(in this day and age? Are we still doing these? lol)
Venus / 21+ / She/Her
My first language isn’t English, so if I make mistakes, oh well, we roll with it.
I study linguistics and write fanfics just for fun.
My account is not heavily +18 or nsfw, (doesn't mean I don't write it) however mostly the topics in my fics could be disturbing for the younger audience, please please read the tags before reading my work.
Since this is the only tumblr account I have if you're underage I just kindly ask you to mind what you're reading. Or just not be here at all.
This is no longer my only blog I now have a nsfw side blog however my work still remains the same so please still mind what you are reading. @venusplanttafterhours -> said sideblog
I'm not responsible for anything you read that you don't like. I try my best at tagging everything correctly so if you see something you don't like maybe don't read it? (If I didn't tag it correctly do remind me)
I’ve been watching Hermitcraft forever, (doesn't mean I know anything about all the season lol) I started back when Mumbo joined (Season 2), drifted away for a bit around Seasons 3–4, and came back when Grian became a Hermit.
I’m a multishipper, and my main fandoms are Hermitcraft and Life SMP, so that’s what I write for the most. That said, I enjoy watching other SMPs too, and there’s always a chance I’ll write for them in the future.
I’ve lurked on Tumblr for years but I’m still figuring out the whole “blogging” thing, so bear with me. We’re learning together.
My ask box is open! You can drop by with questions about my fics, prompts, random ideas, or just to chat. I love talking and will absolutely yap your ear off, so if you think you can handle that, hit me with it.
Other than these I don't really have any rules just don't be an asshole.
This will be a series of pieces in which I'll sketch the eyes of vsmp characters. I've been wanting to do a small project like this for a while, but I've never had the energy to do it full-rendering-style. Well, let it be at least a sketch. I mean, it's definitely better than never ever bring my idea to life at all.
hello all. i just want to say, thank you so much for all the support. we have gotten a lot of questions about some things we will talk about eventually, a lot of donations and well wishes we want to slowly get through and send personal messages back on our Ko-fi, and a lot of new people here to show support.
i do not want this to be for nothing. we are moving forwards with renewed vigor for our craft and taking it not for the hurt that it was brought on from, but the passion we have always had for our craft and the love and trust we have built with the friends we hold dear. more music is coming. new collaborative projects are coming. i plan to speak with my moderators to make the Discord more of an engaging and hospitable space. we do not take this gift for granted.
hey guys im back from my grave. my... mixi grave... heh, get it?? get it?? please get it
this has taken me ages to create, but i really didn't want to delay it further than necessary. its messy, but a post is a post! please reblog if you can (:
hey guys im back from my grave. my... mixi grave... heh, get it?? get it?? please get it
this has taken me ages to create, but i really didn't want to delay it further than necessary. its messy, but a post is a post! please reblog if you can (:
you’re back!!! (sounds of the world rejoicing) 🎉🎉🎉
IM BACK!!! :D
for the past month I’ve been dealing with some really bad burnout and artblock. half the time i would be stressing about what i had to post that week, i was overly worried with what people were expecting from me.
i ended up disconnecting, not because i wanted to and made that decision for myself, but because nothing was coming of forcing myself into drawing. it was an unintentional break, but a needed one.
for the next few months my art may not be as constant or as numerous as it may have been before, and im slowly working on being okay with that!
i’ve stopped forcing myself into constantly working on new posts, and although it’s been difficult, it’s been helping. getting my mind off of what “people expect of me” has been very rewarding, and is a much healthier mindset i can have for the betterment of my art.
im glad that I’ve been able to reel the energy to come back to tumblr again, but i think it’s going to take time for me to get used to the routine of things. still, im so glad to be back and in a much healthier place than i was before! 💜
this part is one that i'm really going to hate. in the wake of all that happened yesterday, i need to talk about finances. i know this is long, but i urge you to read through, because i could really use some tangible, real help right now.
as many of you know, the work we did for Avid was substantial. the music we made with him has been our lifeblood for the past several months as we have been reeling from the onset of a severe, life changing disability diagnosis that prevents us from working a typical job. music, video editing, streaming, and making our own videos are about all we can do. our disabling dissociative amnesia prevents the timely and reasonable learning of new skills. while we have been working constantly with a dissociative specialist to inch towards remedying this, we do not expect that we will be equipped to work in any other capacity any time soon.
