#“we're breaking free -” “we're SOARING

[loki-hargreeves]

me adding High School Musical songs to my Supernatural playlist

[witchering10123]

inspired to do this by @transboyzuko :)

rules: post the names of all the files in your wip folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them, and then post a little snippet or tell them something about it

writing wips because i need to find a new drawing software that won't charge me the absolute earth lmao

foster home au

prison au

game of thrones + sokka

tony stark + sokka

hunger games x atla

chess

stowaways

amaruq

swt fleet in the nwt during siege fic

phantom of the opera musical zukka

(when this is just the tip of the iceberg lmao, i really need to get back into writing)

[oceansrevenge]

Breaking Free || Solo ft. Siobhan

TIMING: Current PARTIES: @oceansrevenge ft @banisheed SUMMARY: An angry octopus nymph finally breaks free from her tank and has a bit of a murder spree. Thankfully, the murder spree attracted a banshee as an audience. We love girls supporting girls

For so many years, the rage that lived inside Marina felt like it was crushing her. It had to live imprisoned inside her the way she lived imprisoned inside the glass tank, a spectacle for the human world to see. The rage of a nymph was never meant to be stagnant. It was supposed to flow and crash like the waves of the sea she so longed to swim free in once again. The betrayal, the loss– it all had to stew and culminate within the confines of a box. There was no tide pulling her foes under, no pressure from the depths squeezing the last breath of life out from her victims as she brought them down to their watery graves. There was only the stillness.

Today that would finally change. The fact Moxfield had died of old age of all things only furthered the disgust Marina possessed for the warden. No warden worth their salt died of old age, but above all else, he was a coward– never truly bothered living his purpose unless he stood to make some sort of financial gain from it. While she held no love for wardens, they were meant to be part of a delicate balance and she could respect that. Andrew Moxfield, however, was a disgrace to his purpose and above all else, a liar. His death was a day she reveled in and she awaited the window of time where she’d be able to leave the wretched tank she all but rotted away in for the last fifty odd years.

The transporting of her tank had always been something Marina hated the most. The sloshing of the water as the bus, train, or plane moved about mirrored the movement of waves in a way that stung. But this time, she knew it was only a matter of days before she got to experience the real thing again. Her strength had dwindled over the years, but unsuspecting humans still stood no chance. The other cephalopods in their contaminants alongside her boosted her state, if only slightly. It’d take weeks back in the proper waters, nurturing it and the creatures she was drawn to protect before she was back at her full strength, but her size alone was enough to toss aside a few worthless humans like the rubbish they were. 

She’d watched them all for years as they passed her by or stared in awe. Over the decades, they had changed, grew more attached to their trinkets and inventions than the natural world around them. These humans that were preparing to move her from her travel tank to something larger were no different. The excitement buzzing in her felt foreign after so long and her tentacles itched to squeeze the life out of them. The annoying young man tapping on her glass would be first. He would look much better when his face turned the same shade of blue as his eyes. 

The moment the lid was removed, Marina moved swiftly. There was no way she’d allow herself to be imprisoned yet again and finally, all the rage that had been brewing for years had an outlet. The blue eyed one was the first her tentacles found purchase on. He writhed in her grasp and sputtered trying to draw in a breath. The struggle was something she missed. How many times before had she felt the same thrashing in her own waters as she drowned anyone who dared to enter uninvited? More than she could count, but it felt just as good each time. 

In one tentacle, the man’s life was fading away and in another, she grabbed another one of the staff members approaching her with a useless, large net. The way the dark brown of her ponytail waved around as she fought against the giant tentacle that held on tightly. The dark flash of her hair looked like a flag waving on a shit out at sea. It was almost as satisfying, too. 

Each new staff member that dared to approach and tried to take control of the situation met the same fate. Several knicks from assorted equipment scratched her skin and left small drops of blue blood on the floor amongst the fallen humans. It had been a flurry, like waves in a storm, whipping and swaying as fast as the wind. One, two, three, half a dozen– fallen at her tentacles. Foolish of them to believe they could contain a creature as stunning as she was against her will. Cruel to think they had the right to trap and display any creature from the beautiful blue sea for their own monetary gain. Humans and their filthy money. The disdain and anger was as strong as the satisfaction she felt. 

