#I love this silly birb and I can’t wait to be able to dress up in the full costume :3

[cat-of-starlight]

-casually subjecting my little guy to a makeshift “The Cage” route to force the mesh’s glue to dry in place-

Heyyyyy pspspspsspspsss Slay the Princess fandom, I need an opinion since I’m conflicted on how to make this work-

Working on an inspired cosplay/Halloween costume of The Long Quiet-

The mask doesn’t have the correct color mesh on the eyes, and I don’t have the means to replace it or easily put lights behind it-

Pic for reference (haven’t added the feathers yet since I’m still doing paint touch ups)

Would white paint around the eye edges vibe with it?? Genuinely trying to figure out if I should touch it up that way, or if it will make it look weird :,D

Thoughts??

I’ll also take other suggestions, since I’ve genuinely never tried to DIY a costume like this before, but I also don’t have a lot of money, so keep that in mind if you do have an alt suggestion

Also yes I will post the whole thing once it’s done

I already have a nice cloak, clawed gloves, and a metric shit ton of black craft feathers for the rest of it, and I’m excited for how it turns out :3

[mermaid-of-the-valley]

We’re Dynamite

My part of the collaboration with @theeternalspace. Just wanted to post it up separate from the original so it’s a bit easier to find.

Characters: Virgil, Roman, and Remus(Briefly)

Pairing: Prinxiety

Hero and Villain AU based on this prompt. 

The Dazzling Prince, scourge of the city, beauteous lord of all… Probably should have seen this coming.

“Shit, shit, shit!” Roman was racing through the side streets on his motorbike, pursuers hot on his sparkling tail. Honestly, so uncool. You turn a few minor leaguers in for a reduced sentence and suddenly You’re the traitor?! Ridiculous. “It was only a few kilos of coke lost, get over yourselves!” He yelled hysterically.

A bullet ricocheted off the wall beside him. “Okay, we’re doing this.” Autopilot engaged, he flipped around to face his assailants. “So, no one told you life was gonna be this waaay!~ ” Clap, clap, clap, clap. The lane exploded in light waves timed to his performance. The one closest to him had his front tire sheered in half and from there it was a tumble into his two cohorts.

“Woops, that’s going to leave some road rash!” Roman threw his head back, laughing wildly. “Better luck next time, sweethearts!” He twisted back around. Autopilot disengaged, he gave a sharp turn down an alley, jumped the cycle over a car and swiveled deeper into the labyrinth.

All things considered, a quiet night. He sighed. “Siri, text my shadow knight. ‘Hey, Angel. I’m about to knock off a jewelry store for an engagement ring. What cut did you want again?’ Send.”

The ‘message sent’ text bounced with every bump in the road and Roman spent a little too long staring at the screen. He might not have glanced up at all, confident in his bike’s artificial intelligence covering for his gay dumbassery, but then he heard it.

“We’re no strangers to love, you know the rules and so do I!”

Roman screeched to a halt just outside his territory. The music skipped a beat, getting louder.

“A full commitment’s what I’m thinking of, you wouldn’t get this from any other guy!” Left? Right? Where the heck was that stupid song coming from? He rolled out onto the road.

“I just want to tell you how I’m feelin’, gotta make you understand!”

And then he was hit with a truck.

——————————————————————————————

He came to in the vehicle’s flatbed. Almost certainly concussed and his nose bruised if not broken. Well, that would take a bit to heal. Roman pried open his eyes to take in the fishy smelling, green splattered warehouse.

“Never gonna give you up, never gonna let you down, never gonna run around and desert you! Never gonna let you die, never gonna say goodbye, never gonna tell you why, just hurt you!~ ”

Aw f*ck, it was Remus.

“Hey, Bro-bro! You look like shit!” His greasy face hovered over Roman’s.

The prince groaned. “Well, it feels like I was hit with a monster truck, you freaking lunatic.”

“Oh, that was just to throw you off balance! I knew you’d be fine! Want to see the tape? I caught the whole thing on the dashcam!” He yanked Roman from the flatbed by a fistful of his uniform. Roman barely managing to catch himself.

