Chapter Text
Riddle Rosehearts prided himself on structure.
Structure meant schedules. Schedules meant control. Control meant things did not spiral into complete and utter chaos.
—Which is exactly what was happening in the lounge of Night Raven College.
“Okay, hear me out,”
Ace said, feet up on the table like he paid rent for it (he didn’t.)
“We start a gig online,”
Riddle didn’t even look up from his planner.
“No.”
Ace blinked. “I didn’t even finish!”
“I heard enough.”
Cater, who had been scrolling through his phone with the intensity of someone monitoring global stock markets (it was actually comments), gasped.
“Wait, wait, Riddle, don’t shut it down yet! This is a golden opportunity!”
“Golden opportunities,” Riddle replied crisply, flipping a page, “do not begin with Ace putting his shoes on shared furniture…”
Ace slowly pulled his feet off the table.
“You always focus on the wrong part…”
“Because the wrong part is always you.”
Deuce snorted. Then immediately straightened up.
“I mean—uh—Ace has a point! Kinda! Maybe! Sorry man.”
Trey, sitting comfortably with a notebook and what looked suspiciously like a half-finished grocery list that was meant to be finished days ago…
“We do need money if we’re serious about that Sunshine Lands trip.”
That got Riddle’s attention—just slightly.
Sunshine Lands.
A well-earned trip after exams. Efficient. Organized. Rewarding.
And over the top expensive too.
“Continue,” Riddle said, not looking up.
Ace grinned like he’d just been handed a winning lottery ticket. “We can start streaming,”
“On Magicam,” Cater added instantly, already halfway into explanation mode. “It’s like, okay. Live streaming, short vids, fan interaction, the algorithm is sooo good right now—”
“You said that about three other apps.”
“They were good! The algorithm just… changed. It betrayed ME.”
Riddle finally looked up. “And how, exactly, does broadcasting ourselves on the internet generate income?”
Ace pointed at Cater. “He already does it.”
“Small influencer, but growing! I’ve got a decent following. Brand deals are right there,” he held his fingers an inch apart.
“I can taste it.”
“You cannot taste sponsorships?”
“You don’t know that.”
Deuce leaned forward, fists clenched like he was about to charge into battle. “I’ll give it my best shot! If it helps everyone, then I’m in!”
“It sounds harmless enough. We just need to figure out what we’d actually…do.”
“Games, obviously, we’re broke college students, not full-time entertainers.”
“You are barely a student, though you’re free to prove me wrong after exams, Ace.”
“Wow.”
Cater snapped his fingers. “Wait, wait—this is perfect! Group streams! Collabs! The dynamic alone would carry us. Adeuce being chaotic, Trey being the only sane one,”
“And me?” Riddle asked.
Cater beamed. “Your brand is yelling!”
“Excuse me?”
“I mean that in the best way of course! Strict, disciplined, scary but lowkey funny? People eat that up. Trust me.”
“That doesn’t sound believable. Who would want to watch that?”
“They do, I’d watch that.”
“You are not the target audience.”
“I’m everyone’s target audience.”
“No, you are not.”
“Yes, I am—”
“Enough.”
Silence dropped like a guillotine.
Riddle set his pen down carefully, fingers steepled. “This idea is…illogical.”
Here it comes…
“It is time-consuming, unpredictable, and opens us to unnecessary public scrutiny. There is no guarantee of income, and the likelihood of distractions interfering with our academic performance is-“
“Riddle,”
…
“What?” he said, more quietly.
“We just need money for the trip tbh.” Cater said. “And it could be fun. You don’t have to carry everything all the time, you know?”
Ace nodded. “Yeah. Worst case, we embarrass ourselves. Which honestly, is already happening daily.”
“Speak for yourself,”
“We’d all be doing it together.”
“And we can quit if it’s bad!”
“And you would require my participation?” he asked.
“It’d be way funnier with you there.”
“That is not a compelling argument.”
“It is to me.”
Cater clasped his hands dramatically. “Please, Riddle~ We’ll help you set everything up! You don’t even have to understand it at first.”
“That does not inspire confidence.”
“Trust the process!”
“There is no process!”
“There will be!”
Riddle closed his eyes. This was a mistake. This was absolutely, unquestionably a mistake. Though, he could just quit at any moment right?
“Alright… I suppose, but I WILL be canceling anytime I have something to do, fair?”
Ace blinked. “Wait. That worked?”
Riddle opened one eye to glare at Ace. “Do not make me rescind it.”
“NOPE, LOCKING IT IN!”
Cater practically lunged across the table, grabbing Riddle’s arm.
“You said yes, that’s legally binding, spiritually binding, algorithmically binding-“
“Cater!”
“Okay but first, username!”
“I do not need a what did you call it, username.”
“Yes you do,” Ace said, already pulling his chair closer. “You can’t just be ‘Riddle.’ That’s boring.”
“It’s my name?”
“Exactly.”
Trey chuckled under his breath as Cater whipped out his phone.
“Okay, okay, we need something catchy,” Cater said. “Something that screams ‘Riddle’ but also brandable.”
“Absolutely not.”
“Oooh! ‘RuleBreakerRiddle’ no wait, that’s ironic.”
“No.”
“‘RedRegime’?”
“Absolutely not.”
Deuce, trying very hard, said, “Uh… ‘StudyWithRiddle’?”
Everyone looked at him.
“What?” Deuce said defensively.
“No, no, we can go crazier,” Cater said. “Wait WAIT—I’ve got it. ‘RiddleMeThis’ but spelled weird. Like R1ddleThis.”
“…No.”
“‘Hearts4_Rids’?”
“No.”
Ace snapped his fingers. “Oh! What about ‘OffWithYourStream’?”
Riddle’s eye twitched.
“That is not funny.”
“It’s a little funny,” Trey said.
Cater was already typing. “Okay, okay final answer,”
Riddle leaned back slightly as Cater turned the screen toward him with a flourish.
“What about RoideRoses?”
Riddle blinked one too many times at that username in particular.
Ace nodded, restraining a laugh. “Yeah, that actually goes hard.”
Deuce gave a thumbs up. “It sounds cool!”
“Uh huh! Thank Rook for it, I picked it up from him since he always calls you that!”
“Fine,” he said at last.
Cater gasped. “Yay! Welcome to Magicam, Riddle!”
“I did not say I liked it.”
“Too late!”
“You will.” Cater said, already setting up the account. “Trust me.”
Riddle watched as they all crowded around the screen, arguing over profile pictures and bio descriptions like this was the most important thing in the world.
He did not understand it. He did not trust it. He was fairly certain this would end in disaster.
“What does this button do?” he asked.
Cater lit up. “Oh Riddle, you’re learning already!”