Marina was free. It was a relief she hadn’t allowed herself to truly dream of. She’d get to float away with the waves yet again, but she would not forget this place. It was disgraceful, abominable. There weren’t words that could adequately portray her disgust with the establishment, but she heard pleased sounds not far from her. The octopus looked up, prepared to attack when she realized the woman seemed to be… cheering her on? Curious. Then she felt it. A symphony of little bells, ringing under her skin in a way that felt as comforting as the waters on a warm summer day. Another fae. After so many years of misfortune, this was lucky indeed. 

Quickly, Marina willed her humanistic glamour into place. The tank had never known her true form, and even so, her voice outside of the water would still be distorted. Wet braids hung from her head and water with specks of blood, both blue and red, dripped down her nude form. It was amusing to think the dead humans at her feet would be taken aback by nudity. Fae held no such inhibitions. 

She approached the woman with a sly grin on her face. “How lucky am I? Freedom and the presence of a beautiful fae in the same day?” 

The cheap folding chair Siobhan had purchased at the last minute creaked as she swung one leg over the other, leaning back into the nylon fabric. Her bag of popcorn would remain unopened, but she didn’t mind. “Yes,” she smirked, “you’re very lucky.” 

[illputabexonyou]

Bex simply rolled her eyes again. "Because life's just one big game, or something melodramatic like that, right?" She still felt a little scrutinized under Ronnie's gaze, especially knowing the other girl found her attractive. The feeling was mutual, but it still wasn't a feeling Bex wanted to say out loud or admit. It'd been months since she'd talked to Billie and yet she still felt a hint of guilt at the idea. She turned her face away, trying to hide the redness in her cheeks, knowing it was of no use. Her co-worker squealed before giving her cheek a pinch and saying, "You're welcome!" before traipsing off again in a skip. Bex was glad she was gone, but now that meant she was alone with Ronnie. Whom she'd just kissed. Whom she...kind of wanted to kiss again.

"Can't really say I've been holding out on you," Bex replied, trying to regain any sense of composure as she looked down at Ronnie, licking her lips. "You've never asked me to kiss you before." And, well, what reason did she have to feel bad about kissing Ronnie, right? Her and Billie weren't anything now and maybe hadn't even been anything before. And Bex was allowed to enjoy herself, right? She moved forward and took Ronnie's hand, tugging her down the hall and out the back door into the alley. She was still breathing heavily. "Wanna see what else I've been holding back?"

"Why the hell not? Might even be fun," Ronnie said with a grin. If nothing else, it'd be amusing, and it'd be attention, and what more could she want, really?

"I don't want you to understand my true self," Ronnie said, and she was still smiling, but it wasn't quite reaching her eyes. "She's no fun." She listened, taking in the words. "Sure, but it's all fucking subjective, too. Like, no one looks at a painting the same way. I don't understand why we assign bogus scores and numbers to people when we'll call some paint on a canvas priceless." She wiggled her eyebrows. "Of course I think you're cute. I've got eyes."

Ronnie laughed. "She's right, I soooo want a kiss. It's tradition, right? Rules and shit?" But she didn't really have to wheedle for long before Bex was leaning down and laying one on her. The kiss was nice. The after was better, seeing how red Bex's face was. "Damn, girl," she breathed. She laughed again. "It was fine. It was good! You've been holding out."