Remus cackled. “It was great! Just BANG! Right over the hood! You looked like a deer!”

“Dare I ask what you did with Maggie?”

“She’s a little banged up. The boys took her back to the shop to get better.” His grin was a little too wide.

“If you touch her A.I. again I’ll strangle you.”

“Kinky.” Remus pushed him into a folding chair. It wobbled dangerously backwards before jerking forward once again, Remus’ hands on either side of the seat. “Not that it’s surprising considering your little tryst with the mutant pigeon.”

Roman squinted. “You’re misreading the situation. It’s a heartwarming story of enemies to lovers! … With a little tequila for flavor.”

“So, you’re telling me you haven’t fluffed those wings?” He wiggled his eyebrows, but the smile was strained. “Faced assault with a friendly weapon? Done the devil’s dance?” His voice was rising in irritation. “Gone out on the town covered in feathers?!” He shook his brother’s form.

Roman brought up a foot and kicked him off. “Take several steps off, Remus!” He snapped, and then winced at his own high pitch. “Have a little class!” He rubbed at his eyes before looking up to catch his twin making lewd gestures.

“Getting whipped by a parakeet! That’s what you are! Come on, Roman, we never hang out anymore! When was the last time we set fire to a dairy farm or unscrewed the color covers on a traffic light?”

“We never did those things.”

“Oh right, that was a dream I had last week.” He tugged an eyebrow. “But we could still do it!”

“I already have plans for this evening, Remus. The first of which now requires stealing nanobots capable of repairing internal contusions!”

Remus pouted. “Oh, poo.” He tapped a finger against his side and something clicked open on his hip.

Roman pushed himself up, more than aware of Remus’ hallucinogenic proclivities and not at all keen to experience them. “You’ll get over it, you rancid swordfish. We have literal decades to do… whatever demented chores your mind conjures up!” He stumbled backwards towards the door with as convincing a smile as he could manage. “Surely one more night won’t kill you!”

“Might kill you though.” Remus muttered.

“What?”

“What?”

“…I’ll see you next weekend.” He’d just gotten the door unlocked, when he was darted in the back. “Ow! Mother of Hell, Remus!” He wrenched the needle out and stared down at what little yellow liquid was left in the vial. Wait, yellow? “Shit.”

Remus wasn’t so much grinning as he was cracking his face in half. “DeeDee said you might not be too keen on hanging out, so he offered a compromise.”

And now there were two of him, that wasn’t right. “Don’ think that means what you think it does…”

“You’ll get over it, right? Literal decades to do whatever chores I come up with?”

Echoing. Not good. Getting dizzy. Exit plan Alpha. “Remus,” Roman’s smirk was just his side of warped. “Why ya gotta be so Ruuude?~”

—————————————————————–

Virgil would like to be able to tell his friends and family that he got a good night’s sleep and was just shocked awake by a repetitive knocking on his wall. Unfortunately, he’d been awake and watching “Serial Killer Files” online when, what he eventually thought was, a large bird rammed into his window and rolled down his roof.

His first thought for the culprit was Mothman. In his defense, he hadn’t slept in over 18 hours and had a higher than healthy amount of Monster in his system.

Nevertheless, something big was on his lawn now and his heroic instincts demanded he try to help… or at the very least move it somewhere it could die with dignity.

However, he very nearly changed his mind when he saw who it was. The dastardly prince had somehow found his home and was sprawled over his porch step. His face was pinched with pain and that was hardly the last of it. Virgil glanced to his neighbors on either side, thankfully unaware of the crash.

Princey groaned and against his worse judgement, the Seraph pulled his enemy into the house. “This better be a real emergency.” He turned the man on his side in the entryway and closed the door. “Okay, no commentary or I use peroxide.” He muttered to the half-aware villain.

He didn’t see the easy nod when he stood and ran to the kitchen. The supplies in his home weren’t as good as headquarters, but they’d do for the time being.

He paused, what was the protocol for this? A known threat to the city had found his house. How did he find his house? Virgil was never drunk enough to let that slip, he made sure of it! “Ugh, the minute he’s not bleeding on the carpet…” He compromised with himself, already kneeling next to the Prince again.

