Chapter 10: Red Tape and Tiny Tyrants

The school auditorium smelled faintly of paint thinner and polished wood, though it was overpowered by the faint metallic tang of glitter and stage glue. Peresphone and Hades sat at a long, cluttered table with their black-and-red sketchbooks, brushes, and ink pens spread like an arsenal.

“This is absurd,” Hades muttered, flicking his black-painted nails against the table. “They want what for the backdrop? More flowers? On the haunted forest scene?”

Peresphone rolled her eyes, her gothic lolita dress brushing the floor. “Red tape. Micromanaging nonsense. They don’t understand aesthetics. They don’t understand us. Or the proper way to evoke fear and wonder.”

Across the room, teachers hovered nervously, attempting to peer over the twins’ shoulders and offer unsolicited guidance. A few parents hovered too, trying to make casual small talk with Beckett and Diana, who stood side by side near the back. Both wore their usual gothic elegance—Diana in a black blazer and leather skirt, Beckett in his trench coat and dark cargo pants—and both mirrored each other’s gestures with uncanny precision, index fingers pressed to the top of their lips in a silent, bored warning.

“Bored, my prince?” Diana whispered, her dark red lipstick curling in a small smirk. Beckett simply adjusted his surgical mask and nodded minutely, sharing the exact same gesture.

The twins, unfazed by parental or teacher oversight, exchanged a glance. A plan was silently forged. If adults were going to micromanage the creative process, they would remind everyone why crossing the Bloodbriar–Vonreichsin line was ill-advised.

Hades began subtly altering the backdrop designs, introducing impossible angles and eerie shadows that no teacher could undo without ruining the composition. Peresphone added Gothic gargoyles peering ominously from the treetops, their eyes seeming to follow anyone wandering too close. The final touch was a series of handwritten stage directions in old English script—directions so precise and macabre that any attempt to deviate would result in chaos.

By the time the first rehearsal came around, the teachers’ attempts to correct the twins’ work were met with quiet, perfect resistance. Sets wouldn’t stay upright unless followed exactly, props refused to align unless positioned with the meticulous care only the Bloodbriar–Vonreichsin descendants could command. The micromanagers’ frustration grew, their hubris crumbling under the twins’ deliberate sabotage.

Meanwhile, Beckett and Diana observed from their usual corner, the twins’ little acts of rebellion eliciting only quiet amusement. When one overly eager parent tried to strike up a conversation with them, Diana raised a single brow and Beckett adjusted his gloves ever so slightly. The two mirrored each other’s bored gestures, index fingers again to lips, subtly signaling that their attention was elsewhere—and that any attempt to intrude would be met with… consequences.

Despite the minor chaos, subtle PDA flourished. Diana draped a hand over Beckett’s arm as they watched the twins work, and he responded with a small nuzzle of her shoulder beneath her hair. A ripple of jealousy passed through the other parents attempting to ingratiate themselves, but the couple remained untouchable, perfectly in sync, subtly claiming each other while maintaining the aura of “we are bored, but we are superior.”

Peresphone and Hades, meanwhile, barely noticed the adults’ attempts at control. By the end of the day, they had completed the artwork for the schoolplay—but in a way that left a very clear warning: cross the Bloodbriar or Vonreichsin families, and chaos will follow. Every misplaced hubris, every oversight from teachers or peers, became a lesson in irony executed with perfect precision.

As the twins packed up their brushes and sketchbooks, Beckett and Diana led them out, calm and composed, their own subtle dominance intact. Malcolm and Analise were waiting outside, sharing some of their own co-op projects, while Terry managed her own creative work nearby. The twins waved off the nagging adults and whispered conspiratorial plans for their next masterpiece.

Finally, as the family assembled to leave, Diana bent down to Peresphone and Hades. “Off the clock, my little demons,” she said, nuzzling Peresphone’s head and giving Hades a playful twack. “Now you’re just here, under my care.” She hugged them both, peppering their faces with soft kisses and gentle nibbles. Beckett placed a protective hand over Diana’s shoulder, mirroring her possessive gesture, and together they led their brood home, leaving the red tape and micromanagement far behind.