of the unifications.

Hey remember when I said I was planning to change some of the names when they were truly egregious? This is what I meant.

So we have (from left to right) Dragonfly, Viper Noir, Shadow Moth (they still call him Hawkmoth), and Ladybee.

Dragon-bug was a stupid name, I know they were saving Lady Dragon for Shanghai but that doesn't mean we give up all together guys. Dragonfly just makes more sense.

I know I'm not the first to say that the Ladybug Dragon unification was great. It's actually one of my favorites. It showed off how good the Ladybug, and by extension Marinette, could look if the artist put a tad more effort into her suit. I definitely deviated pretty far here, push the dragon elements, like giving her two horns. The big ones on the side of her head and the little ones that attach to her antennae. The boots, and tail elements which were super fun to draw. And finally drawing Mari with her hair down because it looked cool.

Viper Noir just to add a bit more spice to Snake Noir's name. I almost called him Black Mamba but wasn't entirely sold. So that's that. I didn't give Aspik or Viperion a hood because I was saving it for this, much more Chat's style than Aspik was. The cat ears on the hood were a pain to make look right but turned out cute. And now they both have gold accent's! look how matchy they are.

I am forever on the fence about if I like Shadow Moth's design but I can't really begrudge the name? It's alright- it certainly feels very Gabriel, a man who has a track record of bad naming skills. I figure most still call him Hawkmoth though. I actually designed both Shadow Moth and Hawkmoth at the same time, so the plan was to always add Peacok feathers to the head and the double tailcoat. I almost based him on an actual peacock butterfly but changed my mind.

Just know that the additional feathers are just as painful as the butterfly wings. And now there is more! Hooray! Hawkmoth suffers!

And Lady Bee, this one felt easier than I expected because I already had Honey Bee. I might go back and fix her eyes though, they’re a bit uncanny rn.

(Bonus)

Blue Dragonfly to go with Ry-blu-ko

[gb-patch]

Hi! I saw your ask about skin tones and honestly, that is very much a barebones excuse to not include skintones in your game. You act as though adding skintones to a sprite would be a complete hand-drawn new asset when it would quite literally be filling in a pre drawn base for both Opal and the mc. Not only that but you potentially have thousands of mc outfits you promised for specific tier havers on the kickstarter. And then for 250,000 dollars, you're telling me we'll get more colors but not even 2 or 4 skintones when there are games with Less funding who have more skintones? Especially considering OL:B&A had the exact same amount of skintones and I could count all the afro centric hairstyles in that game on my two hands. I rather have more skintones than just pale, peach, olive, tan, brown and dark brown (most of which screams a 2000s foundation line of tones) than have more hair or clothing colors. I'm sorry, I love your games, I really do but that's an extremely lazy and abhorrent response from you and I am extremely disappointed.

"Hi. I just saw the post about you not adding in more skintones. I really hope this doesn't come across as rude or demanding but I find your reasoning for not being able to add them...lackluster at best. With all due respect, you set this goal for 250k, over three times the original goal you set for the kickstarter, the idea that somehow you can promise an additional set of darker colours for the clothes, accesories hair and eyes alongside the additional MC pieces people are going to request but not an additional skintone because of Opal seems a little ridiculous. I'm not an experienced artist but I do know how art files tend to work and I imagine adding additional colours to Opal's base design wouldn't be an extreme undertaking. In fact, by contrast, the work to add more colours to the clothes and hairs seems much more labourous considering the amount of them and the fact that some of the clothes have subcolours.

Again, I do hope I don't come accross as rude but I just feel like this announcement was highly dissapointing, especially considering the fact that the additional colours are currently the biggest goal for the kickstarter at the moment" There were two replies, so I put them together. I hope that's alright.

I understand. It would be bad and make no sense if that didn’t happen. I can say that this has nothing to do with funding. I'm not gonna attach more skin tones to a stretch goal, that’s not fair. It’ll be done whenever it can be regardless of what happens with the Kickstarter.

The other colors for hair and such is something I confirmed can be done by our programmer ahead of time using a color picker system in coding.

The situation as it stands today for Opal is that I personally don't have the skills to recolor her myself, the artist we have is in a situation where it would be unkind to increase how much work they have to do (it'd be easier if even less work could be on them), and while another artist could be hired- that hasn't happened at this point. So, saying it "could happen but maybe not" is cautious development process. It’s how it went with both the Cove Patreon Bonus Moments, where I pretended for months that it may or may not happen while working on it behind the scenes because I wasn’t sure how long I’d need to finish it and was worried it could be delayed for long stretches of time.

Being realistic, it is virtually a 100% certainly that before the game comes out, the skin tones will be expanded. There is no good reason why it wouldn’t. I was waiting until things got to a better point in production before coming out to officially say that it’s happening.

And I could’ve said it’s extremely likely but we’re not able to do it quite yet and avoided making anyone feel hurt. I wish my way of handling it hadn’t made the people who believed in our games sad. The reason why I didn’t is that I just can’t help but be averse to making promises I can’t do/the team can’t do and so have to rely on something else working out at some point in the future, even if it is entirely likely that it will.

That’s because I know that these things will make a lot of people happy. I want the excitement and any praise that might come to not happen until the goal has been achieved or is on the way to being achieved for sure. To a degree it’s helpful for players to have confidence in what the company is promoting, but it’s mainly to help with my own habit of catastrophizing. I tend to believe bad things could happen and I’ll let people down even when it’s so unlikely it’s not worth considering. I consider it anyway. And so, you get this kind of long-term hedging before the feature people hoped for suddenly appears. Even now my compulsion is to add a caveat that “there’s still a chance something (I don’t even know what) could happen and it won’t be added so don’t thank me yet” despite me already coming out with the truth that there’s every intention to have it added. I’m sorry to have disappointed you and made you feel disregarded by doing this. Hopefully when the skin options are expanded people will be able to enjoy the game a lot more than how it is with the current demo. And thanks for taking the time to let me know what you thought rather than giving up on the project entirely.

[miraculouslbcnreactions]

Have you ever felt the fanbase itself has become too crowded with people who act like they "know better" then the show?

I've noticed this, specially with artist, that while they claim they're "fixing designs", most either "over-complicate" the designs (Despite them looking good) but they also seem to have a little arrogant over it.

I don't hate redesigns, that's not what I'm saying, but seeing people claim they're "better" or are "fixing" designs while over-complicating a design that's supposed to be "simple".

This is a complex question because fan content that attempts to re-imagine some part of canon has traditionally always been called "fix it" content. The term "fix it" has also always been treated pretty neutrally in fan spaces. Traditionally speaking, saying something is a "fix it fic" just means that the fic is directly addressing canon in a way that other works don't. It's the creator saying, "I want to give you a different take on something that canon did." That take usually exists because the creator doesn't like something in canon, but at the same time, it doesn't necessarily mean that the creator thinks that canon should or even could have done the fix. It just means that they want to share their ideal take on the idea.

Because I come to fandom with that history in mind, I don't see a statement like "fixing Ladybug's design" and interpret that to mean, "This is how the show should have designed her as I've taken into account all of the concerns that one must address in animation." I interpret that to mean, "I wasn't a fan of Ladybug's design, so I did my own take on her," because that is traditionally what "fix it" was shorthand for. It's not a technical evaluation or competitive standing. It's a genre.

This history seems to be ignored in parts of the Miraculous fandom and that completely threw me off when I entered the fandom. It still throws me off! I have no idea what's going on around here!

While many Miraculous fans are using "fix it" in the traditional sense, there also seem to be groups that see "fix it" as some sort of direct letter to the writers/designers showing them what they should have done. To add further complications, one sub group of Miraculous fans is USING "fix it" in that context, which is an issue I will get to in a minute. The other sub group is INTERPRETING the words "fix it" in that context and I can't change that. I can just tell you that this is straight up bizarre to me because what are you supposed to label fix it content if we can't use the words "fix it"? Why are you ignoring decades of fandom history? You are reading way too much into those words!

I don't know if it's because Miraculous skews younger or if it's because of fandom drama that predates my entry to the fandom (I'm a COVID convert, so I didn't get here until after season 3) or if I've just been lucky in the past, but both the reverence and the hatred towards Miraculous canon is highly unusual compared to what I've seen in other fandoms. I'm more used to fanworks having a tone of loving irreverence or mild annoyance where canon is seen as a series of optional writing prompts that you can do with what you will. The reason for that tone has a lot to do with the fact that it's wildly unfair to compare canon to fanon, especially when it comes to visual media.

The fun of fandom spaces is that we can create without the limits that stifle professional productions. It doesn't matter if our stories are marketable or if the designs we come up with fit a theoretical budget or if we only produce a new chapter/drawing once a year. This means that, yes, fan works often have the ability to surpass canon! At the same time, it's rarely fair to make that comparison on a technical/competitive level. I will criticize Miraculous for many things, but here are some of really basic challenges that the show writers face that I - a fanfic writer - never will:

I can use as many sets as I want, the writers are limited to the settings that have been animated

I can make my stories as long or as short as they need to be, the writers have to make the story episodic enough to fit a 20-minute run time while also drawing things out for at least 8 seasons

I can write a story that doesn't have an akuma attack, the show has a very clear rule that every episode needs to contain a fight sequence

I can put the characters in whatever outfit I want, the writers cannot because every outfit needs to be animated

I can take my time plotting out my story from start to finish and even go back and edit things if I feel like it, the writers have hard deadlines and things get set in stone very quickly

The list goes on, but it can be summed up to: as an independent creator, I can do anything I can imagine. I am only limited by my own talent. Meanwhile, the writers of an animated show for kids have to follow very strict guidelines due to things beyond their control such as budget concerns and network rating guidelines. We are not the same. You should not compare us on a technical level.

This is where we circle back to the whole "using fix it as a way to directly criticize canon and show the creators what they should have done" thing. That's not a take that I'm ever going to be comfortable with because fix it content rarely tries to fit the same confines or deal with the same instability that canon is subjected to. If you use fix it like that, then you are taking the concept too far. You're also being quite arrogant.

If I see someone do this, I tend to assume that they're pretty young or that, at the very least, they know absolutely nothing about how TV shows work. What you see on the screen is often not what the creator would have given you under ideal circumstance. Some of the best examples of this come from times when a creator was given pretty ideal conditions only to then have less than ideal conditions when the property was revisited as that highlights that you really can't just blame the writers. The most well known examples that come to mind are Avatar the Last Airbender vs its sequel Korra and Peter Jackson's Lord of the Rings vs his Hobbit movies.

For a really in depth discussion of LotR vs The Hobbit, you can go watch Lindsay Ellis' fantastic documentary for free on youtube. For this post, I'll just go into the high level stuff of Avatar vs Korra.

Avatar asked for three seasons and magically got three seasons. Korra was supposed to be a 13-episode miniseries, but was expanded to four seasons after season one was done. The show then had budget cuts that messed with the last season due to poor performance. Shockingly, Avatar was the better show. I wonder why? Just imagine what Korra could have been if it had been given four seasons from the start!

At the very least, I can guarantee you that writers wouldn't have ended all of season one's plot lines in the season one finale, leaving them to start from scratch with season two which is generally considered the worst season. Once again, I wonder why?

Because of all that, I wouldn't be surprised if there's a fix it fic out there that takes all of Korra and reworks it to make everything flow better. I wouldn't even be surprised if I find that fic to be better than canon because the fic was only limited by the writer's talent. On the other hand, the actual show was massively limited by things beyond the writers' control, meaning that it's overall quality issues are less a condemnation of the writers and more a representation that even awesome writers can't perfectly adjust on the fly when networks meddle.

Of course, Korra doesn't have extremely fundamental writing flaws like Miraculous does, but the principle remains the same. I can point out Miraculous' flaws with certainty, but I cannot necessarily fix them with certainty. That's assuming too much.

But there are different types of criticism and different ways of engaging with the source material. What I do on this blog is mostly focused on high level discussion of the show's flaws and spit balling ways to fix them without really committing to anything. I'm not telling you how the show should have been written. I'm just pointing out flaws and talking about the things I think the writers could have changed or accounted for, though it is always possible that I'm wrong and this was caused by something outside of the writing circle.

That's why I rarely mention anyone by name. I cannot point a finger and say "this is the person who ruined Lila's potential and this is why they did it." I can just tell you that Lila was poorly executed when she didn't need to be. I don't want you to send this blog to the writers, but generally speaking, it is the kind of feedback that I'd be comfortable giving them if they hired me as an editor or script doctor. When I act in those roles, I'm much nicer than I am on here because I know that the writer will actually read what I say, but I am just as brutal about pointing out flaws because that's what I signed on to do. I'm not here to stroke your ego, I'm here to work with you and help you improve your story.

When I write fix it fics - and I have several - I am engaging in a very different type of criticism. I'm not discussing specific flaws in canon and telling you how to address them within the limits of the show. Instead, I'm giving you my ideal version of a given concept from the show so that you can hopefully enjoy it and maybe even use to find some catharsis for a thing that you also didn't like. I'll also change things about the show just to keep things interesting or to be highly self indulgent. For example, I avoid umbrella scenes in my stuff even though I think that the canon umbrella scenes are cute and well written. It's because they're so iconic that I do something different! Why revisit them when I have nothing to add? I'd just be copy canon! It's more fun to do something new since there are other ways to have Marinette and Adrien fall in love.

It's a very nuanced type of criticism because it's true that these stories only exists because I'm saying that canon did something wrong and I want to show you how it could have been better. But I'm also not limiting myself to the confines of canon or even just improving canon to make my argument, so it's impossible to compare them on a technical level. That's not why I write fix it fic, though. I have this blog so that I can discuss writing concepts and how to learn from Miraculous' failures. I write fix it fics to have fun and indulge my imagination. For example, I have a fic that's basically my ideal take on Chat Blanc and there's no way that would work in the context of canon. In the context of canon, I'd suggest far more minor changes or even tell them to scrap the episode all together.

Be it fix it content or more high level critical analysis like I do on this blog, it's important to remember that canon isn't going to change. Even if we could sit the writers down and convince them of everything that they did wrong and everything that they should do to fix it, they can't actually enact those changes. The story is already out there and time machines aren't a thing. But that's not what fandom content is about. Blogs like this are for people who enjoy thinking about stories critically and discussing how and why they fail. Good fix it content is all about saying, "I didn't like canon and think it would be better if X happened" or even "I liked canon, but got this idea about how it could be different" and then sharing the idea with other fans. This is because any and all fan content is for the fans (and former fans), not the creators.

So yes, I think it's valid to make fan content that "improves" canon. I even think it's valid to compare it to canon in a casual manner as that's just a natural thing that humans do. Give me two versions of something and I will automatically compare them and probably even pick a favorite. The thing that you need to be careful about, the nuance that you have to keep in mind, is that fandom is a casual space to have fun with other fans and to create whatever our talents will allow us to create. When we use terms like "fix it" or say that we like something better than canon, that context needs to be kept in mind. I will never be concerned by a reader telling me that they liked one of my stories more than they liked canon or that they wish that canon had also included a concept I've played with. That's just a statement of preference. I only get concerned when I get comments about how "the writers should read this so they can learn from you" because I didn't write it to teach them. I wrote it to have fun with my fellow fans and that is true for every bit of fandom content I produce.

I know that was long, but hopefully it answered your question? My main draw to fandom spaces is fix it content, so this is something I'm pretty passionate about. If I think that a piece of media is perfect, then I don't seek out fan content for it. I only join fandoms on those rare occasions when media hits that sweet spot of good enough to grab my attention, but bad enough/lacking something to not fully satisfy me.

[stitchpunk1]

YO GUESS WHOS HERE TO TALK ABOUT HAZBIN FANKID OCS BITCHES!

Yeah Ive been wanting to do this for a bit but been super fucking lazy. Got some other fandom ones too I wanna talk about but what with Hazbins first season ending wanna talk about mine with a few tweaks I've done plus one I forgot to add in the last one. I will put this one under spoilers sense the eps just came out and now I have to change shit around till season two for a few of them.

First I have Lucy(used to be Mara and cliche name I know but i like it). She is Charlie and Vaggies kid and named after her grandpa(who spoilers her fucking ROTTEN). Kinda got a design in my head for her that goes with a lamb/goat theme because she is half demon and half angel. Shes got charlies blond hair but more in Vaggies short style and its slightly curly. Shes also got the little hooves, sheep ears and eyes are that horizontal goat type. Like before she is still an absolute artist and loves doing bigger art installations around hell. She ends up dating Husks daughter Heather when they get older.