“Any trips or traps I should know about?” He asked, turning his charge gingerly onto his back.

A shake of the head. “You must be in bad shape if you’re not talking.” Virgil carefully slipped off the layers of padded cloth, laying a blanket over his patient’s lower half for modesty. Most of it seemed superficial, though he did have a disconcertingly dark bruise on his side and abrasions lining his legs. Virgil set to work.

“Are you…? Well, obviously, you’re not okay, but-” Nothing but steady breathing and staring. Virgil stilled. “Okay, I know what I said before, but you’re freaking me out. Talk to me. Are you in pain?”

“Hurts a little bit.” Virgil sighed in relief at hearing his voice. “Dizzy.”

“What happened to you?”

“Hit by a truck.”

…Unexpected. “Your bike didn’t see that one coming?”

“Maggie was off.” The prince raised a hand and flapped it slowly back and forth, bizarrely fixated on it.

“You named it-? Ugh, why am I even asking?” Virgil pasted down the last bit of gauze.

“Cause you’re curious.” His floaty hand tapped the one Virgil was still using to hold pressure.

“Can you tell me who did this?” Virgil questioned, unfortunately used to the man’s weird, touchy nature.

“The Duke.” He grumbled, eyes firmly on their hands.

Virgil was confused, the name seemed familiar, but he was usually fighting Princey and Logan’s patrols ran deeper underground than his. “Who’s that?” The man’s teeth clacked with how fast he closed his mouth, lips pulling down into a tight line. “Don’t be difficult now. Otherwise I can’t help.”

“M’brother.”

Now Virgil was confused and very freaked out. He blinked hard, trying to process all of the things wrong with what he just heard. “Are you concussed or something?”

“Nooooo.” He whined. “’M drugged, you silly birb.”

“That’s better?” Virgil hooked his arms around the villain and started to heft him upstairs.

The prince rubbed his arm thoughtfully. “Maybe.” He squinted at his rescuer. “Where’s your feathers?”

Virgil only just realized how dressed down he was compared to their typical interactions. “They’re not always visible, I have to live some kind normal life, right?”

“No, you don’t.” It was a surprisingly serious statement for how he had been acting. But Virgil had heard similar comments from him before, usually followed by rhetoric on power and the freedom it offered. A lot of times it was hard to tell what was just repeated and what was true to the Prince.

“Table that discussion for when you’re not loopy.” He stepped into the guest room at the top of the steps and lay the man on the bed. “Was your brother the one who made the drug?”

“No. His friend.” Virgil waited for any other information, but none was volunteered.

Then he had a thought. “What’s your name?”

His foe smiled in the same dreamy fashion. “Dazzling Prince.”

“Tell me your real name.”

His face pinched again, but Virgil’s suspicions were confirmed when he let slip: “Roman.”

“I think whatever you were dosed with makes you susceptible to suggestion.”

Roman kept up the mopey expression, eyes now slightly clouded. “Guess so.”

“Sorry. I didn’t want to accidentally make you move and agitate your injuries, but by the time I thought to ask a question that was the only one I could think of and it felt like the silence was getting awkward, so it just kind of fell out, and by that point it was too late to back pedal.” Virgil rambled out in one breath.

And with that Roman huffed what might have been a laugh under better circumstances. “Guess that’s fine then. Needed a reason to go full supervillain anyway. Might as well make it a petty one.”

“What? No! Don’t do-” Virgil cut himself off, remembering the predicament they were both in. He looked away, glaring at the floor. Roman rubbed his arm with a sloppy smirk.

“You’re too good.”

“For you? Obviously.”

“In general. You’re soft on a lot of crooks.” He leaned back into the bed, eyes drooping. “I’ve noticed how you act to the cops when you hand us over, Softy Seraph.”

“Few crimes are committed by hardened criminals. A lot of them just need help.” After all, where would he be without Patton?

“Sounds fake, but go off I guess.” He mumbled.