the royalties we received from the music we made together with Avid were roughly 80-90% of our income on any given month for the calendar year so far, and they have helped us stay afloat while we have been trying to go through the rigorous and ill-equipped disability system.
putting all your eggs in one basket is never a good idea regardless, and the fears i had building for the past couple of months only further emphasized this. as such, i have been trying to diversify by engaging with streaming, trying to get my name out there for collaborative work in other SMPs, and reaching out to my creator friends for editing work. i really can't thank two people in particular enough - LeonSBU and NatureOfGaming - for providing me work as they have been able to afford and especially in Leon's case, getting my name out there for other SMPs.
unfortunately, the true extent of Avid's manipulations and lies were more than i could ever have imagined. the fact that my entire understanding of his intentions has been flipped in a matter of no more than 3 days feels like being hit by a truck. for full transparency, i am no longer in contact with Avid, but i did inform them that i was leaving the fate of our music in their hands. in the final messages he sent to me before i cut contact, he told me that he "would never cut [me] off financially". he told me he would never do a lot of things, so forgive me if i have trouble trusting this. regardless, the dropoff in listenership after what has been revealed will be substantial and immediate.
in the best case-scenario, i have a month or two left before royalties catch up to this dropoff, and will see consistent income for that time still. in the worst, i will no longer be able to afford my rent by the end of the month if he does remove the music and disable my royalty splits.
what i need is two things: i need immediate funds to fall back on in case things go poorly, and i need longevity. i have been so lucky to be surrounded by so many truly astounding and generous creators who have been willing to put my name out there for work. i am hoping this comes to fruition. i am already hearing from some about potential editing opportunities which is amazing. but things are still up in the air, and i need to be quick and smart. this is why i am doing something that my fans know i hate. i'm asking for help.
as i see it, there are three pillars to this. all the highlighted text below links directly:
immediate aid - if you have the funds to spare, buying our music on Bandcamp and donating to our Ko-Fi are methods of which we see the funds in a matter of days, if not instantly. this will help us build an emergency fund if worse comes to worse.
supporting our work - by spreading the word about our streaming on Twitch and listening to our music on streaming services such as Spotify, Apple Music, and YouTube (and any other platform our music is on), you provide a significant source of consistent income that we can rely on month-to-month.
word of mouth - talking about what we do and why you enjoy it is a surprisingly big help, because it helps us find connections for potential growth opportunities and commission work. additionally, letting people know we have a Discord and are the ones responsible for Avid's music in the first place not only helps us, but it helps the people who loved Avid's music know there is more out there from the person who made his songs possible.
i'm gonna level with you all. i fucking hate writing this. i feel like a beggar. i feel humiliated. these past three days of piecing things together have been some of the worst of my life, and having to once again ask for help is the cherry on top. since i learned about the truth three days ago, this has been constantly looming over me. everything else has been made crystal clear to me, so i at least know without a shadow of a doubt what happened. but with this? i'm terrified. Avid knew my situation, my disability, my reliance on our work together. he has left me in a truly impossible situation. i am taking it as an opportunity to double down on the work i was already doing and try to turn it into a positive. i hope that you all are gracious enough to help me make that a reality. it would really mean the world right now.
for some positivity in all of this, here's a sneak peak of my next song. i'm so ready to move forwards and i'm trying to let this empower me to make some awesome fucking art. thank you to everyone who read to the end. hope to see you all soon <3
Regarding the Avid & Marm situation, I wasn't planning on making a post. I didn't think there was anything I could add that hasn't already been expressed multiple times. My heart goes out to those who have had friendships ruined through A&M's actions, and I'm relieved to hear the bridges burnt are being rebuilt.
That said, I would warn people against jumping on the "I always got bad vibes off them" bandwagon.
Bad vibes are not evidence, more often than not they're unchecked biases, playing to our own fears and stereotypes. If you go down the gut instinct route, you're gonna start witch hunts.