[hyperfix-wip]

Webbed Together

Pairing: Hobie Brown x Fem!Reader/ Spider-Punk x Fem!Reader

Word count: 9.5k

Author's Note: *6. Months. Later....* ....So...we're back? 😅 I am so. fucking. sorry 😭 Not gonna lie, this one was a doozy for me. I actually had to think long and hard with how I wanted to approach this particular chapter (plus a lot of the stuff happened, but that's not important to the topic lol). But, yeah, I really wanted to write this one as precisely as how I imagined it, especially with how I ended Chapter 5. Not sure how this one will actually be, but I think I'm pretty proud of this one. I'd like to thank @the-kr8tor and @pinksugarscrub for really helping me out for this one. They are honestly the best people I could ever ask for, especially for the amount of yapping and panicking over Billie and Ramona. I don't know what I would do without them to help me bring these girls to life

Tags: Parent Trap!AU, Dad!Hobie AU, Twin!AU, Billie and Ramona!AU, Older!Hobie, Mom!Reader, Older!Reader, Fluff, Slight Angst, Slight Hurt/Comfort, TW Anxiety

Chapter 6: Paramnesia

<<< Chapter 5 Chapter 7>>>

“Step lively,” the elderly counselor briskly hikes up the dirt trail, her heavy boots stomping down the worn down path. “The sooner we reach your new quarters, the sooner you two can be settled in.”

A winded groan slips through Ramona’s lips as sweat beads up and rolls down her face. Heat from the sun’s rays beats down against her slick neck as she trudges behind the counselor, the strap of her duffle bag and guitar case gradually digging into both her shoulders the higher she hikes up the steep hill. Her legs strain from the constant upturn of the hike, screaming bloody murder at her to take a break, but she continues on with a stubborn grit to her teeth. She blows up at a loose coil on her face with an annoyed frown before glancing to the side. Billie huffs and drags her roller suitcase up the uneven path, not faring any better as she grips onto her violin case.

Birds squawk above the towering trees, mockingly so, as they soar through the blue sky towards their intended direction. A brief prick of jealousy stings in Ramona’s chest as she weakly glares at the flying smug rats with feathers, taunting her with their wings gliding through the wind, free from any heavy baggage over their shoulders, free from sweating and ruining their legs up this stupid hill–

The moment she reaches the top of the hill, Ramona heaves out a tired groan before she stops to catch her breath, hunching over and resting her hands on her knees while her mind continues to curse out the passing birds. Billie trails behind her before collapsing on a nearby tree stump, kicking her suitcase to the ground as she gasps for air.

“Oh, thank god, proper flat land!” Billie rolls onto her back on the stump, her limbs dangling from it while she stares up at the sky. “M’ plates o’ meat’re killin’ me, they migh’ jus’ start fallin’ off t’e bone–”

A guffaw rips through Ramona’s lips before her breaths stutter out her lungs. She stumbles over to a tree and leans against it, trembling and tearing up from holding in her pained laughs.

“What?!” Ramona manages to sputter out before succumbing to the burning in her lungs, coughing up a lung with choked out wheezes.

Billie turns her head to her trembling double with a cheeky grin, sweat trailing down her forehead and mirth glinting in her eyes as her accent grows thicker. “Yeah, jus’ creamed after trekking up t’is damn hill–” Ramona instantly chokes from her own spit before collapsing onto the ground on her knees with another wheeze– “ ‘n take a butcher’s a’ me daisies!”

A strained grunt rips through Billie’s lips as she lifts her legs up in the air, swaying back and forth while she flutters her dirt-covered combat boots. “Absolutely muddied ‘n pimpled wit’ pebbles, innit? Ya’d t’ink t’e paths ‘ere’d be smooth ‘n not a safety hazard–”

A shadow suddenly looms over Billie, briefly startling her as her legs swing back down to the dirt, before she looks up at the deadpan of the counselor.

“Are you two finished?”

Billie sheepishly laughs as she pushes herself up from the stump. Ramona coughs out the rest of her laughter before pushing herself up the ground and shuffling over next to Billie, embarrassment flushing on her cheeks. The counselor blankly stares at the identical duo before dropping her head and letting out a relenting sigh.

“Alright then, you two. We have six weeks left at camp, but since the two of you have resorted to non-peaceful matters against your fellow camper, you two will be spending every glorious one of them in this isolation cabin.”