The hero sat at the edge of the bed. “You’re making it hard not to throw you out.”

Roman closed his eyes, seemingly content to let Virgil have the final say.

At least that’s what he thought before a foot prodded his back, almost exactly where his wings were painted. Virgil turned to tell him off when he heard the humming.

And saw the room sparkling. Little balls of light, opaque and floating, spawned around his room in time with specific notes in the song. Roman directing their appearance without looking, extending a pinky one direction and then his index finger another. They would follow his lines, streaking like stars and for once, completely harmless in action.

He took a breath. “Cherry lips, crystal skies. I could show you incredible things. Stolen kisses, pretty lies. You’re the queen, baby, I’m your king. Find out what you want, be that boy for a month, wait the worst is yet to come.~”

Virgil grimaced. “Oh, no.”

Roman grinned at the commentary, but didn’t stop. “Screaming, crying, perfect storms. I can make all the tables turn. Rose garden filled with thorns, keep you second-guessing like: “Oh my God, who is he?” I get drunk on jealousy, but I’ll come back each time I leave. ‘Cause darling you’re a nightmare dressed like a daydream.~”

“I’ll smother you with a pillow.”

“Doubt it. I’ve got a blank space, baby. And I’ll write your name.~” He slid in, quieter than before. His eyelids cracked opened the barest bit, hands still outstretched to maintain the glowing orbs. “You’re really pretty when you multiply by the way.”

Virgil rolled his eyes. “How many of me do you actually see?”

“Three.” He dropped his arms and the lights dimmed away, leaving spots in the hero’s vision where they were. “Four, if you count the outline.”

“Outline?”

Roman gestured at him vaguely. “The sparkles hiding your wings, they make up your shape.”

“What are you talking about?” Virgil sputtered, resisting the urge to glance around at whatever figment Roman’s mind conjured. “Can you actually see my wings?” Had he always seen them? “Answer me.”

Roman blinked a few times, getting drowsy. He hummed noncommittedly.  That floaty feeling was coming back threefold without the adrenaline, and every other word started to reverb. There was a snap near his face.

“Hey, focus, Princey.”

It was like falling asleep when you’d been trying to stay up on spite and caffeine. Something pressing down and disconnecting him from reality. It wasn’t awful, almost the opposite in fact, but he wasn’t super excited about what it took to get there. Fighting was easier without orders, but Seraph seemed slow on that uptake.

Roman locked eyes with Virgil, completely under his sway and only distantly aware of it. Virgil sighed in agitation. Just looking at the prince proved he’d screwed up again. His pupils were totally blown and unfocused. He tugged his hair in frustration. “Dammit, why do you always do this to me?!”

He curled over the edge of the bed, trying to regain a sense of calm. Stupid energy drinks. Virgil was totally out of depth with this one. The villain beside him was slowly sinking into the sheets and Virgil found himself questioning how regularly he got the chance to sleep.

Resigning himself to postponing his planned night of horror for a different one, Virgil carefully maneuvered the man under the comforter and then left to change into pajamas. He couldn’t exactly leave the man unsupervised in his house anyway.

He found himself humming a half-remembered tune as he brushed his teeth, keeping an ear trained on the room. Almost unthinkingly, he laid out an unopened toothbrush and paste.

“…Break all the rules, slippin’, runnin’ hot, baby ‘cause we’re dynamite. Gonna let the world…”

Walking in again he saw Roman had slid himself lower into the bedding, nose barely visible and hair tossed across the pillow. Virgil propped himself against the headboard, on top of the comforter, but a quilt tucked around his legs. He closed his eyes, resting, not sleeping. Not with the Prince next to him.

Roman’s breaths rumbled slow and deep in his chest. It was so weirdly rhythmic, Virgil had to wonder if it was a side effect of his powers. “You could do more you know.” He whispered to the room. Not for the first time, the idea of simply telling his enemy to give up his criminal ways while he was primed crossed his mind.

Instead, he took a heavy breath, crossed his arms and hunched over in a light doze.

Downstairs, Virgil’s hero-line phone buzzed with a delayed text from the man he saved.