I've encountered two managers with similar behaviour patterns – heck, I left my last job because one turned her attention on me, and I decided to get the hell out before I was pushed. These people get away with it because they are very good at controlling the narrative. They isolate you, they pit you against your peers, they tell you they're the only one you can trust – all things that are hella difficult to see from an outside perspective.
In my experience, the best way this gets stopped is when the targets communicate and realise that things aren't adding up – which is exactly what happened.
My point is, don't take your gut instinct at face value. Don't go oh I always felt something was off. It's nice to feel validated, but it's confirmation bias, not empirical evidence. (And it also makes you very easy targets for the kind of stunts A&M were pulling.)
What if Louis came back from the dead years after his death, only to discover that Owen, the husband he had barely gotten to spend any time with after their marriage, had fallen in love again and built a life with Legundo?
This might need a name lol
The first real crack in the ice came entirely by accident. Legundo was making his way through the castle with an armful of freshly folded sheets balanced against his chest. The halls were quiet, save for the distant creaks of old stone settling and the occasional draft rattling against ancient windows.
It was peaceful.
Then he heard a low mechanical rumble. He paused. The sound seemed to come from somewhere down the servants' corridor. A few seconds passed.
Silence.
Then another rumble. Followed immediately by a sharp stream of French that sounded deeply offended.
Legundo blinked.
Slowly, he turned toward the laundry room. There was another rumble. Another curse. Then what sounded suspiciously like someone threatening the machine.
Curiosity won. Balancing the sheets against one hip, Legundo pushed open the door. The sight that greeted him nearly made him laugh on the spot. Louis stood in the center of the room with his arms folded tightly across his chest. Directly in front of him sat the washing machine. The washing machine was doing absolutely nothing remarkable. It simply spun the load inside with a steady rhythmic hum.
Louis stared at it with the same expression a knight might reserve for a dragon. The machine rumbled. Louis narrowed his eyes. The machine continued washing clothes. Louis somehow looked even more suspicious. For several seconds neither appeared willing to back down.
"What are you doing?"
Louis didn't look away from his opponent. "The box growls."
Legundo stared. "The washing machine?"
"It growls."
"That's what washing machines do."
Louis finally glanced toward him. His expression was entirely serious. "It sounds unhappy."
The sheer sincerity in his voice broke whatever resistance Legundo had. A laugh escaped before he could stop it. The sound echoed off the stone walls. Louis immediately looked offended. Not angry. Just offended. Like Legundo had failed to appreciate a very serious problem.
"I fail to see what is amusing."
Legundo tried and failed to compose himself. "I'm sorry. I just..." He shook his head. "You've been standing here arguing with the washing machine?"
"I have not been arguing with it." The machine rumbled again. Louis glared at it. Legundo raised an eyebrow. Louis hesitated. "...Much."
Another laugh escaped him. For a brief moment Louis looked ready to take offense again. Then something in his expression shifted. His gaze drifted back toward the machine.
Not annoyed.
Not irritated.
Confused.
Legundo found himself studying him. Really studying him.
Louis always carried himself with an air of confidence. Elegant clothes. Perfect posture. Sharp remarks. The sort of man who seemed impossible to catch off guard. Yet standing here in the laundry room, staring suspiciously at an appliance, he suddenly looked far younger than the centuries he carried.
Lost, almost. As though the world had moved on without him. Because it had.
The realization settled heavily in Legundo's chest. He'd spent weeks thinking of Louis as Owen's first husband. The vampire who had suddenly returned and complicated everything.
But Louis wasn't just that. He was someone who had died. Someone who had opened his eyes again centuries later to discover the world was unrecognizable.
Electricity.
Cars.
Phones.
Medicine.
Washing machines.
A thousand ordinary things that everyone else took for granted. Things Louis had never had the chance to learn. The annoyance Legundo had been carrying around for weeks suddenly felt much smaller.
The machine let out another low rumble. Louis frowned at it. "See?"
Legundo bit back a smile. "Come here."
Louis looked over immediately. Suspicious. "Why?"
"So I can show you how it works."
The suspicion deepened. "Why?"
"Because it's a washing machine, Louis. Not a hostile creature."
Louis glanced between him and the machine. His expression suggested he wasn't entirely convinced. "It's making noises."