Second we have Isabella who is by blood Angel and Alastors daughter but her other dad is Husk and sister is Heather. Still got the same design for her that shes a bit more centaur deer like. Shes got the ears(and tail because I'm not giving that headcanon up) of Alastor but with Angels color scheme and fur and kinda a mix of spider claws/hooves(trying to picture her like head/hair in my mind has been a BITCH trying to not just think of it as a carbon copy of Angel). Recently she has become absolutely fucking unhinged as a child in discussions with Musekicker. She is 100% a cannibal and loves to take bites out of people out of pure curiosity of how they taste(leading to many many child leashes that she usually manages to chew her way out of). I like to think that she becomes popular on the hell version of tiktok with cottagecore vibes with a mix of her cannibalism. Dunno why but I like to think that if Alastor sheds his antlers she collects them and makes them into headbands she wears(also uses them to stab people).When older she ends up dating Moxxie and Millies daughter Mable.

Heather is just Huskys by blood and a one night stand but after becoming a couple with Angle and Alastor they become her parents too and Isabella her sister. Every time I think of her design all I can picture is something like Sawyer from Cats Dont Dance. Shes mostly white with a bit of her dads dark grey. Her face all around is just a pure resting bitch face even if she isnt mad or in a bad mood("its literally just my face" is something she has to say a lot). Her biggest secret is how much she LOVES to sing especially musicals and wants to be a stage performer but she thinks she could never make it. She does start to try out in school or any local theater productions thanks to Lucys encouragement. I like to think that after quitting Mammon that even Fizz sometimes does shows for fun and he kinda mentors her after seeing her talent.

Two more to go! Vea is Val and Voxs little accident that they just decide to keep around. She looks mostly like a moth demon but more bluish and sometimes has a little bit of electricity that goes between her antenna. Shes pretty powerful as she can sometimes match Voxs powers if he say fucks around and locks electronics or tv channels. She ends up not exactly running away from home but just kind of wandering away as her parents pay her little to no mind. She ends up at the hotel and kinda taken in by everyone after they learn her story. She ends up becoming the hotels electrician and is fucking terrified of Niffty.

Lastly is one I forgot on my last post who I am not sure what to do with her after the last episode. Her name is Pia and she is Pen and Arackniss kid. Body type she looks mostly like Niss with a little snake tail but she can go full naga like with extra arms/legs when she wants. She has a hood/hair like Pen and is insanely venomous(took me like ten tries to fucking spell that right) do to being half snake/spider. If Pen is in heaven whenever these kids are around she is raised by Niss who stays around the hotel more to take care of her/keep her from his father(who you know is a fucking prick). When he isnt around Angel takes care of his niece. Shes mostly quiet and keeps to herself but she loves weapons of all kinds, being an absolutely crack shot with most firearms.

[funhouse-mirror-barbie]

Rating Hazbin + Helluva Boss Characters based on if I could tell what animal/creature they’re supposed to be:

DISCLAIMER: This is not an attack on the creators or artists/designers for either show. I already went over the purpose of this on my first post here—I just like to review stuff.

Part 2!

SIR PENTIOUS—SNAKE—5/5

Yeah that’s a snake, man.

While I find some of Pent’s design elements cluttered, he’s actually one of the stronger designs in my opinion. I think the having his cobra hood act as his hair is fun and cleaver. It’s very easy to tell he’s a snake. Not sure why he has eyes on his tail/body? I think they could have just made them red spots but eh.

QUEEN BEE—FOX (?) WITH HONEY BEE ELEMENTS (?)—3.5/5

Bee’s a weird one for me b/c while her design is super super cluttered I can SEE how it could work, and I really do like fun cute fox and wolf girls. The ONLY reason that docked points is b/c she’s supposed to be a fox/bee hybrid (I believe?) but her “bee” elements are so minute that if I hadn’t seen her in a big beehive, I would have just assumed she was as a fox with fairy/insect elements—I wouldn’t have thought she was connected to a honey bee at all. It’s a weird case where she is VERY obviously a fox but it’s not obvious at all that she’s a bee/honey bee. I did want to give a little extra half-point tho b/c I do like her little antennae ears. They’re pretty much the only thing that screams “insect” to me.

STELLA GOETIA—SWAN (?)—3/5

I think I may be going a little easier on the Helluva cast b/c overall they’re easier to figure out what animals they are. I’ve heard that Stella is supposed to be a Swan but I’m not 100% sure. This one is def more on me, but I initially thought that she was either a secretary bird due to her long lashes and the way her hair is styled, or a peafowl (which would make sense b/c her brother is apparently a peacock?) at least I can tell that she is a bird and her colors are accurate for a swan’s. I think the reason I would never have thought of her as a swan is mostly due to her beak size and color. But yeah b/c I can at least confirm that she is in fact a bird I wanna give her a higher score.

I would rate Pilot Stella too, but I don’t think at that point she was meant to be a swan, just a vague bird demon lady. At least I hope not.

MAMMON—SPIDER (OR CENTIPEDE? MAYBE??) —0.5/5

So. Like Angel Dust. The only reason I know that Mammon is a spider is because he was shown sitting on a giant spider web.

I really didn’t think he was a spider/spider-ish looking at all and I still don’t. Even the extra eyes they add to him sometimes didn’t immediately make me think “Spider!” just that it was a demon thing. He really just looks like a jester with extra arms.

His full demon/mega form also doesn’t look very spider-ish tbh, and was what made me wonder if he was actually supposed to be a centipede? I was really disappointed by his “final form” because it’s pretty much the same as his regular form but with more eyes and what I assume is SUPPOSED to be a spider abdomen ?? But then he does kinda scuttle like a centipede at the end so maybe he is supposed to be???? But then why does he have a big spider web???

Also, and I’ll be honest, this is just me being needlessly nit-picky and it’s a small thing but it just irks me personally b/c I don’t understand the reasoning behind this but like. I HATE that his extra eyes DO NOT stay consistent.

The first time we see his extra eyes it gives him a total of 8 so I was like “oh okay yeah so maybe just his final form will be a spider/spider-like BUT THEN HIS EXTRA EYES KEEP OSCILLATING BETWEEN 3 and 4 EXTRA EYES?

These shots are only a few seconds apart like why did they give him MORE eyes when he got farther away? They’re so small that they barely seem distinct? Like if he IS supposed to be a spider you don’t have to keep giving him eyes!!! Stop, stop, he can already see!!! 😭

Maybe he IS a centipede tho? B/c he DOES seem to have the little centipede butt horns (which apparently are just their very hind legs in real life)

And he def seems to move like one in that form. Man idk. Why even HAVE him in a spider web then???

Being an arthropod lover and not being able to figure out what the fuck kinda guy that’s supposed to be is driving me wild tbh 😅

Honestly if Mammon was just supposed to be a clown/jester I would have given him 5/5 b/c yeah that was immediately obvious. But it’s him being a jester-spider-centipede-thing that muddles things for me.

I would put Loona in here but I ran out of pictures for this post talking about Mammons eyes. She gets 5/5 cause. Yeah that’s a classic wolf girl.

[blaithnne]

Early concept sketches of Midnight Giant Lauren! You can see me figuring out the style, colours, as well as Lauren’s outfits, plus a little Hilda that I wanted to include but gave up on cause I couldn’t get her to look right.

Johanna switches outfits about 3 times in this comic, so I wanted Lauren to do the same. Also, since Johanna’s deerfox outfit in the flashback is based off one of her looks in mountain king, I wanted Lauren’s to as well! So one of these outfits will be repurposed for teenaged Show!Lauren in the deerfox later down the line, which I think is fitting because she’d be around the same age in the flashback as Comic!Lauren is here

I didn’t talk much about my design process in the original post, so I’ll make a couple notes on that under the cut!

Here’s the final product for reference-

Though Johanna changes outfits about 3 times in this comic, one of these outfit changes is just the same outfit but with trousers instead of a skirt. So I wanted one of Lauren’s outfit changes to be more subtle, keeping most of the same items of clothing but only changing the jumper!

In terms of her outfits, I tried to add a little bit of a late 2000s - early 2010s vibe, which I think makes her fit in a lot more

Whilst this style still features quite noodley characters, it allowed me to bulk up Lauren much more than the troll did, so I took advantage of that and started adding in juuuust a little muscle! But she’s still kind of twig looking, so I brought back the same trick I used in the troll and gave her a big ol’ pile of logs and a heavy axe to weild in one of the sketches just to show that she’s a strong girl. I swear I tried to think of something other than an axe but it’s surprisingly hard to think of heavy objects that a character would just be. Carrying around lol

Looking back at this design a few months later, the biggest thing I’d change is I’d make her look a bit younger. It’s a little hard to design a unique character when you only have two points of reference lol, one of which is an adult and the other of which is a child, so I think I made her look a bit too much like an adult, oh well!

One thing I kept though to help her look younger is her freckles, same as Hilda! I love freckles but I swear I never use them in character designs. This design feature disappears from Hilda in the later comics, but I wanna keep them for Lauren for as long as I can tbh…

I mentioned before that I thought it would make sense for Lauren to go through a couple different hairstyles before reaching her final one in these early comics - the designs in the show are based off the ones in stone forest, which was the most recent comic to be released at the time the show came out. The style and characters designs had changed a lot from the early comics, and one of my favourite things about reading through the series is seeing how the designs changed and progressed before reaching those “final” versions, so I’m kinda reverse engineering Lauren’s design process to get that effect here, and I think one way that’d be shown is through her hair. Here her style is getting closer to the final version, her fringe has been lifted so it no longer covers her eye, and she’s got more of a curl! But her strands fall a little differently, so we’re not quite there yet…

I struggled a LOT with colouring this one, and that’s because I got the colour count wrong! One of the most overlooked ways to emulate a style is to count how many different colours appear per character - Hilda The Series generally has 6, 2 for hair and skin, and 4 for outfits, though the number can change. I miscounted here and thought the comics had 4 outfit colours like the show, but they actually only have 3. Once I realised that it made things much easier, though I still sent a little over it with some varying shades of green in her shoes. These kinds of rules generally aren’t firm, and might not even be one’s the original artist is even aware of, but when you’re trying to emulate someone’s work these little things can make all the difference

Show!Lauren probably doesn’t play guitar, I’ve mentioned before that I think she’s decent at piano and I stand by that, but I thought it was fitting for Comic!Lauren lol

That’s everything I can think of right now!

[txjuns]

⊹₊ ‎ look up, you’ll see the stars ⊹₊ ‎

Part 2: Siamese Fighting Fish (written)

Pairing: rocker!taesan x artist!reader (college students) Synopsis: y/n was never fond of parties until her friends convinced her to go to one of their college parties. Paranoia, Taesan’s band was going to perform. Just a look was enough to start a spark in both of them. Everything falls into place until y/n’s past comes back to haunt her, which causes emotional turmoil on everyone. 

Warnings: angst, romance, cussing, kys/kms jokes, kinda loser taesan, suggestive themes (I’ll add more as I go)

Taglist: [OPEN] comment to be added to the list

A/N: this is my first time actually writing a fic. I promise I tried my best

᭄᭡ ⊹₊ ⊹₊ ⊹₊ ⊹₊ ⊹₊ ⊹₊ ⊹₊ ⊹₊ ⊹₊ ⊹₊ ⊹₊ ⊹₊ ⊹₊ ⊹₊ ⊹₊ ⊹₊ ⊹₊ ⊹₊ ⊹₊

You walked into the frat house with your friends. All your senses were immediately drowned out by the sound of loud music and the smell of alcohol and sweat. This was exactly why you didn’t go to parties. The loud music that damages your eardrums. The smell of body odor and vomit. Walking around a corner and seeing people make out. It just wasn’t for you.

Ningning grabbed your hand and led you to the kitchen, which was surprisingly less packed. “Why did you have to force me here?”, you said with a scowl on your face. “Because you need some fun in your life”, Sunoo gave you a wink and handed you your drink. You took a sip “Okay sure, but why a frat party out of everything.” You leaned your back against the counter, taking in the sight of the house. “Maybe because we’re in college?” Sunghoon chimed in. “Honestly, I just want to get shitfaced and kiss hot people” Yunjin said while looking around. “Oh no, she’s looking for her first prey of the night” you joked. Sunghoon let out a giggle, “You mean girls. You have this thing against men if I remember correctly.” Yunjin looked annoyed and playfully smacked Sunghoon on the shoulder, “Atleast I get bitches”. You decided to not get involved and started scanning your surroundings, letting their bickering fade in the background of the music.

You caught something out the corner of your eye. Someone was staring at you. When you looked over at him, he didn’t look away. It was as if everything stopped. His heart was pounding out of his chest as the heat rushed to his cheeks. Why was he feeling this way? Is it love at first sight?

He was so handsome. It was hard for you to peel your eyes away. You looked away first, not wanting to look like a creep. He turned and walked way, disappearing into the crowd.

“That was weird” you mumbled to yourself. “Look who decided to join the party life.” Jungwon said as he walked towards you, Heeseung right next to him. You looked over at him “Wonnie!” You ran over to him and hugged him. He helped you get around when you joined. With both of you being the same year, you both connected really well. He was like a brother to you. You kind of drifted apart when he decided to join the fraternity, but it didn’t make you feel different about him. “Absolutely not. This is the first and last time.” You said as they joined your circle. “Come on, we’re not that bad.” Heeseung said with a smirk on his lips. “Jungwon, sure. The rest of you though, make me cringe.” Heeseung rolled his eyes at you, making his smirk disappear almost instantly.

There was a loud bang before Jake screamed from the balcony. “Paranoia is about to perform!!” No one could hear him over the loud music so you and your friends took the opportunity and rushed outside to where there was a small stage. Thankfully you were able to get front row. “I’ve never seen these guys before, but apparently all of them are super hot” Ningning said, almost jumping with excitement. There was a brief silence before the sound of an electric guitar pierced through the air. Five boys then walked out and Ningning was right, they are all very attractive.

The lead singer walked up to the mic in the front and the rest went to their designated spots. You looked up to see the familiar face right in front of you. He’s the one who was staring at you earlier. Your face started to heat up as he was staring directly at you. He broke the eye contact and looked around. “Hi guys, we’re Paranoia and we’re a college rock band. Please enjoy the show!” He said with a smile. The most beautiful smile you have ever seen.

They started playing their instruments and singing their song. Apparently it’s an original written by the lead singer

“Without you, late nights don't mean a thing, yeah

Sunsets don't mean a thing, yeah

Shining stars don't mean a thing too

Whoa-whoa, oh-oh, ooh-whoa

With you, late nights, it's full of starlight

Sunsets, it's full of dreams, yeah

So, let's go, see the stars right now”

Through the song, he made brief eye contact with you. You eventually turned to Sunghoon asking if you had something on your face, to which he said “Ugly” That earned him a smack to the back of his head.

Previous | Masterlist | Next

❤︎taglist: @tkooooop @nujeskz

[chevelleneech]

I watched all Frankie Biggs videos and he is a red flag for me.

He has stated clearly that he is NOT an Army, just a reactor. So yeah. He chose the biggest global group that has a fan base known for views. Makes sense.

He started with WHO by Jimin and wasn't impressed at all. He said it wasn't a hit. Cool. Thanks for stopping by. Keep it moving.

Next thing you know he has a Once You JimIN you can't JimOut tshirt on!!!????

He invested in that why?? It's sus. Reactors I know don't just run out and get a Jimin shirt like that, especially when they are not floored by Jimin's talent/music. Frankie is hitting Army hard with that "pick me" merch - it feels super manipulative and not genuine at all.

For AYS the guy said some totally random stuff like he heard that JK is married to a woman - like serious real housewives gossip type stuff that is not cool with Army at all. I haven't seen any reactor show up on the scene with rumors but supposedly no knowledge of the group.

Something isn't adding up.

He hates shippers and solos - okay cool - there are other channels that love everyone that supports BTS. I can watch those. Not every reactor gets my views.

Chapter 2 had been all about Solo albums so yes, solos are going to exist. They may have only heard Golden or Face because they got radio play. So there will be naturally born solos in Chapter 2. Old Army need to adapt and realize this is by design. Solos are not the bad guys. Trolls come in every flavor OT7 SHIPPER SOLO - any of them can be rude when hiding behind a keyboard.

Did he deserve death threats - no but that doesn't mean he deserves sympathy views either.

I support a lot of reactors on youtube. But I can't support this guy. He is making it all about himself and I am just not down for his victimization angle.

Also he said Who is mid. I can't support someone that can't see Who is a masterpiece. Our ace duo deserve reactors that can appreciate them from Day 1 and not add to the rumors already surrounding them.

I’m just going to go at this like a bullet point list.

• It’s obvious he’s not army, seeing as he just started reacting to them. Expecting him to be all in already is kind of silly.

• People aren’t obligated to enjoy every song the members put out. I don’t like everything, but I still consider myself a fan, because I enjoy a solid amount and adore them as people.

• Don’t know the story behind this, nor how many reactions he did before getting one, so I won’t say anything about it.

• Like I said, I don’t know his motives. If his wife is Army, maybe she got it for him? As I’m not sure where he’d find one outside of her, if he got it as quickly as your message implies.