The elderly counselor points her thumb over her shoulder, and the girls look behind her to see an old run-down cabin sitting in the shadows on the top of the hill. Eerie creaks echo through the woods as a breeze blows against the cabin, some of the roof tiles fluttering and barely hanging on the roof, and the wooden staircase leading up to the rocket porch barely looks stable enough for someone to set foot on it. Both girls stare at their new quarters with evident disbelief as a bird flies up to a wooden banister, only for it to creak and start to tip to the side before the bird frantically flies off it.

“...’s a li’l much for a punishment, innit?” Billie bluntly asks before straightening up to look at the counselor. “Wasn’t there another cabin we passed by earlier? It looked…”

“Stable?” Ramona suggests. “Structurally sound?”

“Less haunted–”

“Alright, I understand this cabin is not ideal for the both of you,” the counselor tries to placate the duo, “but the other cabin is already being occupied by another camper.”

Billie’s eyes narrow into cat-like slits as she crosses her arms against her chest. “Lemme guess, Benny’s got the nicer lookin’ cabin–”

“I will not divulge that information–”

“But ‘m right though, huh?”

“I will not answer that–”

“But ‘m right though– OW–”

Ramona quickly elbows Billie in the arm, effectively shutting down any more provocation from the Brit double as she winces and rubs her arm with a pout. “What was that for?...”

Ramona rolls her eyes at Billie before focusing on the counselor again. “Is there another reason why we couldn’t have the cabin from earlier?”

The elderly woman drops her shoulders in relief at Ramona’s calm demeanor. “The cabin could only house one camper, so we had to give the other camper his own space–”

“You could say it’s Benny,” Billie interjects with a nonchalant shrug. “We already know it is–”

“As I was saying,” the counselor cuts back in, narrowing her eyes at Billie in disapproval before turning back to Ramona, “it could only hold space for one camper, so it was decided that you two will be staying at the bigger isolation cabin while Benjamin–”

“Benjamin?” Billie stifles a snicker before Ramona elbows her again, biting back another wince while the counselor ignores her and continues.

“–while Benjamin will be staying at the other one.”

Despite Ramona quietly nodding along, her lips purse into a pensive frown. “Hm, okay. That makes sense, I guess. So it has nothing to do with the fact that Benny’s your grandson?”

A small snort sneaks up on Billie as the elderly counselor’s brief smile drops from the sudden question.

“...no, it has nothing to do with that.”

Billie’s face scrunches up into a disbelieving frown, her brows furrowing until her forehead ripples into small wrinkles. “...you sure?”

“Yes–”

“You sure sure?”

“Yes–”

“ ‘cuz it sounds like a convenient excuse–”

“IT HAS NOTHING TO DO WITH–”

The counselor abruptly stops herself before she could say more, taking a deep breath before moving on. “Anywho, since you girls are sisters, I would assume you two would be fine sharing a cabin with each other until camp is over.”

Both girls glance at each other, confusion flooding their faces, before looking back at the elderly woman and answering at the same time.

“We’re not sisters though.”

“You have got to be kidding–” the counselor sputters in exasperation– “what do you mean you’re not–”

“We literally just met yesterday,” Billie adds on with a shrug while Ramona nods along. “Had a laugh ‘bout it ‘n all tha’–”

“But you two are practically twins!”

The girls look over at each other again, Billie tilting her head to the side with a scrunched up nose, and Ramona tilting her head the opposite way with a furrowed brow.

“…her teeth’s a bit off though, innit?” Billie bluntly counters with a nonchalant smile, “a little gap in her front teeth, but not too bad.”

Ramona instantly rolls her eyes and stares at Billie with a deadpan. “What does my teeth have anything to do with this–”

“Regardless–” the counselor interrupts in exasperation– “you two will be staying here. Is that understood?”

The girls glance over each other, skepticism mirrored in their eyes, before they reluctantly look back at the adamant counselor. Without another word, the same thought flickered in their minds.

She’s full of bull.