"That's normal."
"It shakes."
"That's normal too."
"It sounds upset."
Legundo set the sheets down on a nearby table. "It isn't upset."
"How do you know?"
"Because I own one."
Louis looked unconvinced. "You own many questionable things."
Legundo snorted. "Come here."
After a moment Louis reluctantly stepped closer. Legundo crouched beside the machine and gestured toward the glass door. "Look."
Louis leaned down. Inside, shirts and towels tumbled through soapy water. His eyes widened slightly. The reaction was so genuine that Legundo had to hide another smile.
"It spins them."
"Yes."
"And that cleans them?"
"Yes."
Louis stared. The machine continued its work. "That seems inefficient."
Legundo laughed. For a moment they stood side by side watching the laundry spin. The room filled with the steady hum of machinery.
For once, the silence between them wasn't uncomfortable. It simply existed.
Louis tilted his head. "So where does the water come from?"
"The pipes."
"And where do the pipes get it?"
Legundo launched into an explanation. Halfway through, he realized Louis was actually listening. Not pretending. Not waiting for his turn to speak. Listening with genuine curiosity. And for the first time since Louis had returned, Legundo found himself enjoying his company.
When he glanced over, he discovered Louis was smiling faintly at the machine. Not because he understood it. Because he finally didn't have to figure it out alone.
After the laundry room incident, things began improving in small, almost invisible ways. Not enough that either of them would have admitted it.
But enough.
Conversations became easier. The awkward silences became shorter. Sometimes Legundo would walk into a room and Louis wouldn't immediately leave. Sometimes Louis would make a dry comment and Legundo would catch himself smiling.
It wasn't friendship. Not yet. But it was heading somewhere.
The kitchen incident happened entirely because Owen had the terrible habit of encouraging things.
"Why don't you try cooking?"
Louis looked up from the book he was reading. Owen was sprawled across the couch beside him, one arm hooked around Louis's shoulders. Legundo was sitting nearby, sorting through patient notes.
Louis stared at Owen. "Because I do not eat."
"That's not the point."
"It is exactly the point."
Owen grinned. "You've never cooked before?"
Louis looked mildly offended. "Of course I have." Then he paused. A thoughtful look crossed his face. "...Actually, no."
Legundo snorted.
Owen immediately sat upright. "You've never cooked?"
"I've never needed to."
"Not once?"
Louis gestured vaguely. "Owen, I spent centuries drinking blood."
"Fair."
"I am a vampire."
"Also fair."
"I have no idea why either of you expect me to know how soup works."
Legundo laughed.
Owen pointed dramatically. "That's exactly why you should learn."
Louis narrowed his eyes. "Every terrible idea you've ever had has started with those words."
Several hours later, Legundo was in the infirmary organizing medical supplies when a strange smell drifted through the open doorway.
At first he ignored it. The castle was old. Strange smells happened. Then the smell grew stronger. Smoke. Not the comforting scent of firewood from one of the castle's fireplaces. Not a candle left burning too long.
This was thick. Acrid. The unmistakable smell of something going catastrophically wrong.
Legundo froze with a bottle still in his hand. "Oh no."
A second later hurried footsteps echoed down the hallway.
Owen appeared in the doorway. "You smell that too?"
Legundo slowly lowered the bottle. "I smell that."
They stared at each other. The realization hit simultaneously.
"The kitchen."
"The kitchen."
Then both of them were running.
The closer they got, the worse it became. Smoke drifted through the corridor ahead. Something clattered loudly. A string of rapid French followed. Then silence. Then another loud clang.
Legundo immediately picked up his pace.
Owen looked worried. Which was concerning. Because Owen rarely worried about anything. The moment they reached the kitchen door, Owen shoved it open.
Both men stopped dead. The kitchen looked like a crime scene. Vegetables covered nearly every available surface. A knife was sticking upright out of a cutting board. An onion sat abandoned on the floor. Several more appeared to be attached to the ceiling somehow.
Neither of them wanted an explanation. A cookbook lay open on the counter. One page had been aggressively folded back. And standing in the center of the destruction was Louis. Arms folded. Perfect posture. Utterly composed. As if he hadn't single-handedly transformed the kitchen into a disaster zone.