• I was told his wife told him this, but I didn’t see whatever video that is in. I haven’t watch all his videos, so idk. That said, if it’s not his wife and I am being led astray… I don’t think him having heard this rumor without knowing anything about the group is that crazy. I see and hear rumors about celebs all the time whom I don’t follow nor listen to. The rumor mill is the rumor mill, it doesn’t prove of disprove much. However, he did have a handful of reactions to the members/group up before AYS, so it’s possible someone in the comments said something. Or his YouTube algorithm started showing him those clickbait titled videos. I don’t watch the people who make them, yet I still get their stuff recommended to me.

As for the rest of your message, cool beans. No one is forcing you to watch the guy, lol. I simply do not think he comes across as a grifter just yet, but that’s me. If I’m wrong then I’m wrong. It’s not the end of the world if someone joined the community just to gain traction to their channel. It sucks that BTS get used, but so do so many other artists and shows and etc. If he’s a fraud, I’ll stop watching him the same way I’ve done with many reactors.

In regard to your opinion on solos, I think you’re treading real close to admitting you are one, lol. I don’t like solos and I don’t care for their excuses. Obviously there will be people who only know one or two members these days, but each member is different enough with their sound and execution of craft, that I can’t take anyone seriously who thinks one member stands out above the group.

All of BTS are extremely talented, and their group music may not be for everyone, but trying to claim you like JK more than everyone else, for example, is just a way to be contrarian. Particularly because he and JM make music that is currently the most similar to the group sound. The only reason someone would get into one member, try BTS, then flat out refuse to listen to the group is because they fell into a toxic solo rabbit hole. No one who genuinely happened across one member, yet never listened to the group, would call themselves a solo, purely because they wouldn’t know what that means.

So again, don’t watch what you don’t want to watch. Don’t listen to whomever you don’t want to listen to, but solos can kick rocks right along with fake reactors. Being Army means actively enjoying BTS. Not without critique, but a minority enjoy more of their work. If you don’t enjoy them or if you only enjoy one member, you’re not Army. Therefore, there is no need for you (using the universal term) to be part of Army conversations.

[chinchillasinunison]

Guess what time it is, kids? Yet again, it's wild Welcome Home speculation time, but this time is a little different because we're talking about color theory.

Now, I don't mean "red means sex and blue is calming" marketing "color theory" that made children's hospitals a meme, I mean actual artistic color theory. You know, with the funny wheel? We're talking about that.

Color is very important to Welcome Home. It makes sense, as it's a very colorful project! But I'm thinking about it specifically in terms of coding character relationships.

Characters with matching colors in their designs have relationships codified in their roles in the in-universe show. Wally and Barnaby have the same color scheme of all primaries with only slight deviation, and they're written to be the bestest buds in the whole wide world. Frank and Julie both wear yellow bow ties and are similarly friendly, implied to be made specifically to be a perfect comedic pair.

But speaking of Frank, he's the center of a point I want to touch on: each character's assigned color and its complement, and what that might mean in the story going forward. If you didn't notice before, each character has a specific color assigned to them. This is used for their name on their bio as well as in the gifs for each character that you see on the links page.

Frank's color is yellow. Yellow's complement on the color wheel is purple. Purple is Eddie's color. We know that in the future, Frank and Eddie will develop a romantic relationship in some capacity that will be extremely important to the plot.

So, extrapolating this idea, I theorize that the relationships between characters represented by complementary colors in particular will be absolutely vital to the story in one way or another (relationships of all sorts, I mean, not necessarily in the romantic sense).

So then, besides Frank and Eddie, which relationships does that entail?

Firstly, with blue being opposite orange, that means Barnaby and Sally's relationship might hold some significance down the line. It makes sense to me, as they're both performers, though they often don't see eye-to-eye. I can see them becoming allies after the horror shoe drops because with Wally right at the center of it, Barnaby might not know where else to turn.

These last two sets are interesting as one complementary set is just a lighter shade of the other. I don't know if that signifies anything, but it is notable! Wally is red and Julie is pink, meanwhile Howdy is a dark, slightly bluish green and Poppy is a light green. So that means the complementary pairs go Wally–Howdy and Julie–Poppy (since the lights would go with the lights and the darks go with the darks).

Wally and Howdy...... oh, you guys already know how I feel about Wally and Howdy. I think that they're gonna be in kahoots to some capacity, considering the apple thing they've both got going on and points I've discussed elsewhere. This just adds fuel to my fire.

Now Poppy and Julie...... they're interesting. Julie has this very outgoing nature that I think could help bring Poppy out of her eggshell, so to speak, but I'm not sure how that might factor into the horror story. Unless my own personal view that characters growing beyond their initial roles is going to be a catalyst for the scary stuff is right, then perhaps her helping Poppy might set off a series of events she can't control.....

And that's all. I don't really have a conclusion, but I hope you thought that was neat, at least.

[p5x-theories]

Imo this new version of Mont fit way much better what i think might be the new art direction toward the metaverse costumes, as i noticed the last 6-7 phantom idols we got, are more focused on their wants/desires than the others, especially the first batch Like, Mont's original design is pretty, but its just a white shirt and shorts with some pizzaz. Yuki's...Lets be honest, is a mess, which it might be done on purpose since her mother is so controlling, but the mix asymmetry, phantom of the opera mask, knight left motive and Japanese style AOA ...Fleuret is wearing a butler costume.

While i sound a bit negative here, im actually really happy that the character design is finding a good footing! Im a huge fan of character design that tell you what a character is about! (I add that Yuki, Mont and Fleuret's design might be leftovers from the first project before p5x became what we know now, so that might be the reason why the look a bit off)

Putting everything else aside for a moment, I have to defend Fleuret, that is not a butler costume. I can sort of see the resemblance if you just quickly glance over him, but to me it is far more reminiscent of a old-fashioned revolutionary (as in, the kind of thing people wore around the era of the Revolutionary War here in the US). I won't say it's a 1:1 match there either, but that's the impression I get, and you can't just come into my inbox and slander my friend Seiji, haha.

Okay, with that out of the way, my answer to this got pretty long, heh, so I'm going to put it under a cut:

I do think this is a bit more of a matter of character analysis, interpretation, and personal taste than you're making it out to be, though your own opinion on each costume is entirely valid (as long as you're not just watering them down, haha)! As an artist and fan of character design myself, and someone who's taken some classes about it, I'd also say I enjoy character designs that represent who they are, but I think there's some nuance to it. And context is really important!

For one, like you said, Yuki (and most likely Fleuret and Mont) was originally designed for Codename: X, made obvious by her featuring on the promotional image for it, haha. Yuki, Fleuret, and Mont's designs feel more like thieves to me, in the way that the original P5 team does, without too many extra bells, whistles, or details compared to how some gacha designs can get. They were meant to be P5 characters, basically, not spinoff characters!

Mont's may seem a bit plain, but it didn't really need to be anything more than what it is. I agree that Yuki's can come across as a bit of a mess at first, but it's actually really grown on me. I think the philosophy here wasn't to tell you what they literally are (ex. Ryuji isn't literally a pirate, he's a former track star, so in the same way, Yukimi's outfit shouldn't be an aspiring lawyer) but to define their will of rebellion visually, in a way that feels like something you could imagine a thief wearing. However you feel about, for instance, Panther's catsuit, it's meant to reflect a thief who uses sex appeal to get what she wants, because that's how the writers chose to visualize Ann's sense of rebellion.

It's the same way here- Mont's outfit works for an ice skating thief, without being too flashy or superfluous, because Mont's not the type of person to be like that. Yuki's outfit seems Phantom of the Opera-themed, for reasons that may have gotten reworked over time, but you can still trace them back to her rebellion against her mother, and with armor because she's meant to be a fighting character that takes hits. Assuming Fleuret is meant to evoke a revolutionary, the ties to rebellion there are obvious, even when we don't have as complete an idea of who he is.

I'll agree that Yuki's AOA finisher doesn't really fit the rest of her theme, but it does fit her character- despite her differences with her mother, it's a complicated relationship, and she still has a fondness for traditional Japanese motifs. In general, I think the perceived messiness of Yuki's entire Metaverse aesthetic reflects a messy, complicated relationship and rebellion.

I suppose Dancer Mont's appearance does fit her desires more directly than the original Mont's does, but in a way that's sort of like saying Summer Tomoko's does too because it's the outfit her job on the beach gave her to wear. Obviously, wearing literally what they wear while fulfilling their desires in the real world is going to more directly represent their desires! But it loses some of the Phantom Thief-y-ness of the original, and that's why it's an alternate version, not a replacement.

Honestly, in my personal opinion, as pretty as Dancer Mont's outfit is, it's way less interesting than a proper Metaverse outfit like the original Mont has. It doesn't tell me anything I don't already know, or give me much of anything new to speculate on. I like a Metaverse outfit that isn't just the obvious choice, which is what Dancer Mont's outfit would be if that were her actual Metaverse outfit rather than an alternate version. Maybe that's why I'm so quick to remind everyone that the Dancer/Summer versions aren't replacements, heh!

And again, in the end, it's partially personal taste. I like character designs that make me think, and give me details to think about, rather than just telling me outright what the character is. But Dancer Mont seems to literally be her performance outfit, in the same way that Summer Motoha and Tomoko wear their literal swimsuits, and that's okay for what they're meant to be! I don't dislike Dancer Mont's outfit, but in my mind, it's certainly no replacement for the original, either.

[i-will-physically-fight-you]

Spoke No More

Title: Spoke No More Summary: Humans are pattern-seekers. They seek to find patterns, specifically ones that are pleasurable and add meaning in life. Humans are not meant to be limited to seeing the same four walls day in and day out. Solitary confinement means there is only one pattern that is pleasureless and meaningless in every way possible. Even with the daily visits of shades that masquerade as his friends, Virgil is still so alone. Such an existence messes with one’s grasp of self after a time. An hour feels the same as a day and a day feels the same as an hour. Cramped, filthy cell or gleaming, luxurious castle--Virgil knows the truth. It matters not his surroundings, he is still in a machination designed by his captors for his impending demise. Yet when a new pattern emerges, one that Virgil has not witnessed within the hundreds of iterations he has endured--there is a question that lingers with it; is it yet another ploy of his captors to extract valuable information from him? Or could it be a sliver of reality shining through? Sequel fic to Heard No More Word-Count: 15k Pairings: Platonic Lamp Warnings: Whump, Malnutrition, Starvation Mention, Disassociation, Nightmares, Aftermath of Torture, Panic Attack, CPTSD, Crying, Injury Mention, Blood, Villain OC, Portrayals of Unsympathetic Sides (None of them are actually unsympathetic), Unreliable Narrator, Guilt, Angst with an Ambiguous Ending (It’s Part of a Series) Hello there, I'm posting this because if I don't post this it will never see the light of day even though this fic could use more time to bake in the oven. This was created as part of the @tss-storytime big bang and @virgeandhis-pocket-protector was my artist partner. Please check out their amazing contribution here! I have felt like I've been drowning the last few months due to ongoing events in my irl so I sincerely apologize for my infrequent communication on here and hope your year is going better than mine. Without further ado please enjoy.

-

Part 1: Foul is Fair

Virgil stares at the huge swaths of fabric that frame the huge window of the Prince Quarters. There is a name for them—curtains, he thinks. Even though his mother made her living as a weaver, they did not have curtains in their small cottage. Instead, they used wooden shutters to block out unwanted light and slept close to the fire during the cold months to keep warm.

As a Shadow, he slept wherever he was commanded. A cellar, a field, a stable. He was fortunate if he was able to even have a blanket for his weary body to curl underneath. No, it was when he became Patton’s apprentice, that extravagances such as curtains became known to him. His mage apprentice quarters had white curtains. Not a bold, regal red such as the Prince’s Quarters.

It is still peculiar that His Eminence chose the Prince Quarters as the setting of his new lavish confinement. Why not Virgil’s former quarters? Or a supposed guest quarter? Even Patton’s quarters would be somewhat believable.

Furthermore, where does “Roman” supposedly sleeps? Virgil has not even seen his likeness in some time. In all the lies that His Eminence tells Virgil, He never informs him exactly why he is being kept in the Prince’s Quarters. It is almost insulting if He thinks Virgil is incapable of rational thought.

The illogicalness of it could simply be His Eminence’s ploy. He desires for Virgil to think this is a dream and dreams do not make sense. An obvious absurdity could be purposeful to hide away the more subtle absurdities. Virgil cannot let his defense falter for a moment against His Eminence.

The Prince Quarters is certainly a more appealing sight on his eyes than that of his cramped cell. It does not mean his eyes have not grown tired at looking at it. Isolation in a singular environment is torment regardless of one’s surroundings.

Humans are not meant to be limited to seeing the same four walls day in and day out. Humans are pattern-seekers. They seek to find patterns, specifically ones that are pleasurable and add meaning in life. Solitary isolation means there is only one pattern that is pleasureless and meaningless in every way possible. Such an existence messes with one’s grasp of self after a time. An hour feels the same as a day and a day feels the same as an hour.

The only way Virgil has survived is through sheer spite. If he doubts himself for more than a moment, he could not endure otherwise.

Virgil still cannot seem to grasp a coherent sense of time within the Prince Quarters. Time is a rushing fierce current of water and Virgil is helplessly caught in its current, tumbled and thrashed about.

Even so, time does run differently within the confines of the Prince’s Quarter. It is seemingly more linear, consistent in some ways. He continues to not dream—or at least possess any dreams he can remember. There is really only one dream he remembers. He does not know if it is even a dream. It is very possible it is another ploy, another form of His Eminence’s trickery.

All he knows is that he is in the Prince Quarters and it is dark. The intricate décor of the Prince Quarters is reduced to nothing but vague, shapeless silhouettes of the night. Within this darkness, is a figure. A person. Or at least he thinks this shade is a person. It moves around the room, muttering syllables under its breath. Virgil stays still, not giving any indication of being aware of it. But somehow, it knows.

“Virgil,” The shade says, assumingly turning sharply to face him. Virgil does not make a noise. He does not even move. He only stares at the living shadow looming above him.

“Why didn’t you—why did you—” It’s words dissolve into stifled sobs, “You were right, Virgil. I should’ve listened but I—I didn’t, I refused to—and—and I am sorry.”

The shadow collapses onto itself, falling, falling, falling—

“You’re still a moron, you know that?”

“While I am offended that you’d speak so lowly of me, the kingdom actually did not fall apart within the few hours of my absence.”

“Yet.”

 The shade huddles near the foot of his bed. Virgil continues watching it with half-lidded eyes. The voice sounds vaguely like Roman. But a form of Roman that Virgil has never seen or heard. Even His Eminence’s frail interpretation is closer to the original than this one. Roman is always too haughty, too prideful to admit his faults. Even so, there is no wrongdoing for Roman to admit. It doesn’t make any sense.

Virgil has no one to blame for his torment, no one but himself. It is because he is weak, he is a shadow—an apparition. He should’ve died long before Patton claimed him as his apprentice. Yet selfishly, he cherishes it nonetheless. For a fleeting, few years—he knew some semblance of happiness he hadn’t known since his mother’s passing. It was everything to him and nothing to them.

Even though within the recesses of his mind, he dares to refer to Roman, Patton and Logan as friends—it is a lie. A sweet lie that comforts him through the groves of more bitter, twisted lies.

This shade, barely comparable to His Roman, insists otherwise, “I should’ve been the one—I deserved it, you didn’t—you shouldn’t have—”

Virgil doesn’t understand it. This must be a dream—there is no other explanation for it. His Eminence would not ever portray the others taking the blame—He enjoys twisting the knife that is reality too much. It cannot be anything else. It cannot.

There is also no explanation for what Virgil does next. Dream or not, he should not react. He should stay still, stay quiet. No rustling of the covers, no creak of the bed as his weight leaves it. All he knows is that somehow, he ends up kneeling by this shade, offering a hand.

“V-Virgil? You were--What?” This shade, Roman-But-Not, asks. Virgil prods his hand closer to the other’s line of sight. He does not think at first this Roman will accept it. But then a trembling hand clasps onto it. Virgil stands up, tugging Roman upright with him.

“Where—oompfh!”

He pulls them onto the bed. It’s where Roman should be resting—it is his bed after all. Perhaps this really is a dream—in that his mind is attempting to put to rest the absurdity of reality. Although in its own illogical rationale—as dreams often are apt to do.

He does not say anything to this Roman. If he did, then this dream would be that of a nightmare. So instead of words, he clasps tightly to Roman’s hand when the other tries rising from the bed. As tightly as he could muster—for his strength is oh so meager.

Somehow, it is enough to stop this Roman from leaving the bed. The probable prince also does not say any words of his own. A squeeze on Virgil’s hand and heaving breaths are the only things that indicate there is another person beside him.

Yet when Virgil regains consciousness, the Prince Quarters is empty of any indication that its true owner had visited within the last night.