In front of him sat a pot. The contents of the pot were on fire. Not the stove. Not the burner. The soup itself. The soup had become fire.
Louis looked up as they entered. "Oh." He pointed at the pot. "I believe there may be an issue."
For several seconds nobody spoke. The soup crackled. A small flame popped. Legundo blinked. Owen blinked. Louis waited patiently.
"What happened?" Legundo finally asked.
Louis gestured toward the cookbook. "I followed the instructions."
Owen looked at the pot. Then at Louis. Then back at the pot. "The soup is on fire."
"Oui."
"Soup should not be on fire."
Louis frowned thoughtfully. His gaze drifted toward the flames. The flames flickered back. After a moment he nodded.
"Je m'en doutais." (I suspected as much.)
The silence lasted exactly one second. Then Owen doubled over laughing. Legundo wasn't far behind.
Louis stared at both of them in disbelief. "I fail to see what is amusing."
"You burned soup!" Owen managed between laughs.
"I know that."
"How?"
"I don't know!"
That only made Owen laugh harder. He grabbed the nearest counter for support. Legundo had tears gathering in his eyes.
Louis looked personally offended by their reaction. "I followed the recipe."
"The soup is literally on fire," Legundo wheezed.
"Then perhaps the recipe is incorrect."
"You think the recipe told you to make fire?"
"It neglected to warn me against it."
Owen made a choking noise.
Eventually Legundo stepped forward to inspect the damage. Louis immediately moved aside.
Though not before muttering something under his breath. "Quelle humiliation..." (What a humiliation...)
Unfortunately for him, Owen understood French. The vampire immediately burst out laughing again.
"Oh, don't start."
"You are laughing at my suffering."
"You set soup on fire."
"I did not do it intentionally."
Legundo opened the lid. A cloud of smoke exploded upward. He immediately regretted every decision that had brought him here. Inside was a blackened substance that no longer resembled food.
Louis leaned over his shoulder. "What is that?"
"You made it."
"I am aware." Louis narrowed his eyes at the contents. "But what is it?"
Owen slid into a chair because his legs had apparently stopped functioning.
By the time the kitchen was restored, evening had settled outside the castle windows. The smoke had cleared. The ruined soup had been discarded. The surviving vegetables had been rescued. And somehow all three of them had ended up sitting around the kitchen table.
Nobody seemed particularly eager to leave.
Owen rested his chin in his hand. Still smiling.
Legundo looked exhausted.
Louis looked deeply offended by the entire concept of cooking.
For a while they sat in comfortable silence.
Then Owen spoke. "You know," he said softly, looking between them, "this is nice."
Louis raised an eyebrow. "The kitchen nearly burned down."
"A little."
"The soup attacked me."
"The soup did not attack you."
"It absolutely did." Louis pointed toward the discarded pot. "I was minding my own business."
Legundo and Owen laughed. And after a moment, Louis did too. A real laugh this time. Not one of his polite chuckles. Not the amused huff he sometimes gave Owen.
A genuine laugh.
Warm.
Bright.
Completely unguarded.
The sound surprised all three of them. For a brief moment, the room fell quiet. Owen looked at him. Really looked at him. And his smile softened. Because Louis was happy.
Not forcing it.
Not pretending.
Actually happy.
"Mon amour," (My love,) Louis said, looking toward Owen with fond exasperation, "you are a terrible influence."
Owen's grin widened immediately. "I know."
Louis shook his head. Then his gaze shifted toward Legundo. The doctor was still smiling. Still trying and failing not to laugh. Something warm flickered across Louis's expression.
Small.
But genuine.
"Though perhaps," he admitted, "you are not the only one."
Legundo snorted. "That's probably the nicest thing you've ever said to me."
"I wouldn't get used to it."
Yet he was smiling when he said it. And somehow, sitting around a kitchen table after nearly burning down part of the castle, surrounded by smoke and ruined soup and ridiculous laughter, the three of them felt less like rivals and more like a family.
What if Louis came back from the dead years after his death, only to discover that Owen, the husband he had barely gotten to spend any time with after their marriage, had fallen in love again and built a life with Legundo?
This might need a name lol
The first real crack in the ice came entirely by accident. Legundo was making his way through the castle with an armful of freshly folded sheets balanced against his chest. The halls were quiet, save for the distant creaks of old stone settling and the occasional draft rattling against ancient windows.
It was peaceful.
Then he heard a low mechanical rumble. He paused. The sound seemed to come from somewhere down the servants' corridor. A few seconds passed.
Silence.
Then another rumble. Followed immediately by a sharp stream of French that sounded deeply offended.
Legundo blinked.
Slowly, he turned toward the laundry room. There was another rumble. Another curse. Then what sounded suspiciously like someone threatening the machine.
Curiosity won. Balancing the sheets against one hip, Legundo pushed open the door. The sight that greeted him nearly made him laugh on the spot. Louis stood in the center of the room with his arms folded tightly across his chest. Directly in front of him sat the washing machine. The washing machine was doing absolutely nothing remarkable. It simply spun the load inside with a steady rhythmic hum.
Louis stared at it with the same expression a knight might reserve for a dragon. The machine rumbled. Louis narrowed his eyes. The machine continued washing clothes. Louis somehow looked even more suspicious. For several seconds neither appeared willing to back down.
"What are you doing?"
Louis didn't look away from his opponent. "The box growls."
Legundo stared. "The washing machine?"
"It growls."
"That's what washing machines do."
Louis finally glanced toward him. His expression was entirely serious. "It sounds unhappy."
The sheer sincerity in his voice broke whatever resistance Legundo had. A laugh escaped before he could stop it. The sound echoed off the stone walls. Louis immediately looked offended. Not angry. Just offended. Like Legundo had failed to appreciate a very serious problem.
"I fail to see what is amusing."
Legundo tried and failed to compose himself. "I'm sorry. I just..." He shook his head. "You've been standing here arguing with the washing machine?"
"I have not been arguing with it." The machine rumbled again. Louis glared at it. Legundo raised an eyebrow. Louis hesitated. "...Much."
Another laugh escaped him. For a brief moment Louis looked ready to take offense again. Then something in his expression shifted. His gaze drifted back toward the machine.
Not annoyed.
Not irritated.
Confused.
Legundo found himself studying him. Really studying him.
Louis always carried himself with an air of confidence. Elegant clothes. Perfect posture. Sharp remarks. The sort of man who seemed impossible to catch off guard. Yet standing here in the laundry room, staring suspiciously at an appliance, he suddenly looked far younger than the centuries he carried.
Lost, almost. As though the world had moved on without him. Because it had.
The realization settled heavily in Legundo's chest. He'd spent weeks thinking of Louis as Owen's first husband. The vampire who had suddenly returned and complicated everything.
But Louis wasn't just that. He was someone who had died. Someone who had opened his eyes again centuries later to discover the world was unrecognizable.
Electricity.
Cars.
Phones.
Medicine.
Washing machines.
A thousand ordinary things that everyone else took for granted. Things Louis had never had the chance to learn. The annoyance Legundo had been carrying around for weeks suddenly felt much smaller.
The machine let out another low rumble. Louis frowned at it. "See?"
Legundo bit back a smile. "Come here."
Louis looked over immediately. Suspicious. "Why?"
"So I can show you how it works."
The suspicion deepened. "Why?"
"Because it's a washing machine, Louis. Not a hostile creature."
Louis glanced between him and the machine. His expression suggested he wasn't entirely convinced. "It's making noises."
"That's normal."
"It shakes."
"That's normal too."
"It sounds upset."
Legundo set the sheets down on a nearby table. "It isn't upset."
"How do you know?"
"Because I own one."
Louis looked unconvinced. "You own many questionable things."
Legundo snorted. "Come here."
After a moment Louis reluctantly stepped closer. Legundo crouched beside the machine and gestured toward the glass door. "Look."
Louis leaned down. Inside, shirts and towels tumbled through soapy water. His eyes widened slightly. The reaction was so genuine that Legundo had to hide another smile.
"It spins them."
"Yes."
"And that cleans them?"
"Yes."
Louis stared. The machine continued its work. "That seems inefficient."
Legundo laughed. For a moment they stood side by side watching the laundry spin. The room filled with the steady hum of machinery.