Strange dreams aside, he starts to be able to eat solid foods more easily with only the occasional puking incident. His body hurts, but not like before. It helps when His Eminence has avoided any torments of the physical kind. His skin can no longer be described as raw and bleeding as a fresh cut of meat.

Not-Logan has remained the one to watch over him. Patton-lookalike has made a few visits, keeping up a cheerful stream of nonsense. Virgil refuses to acknowledge it, but there is a small part of him that has been growing too comfortable at the sight of this Patton. But the Piper Prince, the person whose quarters he currently inhabits? It has been a while Virgil has seen a glimpse of him aside from that odd specter. Virgil almost misses his appearance, even if it is just a fake. Even though he should feel more relieved that His Eminence has decided against using his face.

His Eminence has invited him to view the Library a few more times after the first visit. Like a stranded traveler in a desert thirsting for a drop of water, Virgil seeks it every time. It is a new pattern, an opportunity to briefly leave the confines of the Prince Quarters. Virgil still cannot find a crack, a weakness in the illusion. He suspects that the Library is a ploy to gain forbidden knowledge from Virgil’s mind.

It seems like a logical line of thinking. If you lead your victim into an illusion of a highly protected confidential library, the victim will associate it with their own forbidden protected knowledge. Sometimes, Logan asks him if he wants to read a book. Virgil simply shakes his head, willing to sit among the books. Logan oddly enough, doesn’t insist on it.

Virgil wonders how much His Eminence is willing to be patient before he gives up on this ploy. Eventually, He will snap. He has to. But the Prince Quarters is still a prison cell and he is still a man slowly losing every bit of his sanity. The truth is that his most paranoid thought is that none of this is real. Or real in the sense that he is still living and breathing.

What if this was some cruel afterlife designed by the gods for his failures to live a more fulfilling life? Best case scenario, it involves him fulfilling a requirement to pass on to the true afterlife, where he can be with his mother. Worst case scenario, he’s trapped here forever.

Or maybe instead of the last moments of his life flashing before his eyes before he dies, the Ether has chosen to leave him with this absurdity.

He blinks and the curtains are nonexistent. He sees not curtains but lines upon lines of rusted iron bars. A face lies half-hidden behind them, with eyes that gleam a bit too unnaturally. Virgil stumbles aback, his heart beating faster at the sight of it.

“What do you want?” He demands, baring his teeth in an animalistic fashion. He doesn’t understand why the visitor is here. He wants to be left alone in the few remaining moments he has left.

The visitor looks at him, smiling. It is a semi-circle that does not convey cruelty but something just as violent; kindness. There are lines on the visitor’s face—crinkles that indicate this visitor has done much of this smiling in his life. The visitor opens his mouth and says—

“Virgil!”

Without any rhyme or reason or explanation, Roman is here. It is too much of a coincidence. It makes Virgil on edge as to what His Eminence has planned in this. This Roman does not, however, weep or make guilty proclamations. Instead, he sits by the bed, detailing his latest duel against his sword fighting instructor. 

“So just as he was about to disarm me, I managed to parry and then with quick thinking on my part–”

There’s a knock on the door. It startles Virgil. Never before has there been a knock at the door. Even Roman seems surprised by it, or at least acts surprised. He stands up immediately, positioning himself between the door and Virgil.

“Who is it?” Roman growls, a hand clutching tightly to the hilt of his sword.

“Why, only the most beguiling knight of the realm,” Answers a seasoned, witty voice. It’s familiar. Why does it sound so familiar?  

Roman’s hand flies away from his sword as the tension is sharply swept from his demeanor. He practically bounds across the room to open the door. Virgil watches, his reed pen loose in his grasp. It’s the first time he’s really seen Roman this excited since…well. If he didn’t know any better, he’d think this was really his Roman.

“You’re back!” Roman cries, throwing the door wide open. His back blocks Virgil’s view so he has no idea who he is speaking to. Only that the visible tuft of peppered black hair confirms it can’t be Logan or Patton.

“What, missed me?” The person asks and their question is clearly answered by Roman throwing his arms around them in an encompassing embrace. They share a few words, but Virgil can’t hear them.

“Virgil, look it’s Remy,” Roman says, eyes bright. He clearly expects Virgil to know who it is, but he doesn’t. Is this another ploy of His Eminence? Did He expect Virgil to be more at ease with a foreign face than that of those he treasured most?

Virgil stares, refusing to give His Eminence any sort of reaction.

“Hey Virgil, it’s been a while.” The Knight, apparently Remy, greets him. His voice is softer, more rounded than the shrewd mirth thrown Roman’s way. That isn’t…that doesn’t feel right. Virgil does not know why, but that feels just as wrong as any of the uncharacteristic quirks that occur when His Eminence portrays Roman, Patton or Logan.

Virgil takes a long breath. It does nothing to quell the racing of his heart or the frost that creeps up every inch of his body. If this Remy is disappointed by Virgil’s lack of acknowledgement, it is not made known. Instead he turns to face Roman.

“Your father, The King, is requesting an audience with you.” The knight tells him.

Roman stiffens, the brightness within him extinguishing to burnt coals. “What does he want?”

Remy coughs out a dry laugh, “As much as His Majesty would like it to be the case, I cannot read minds. That is for you to find out when you go to speak with him. I’ve heard you’ve ignored his last two summons, I suggest for the sake of everyone’s benefit, you do not ignore this one.”

At the end of his words, Remy glances towards Virgil. An unspoken message, one that Virgil does not understand. This Roman seems to understand, as his posture straightened, elongating into the perfect poise expectant of a Crown Prince.

“Virgil, I–I must go,” Roman says, “but Remy will keep you company.”

“My prince, I am a busy servant of the crown, so presumptuous of you to claim I may be able to spare the time to keep him company.” 

The reed pen in Virgil’s hand drops with a dull thud into his journal pages. It is one thing for Patton and Logan to speak so freely with Roman–who is this Remy to speak with the same nonchalance? 

“Must I make it a command?” Roman huffs, exasperated more than any hint of outrage,  “you would not be here unless you had the time and desire to spare.”

“Right you are, my prince,” Remy smirks, leaning back against the wall, “your sense of perception seems to have grown in my absence. Go now, lest you want to keep His Majesty waiting.”

Roman rolls his eyes but he does not protest the idea. As his hand makes contact with the doorknob, he looks over his shoulder at the two of them.

“Remy, promise you’ll keep him safe?”

“Of course–your will is mine to fulfill,” Remy says, faithfully reciting the knightly pledge to their lords, “Now go.”

This satisfies Roman at last, who leaves without sparing one last look towards Virgil.

He leaves–and for the first time for perhaps many, many months, Virgil is left in the presence of a face that does not belong to either Roman, Logan or Patton. Early on in his imprisonment, there were other faces. 

Faces he did not recognize—the faces that captured him and presented him to His Eminence as a treasured sacrifice to earn His Eminence’s blessings. There were also the faces that shoved him into the cell and had occasionally been the faces to bring him food and water. Slowly, those faces faded from his awareness as His Eminence isolated him—insisting to be the only one to have the honor of breaking his will and spirit. 

So why has His Eminence taken this unrecognizable form? If Virgil has refused to say anything in the face of Roman, Patton or Logan, why would he say anything to the face of a man he has no attachment to?

A soft clink disturbs Virgil from his thoughts. A knife. There is a small silver knife in Remy’s hands. Oh, oh. This is it, then. Virgil can see the ploy for what it is, now. This is His Eminence’s way of still inflicting pain onto Virgil. This Remy figment will slice into his body, cut him up and tell him that if he says anything to the others, he will produce the same harm onto them.

Remy’s eyes latch onto his own. He steps closer to Virgil, still clasping the knife. Virgil does not move away, remaining the same position as if he is just a statue that also happens to breathe air. He waits for the knife to knick his skin, narrowing avoiding vital arteries or organs but causing pain all the same.

“Here.” Remy says instead, holding the knife out to him, “This is for you.”

Virgil is no longer a statue that happens to breathe air. He is a statue that does not breathe air because statues do not need it to survive. Why is Remy offering him a weapon? Is this a taunt? A demonstration to show that even if Virgil is armed, all of it will be meaningless? 

Yet Virgil cannot help himself as air flows through his lungs at long last. He reaches out, snatching the knife away. It is a simple practical knife, like the ones he once used when he was just a shadow and nothing more. He does not take time to admire it, slipping it away into the folds of his clothes. Remy stands there, making no attempt to take it away from him.

“It is hard isn’t it? To feel safe without a sliver of metal close by your side?” Remy says, the words slicing Virgil deep. 

For it is true–the feeling of a knife close to his person is far too soothening to his soul than it should be. More than the steadiness of a comfortable resting place and food could ever provide. It almost makes Virgil prefer it if Remy had used the knife to inflict actual pain. 

Remy continues on, “Now, I know this goes without saying but don’t let the others know of that knife–they wouldn’t understand that feeling the way you and I do.”

Then his hands move, making crisp, smooth motions. Knight, report?

Virgil cannot speak. He must not speak. As long as he can draw air from his lungs, he will not let words fall from his mouth. But his hands can speak. They were taught to speak first by his mother–forming simple words that allowed them to communicate with the Deaf merchant that would occasionally buy his mother’s crafts. Then as a Shadow–communication by other nonverbal means was essential. Silence is often a necessity.

His hands move before his mind can think. Good, all good. His throat burns all the same–just as it would if sound had attempted to come out. His hands tremble. If he had held onto the knife, he might’ve accidentally cut himself by now. His Eminence now knows he can speak–perhaps this is why His Eminence has never damaged his hands. He should’ve known this would be a possibility, an exploit that His Eminence would use. Similar to the attempt with the journal. 

Hands hold onto his own hands. It is a gentle pressure, one that Virgil could easily escape its grip if needed.

“Sorry, Virge–I had no idea that would–well,” Remy’s eyebrows pinch together, “as I’m sure you know, I’m a man for impulsive follies.”

No, Virgil does not know this. Nor does he intend to convey such a sentiment in any discernible method of communication. More to the point–nothing that has occurred in the last five minutes has made any sense. For months, he has known what to expect from His Eminence’s mockery of Roman, Patton and Logan. He cannot predict the actions of a character that has no purpose in this pseudo play. 

He blinks at Remy. This is enough for the knight to release Virgil’s hands, somehow.

“May I show you something?” Remy asks.

Now, this. Virgil knows what this means. It does not matter what Virgil wants, Remy will show him and it will be whatever His Eminence wants him to believe.

Even knowing this, there is a festering curiosity within Virgil. A small emotionless detached part of him idly wonders where His Eminence is attempting to accomplish.

Slowly, Virgil nods his head. This is all that is needed for a flame to burst into life in the cusp of Remy’s palm. It does not stay contained onto his palm. It dances from hand to hand, winding through the air as it morphs into various shapes. A dragon with terribly fierce teeth descending with a burst of flame. A bird, no a phoenix rising high before crashing and turning into flickers of flames. A great cat of some sort, prowling at some imaginary prey.

But the fire is more than a dragon, phoenix or great cat. There is something Remy is showing him. Remy is a Blessed–one who has been touched by the Ether. This is not surprising information to Virgil–for His Eminence could not twist his visage into the likenesses of others without calling forth the blessings of Ether.

“There is one other thing you should know about illusions,” Patton tells him after a show, “those trained in the illusionary arts are usually capable of concealing their Ether signatures–but sometimes if you concentrate and focus on following the Ether to its source, you can find the individual behind the illusion.”

Virgil can scarcely feel the stirring of the Ether within him. But the Ether that flows through Remy–weaving back and forth in bright fiery images? There is no concealment on his end, no masking the Ether that sings loudly through him. Ether that is untainted and unpolluted unlike the dark, oppressive Ether that His Eminence wields with force.

But that can’t be true. This has to be His Eminence. Because otherwise this would mean this is real–and that somehow, some way, he is not enduring another of His Eminence’s machinations designed to torment and agonize him until he gives up what He wants– 

“Do you understand, Stormy?” Remy asks, the flame dissipating entirely from his hands. 

No, Virgil very much does not understand. But even if he wants to express this, he does not. Instead, he turns to his journal, drawing wavy lines that have no purpose or meaning. Remy does not punish him for not responding. He just takes out a knife, running his fingers against its dull edge. He says words, things that have a sense of meaning and purpose behind them, but Virgil does not hear them. He waits and waits for Roman to return, for something to bring more clarity to his situation.

Roman does not return back. Instead it is a harried Logan who thanks Remy for keeping Virgil company and does not say why Roman did not return. 

Part 2: More is Thy Due Than More than All Can Pay

That night, Virgil sneaks out.

 The castle, like many old structures, is imbued with Ether. The lifeblood of the gods flows through its every nook and cranny. It is said there is a sentience to it that even non-Blessed have felt. The Castle knows its purpose–it is meant to keep unwanted intruders out. It will not let in those who will bring harm to its inhabitants. Such is the reason that there hasn’t been a successful assassination on castle ground for centuries. 

Virgil can barely sense the Ether flowing through it now. It is so faint, he is not sure if he can trust that it is nothing more than the Ether of His Eminence, crafted and manipulated to imitate its more purified form.

He comes across the entrance to one of the lesser used castle towers. It is a familiar sight to him. When he first came to the castle as Patton’s apprentice, he used to sneak off there during nights wrought with insomnia. Now he seeks out its solace as an escape for the anxiety gnawing in his chest.

He rushes up the steep stairway, ignoring the growing ache in his legs from such exertion. But when he reaches the top, there is someone already there.

Roman sits there, his arms wrapped around his knees. His head is tucked into his chest, face hidden from view. Virgil wavers on the stairways. He should not hesitate. The choice is simple–he should flee before Roman is made of his presence.

Virgil does the exact opposite. He creeps closer, keeping his footsteps silent on the stone floor of the tower. He is about a foot away when he realizes he doesn’t know what to do.  So he does what Patton would do. Virgil taps Roman’s shoulder, causing him to startle and turn to face him.

“Virgil?” Roman whispers, his face blotchy from tears.

He reaches his arms out as he tilts his head. Hug?

Roman latches onto him immediately and continues crying as Virgil awkwardly pat his back.

“I shouldn’t have ever insisted on leaving the castle. You wouldn’t have had to save me and go through all of that. Gods, Virgil you have every right to hate me and I don’t blame you,” Roman babbles, leaning his head against Virgil’s shoulder, “I hate myself.”

Virgil is reeling. He doesn’t understand what Roman is saying. No, no His Eminence told him he’d been taken because he was—is—weak. He doesn’t remember saving Roman. He pulls away from Roman to get a look at his face. Roman holds still, barely making eye-contact with him. Virgil opens his mouth.

“W-whaafgk—" He goes into a coughing fit, “W-w-w-wagfk?”

It is low and raspy, barely decipherable but still it is a word communicated through voice. He wants to elaborate more on his question, but his vocal chords freeze up. Because oh gods—he spoke. He shuts his eyes tightly, letting go of Roman completely. He shakes, and he is certain the world has ended because he spoke. Not once, but twice now through his hands and his voice. He has been able to be strong for a long while now–why is he allowing himself to falter now?

A hand touches his shoulder, but he doesn’t flinch. He leans into it. A soft voice whispers  reassuring words to him.

“You’re safe now, my dark and stormy knight. I will not allow harm to ever befall upon you again, I swear it.”

He calms down, once he realizes that Roman hasn’t died because he spoke. He thinks—no, he knows it has to be Roman here with him. It shouldn’t be real. Because if it is real then it means everything that has been in the castle has been real. The food, the textures, the people. Everyone is too kind. But most importantly, Not-Roman never cries. It is Virgil who always cries.

Not-Roman is always placing the blame on Virgil. He always hates Virgil’s guts. He’d never claim it is his fault and that he hates himself more than anything.

Roman looks at him, his eyebrows furrowed.

“You asked me ‘what’ earlier, right?”

Virgil nods.

“Do you…not remember what happened before they took you?”

He shakes his head, staring at the floor. Roman squeezes one of his hands, causing him to look up. The Prince’s gaze is determined and resolute.

“You deserve to know.”

Roman starts telling him, and as he listens, Virgil remembers.

-

There is a day where Virgil happens to utter the words: “This is a dumbass idea and you know it.” 

These words are directed towards the Crown Prince, who scoffs in response, “Oh hush, Mordread, it’s a brilliant idea and you know it.”

“We’re going to get caught.”

“We’re not going to get caught!” 

“Yes we will. We will get caught by the guards or worse yet, you will be murdered outside castle walls and subsequently your father will have me executed for being an accomplice to your murder.”

Roman groans. He is digging through his wardrobe, tossing garments left and right. He then very intentionally flings a blouse into Virgil’s face, “Listen, I am sick and tired of wasting away inside this castle! If I have to spend one more day here, I am going to die!”

“Then perish,” Virgil says wryly, picking up the blouse off his face, “tell me, why have you come seeking my help?”

“Well, Patton and Logan are obviously too busy in their duties to assist me in my endeavors–” “Wrong, you knew Logan would say no because it’s illogical and reckless meanwhile Patton wouldn’t do it because he’s too much of a rule follower for the most part.”

“Do not interrupt me!” Roman cries out, jabbing a finger in his direction, “I could have you hung for your insolence.”

There is once a time in a not so distant past that sentence would’ve struck some amount of fear into Virgil. Instead, he merely raises an eyebrow at it.

“Alright, fine, yes you are right!” Roman admits, “But please Virgil–a good prince needs to know the happenings of his kingdom. How can I do that behind a stone wall?”

“C’mon Princey, we both know it’s more than that chivalrous bullshit,” Virgil rolls his eyes, “out with it.”

“I’m curious what it’d be like to…not be Prince Roman,” The Crown Prince laughs sheepishly, “I mean, not be the Crown Prince? I couldn’t fathom such an idea of a world without my fabulous self!”

Roman twirls in a circle, practically giddy.

“But—” He nervously wrings his hands, “It would be nice to interact with my citizens without the formalities. Plus, with this disguise, I’ll be incognito!”

He wraps a shawl around his shoulders, doing a poor job of concealing his identity.

“What do you think?!”

Virgil withholds a chuckle.

“First off, is that a tablecloth you stole from the dining halls? Second, you’re not going to fool anyone with anything from your wardrobe. Everyone around a ten mile radius is gonna know you reek of royalty.”

“Oh? Can I take your words to mean that you’ll help?” Roman asks. 

Virgil freezes. He isn’t actually going to help him, is he? The idea is ludicrous—there are so many reasons why and how it could go wrong and yet–well.

He can’t help but think back about how Roman dropped his bravado façade for a brief moment. Not enough to fully admit his insecurities. But just enough to reveal them to Virgil. Roman and Virgil don’t get along well—they had a rocky first meeting. Virgil assumed he was your typical pompous noble. Roman assumed Virgil would stab Patton in the back the first opportunity he received.

They have come to tolerate one another since that first meeting. Roman still refers to him by demeaning nicknames and disdain. Virgil still fires back at him with his biting sarcasm. But it is much better than before where the two couldn’t be left alone in the same room without starting an all-out brawl.

Roman has lived most of his life behind the castle walls. The time he has spent outside has been during parades or celebrations, where everyone has been on their best behavior. Or on hunting parties, in the forest where the common people are not allowed to hunt. He doesn’t know what the real world is like.

Still, Roman has enough brains to seek out Virgil rather than execute his plan by himself. Roman’s plan, as idiotic as it is, isn’t entirely without its’ warrants. It'd be good for the Prince to see what his people say when not in the supposed company of nobility. But most importantly, he trusts Virgil.

There is also the other fact that Roman is stubborn. Once he gets an idea stuck in his brain, it’s hard to convince him otherwise. If Virgil says no, he’ll definitely find a way to do it by himself. By the looks of the dinner cloth shawl, that does not bode well. But if Virgil says yes, he can ensure Roman’s safety. He’ll protect him.

“Ugh, alright. I live to serve, my liege.”

“Wait, you mean you’re–”

“--actually gonna help you with your crazy stupid idea? Yeah, I am. Let’s just hope neither of us regrets this.”

“Oh no regrets will be made, trust me!” Roman says, clasping Virgil’s hand, “this is a great favor you are bestowing upon me and as such, I promise to repay you tenfold.”

“If we’re going to go through with this,” Virgil says, holding onto Roman’s own hand firmly, “there’s a few rules you need to promise me you’ll abide by.”

“Such as?” 

“Rule 1, outside these walls–you’re not the prince, you’re a lowly commoner. You have to believe that because otherwise nobody else will believe that.”

“Oh that is easy–I’m a natural born actor.” Roman boists.

“Rule 2, what I say goes. You listen to me out there–or else this is not going to work. And Rule 3? The minute something threatens your safety, we go back. Got it?”

“I swear by my mother’s gravestone, I will uphold your terms and conditions.” Roman says, his hand cradled close to his chest. 

And well–Roman does listen. Throughout the walk through the hidden passageways of the castle and out into the bustling marketplace. When Virgil determines that they should leave for the castle before too many people take notice of the missing Crown Prince, Roman does not protest. All in all, it is rather...underwhelming how nothing went wrong.

In the passageway that leads back into the castle, Roman lets out a laugh. There is a grin stretching wide across his face, one that is a little too haughty in Virgil’s opinion. 

 “Look!” He proclaims, “We’re fine! Back without a scratch! What do you say to that?”

Virgil snorts, “You’re still a moron, you know that?”

“Ah!” Roman sprays a hand across his chest as if struck by an arrow, “While I am offended that you’d speak so lowly of me, the kingdom actually did not fall apart within the few hours of my absence.”

“Yet.” Virgil says, “we still have yet to return properly to the castle.”

Roman just hums, his glee untempered by Virgil’s coarse words. Somehow, someway, it is almost endearing. Despite the crown prince’s frequent open displays of emotion, Virgil has never seen him this happy before.

So when Roman asks him a few days later for an excursion outside the castle walls, he does not have to twist Virgil’s arm too hard on it. Until two outings turn into three and four, and they keep on going out. Virgil grows way too complacent, until the Ether calls out to him in warning one evening. It is a bright evening of a festival that has no purpose other than to be an excuse for good spirits and laughter.

It does not take long to decipher the Ether's meaning. There are several individuals that are trailing them, following their every move. One of them wears a distinct silver gauntlet–a silver gauntlet Virgil knows all too well. He does not know how they know of their presence, but it does not matter. They need to leave, now.

“Roman, we need to go. They’re here.” Virgil hisses.

“Who? I don’t see—”

“Shh! We go now. Rule number two, remember?” He grabs hold of Roman’s hand and tugs him along in a zigzag pattern.

“Hey—what’s wrong?” Roman yelps

“Danger.” Virgil answers, and leaves it at that.

He thinks they have lost them. But really, he should’ve known better. As they duck into an alley, they spring upon the two. Virgil does the only thing he can do—magic.

It is barely his second year as a mage’s apprentice and his connection to the Ether is weak. But he has to try—even if it kills him.

“Og Omeh!” He shouts, placing a hand upon a startled Roman’s chest.

His hand glows and with a bright flash Roman is gone. Virgil is left, collapsed at the foot of the Haldoofse, their pursuers. The spell has taken every ounce of his energy –but Roman is safe and that is what all that matters right now. Virgil has kept his promise.

One of them picks up Virgil by the shirt.

“What’d you do?” The man demands.

“Abracadabra.” Virgil mumbles, spitting blood in his face.

The man doesn’t like that. He raises his fist and then before Virgil can react everything fades to black.

-

Virgil cries in the midst of Roman’s own account of the events that happened. Roman thinks it’s his fault, but Virgil refuses to accept his apology. He keeps shaking his head. He does not have the words to tell him. They remain stuck in his brain, swishing around.

He saved Roman—he isn’t weak after all. But he still feels weak. If he’d refused to help Roman at the beginning, then he’d never been in danger in the first place. He’d grown too complacent in their numerous outings. His captors were right—he does deserve to be in that prison cell.

He doesn’t understand why the others freed him.  Suddenly things feel too big, too open. He shouldn’t be here. Open is bad. Open means freedom and he doesn’t deserve freedom. He yanks his hand out of Roman’s grip and runs down the stairs.  

“Virgil, wait!” Roman calls out, attempting to follow after him.

Weak as Virgil still is, adrenaline is a miracle maker. He races down the windy corridors until he discovers a small broom closet. He opens the door and closes it, dousing him in darkness. He scrambles away from the door, until his back hits the wall of the closet.

He breathes heavily and waits for Roman to open the door and drag him away. But he doesn’t want to leave. Warm soft beds and visits to the gardens aren’t for people like him. He does miss his journal. Virgil has taken to running his fingers against the raised edges of the cover. It helps ground him in times of panic.

Roman doesn’t open the door, though he can hear his voice in the far-off distance. The Crown Prince does not know he is here. He breathes a sigh in relief. Virgil sits and sits in the darkness. He does not think he falls asleep yet when the door does open, it jostles him from slumber.

“Virgil, are you here?” Logan.

He does not respond. He tries not breathing, but it only results in him breathing noisier. There is light streaming in from the doorframe. He is certain Logan knows he is here. Yet he does not attempt to drag him away from the closet.

Logan instead sits by the doorframe.

“Roman did not mean to frighten you by bringing up bad memories.”

Virgil says nothing.

“He is upset that he caused you such anguish. He is concerned about you being lost and hurt somewhere—Patton and I had been as well.”

He hesitates, before slowly crawling forward. Logan, concerned? The Royal Advisor often proclaimed how he wasn’t affected by such sentimentalism.  But there is a soft look on Logan’s face. He does not make a big deal of Virgil showing his face to him. Though his lips do twitch upwards.

“I am pleased to see you are unharmed.” Logan informs him.

Virgil shrugs.

“It is not yet lunchtime, but I am certain we can find something to eat in the kitchens—”

He offers a hand towards Virgil, who shrinks back. Logan’s expression morphs.

“Do you not want to go to the kitchens?”

Virgil shakes his head. He doesn’t want to go to the kitchens or the garden or the library. Not even to Roman’s quarters and his soft bed. He does not know why Roman gives up his bed to him. He doesn’t know why any of them would love him after what has happened.

Logan studies him for a moment. It is not in a cold, callous demeanor like he has seen when They use his face. But more of a quiet, considerate one.

“Would you like to go back to Roman’s quarters?” He adds on, “We can arrange food to be brought up to the quarters.”

A slow shake.

“No?” Logan asks, puzzled, “You want…you want to stay here?”

Furious nod.

“Why?”

Virgil’s lips part—but all his thoughts come careening to a halt. He cannot speak, whether it be through words shaped by voice, hands or ink. He instead stares at the ground, unsure how to tell Logan why he belongs here and not outside.

“Here.”

Something rectangle is pressed into his hands. He looks to see it is a small brown leather journal. It is the perfect size to fit into a breast pocket and half its pages are filled already with Logan’s messy shorthand. There is a reed pen resting where there is blank paper. He glances up towards Logan, confused.

“I wish to help, Virgil,” Logan begins, “but I don’t know how to help if you don’t tell me—or in this case write to me about what’s wrong. Why do you want to stay here?”

Virgil frowns, his fingers curling around the writing instrument. Writing is bad—but that is only because he thought he’d hurt his friends. He’d thought this hadn’t been real but just a ploy by his captors. But this is real—isn’t it?

Virgil doesn’t know what to think anymore. He is a leaf blowing aimlessly in the wind. He is a ship lost at sea. He is a broken compass. What is up is down and what is down is up. Two plus two equals five. Dragons are benevolent, and unicorns are malevolent. The cow jumps over the moon and the dish runs away with the spoon.

If he writes, surely something will go wrong. It’s what the tightening of his throat, threatening to cut off his oxygen, tells him. But that is wrong—the thought, not the actual writing. He has refused to write to protect his friends. But Logan is his friend and he is with him right now.

If he wants to help Logan, doesn’t that mean he should answer his question?

No, he has to know that this is Logan and not His Eminence. Something that Logan possesses, that His Eminence would not know.

Shakily, he draws dots. Meaningful dots, with a line that connects through every single one of them. The Locutus constellation–the very one tattooed on the real Logan’s back. He shows it to Logan, pointing between him and the drawing.

Logan looks at it. He looks at Virgil. His Logan is smart, he figures it out without asking any questions. He turns around, raising up his blouse to show the beautiful ink etchings that stretch across his back. It is on skin that is blemished with irreversible blotches of an illness that nearly took Logan’s life long before Virgil met him. Both things that were always, always, always absent among the welts and cuts and broken bones that Not-Logan would endure.

He starts writing. His hand is shaky, and the words look like chicken scrawl, but they are words nonetheless. He doesn’t look at Logan as he hands it back to him.

I bEloNG hErE. It’S WhAt I DesErVE.

Virgil’s cheeks are wet. He is crying. He does not realize this fact until Logan uses his thumb to wipe away his tears. The journal is abandoned on the ground in the favor of comforting Virgil.

“I do not know what they told you, but I do know whatever they said, it is all falsehoods,” Logan tells him solemnly, “No human being deserves to be treated the way you were. You are entitled to basic human decency. You deserve adequate amounts of food, water and freedom. Most importantly, you deserve love. Do you understand?”

The words take a while for Virgil to process. He knows that His Eminence told lies–He’d execute ploys and tricks, anything to get Virgil finally break and tell Him what He wanted to know.

Where are the castle’s weak points? Does the Court Mage have any lovers? What is the Crown Prince’s fighting style?

The list goes on and on.

Virgil knows He lied and tricked and deceived him—and yet, he still believed the biggest lie of all; he deserved it. His Eminence told him he was there because he was weak. He was there because no one would miss a charity case of a mage’s apprentice. He was there because he deserved it.

But none of that is true.

It takes until Logan’s words for him to realize that fact.

Logan never lies. He likes cold hard facts. He says what’s on his mind—to the point that he’s sometimes too blunt with his words. Virgil thinks that maybe he can trust Logan’s words. They don’t magically fix all of his doubts and fears. But they help.

Virgil nods his head, hiccupping.

Logan envelopes him in a very loose embrace. He places his hands gingerly over Virgil’s back, prepared to draw back at the slightest hint of Virgil being uncomfortable. But Virgil leans into the hug, resting his head against Logan’s chest. They stay there until they hear the distant voices of Roman and Patton.

They are still looking for Virgil.

“We should go to them.” Logan says, breaking away.

The royal advisor stands up and offers his hand yet again to Virgil.

He takes it, after a moment’s hesitation.

-

He doesn’t see Roman for a few weeks after the incident. Patton and Logan both say that the prince is busy with his royal duties. Virgil doesn’t believe them. Especially with how their eyes dart away and they quickly change the conversation.

They start leaving him alone for short intervals of the day. As much as Virgil appreciates not being under constant surveillance, a panic arises from being alone. He feels safe in the others’ presences. When they are with him, it is easy for him to remember that they are here and that they won’t abandon him.

Once, Virgil liked being alone. He enjoyed long stretches of solitude. There is a peacefulness to it, listening to nature’s sounds or the noise of your own heartbeat. But that is then, and this is now. Now being alone brings back memories of the cell.

He’d liked being alone in his cell. Being alone meant His Eminence wasn't there to torment him. That was good. But just because it meant Virgil was away from Him didn’t mean he still didn’t suffer chained in a cell, with no food or water.

The nightmares are back. Nightmares where he screams and screams but no one comes and saves him. Worse, They show up to taunt him and make him think he’s brought harm to his friends. Sometimes, they make him doubt again if being in the castle is a dream and those nightmares are truly his reality.

So, no he doesn’t really like being alone.

Oftentimes, if it is not official royal business, they will let him tag along. Patton has taken him down to the room where he keeps all his magic scrolls and supplies for potions. There, Virgil sits in a corner as Patton conducts his work. The mage explains it to him as he goes, and Virgil listens raptly.

The two have been working on trying to relight Virgil’s connection to the Ether that has been extinguished. It took a lot of coaxing on Patton’s part to get Virgil to try again. Because what if he cannot ever use the Ether again? How can he be the mage’s apprentice then?

Nothing has occurred yet, despite numerous attempts. Virgil has grown disheartened at each failure. Patton keeps faith.

“Virgil, you performed a high energy spell and then you went malnourished for nearly a year,” Patton says firmly, “It is going to be a long while before you recover completely. And that is okay.”

It’s hard to believe that, especially when the Ether remains mostly silent. But Patton believes in it, and so he keeps trying for his sake. Because Virgil trusts him.

Virgil is alone, drawing, in Roman’s quarters. He does not know where Roman sleeps. Virgil has never asked the others that question. Nor does he question who it is that quiets him after a nightmare and lulls him back to sleep with lullabies.

(He already knows it is Roman. It has always been Roman who comforts him with a lullaby. Because neither Patton or Logan sing. Patton whispers soft reassurances while Logan distracts him with the names of the constellations. But he is half-asleep when it occurs, and the prince is always gone by morning.)

He is working on a drawing of a thunderstorm. Virgil is working on the shading when there is a rhythmic knock before the door opens. He tenses, scanning his surroundings for potential escape routes and makeshift weapons. He exhales slowly when he realizes it is only Patton.

“Hello Virgil!” The mage chirps, as he strides over to the bedside. He is hiding something underneath his cloak. It is bulky and cube-shaped. A box of some sort? A gift, perhaps? He notices Virgil’s inquisitive gaze and chuckles.

“I got a surprise for you!”

Virgil smiles nervously. He knows that Patton’s surprises are good things. Like flower-crowns or cookies. But the uncertainty still haunts him.

Virgil hasn’t attempted communicating with words since that moment with Logan. Strangely, the others have not pressured him to communicate, thankfully. What he does instead of words, is nod approvingly towards Patton revealing the surprise.