For once, the silence between them wasn't uncomfortable. It simply existed.
Louis tilted his head. "So where does the water come from?"
"The pipes."
"And where do the pipes get it?"
Legundo launched into an explanation. Halfway through, he realized Louis was actually listening. Not pretending. Not waiting for his turn to speak. Listening with genuine curiosity. And for the first time since Louis had returned, Legundo found himself enjoying his company.
When he glanced over, he discovered Louis was smiling faintly at the machine. Not because he understood it. Because he finally didn't have to figure it out alone.
After the laundry room incident, things began improving in small, almost invisible ways. Not enough that either of them would have admitted it.
But enough.
Conversations became easier. The awkward silences became shorter. Sometimes Legundo would walk into a room and Louis wouldn't immediately leave. Sometimes Louis would make a dry comment and Legundo would catch himself smiling.
It wasn't friendship. Not yet. But it was heading somewhere.
The kitchen incident happened entirely because Owen had the terrible habit of encouraging things.
"Why don't you try cooking?"
Louis looked up from the book he was reading. Owen was sprawled across the couch beside him, one arm hooked around Louis's shoulders. Legundo was sitting nearby, sorting through patient notes.
Louis stared at Owen. "Because I do not eat."
"That's not the point."
"It is exactly the point."
Owen grinned. "You've never cooked before?"
Louis looked mildly offended. "Of course I have." Then he paused. A thoughtful look crossed his face. "...Actually, no."
Legundo snorted.
Owen immediately sat upright. "You've never cooked?"
"I've never needed to."
"Not once?"
Louis gestured vaguely. "Owen, I spent centuries drinking blood."
"Fair."
"I am a vampire."
"Also fair."
"I have no idea why either of you expect me to know how soup works."
Legundo laughed.
Owen pointed dramatically. "That's exactly why you should learn."
Louis narrowed his eyes. "Every terrible idea you've ever had has started with those words."
Several hours later, Legundo was in the infirmary organizing medical supplies when a strange smell drifted through the open doorway.
At first he ignored it. The castle was old. Strange smells happened. Then the smell grew stronger. Smoke. Not the comforting scent of firewood from one of the castle's fireplaces. Not a candle left burning too long.
This was thick. Acrid. The unmistakable smell of something going catastrophically wrong.
Legundo froze with a bottle still in his hand. "Oh no."
A second later hurried footsteps echoed down the hallway.
Owen appeared in the doorway. "You smell that too?"
Legundo slowly lowered the bottle. "I smell that."
They stared at each other. The realization hit simultaneously.
"The kitchen."
"The kitchen."
Then both of them were running.
The closer they got, the worse it became. Smoke drifted through the corridor ahead. Something clattered loudly. A string of rapid French followed. Then silence. Then another loud clang.
Legundo immediately picked up his pace.
Owen looked worried. Which was concerning. Because Owen rarely worried about anything. The moment they reached the kitchen door, Owen shoved it open.
Both men stopped dead. The kitchen looked like a crime scene. Vegetables covered nearly every available surface. A knife was sticking upright out of a cutting board. An onion sat abandoned on the floor. Several more appeared to be attached to the ceiling somehow.
Neither of them wanted an explanation. A cookbook lay open on the counter. One page had been aggressively folded back. And standing in the center of the destruction was Louis. Arms folded. Perfect posture. Utterly composed. As if he hadn't single-handedly transformed the kitchen into a disaster zone.
In front of him sat a pot. The contents of the pot were on fire. Not the stove. Not the burner. The soup itself. The soup had become fire.
Louis looked up as they entered. "Oh." He pointed at the pot. "I believe there may be an issue."
For several seconds nobody spoke. The soup crackled. A small flame popped. Legundo blinked. Owen blinked. Louis waited patiently.
"What happened?" Legundo finally asked.
Louis gestured toward the cookbook. "I followed the instructions."
Owen looked at the pot. Then at Louis. Then back at the pot. "The soup is on fire."
"Oui."
"Soup should not be on fire."
Louis frowned thoughtfully. His gaze drifted toward the flames. The flames flickered back. After a moment he nodded.
"Je m'en doutais." (I suspected as much.)