Patton grins, and reveals what’s underneath his cloak. It is a plain wicker basket with a lid. Something rustles from within the container—something alive.

“Go on, open it.” He encourages Virgil, holding the basket towards him.

Virgil places his fingertips on the lid, takes a breath, and then pulls it off. A pair of glimmering green eyes peers up at him. They are big and round and so, so curious. Virgil gapes at the sight for a long while—long enough for the being to get impatient and let out a pitiful wail.

“Go on,” Patton encourages, “she doesn’t bite—much.”

Virgil lets out an amused huff, before he reaches into the basket and picks up the creature. Now that it is out of the dark interior of the basket, he can see it more clearly. It is a black kitten—old enough to be independent from its mother. A ribbon is loosely tied around its’ neck. Its’ purple. Virgil’s favorite color is purple.

A slow smile spreads across his face as he pets the kitten. That can’t be a coincidence, right? He looks over to Patton for clarification, his eyes flickering to the purring kitten in his lap and back to Patton.

“The kittens are ready to be weaned from Lady Mittens,” Patton explains, reaching out to scratch underneath the kitten’s chin, “and I thought maybe this little lady could keep you company whenever Logan, Roman and I are all busy.”

Virgil freezes, his hand levitating inches above the kitten’s fur. The young feline is discontent with this, batting its paw at him to continue. He ignores it, as he blinks rapidly. It doesn’t stop a few stray tears from falling, however.

Patton knows he struggles with being alone. But rather than making fun of him or call it silly—he found a solution to Virgil’s problem. With this kitten, Virgil no longer has to be alone anymore.

Patton misinterprets the tears completely.

“It’s okay kiddo if you don’t want her! I am sure she can find—”

A finger presses against his lips, causing Patton to stop. Virgil withdraws his finger and the two stare at one another. Virgil breaks it first, an odd guffaw rising from his throat. He carefully deposits the black kitten onto Patton’s lap. The kitten makes little fuss about this, purring with content almost immediately.

‘No.’ Virgil signs, snapping his index and middle finger against his thumb, ‘love kitten. Love you.’

“I’m so glad!” Patton sniffles, throwing his arms around Virgil’s neck. The kitten squeaks in protest of being squished between the two. Thankfully Patton withdraws within seconds.

“You can name her, you know. I called her Blacky but since she’s yours now, you can choose a new name.” Patton says, petting the kitten to assuage it.

Virgil considers it for a moment. His eyes drift to the unfinished thunderstorm sketch in his journal. He thinks of the patron goddess of his home village and her signature weapon; lightning bolts.

‘Taran.’ Virgil decides.

Patton’s eyes widens at the name. The name of such a ferocious god seems odd for a harmless kitten. However, in his home village, to name an animal after a god is to invite their blessing upon you. Virgil doesn’t know how much he believes in that.

But he can’t argue that the distant rumble of thunder that happens moments later is just a coincidence.

Part 3: Toil and Trouble

Divine blessings or not, Taran’s own presence is its own blessing to Virgil onto itself. She is a reminder of the others’ love for Virgil. Being a growing kitten, she sleeps a lot. But during the hours Taran isn’t sleeping, she is energetic, demanding pets and pouncing on insects.

Caring for Taran gives Virgil a sense of purpose, a responsibility to uphold. It’s small yet significant for him. Logan goes on a long ramble about it—Virgil doesn’t catch all of it. But Logan essentially thinks the kitten is good for Virgil’s health.

It certainly keeps Virgil busy and on his toes, making sure Taran doesn’t get places she shouldn’t be. Such as in the present where he is chasing after the black streak that is Taran. He’d snuck out of his room, taking Taran along with him. He planned to go up to the tower, in the hopes of finding Roman once more. Just as he has done for the past week to no success.

It is doubtful he’ll discover Roman up there again. But he has to try. He has no hope of running into Roman during the daylight. The castle is massive and certain parts are restricted. It has been made clear that Roman does not want to see Virgil. Maybe not directly with words, but through action alone.

He is not content with that answer. Virgil has never been one to respect rules without question. He has always been the one to doubt things, to rebel subtly but rebel all the same. Even more so, he cannot understand why Roman is avoiding him. 

Virgil thinks back to the last time he truly saw Roman. It’d been after Logan found him hiding in the broom closet. While Patton fusses over Virgil’s wellbeing, he stands there silently. His eyes bloodshot, his outfit rumpled—unbecoming for a prince. He doesn’t make eye contact with Virgil at all. He averts his eyes to the ground instead.

He leaves as soon as he can. And outside the hysteria of waking up from nightmares, Virgil hasn’t seen him since.

Virgil thinks about the state he found Roman in at the tower and the words he said to him.

“Gods, Virgil you have every right to hate me and I don’t blame you—I hate myself.”

Roman, the haughtiest prince in all of the nine realms, hates himself. He told Virgil he has a right to hate him as well. Virgil, for all his own self-loathing, knows there is some truth to the prince’s words. It is Roman who insisted on the escapades outside the castle walls. But it hadn’t been for Virgil, then Roman would’ve endured the same torment Virgil had gone through.

Virgil would do it again in a heartbeat if it meant he could spare Roman or the others from enduring that dungeon.

He thinks that Roman is hiding from him because he thinks Virgil hates him and doesn’t want to see him. Or rather, he thinks Virgil should hate him. Virgil does want to see Prince Idiot and tell him personally that he doesn’t hate him. He never could.

So he continually keeps visiting the tower and hoping for Roman to show up. He starts taking Taran with him. Usually the kitten falls asleep in Virgil’s arms halfway to the tower. But tonight is different. Taran’s ears prick forward at a sound not audible to Virgil.

Before he can do anything, the kitten wiggles out of his arms and takes off running.

Virgil stares, aghast, before the panic sets in and he races after the kitten. Because oh my gods, what if Taran gets hurt? What if she disappears and never comes back? What if she dies?

His breathing picks up, and it is not due to exertion. Trying to keep track of a black cat in the middle of the night is almost impossible. Virgil is almost certain he is going to lose sight of Taran. The cat ducks into a room and he stops.

There is a faint light coming out of it. Someone is awake and oh gods, Virgil is going to have to go in there, isn’t he?

Virgil could leave Taran in there. She is not an unusual sight in the castle, after all. There are several cats that roam the castle's parameters, keeping it free of mice, rats and other vermin. It is doubtful that the person would harm Taran.

He is worried for Taran’s safety regardless. Yet there is no way in hell he can confront another person like Remy who isn’t Roman, Patton or Logan. They are safe.  Strangers are not. They’re dangerous and unpredictable. He refuses to interact with them, even with one of the others by his side.

As he deliberates a few feet away from the partially opened doorway, there’s laughter that comes from the room.

“Well, aren’t you charming?”

Virgil nearly collapses with relief. He knows that voice, even if it’s been a few weeks. It’s Roman. After all this time, he’s finally managed to find him. It is all thanks to Taran--though god or kitten, he does not know who to sing praises to. 

He barges into the room without a forewarned knock. The sudden entrance startles the prince. He whips out his saber on instinct, cradling Taran in the other hand. The act of aggression causes Virgil to stop within a few paces of the doorway.

“Virgil,” He exclaims in a hushed whisper, sliding the sword back into his hilt, “what are yo—you scared me!”

Virgil doesn’t make any indication he heard Roman’s words. He’s too focused on Roman’s attire. He is not dressed for bed or in his prince regalia, but armor. Gauntlets, breastplate, the whole works. It is not his royal armor either, but that of an ordinary guard’s. There is a burlap sack beside him that is suspiciously bulky.

He doesn’t know what Roman’s planning. But by the guilty look on his face it can’t be anything good. Because unless the castle is under siege, there is no reason for Roman to be dressed in armor in the dead of night.

“Virgil, please, I can explain—”

But Virgil refuses to listen this time. He will not let Roman be in harm’s way from one of his crazy schemes ever again. He storms over there and takes hold of Roman’s gloved hand by force. He pulls Roman off in the direction of his own royal apartment.

The crown prince is taller and weighs more than Virgil. He has always been physically stronger than Virgil, who excels in other areas such as speed and stealth. Roman could easily break free from Virgil’s grip with little trouble. But he is too stunned to even attempt protesting.

When they reach his quarters, Virgil takes Taran from his grasp. He places the cat safely on the ground.  Taran stretches before trotting off to go find a resting spot. Virgil then turns his attention back on Roman. He tugs at one of his gauntlets, wanting it off.

“What are you doing—” Roman protests at last, “I have to go, it’s for your sake Virgil—Ow!”

Roman cries out as Virgil stomps hard on his foot. Virgil who desperately wants to cry out how stupid that is. How could it possibly be for Virgil’s sake, if the last thing he wants is to see is Roman hurt? But the words evade him. Even though he knows he is in the company of friends he is—afraid.

Fear clenches at his throat and refuses to release its’ grip. What is once helpful in survival is now hindering in life.

He instead lights the candle by the bedside and writes something in big, blocky letters. With each letter his stomach threatens an upheaval. He ignores it, tapping the journal repeatedly once finished with the message. Roman leans over to inspect it.

“Don’t go,” Roman reads out loud. He looks up at Virgil, “But I have to go, Virgil.”

Virgil’s response is to push Roman, causing him to fall onto the bed. The prince attempts to rise but gets knocked flat on his back again by Virgil. He climbs into the bed beside Roman and clings onto his left arm. It’s too dark for him to use his journal or his hands to sign and so he hopes his actions are enough to convey their meaning.

Taran, apparently upset to be left out of the cuddling party, leaps onto the bed. She curls up at the base of their feet, purring loudly.

“You’re not…you’re not going to let me go easily, are you?” Roman asks, whispering so quietly Virgil wonders at first if he imagined them.

He shakes his head before realizing the light is too dim for Roman to see him. He leans closer to Roman as an alternative, holding onto him tighter. Roman lets out a defeated sigh.

He shifts, placing an arm around Virgil to embrace him.

“If you so wish, I will stay with you for the night.”

Virgil does, and so Roman stays.

There’s so much he needs to know from Roman. But now is not the time. For now, he is content to coexist peacefully by Roman’s side. Knowing that he is here, safe with Virgil, is all that matters. He falls asleep with his head on Roman’s chest, hearing the steady thrum of the other’s heartbeat.

-

When he wakes up in the morning, that heartbeat is gone. Instead, Virgil is left clutching at a pillow that is decidedly not Roman. All signs of sleepiness dissipate at once. He flings off the covers, as his eyes scan his surroundings of any signs of Roman. None. There is none.

Because Roman said he’d only stay the night, didn’t he? Virgil hadn’t thought too much of it at the time. But He should’ve done so. Because Roman is a dolt and did what he wanted to do anyways. Something white catches his eyes. It’s on his night stand. A white letter addressed in a fancy cursive script.

V I R G I L

He stares at it, breath hitching. With a shaky hand, he reaches down and grabs it. Taran meows, rubbing her head against Virgil’s leg. She probably wants something to eat. Virgil ignores her. He doesn’t want to unfold the piece of paper. He knows he’s not going to like whatever Roman has written.

But he hates uncertainty more than anything, and that ultimately wins in the end. The paper crinkles as he opens it up. His eyes dart across the piece of paper. Left to right, left to right, left to right. He reaches the end and starts over. Repeatedly.

“Dear Virgil,

It is my obstinance that has caused you unimaginable pain that you never should’ve had to endure. For that, I am deeply sorry. I cannot live another day knowing your tormentors still go unpunished. I have left to right that wrong.

Sincerely,

Roman.”

Teardrops fall onto the paper, marring the ink. The words swirl together until they’re nearly unintelligible. But it doesn’t matter. Virgil knows the words by heart already. He knows what they mean.

Roman is gone. Roman left him. Roman is dead.

Virgil isn’t stupid. He has gone to face His Eminence alone, by himself. There can’t possibly be any scenario where Roman doesn’t die. He is going to die, not before being beaten and bloodied. His Eminence is rather fond of slow, suffering deaths. Virgil has heard the screams of the other dungeon occupants.

He doesn’t want this. He could care less about vengeance. All he wants is for Roman to stay. Stay here, with him and the others, in the safety of the castle. But Roman is gone.

When Patton and Logan find him, he’s rolled up in a ball on the bed, hyperventilating. He clutches the paper tightly in his hands. Taran meows worriedly at him. They deduce rather quickly that he has heard the news.

Patton places a hand on his shoulder, causing Virgil to stiffen.

“Virgil, breathe.” He says.

Virgil tries. But the air feels too thin like he’s going to suffocate—

He can’t do it. Can’t, can’t, can’t!

“C—ca--c--” Virgil tries, grasping for breath. But he can’t even say the word “can’t”. How ironic.

A weight settles on the bed to the left of him. Logan.

 “In for four, hold for seven, out for eight.”

What?

It takes him a moment in his state of panic to realize what that means. Logan patiently leads him through it. Even when he fails it repeatedly. Patton squeezes his shoulder, encouraging him to keep trying.

Eventually his breaths become steady again and Virgil is exhausted. He has woken up barely an hour ago and he is ready to fall back asleep again. He slumps against Patton, who massages his back. Virgil lets Logan have a look at Roman’s letter. 

It takes Logan some time to decipher the tearstained letter. When he does, he reads it out loud for Patton. By the time Logan finishes reading it, three of them remain huddled close, and not a word is exchanged between them. 

-

Patton and Logan explain later that day to Virgil when they launched an attack on Haldoofse that resulted in Virgil’s rescue, His Eminence had not been among those captured or killed by the King’s army. Assumingly, Roman had gone looking to seek vengeance against Him.

“The King’s best knights are out searching him,” Logan informs him, “they’ll bring him back before he does something stupid.”

Despite his confidence, Virgil knows Logan is just as worried as Patton and him. He can tell by how Logan clutches his hands together until his knuckles are white.

Virgil can’t stay put, however. He needs to find Roman. He needs to be the one to haul him back by the ear. He can do it. Virgil knows all about how to track down someone who doesn’t want to be found. He needs to do it—he can’t fail Roman again.

He does not tell Logan nor Patton about these thoughts in his head. He knows they’d reject the idea immediately. But Patton is intuitive, he’s smarter than anyone gives him credit for. He looks Virgil in the eyes and takes hold of his shoulders.

“Please, don’t go after him, Virge. We can’t afford to lose you again.” Patton tries smiling, but it’s too wobbly and more of a grimace than anything else.

Virgil sees those blue eyes, dulled with that unspoken sadness, and he can’t do it. If he leaves, then it means Logan and Patton will possibly lose not one but two of their friends. Virgil hardly thinks he is as valuable as the prince. But for whatever reason the others thought he was worth risking death to save him. The most he can do is to live and be there for them.

He can’t do that for Roman. He has made his choice. But he has to be there for Logan and Patton. For now.

Part 4: Blood Will Have Blood

Blood, there is so much blood. Gods, it won’t stop pouring out. Virgil can’t move—there are chains holding him still, restraining him. He can’t move—he is stuck in the cell again. Dark, dark, dark—the sun is gone. Yet somehow he can still see the figure slumped lifelessly in front of him, crimson stains on their armor. This is a…dream, right? This can’t be reality.

“Oh, but this is reality.” A voice says, causing him to flinch.

Had he said that last thought out loud? He can’t remember. Maybe His Eminence can read minds—that thought terrifies him. No, no that can’t be true. That’d mean all his efforts to not talk have been in vain. His mind has always been a safe haven. He could think and think whatever he wanted, and He’d never know. The idea that He trespassed into his safe haven horrified him.  It’d mean His Eminence is just toying with him after all this time. It means he has always been a plaything for His amusement.

As if in response to that last thought, His Eminence laughs. It is a loud, manic laugh. Virgil flinches. Never has he so desperately wished he is deaf to avoid ever having to hear that awful sound ever again. He twists his face away from the horrific sight in front of him. Away from the cackling.  He doesn’t get away with it.

Someone roughly grabs ahold of his chin and forces him to gaze upon it again.

“Looook,” His Eminence hisses, “Look at what you did.”

“I—I didn’t do it,” He protests, those wretched words freely pouring out of his lips, “I’d never!”

“Oh?” His Eminence tilts His head in mock ponderance, “So our beloved prince just happened to run into his own sword?”

White hot anger pierces Virgil’s stomach. He’d never hurt Roman or the others. Never, never, never. His Eminence knows that. That is why He hates Virgil. But with that anger is fear. As the two are oft linked hand-in-hand in joint matrimony with one another. Which is why he so vehemently denies it. 

“No, I’d never—” His throat closes up with emotion but he presses on, “No, you did this—you killed him!”

His Eminence laughs again at him, that cruel, despairing noise far from what laughter should sound like.

“Me? I did nothing. You on the other hand?” Hjs Eminence smirks, “look at your hands.”

Virgil shakes his head. No, he won’t listen. He knows how this will end. But he can’t stop himself. He looks down at his hands—no longer encased with chains. Instead of metal chains, he sees blood. The fingers start trembling, but he can’t feel them. Are they really his hands—do those bloody, bloody hands really belong to him?

No, they can’t—he wouldn’t hurt Roman, it’s not real—it can’t possibly—

A hand squeezes his shoulder. He squirms, trying to escape its’ hold.

“Virgil!”

He freezes. He knows that voice. Patton. Virgil gasps, looking around. There’s no more chains, no more blood and no more Ro—he is awake. Or at least he believes that he is awake. This reality is at least more comforting. Patton is there, Virgil’s head rests on his lap as the mage massages his scalp. The touch is gentle and grounding. He is outside somewhere with Patton. He can feel the warm breeze and hear birds sing nearby. But where outside?

Virgil opens his mouth, words at the tip of his tongue. But the image of bloody hands causes his mouth to slide shut.

“I’m here, I got you,” Patton whispers, reassuring him, “You fell asleep and had a bad nightmare but it’s over now. You’re safe with me in the gardens.”

The gardens. Virgil remembers now. Patton had insisted that Virgil was in need of some fresh air. Patton was right, as he typically is. Virgil had been holed up in the crown prince’s quarters, having no motivation to leave it. Instead he has spent his time pacing the rooms and scribbling in his journal.

Sleep has not been a friend to him. It hasn’t been a friend for a long while. He has accepted by this point that nightmares will continue to plague him. But without the prince’s lullabies or rather—the prince himself, the nightmares have evolved.

Everything he closes his eyes, he sees Roman. Lifeless. Eyes glassy like dolls. Crimson red staining his white satin tunic. His arm outstretched, towards Virgil. He dies with a smile on his face. He dies, his last words reassuring Virgil it is okay. It isn’t okay.

Sometimes Roman knows that. He doesn’t die smiling. Instead he angrily blames Virgil for his death. Virgil thinks he prefers these dreams over the others.

His mind has crafted a hundred deaths for Roman, each more gruesome than the last. Each and every one of them Virgil’s fault. Sometimes he’s back in the cell, chained and unable to move. Other times he’s in that alleyway with Roman and unable to magick him away from the Haldoofse. But no matter what, it is always Virgil’s fault in the end that Roman dies.

Virgil can’t sleep. He tries avoiding it as much as he can, as futile as it is. The images of his nightmares lurking in the back of his head, sleep or no sleep. He is exhausted. The world is blurry, and his head hurts and he can hardly concentrate on anything. His journal pages have been reduced to squiggles.

He can’t sleep, but he must sleep to function. Logan and Patton have tried their best to help him. But nothing much can be done with his nightmares. Even Patton’s sleeping potions can’t prevent that. 

Virgil shifts his gaze towards the sun, noticing it is significantly closer to the horizon than before. He had to have been asleep for about an hour or two. That would be the longest amount he’s had in the last few days. He wishes he hadn’t slept at all. He feels even more drained than before.

It has been nearly a fortnight since Roman left. It has seemed like years to Virgil, especially in his sleep-deprived state. The kingdom’s finest knights scour the lands in search of him. Still, there is no news whether he is alive or dead. For now, the majority of the kingdom remains blissfully unaware. They think he has simply gone on an extended hunting trip. It is the perfect season for hunting. The weather pleasant, the prey plentiful. It is, however, an illusion that will not last for long.

He hears a muffled sound and he looks up at Patton, who is still playing with Virgil’s hair. Patton is saying something, but it is too soft for Virgil to catch.

Virgil looks at him, confused, mouthing, ‘What?’

He still can’t talk. It isn’t like he is physically incapable of the action. His vocal chords are still intact. Yet nothing comes out, as if Ursula the great sea-witch herself snatched his voice away.  He can only really speak in dreams. Bad things always happen when he speaks. Bad things that linger in the back of his mind and keep him from speaking when he’s awake. He knows it’s irrational. He knows they’re not real. But what if he makes them real?

He’s shaken from those thoughts when Patton repeats his words, this time a little louder.

“I said that we should probably head back inside,” Patton says, trying to muster up a grin, “let’s see if we can coax Logan away from his studies to join us for dinner, hm?”

Virgil sits up, offering a small nod.

Much like Virgil has shut himself away in his room, Logan has done likewise with his work. He is Roman’s personal Royal Advisor, positioned to become his right-hand man once he becomes king. As such, Roman’s father, the King, has ordered him to be in charge of recovering Roman.

Virgil sees very little of the King for someone who occupies the same castle as the royal. Even from before, this holds truth. But this is not an anomaly. The King has always preferred to be as far removed from the servants and the common people as possible. He hardly attends the royal council meetings, instead sending a representative in his stead.

“Of course he sends you in his stead,” Roman rolled his eyes once at a meeting, “couldn’t be bothered with actually showing up once in a while, did he?”

There were a few stifled gasps, Virgil included. Only the cocky, bullheaded prince could get away with saying such things.

“The Divine King does not need to meddle in such lowly matters himself,” His representative responded in a droll manner, “Please do try to show proper respect to your father, Crown Prince Roman. When one day you are in his position, you will understand how precious the Divine King’s time is.”

Roman’s eyes flashed dangerously, but he held his tongue. All throughout the meeting, he hardly spoke. Virgil caught him at times, glaring when the representative wasn’t looking.

As Patton and Virgil reenter the castle, they pass by two female servants. One with blond hair, and the other with ebony hair. They do a short curtsy  towards them, a common act of reverence towards nobility. Virgil doesn’t think much of it. He is often trailing after Patton and Logan, both who are considered nobility.

Logan had been born into the nobility class. He grew up knowing Roman practically since birth. Whereas Patton, like Virgil, had been a peasant. His parents are farmers and he himself had the destiny of being a farmer until his link to the Ether was discovered. The title of court mage is of nobility, meaning he became nobility when he took up the title.

“Lyla, Aurora, you don’t have to curtesy for little ole me!” Patton says, attempting to wave them off.

A smile graces Virgil’s lips, a rare sight these days. Of course Patton knows these two servants’ names. He is good at remembering every person’s names that he comes across. Or making friends with everyone he meets for that matter.

“We know.” The blond-haired one says, glancing towards Virgil. He does not know why. Is there something distracting about his appearance?

He doesn’t have time to reflect on it. Patton quickly excuses themselves and they continue on their way. They walk through the stone passageways, lined with tapestries depicting battles long gone. Until at last, they reach Logan’s quarters within the castle.

Patton knocks in his patented rhythmic fashion. Two knocks, a pause, followed by three quick knocks in succession.

“Come in,” Logan says from within.

Patton bursts through the door, Virgil following behind.

Logan is sitting at his desk, papers and scrolls cluttering it. He is writing something, his back facing away from the two. Patton gets a sly look on his face. Virgil watches as he walks up to Logan, carefully to keep his footsteps light.

“Guess who?” Patton says, his hands covering Logan’s eyes.

“Patton?” Logan says, a soft warmth to his voice.

“Yup! And Virgil’s with me as well!” Patton removed his hands, allowing Logan to turn and look up at the two.

“Ah, Virgil. It’s good to see you up—up and about.” Logan says, yawning mid-sentence.

Virgil catches himself yawning as well. Patton follows suit. None of them have managed to achieve a full night’s sleep these past few weeks. There are dark circles hidden beneath the spectacles of the other two. Logan appears worse off than Patton. He sways in his chair, eyes bloodshot.

Virgil narrows his eyes, marching forward to pluck the feather quill from Logan’s hand. The royal advisor lets out a muffled cry, reaching for it. Virgil hoists above his head, away from Logan and hands it to Patton. He shoots Patton a desperate look, urging him to say something. 

“Logan, Virgil and I came here to see if you’d like to join us for dinner…but I think you need more than that. I think you should take a break—until the morning at least.” Patton says, pressing his lips firmly together.

“I appreciate your concerns, Patton, but I cannot give up—not like before—“ Logan lets out a strangled sound, and he turns his head to look away from the two.

Virgil and Patton exchange looks. Virgil’s eyebrows are furrowed with worry. There is concern shining in Patton’s eyes. But there is also something other emotion flitting across Patton’s face. Virgil can’t discern what it is, and it bothers him.

Patton steps forward, “I’m not asking you to give up. We will find him, Logan. But Virgil and I aren’t going to let you destroy yourself in the process. Please, Logan, you can’t help like this. A person needs sufficient food and rest in order to perform their duties well.”

“You are using my own words against me,” Logan croaks, taking off his glasses to rub at his eyes, “but…I suppose I see your point.”

 Logan doesn’t admit often when he’s wrong. It irks him. For him to come close to it is a sign of his exhaustion.

“I’m glad,” Patton says, “You are important to us, Logan. We can’t afford to lose you.”

“Well I am not sure--” Logan starts, before crumbling underneath Patton's’ gaze, “Er, thank you Patton and Virgil. It would be...most inopportune to lose either of you as well.”

At the mention his name, Virgil startles. He doesn’t expect for Logan to acknowledge him. Patton did all the talking after all. 

“Of course,” Patton says, smiling thinly, “now let’s get out of this stuffy study and get some food, hm?”

They take dinner in Roman’s quarters.  It is mostly silent, other than the clinking of cutlery. All of them are on the verge of using their bowls of soup as a makeshift pillow.

Halfway through, Patton lets out a strained giggle. Both Logan and Virgil shoot him a questioning look.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I was imagining what it’d be like if—if Roman was with us right now.” Patton says, voice cracking.

Virgil leans over and squeezes Patton’s hand gently. A small gesture of comfort. It is not a reassurance that Roman will return. Virgil can’t promise that. No one can. But it is Virgil showing Patton he also wishes Roman is there with them.

Logan huffs, rolling his eyes.

“Knowing Roman, he’d be making a fuss about the carrots in the soup,” Logan halfheartedly grumbles, “Despite my lectures, he did—he does not seem to comprehend the importance of carrots or vegetables in general.”

“You say that as if you wouldn’t eat Madame Crofter’s jelly for the rest of your life.” Patton teases.

Logan’s cheeks burn red from embarrassment, causing Virgil to snort in amusement.

“I—in any case, when Roman returns, perhaps a fitting punishment would be forcing him to eat nothing but carrots for a week.” Logan says, in an attempt to avert the topic away from him.

 The conversation continues after that, but Virgil drowns it out, focusing on one word: When. Logan said “When Roman returns” not “If Roman returns.”

Did Logan really believe that? Logan “I’m Always Serious” Golic? Logan who always berated Patton and Roman for their flights of fancy? Logan who always advocates for logical, sensible thinking?

If Logan believes Roman will return, maybe Virgil can as well. Virgil badly wants to believe the next time he sees Roman, he'll be riding atop a white horse and not inside a white casket. Virgil knows better. He’s lived enough to be wise to the world’s tricks.

Reality is harsh and cruel and oh so unforgiving. It sets you up into thinking your fairytale ending will happen, only to snatch it away at last minute’s notice. Until the next thing you’re aware, you’re imprisoned in a dungeon and you’re never getting out—

No. He refuses to dwell on that right now. Virgil gazes down at his half-empty soup bowl, his appetite deserting him. Patton and Logan are still talking. Patton glances at him, concerned. Virgil doesn’t look back. He’s still thinking.

Maybe Logan doesn’t truly believe Roman will come back. Perhaps it’s only a charade, to keep Virgil’s and possibly Patton’s hopes up. Both Logan and Patton treat him at best a small child. They tiptoe around certain topics, incredibly careful in their interactions with him.. He is damaged, he knows this. But he can take the truth. If Roman is dead, he’d prefer to know rather than live in an illusion where Roman could either be alive or dead.

Virgil wants to use words to demand Patton and Logan to tell him the truth. He doesn’t do it. Instead, he sits and thinks how the others must’ve felt about his own disappearance. The others didn’t give up on him, even when he’d believed they did. He can’t imagine having to experience something like this a second time. Logan and Patton are better than Virgil will ever be. They have a continual faith that things will be alright. A faith Virgil cannot even hope to possess.

Someone places a hand on his shoulder. It pulls Virgil out of his reveries and back into reality. Weeks ago the sudden contact would’ve startled him. But Virgil recognizes that warm, gentle touch and knows he is safe.

“Hey Virgil,” Patton says gently, moving his hand to tuck a piece of Virgil’s hair behind his ear, “Are you finished eating?”

He nods, mouth twisting to form a yawn.

“Okay, we’ll send it away then.” Patton says, not at all angered that Virgil hadn’t finished his meal.

A servant comes and collects their dirty dishes. Logan rises from his chair, presumably heading to his bedchamber for the night. At least, he starts for the door but freezes midway through. Patton doesn’t move either. It appears none of them are eager to leave each other’s presences.

“Sleepover?” Patton suggests, his smile lacking its usual spark.

Logan’s face scrunches together. He inhales deeply, words already formed on his tongue then stops. Why, Virgil doesn’t know. Something causes Logan to change his mind. Patton’s wide, pleading eyes, perhaps. Or maybe he’s too tired to put up a fight he’s likely to lose.

“I will participate, as long as Virgil is alright with it.” He says.

 The chair creaks as Virgil leans away from their questioning gazes. He should say no. The last thing he wants is his nightmares to disturb the others’ chances of a good night’s rest. He should say no, and yet, he doesn’t. His selfish desire for physical affection wins in the end.

Virgil nods yes, and he doesn’t regret upon seeing Patton’s smile grow wider.

The three of them don’t even change into sleepwear. They barely make it to the bed before they collapse. Logan and Patton fall asleep before Virgil. He can hear the steady sounds of their breathing.  Patton’s head leans against Virgil, an arm draped across Virgil’s chest. Meanwhile Logan’s back presses against Virgil’s side. He is encased between the two, and he does not mind it at all. It is comforting, grounding even.

Still he lays between the two, wide awake despite his exhaustion. The bed is supposed to be Roman’s. The whole spacious bedroom is rightfully Roman’s. Virgil is hardly deserving of such lodging.

 Yet, he understands now why Roman insisted on him staying here; guilt. Roman thinks Virgil deserves a royal’s quarters more than he, the rightful prince, deserves it. The fact the King allowed it is astonishing. But then again, when Roman gets an idea stuck in his head, it’s impossible to persuade him otherwise. Virgil knows this from personal experience.

Unsurprisingly, his fatigued mind is incapable of thinking about anything but Roman. Hot tears spill down his face.

Damn Roman for having the audacity to be more than a snobby, selfish noble. He never imagined wishing that until this moment. A snobby, selfish noble would be safe, behind their castle walls. Not traversing the kingdom, unguarded from its’ perils.

Instead, Roman happened to be a nearsighted, selfless fool. How dare he place his royal birthright in jeopardy for the sake of vengeance? He is the King’s only child. If he fell, the throne would fall to one of his cousins. If they chose to squabble over it, it’d mean anarchy for the whole kingdom.

The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few, or the one. Virgil isn’t worth the whole kingdom. An apology is all he needed. Not this impossible task Roman has placed upon himself.

Roman wrote he couldn’t stand remaining idle while Virgil’s tormentors went unpunished. But how could he not realize they couldn’t bear to live in a world without him? That after everything, Virgil could hardly live with himself knowing he’d been—that he’d been the catalyst to Roman’s…doom.

Virgil closes his eyes, his consciousness growing fuzzy. The world swirls into a black hole of nothingness. He’s asleep. Not entirely. A fray of his consciousness stays awake. Just enough for him to hear muffled voices, a soft kiss pressed upon his forehead then nothing. The part of him that’s mostly asleep thinks it’s a dream. A pleasant one, compared to the others. But then the bed grows cold, and that sends warning bells to his brain.

He opens his eyes to find Logan and Patton gone. Just like Roman. Heart in throat, Virgil tears the bedsheets off of him. He abandons the bed, standing up as he surveys his surroundings. It is still dark; the sun has not yet rose.

He refuses to look at the nightstand. He will not read another letter claiming their actions as right and just when that’s bullshit. A noise erupts from outside, startling him. Footsteps. Loud and heavy, belonging to the palace guards. There are shouts. A commotion like this can only mean one thing; there is a threat against the castle.

 Assassins? An enemy kingdom invasion? The remaining Haldoofse launching a surprise attack? Virgil doesn’t know nor does he care. The only thing he cares about is making sure Patton and Logan are safe. He refuses to let another person face danger because of him.

Virgil goes for the knife hidden underneath the bed frame. The knife the others have no idea exist. The knife Remy had bestowed upon him. 

The knife at his disposal, he heads to the door leading out of the quarters. Something brushes against his legs, and he whips out his knife to see two glittering irises. It’s Taran. The feline looks unimpressed at his knife, her chin held high.