The silence lasted exactly one second. Then Owen doubled over laughing. Legundo wasn't far behind.
Louis stared at both of them in disbelief. "I fail to see what is amusing."
"You burned soup!" Owen managed between laughs.
"I know that."
"How?"
"I don't know!"
That only made Owen laugh harder. He grabbed the nearest counter for support. Legundo had tears gathering in his eyes.
Louis looked personally offended by their reaction. "I followed the recipe."
"The soup is literally on fire," Legundo wheezed.
"Then perhaps the recipe is incorrect."
"You think the recipe told you to make fire?"
"It neglected to warn me against it."
Owen made a choking noise.
Eventually Legundo stepped forward to inspect the damage. Louis immediately moved aside.
Though not before muttering something under his breath. "Quelle humiliation..." (What a humiliation...)
Unfortunately for him, Owen understood French. The vampire immediately burst out laughing again.
"Oh, don't start."
"You are laughing at my suffering."
"You set soup on fire."
"I did not do it intentionally."
Legundo opened the lid. A cloud of smoke exploded upward. He immediately regretted every decision that had brought him here. Inside was a blackened substance that no longer resembled food.
Louis leaned over his shoulder. "What is that?"
"You made it."
"I am aware." Louis narrowed his eyes at the contents. "But what is it?"
Owen slid into a chair because his legs had apparently stopped functioning.
By the time the kitchen was restored, evening had settled outside the castle windows. The smoke had cleared. The ruined soup had been discarded. The surviving vegetables had been rescued. And somehow all three of them had ended up sitting around the kitchen table.
Nobody seemed particularly eager to leave.
Owen rested his chin in his hand. Still smiling.
Legundo looked exhausted.
Louis looked deeply offended by the entire concept of cooking.
For a while they sat in comfortable silence.
Then Owen spoke. "You know," he said softly, looking between them, "this is nice."
Louis raised an eyebrow. "The kitchen nearly burned down."
"A little."
"The soup attacked me."
"The soup did not attack you."
"It absolutely did." Louis pointed toward the discarded pot. "I was minding my own business."
Legundo and Owen laughed. And after a moment, Louis did too. A real laugh this time. Not one of his polite chuckles. Not the amused huff he sometimes gave Owen.
A genuine laugh.
Warm.
Bright.
Completely unguarded.
The sound surprised all three of them. For a brief moment, the room fell quiet. Owen looked at him. Really looked at him. And his smile softened. Because Louis was happy.
Not forcing it.
Not pretending.
Actually happy.
"Mon amour," (My love,) Louis said, looking toward Owen with fond exasperation, "you are a terrible influence."
Owen's grin widened immediately. "I know."
Louis shook his head. Then his gaze shifted toward Legundo. The doctor was still smiling. Still trying and failing not to laugh. Something warm flickered across Louis's expression.
Small.
But genuine.
"Though perhaps," he admitted, "you are not the only one."
Legundo snorted. "That's probably the nicest thing you've ever said to me."
"I wouldn't get used to it."
Yet he was smiling when he said it. And somehow, sitting around a kitchen table after nearly burning down part of the castle, surrounded by smoke and ruined soup and ridiculous laughter, the three of them felt less like rivals and more like a family.
Then perhaps I am cruel, because I would ask for it a thousand times over.
You speak of monsters as though they're something to be feared, but I've never been afraid of you. The world may not need more of you, but I do. Selfishly, perhaps. Desperately, even.
So if you'll accept it for my sake, then I'll treasure every piece of you that remains, no matter what you choose to call yourself.
Just hoping everyone's staying safe. The internet can be a harsh place sometimes, and it's okay to feel hurt or disappointed by the actions of people you once looked up to.
I'll be busy with finals and graduation for a while, so I probably won't be around as much. That said, we all know I have a terrible track record when it comes to staying away, so don't be surprised if I randomly drop in with a bit of fluff here and there to help brighten everyone's day.
Also Dont stop loving vsmp dont stop loving misadventures dont stop loving the flight dont stop loving any of the projects avid was involved in. Theres always the other creators that poured their own effort into it and to dwell on the bad person instead of those creators is not productive for you or your mental health