He puts the knife away. With a shaky hand, he reaches out and pets Taran. She responds by headbutting his legs some more, purring. It appears Taran came to send him off. Whether it is god or cat, he does not know. It is reassuring all the same. He withdraws his hand and opens the door. He makes sure Taran doesn’t dart out before closing it shut.

Virgil stays away from the light of the hallway torches, keeping to the shadows. The halls are silent. Too silent after the ruckus from earlier. With each step, he could be a step closer from engaging with an enemy. He hears rapid footsteps and holds back, behind a wall. It’s an enemy—it has to be.

As the person rounds the corner, he tackles them. He holds his knife underneath their chin, ready to slash—

“Virgil?!”

He pauses. Even with the hallway lit by torches, it is dim. Yet there is no mistaking Logan gaping up at him in shock. It’s more than just that. There are tear tracks on his cheeks. Logan never cries. Never.

Virgil’s anger from earlier gives way. He removes the knife away from Logan’s throat, unpinning him from the floor. Logan lays on the ground, making no attempts to move. Virgil frowns, reaching out to caress Logan’s cheek. His thumb gently running across the tear-stains. Logan surprises him by leaning into the contact.

Logan is not a very affectionate person. He will offer physical comfort, knowing others reciprocate better to it. Rarely does he himself seek it out. He primarily shows and seeks love in other ways; words rooted in comforting logic and acts of services towards others.

He’s only seen Logan actively desire physical affection in times of duress. Something is wrong. Virgil withdraws his hand, causing Logan to whimper. His eyes widen in horror at the pitiful sound that emanates from his mouth.

“I—I apologize—”

Virgil doesn’t let him finish that sentence. He pulls Logan away from the ground and into a protective hold. Logan lets him. He clings to Virgil, sobbing. Virgil scans the hallways, straining to hear any possible intruders sneaking up on them. But the halls remain silent.

Virgil hums, rubbing Logan’s back. Words still fail him, but humming is okay. He hums, the melody sounding suspiciously familiar. As if he’s heard it sung to him by a certain prince. The soft lullaby appears to calm Logan down, his sobs petering out into small sniffles. Eventually Logan is breathing normally, slumped against Virgil. For a moment, Virgil thinks Logan has fallen asleep.

Then Logan jolts, gripping Virgil tightly by the shirt. There is a wild, almost manic glint in his eyes. It’s far from his usual calculating, reserved demeanor.

“Virgil,” He says lowly, “Roman, he is—he’s—”

Logan inhales deeply, collecting his thoughts. Virgil’s heart rings loudly in his ears. It is only a few seconds, the blink of an eye. At the mention of Roman, and what are merely seconds has transformed into literal years for Virgil. He knows what’s coming. There is no other explanation for Logan’s anomalous behavior. He knows what’s been coming for days. Still, it will hurt to hear those words spoken out loud. To know that Roman is actually de—

“—alive.”

[pinewoodpipit]

Fadeshock (+ my fankid OCs) in Flight Rising

I took a few days off for the holidays and in that time I made Fadeshock, Nathan, and Deniz in Flight Rising!

-

Neon

I chose a fae dragon for her because they're the smallest dragon species and are also noted to be quick, which felt accurate. I chose blue and purple colours to fit her design and what I headcanon to be her favourite colour (purple, she's constantly wearing it and it's also a mix of her blue and Fade's red - on a similar note, I think blue is Fade's favourite colour). The yellow highlights of course represent her hair, and the constellation wing markings represent her name meaning "Bright Star".

-

Fade

I chose a pearlcatcher for her because they're kind of haughty loners, which I thought fit her. I picked blue/red/black colours to match her powers and her canon design, faded markings on her wings to represent her hair changing colours, and the fireflies representing Prowler/her powers, because with Nightmare, she's never really alone.

-

Here's Fadeshock together! I think they look pretty sweet.

I'll add Nathan and Deniz below a cut for those who are interested in my designs for them, too.

-

Nathan

I chose a skydancer for him because they're kind of careful mediators/watchers and can sense emotions, which I thought was fitting to his Radiant power of sensing Radiance and everyone's "colours". I chose purple for him because it's a mix of his parents' blue and red colours, with the peacock markings on his wings to push the idea of him seeking people out.

I added a little baby picture of him here too hahah, and will do the same for Deniz!

-

Deniz

I chose a wildclaw for them as they're scrappy and fierce hunters, which I thought was fitting for Deniz's little baby anarchist vibe. They're black/brownish since their wolf form is black with some ginger tints in the sunlight, with decorated wings because they're an artist. The stars/glimmering stomach was because they have a white patch on their chest in their wolf form which Tala thinks is really cute because it looks like a little star, and their family is so closely tied to stars with her name and how she and Hazal grew closer because of the planetarium in Hazal's dad's office.

-

I really like this little AU. I think in this dragon universe both Nathan and Deniz would exist, and maybe another hatchling too? I'm not sure. I like the idea of Nathan using the peacock eyes on his wings to dazzle his prey and almost hypnotise them, while Deniz melts into the night and uses their large claws to ambush their prey and take them by surprise.

[randomnameless]

I have been playing Baten Kaitos EWLO for 3 days straight lol and...

Well, it has been a long time since I haven't played an old RPG !

We have NPCs!

And while some aren't relevant for sidequests and just exist for "flavour text" or stuff, well, they exist and of course add more meat to the environment! Farmer 55 who talks to famer 48 ? Sure they're talking about nonsense (going to the city to find a hubby!) but hey, at least they exist.

And when events happen with the plot, well, they react - in their way - they're not completely and utterly static!

Sure some of them are weird and cryptic as fuck (Mira!) but they feel like they're part of their setting/city they're in - i think it's also helped by the artistic/design choice for each island and area.

Also, special mention to the Diadem Knights (side)quest :

(Sidequest because you can theoretically let everyone die?)

Plot wise, a castle is assieged by the Empire in a surprise attack (hmm) and we have to help the knights protect their castle/defend themselves/protect their King.

And how to help them ? Well, you have spare knights in, somehow, your inventory, and have to support the ones fighting against the Empire, how? Well, when there are 2 knights fighting against 3 imperial soldiers, you have to add 1 knight from your inventory to make the numbers even, and the knights triumph over the imperials. And how to add knights to your "inventory"? Well you have to find the ones in the infirmary and motivate them (using their national flag!)

Sure, it's just a sidequest or a game mechanic, but damn if it, you know, just works getting the player involved with the current invasion and sense of urgency that comes with helping people defend their country from a surprise attack.

In the same vein, we had Triangle Strategy showcase in a small cutscene random yellow (Glenbrook) soldiers wondering why they were attacked, holding a line against red (Aesfrost) soldiers wanting to advance and march on their castle/city.

And because I didn't get the mechanics of this sidequest (tfw you suck lol) I let some knights die, and I'm pretty sure there is a house in the city where a person is waiting for a knight to return home (I think the knight was her son?) but well, since I kind of messed it up, when you return in this home she mourns his death.

But unlike a certain fandom and game in a franchise I still appreciate, no one blames the world, mechanics or the fish grilled over the oven for that knight's death, no, the people living in Diadem aren't written to be completely stupid and blame the aggressors, aka, the Empire (who also, apparently, wrote with markers over their lamp posts just to piss people off lol).

When you finally come in the Empire, well, you can talk - for a time - to the NPCs here and lo! They reveal they are imperialistic pieces of crap, because they think they're superior to the rest of the world and said rest of the world should bow to them - there's even a cutscene where a kid bumps in your party and insults you for making him lose his precious time.

Again, we're in a game who depicts each island/nation through their npcs : the empire is imperialistic? Well, they added NPCs to demonstrate that, it's not only hearsay - we go in the Empire, we talk to its people, we see them spit on us.

No false tea - but maybe Geldoblame was right and wanted to bring enlightment to the rest of the known world uwu - nope, not here.

People do shit, we see them do shit, and Geldoblame falls to his supposed demise after being turned in an eldritch abomination in a pit of lava.

Also, past events in backstories matter : we won't have, say, a character accepting being called a good girl and bonding over sweets with the daughter of the man who orchestrated the sack of her lands and the death of her people and siblings. Savyna's backstory involves murdering the people of Azha?

Watch as there is a cutscene about a kid running away from here, and how you're physically prevented from going in an area by some NPCs because she and Lyude (an imperial who was more or less exiled because he wasn't enough of an asshole) are in your party.

Kalas' is happy after being "finally complete"? Well, it was more or less foreshadowed in Balancoire, when we saw two NPCs talk shit about him because of his supposed "defect", aka only having one wing instead of having two.

Speaking about him...

Well, I watched my bro play the game on GC a long time ago lol, so I knew it, but you can see glimpses here and there about the twist, especially how Kalas himself seems to have more doubts or at least seems to regret his future course of actions, as the party learns more and more about the eldritch abomination he is supposed to release and the idea of betrayal - he is the one who is the most gung-ho about a possible mole in the party, he is seen doubting himself etc etc....

Nothing as hamfisted as a certain twist from another game, but it's nice to see and to spot the clues here and there that, well, he has an agenda that doesn't only revolve around avenging his grandpa and brother.

Given how the Switch version has the JP audio though, I noticed a blooper : Melodia, during the betrayal scene, calls Kalas in the jp audio "nii-san" but the script has her call him "my dear Kalas" - was Origins in preparation already and the devs really wanted to imply that Melodia is the daughter of the leads of BKO, who somehow, through a sidequest, help "create" Kalas?

Or does it relate to Kalas' creation, that happened before Melodia's, uh, "rebirth"?

IDK.

I'll make a post later on about the rest of the game (time to beat up monsters and use a mirror that'll totally work on Kalas to "free" him from the tainted influence!) but so far, from the cast, I'm really impressed with Gibari lol BK's take of the fisher bumpkin who's - totally not a former knight even if he is besties with the King - actually the one to impart wisdom and, in his way, try to refrain Kalas in the first chapters from acting too assholish really grew on me. Hell, it's Gibari who planned the rescue of his bro of a King, got a badass scene where he jumps (rather flies) in front of him to fight against the Imperials, and while it's obvious he's not adverse to using force, he's far from the "dumb muscle" archetype!

and he fucking kills monsters/eldritch abominations by bashing them with a paddle ffs

[tamarieatsbatteries175]

99% of these r really incoherent because I wrote this like last month at 3am but I'm not rewriting this I'm so eepy (also almost finished pokemon violet woo!! I originally beat scarlet but then my switch that I've had since like the year after launch finally gave out on me and we couldn't find me Nintendo online again so yeagh.) so sorry of some of them make. no sense. but they might. what do I nose/ref

-Nemona once tried cleaning up pennys dorm as yk like a nice gesture but she ended up ruining an insanely specific organizing method penny used for her collectables (for figures she had them in rainbow order; for snowglobw it was rainbow and categorized by theming) and then Nemona had to watch penny fuck up(/sillie) her cleaning while they told her about the 'right way' to organize things

-Nemona is formerly banned from Arvens kitchen (almost set him on fire (papyrus I burnt the water/ref)) but surprisingly not Penny's. penny also really likes to bake but is shit at cooking (the fuck do you mean "add some of this" how much??!!? (she needs specific instructions or she's dead on the floor)) also is the designated cake maker for birthdays. they also definitely tried teaching Nemona how to bake and it went decently well. Nemona did get sick though because she kept eating the cookie dough

-on the topic of baking Penny's favorite thing to make is apple pie (is that a pjs- gets fucking shot gets brutally killed)

-SPEAKING OF PJSK,,, they are so nenean/mizumafu to me

-before they were dating Penny started leaving notes (and occasionally some candy) at Nemona's door and she thinks she nnever got caught until Nemona mentions one time opening the door and seeing penny running down the hall like she was running a marathon

-pennys also insanely fast at running (downside is that she literally dies for the next 2 hours afterward)

-id like to think Nemona like vaugely knows a bunch of celebrities and actors and shit and Nemona's like "hey penpen do you like [insert popular artist in the Pokemon universe]" and they're like "no??? who the fuck is thay". on the other side penny was saying something about Hatsune Miku (probs a concert or a cool figure they saw) and as soon as Nemona askked who Miku was penny freaked the fuck out. "YOU DONT KNOW FUCKIGN HATSUNE MIKU!?!!? WHO ARE YOU??!!" and then explained what and who Miku is for the next hour

-also penny definitely has a shitton of Miku merch like posters all over their walls and a while spot in her shelving thingy just for miku

-(penny) has probably gotten Nemona into some weird ass game nobody even cares about except for them

-either penny is asleep all day and makes everyone think it's dead or stays awake for like a week straight and passes out at her desk

-i wanna talk about their confession but there's so many ways it could go. all of them involve it being penny the one to confess on Valentine's day/in october because erm idk I'm just attached 2 that idea <3

-Nemona's love language is probably words of affirmation and Penny's is physical touch (and probably gift giving she'd defo give Nemona some cool rock she found and like a puzzle piece she stole from a puzzle of Arvens. like hey babe here's this cool stick I found <3)

-they both use pet names for eachother but Nemona probably uses them more tbh. aside from more normal ones (dear, honey, darling, etc) Nemona calls penny her star and occasionally her moon) and penny calls Nemona her sun/sunflower. Nemona also calls penny penpen but it's more of a silly thing rather than an actual nickname. same with penny calling her 'mona

-penny is a hoodie stealer (on purpose) Nemona is a clothes stealer in general (on accient)

-penny totally does the hand flap thingy but she also wears bracelets so whenever she's excited she turns into like a maraca idk

-id like to think both believe in ghosts. Nemona is more afraid of them (like more traditional ooh spooky ghost yk) and penny is just like yeagh they probably exist

-ooh nother confession thing Penny totally gave Nemona an Applin and kind of forgot only people back in galar really do that so Nemona's really confused and penny has to explain the entire thing while really embarrassed and trying not to collapse onto the floor

-penny has 100% punched a hole in her wall it's canon I'm penny

-they share two pokemon, although they mostly stay with penny which is their appletun (evolved from the applin penny gave nemona) named candy and a houndoom named pomeg

THESE ARE ALL SO CUTE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! thanmk you for telling me all of this i think this ship is very cute ::3

[d-field22-blog]

Story on DeviantArt: https://www.deviantart.com/d-field22/art/Batman-OC-villain-1-Bengal-digital-865401975

Bio: Real name: Sarah Rachael Sollivan Occupation: Scientist(formerly) Professional Criminal Base of Operation: Gotham City Eyes: Brown(formerly) Blue Hair: Black(formerly) White Height: 5ft 8in Weight: 140lbs

Attributes: Heightened senses Flexibility Skilled in hand-to-hand combat. Mostly sticks to using her claws. Suffers from Chronic anger and Volatile anger Skilled in Biochemistry Suffers from a severe Delusional disorder Driven desire to covet her cubs and keep them away from human customs

Dream voice actress: Emilia Clarke. I don't know why. But for some reason, I can see Daenerys voicing Bengal. I can just picture her being the voice of one so demented as Bengal being voiced by someone who is "probably" already insane, though it has yet to be determined. In the books anyways, and before…well we don't speak about that train wreck here. THAT certain event(which shall remain nameless) honestly was only one of many things wrong with that dumpster fire of a show and marks many horrible things about storytelling and basic writing. Those two untalented dunderheads should be flipping burgers or operating a dump truck instead of writing. Just wow! What the hell were they thinking?!?! Martin, that rumor about the show and books better be false because there is gonna be hell to pay old man!! But I digress, I also picture her being beside Mark Hamill and Kevin Conroy(originally) voicing their respected characters. And maybe that deep within someone good and kind like Daenerys, there is an inner mad queen. And maybe that mad queen is Bengal. And in case you're wondering, she would be using her Sarah Conner voice for Bengal. She pulls an American accent fairly well.

Featured songs: Roar by Twenty One Two (originally by Katy Perry), Monster by Imagine Dragons, and Animals by Maroon 5. For Roar's case, I was originally going to use Animal I have Become but Killer Croc already took that one and made it a rule NOT to use the same song twice. The lyrics seem to fit Bengal's case well especially with the chorus. I chose this particular cover because I just liked that one better than the original. If I find other songs that fit her, then they will be added later. Monster, I feel fits Bengal especially with her time after her transformation, the animal or monster in her is only taking more control of her sanity. Animals, well you can figure that one out pretty easily.

Notes:

Her origin in a sense is similar to Man-Bat's origin.

Since the original looked a bit too human, and finding references from many talented artists who have drawn anthropoid tigers and do fine work I may add, I once again decided to use some of those elements in the new design for Bengal, I even gave her lips, well sort of. Since the outer black of a white tiger's mouth is that shade of black I decided to use that for lips essentially. So once more I say thanks for all who inspired me to make Bengal more animal.

Leo is another OC that will be done and thanks to my good friend YugiohPonyAvengers, we have developed him and many other of my rogues. Be sure to check out their bios in her page.

Her cubs have yet to be decided on what type of Tiger/Lion hybrids they will be. I know it matters on the animal's sex and all. But hey this is comics.