—

The interior of the cabin (unsurprisingly) matches the exterior– creaking floorboards, peeling paint, cracked walls, groaning rooftop– vindicating Billie’s suspicions as she belly flops onto one of the twin beds with a muffled grunt. Her luggage clatters on the wooden floors as the metal springs in the mattress groans underneath her. The smell of lemon-scented cleaning products barely masks the mustiness in the air, even when she buries and irritates her face into the stiffly-starched pillow.

The absence of giddy chatter and gossip from her old cabin sends a wave of discomfort in Billie; cold shivers prick up her skin from the looming solitude within these worn-out wooden walls. The only sounds reverberating in her ears are the wind blowing against the loose roof boards, as if the cabin itself is breathing its labored breaths, and shuffling from the only other person in her new space. Ignoring the itch tickling her nose, Billie turns her head over and stares across the room, her eyes lingering on Ramona’s back while she unzips her duffle bag on her own bed.

Dark tight coils tied up into a ponytail with a red scrunchie, green nylon rustling from her oversized windbreaker, paint-splattered trainers absently bouncing against the squeaking floorboards– it’s like if Billie’s watching herself in some strange 90s sitcom that Uncle James and Auntie Yuri would love to watch. It’s even weirder that Ramona is so…quiet. Not that there’s anything wrong with that, though, but… it’s weird seeing someone with Billie’s face and be so quiet.

For a brief moment Billie remembers the time Uncle James read to her about doppelgangers– when you meet yours, they’re usually your evil twin bringing bad luck into your life. Ramona doesn’t seem evil though, if anything, she’s more of a good person than anybody here.

Would that make Billie the evil twin? Nah, she’s too cute to be evil.

Even though she did kick Benny’s arse and wrestle him to the ground. But he deserved it. Obviously.

While Billie’s mind wanders, Ramona looks over her shoulder with a befuddled frown, her brows furrowed and her lips pursed up into a slight frown. “Uh…is there something on my back?”

Billie’s eyes refocus and flick up to Ramona’s, the same familiar russet shade as hers, the same shade as her dad’s.

If anything, Ramona's eyes look more like her dad’s. Odd.

“Nah,” Billie groans as she pushes herself up on the bed. Her eyes flick to the neatly folded clothes and small, organized piles on Ramona’s bed– pens, papers, bonnets and scrunchies, guitar chords, printed pictures. “Jus’ havin’ a gander a’ me new roomie.”

A small snort slips through Ramona’s nose as she turns around and sits on the edge of her bed, some of her trinkets sliding down against her sides from the sudden shift in weight. “Still a little weird for me, not gonna lie. Didn’t think I was gonna get in trouble, especially with fighting.”

“To be fair, you weren’ fightin’,” Billie shrugs as she pushes her curls out of her face, “you had the right t’ slap ‘im in t’e face. T’was jus’ unlucky tha’ t’e li’l twit ended up havin’ his nan under his thumb.”

A stifled snort briefly slips through Ramona’s nose, and she covers her mouth before she quietly giggles behind her hand.

If someone who knew Billie saw Ramona in her outfit laughing right now, they’d probably have whiplash. Or at least fear for the end of the world while making sure she isn’t sick or dying…

That’s a little annoying to think about, Billie fights the urging twitch creeping up in her eye.

“Anyway,” Billie huffs, swinging her feet up in the air and slamming her boot soles onto the protesting floorboards before pushing herself up from her bed, “we migh’ as well get ta know each other now. Can’t really get comfy here for t’e rest of camp if I don’ know a t’ing ‘bout you.”

Each slow, heavy step from Billie approaching Ramona reverberates against the walls and floorboards. Small chains dangle from Billie’s army green cargos, clinking softly against the denim, and silver studs on her denim vest glint under the sunlight shining through the grime-stained windows. With a lopsided grin Billie holds her hand out to her double, mirth and mischief flashing in her eyes.

“Billie Jean Brown, nice t’ meet’cha. But you can call me Billie.”

An amused scoff slips through Ramona’s lips before she grabs Billie’s hand with a firm shake. “Do you always introduce yourself like that to everybody?”

“Eh, ‘sa habit,” Billie shrugs before letting go, hopping onto Ramona’s bed with an oof, making Ramona bounce up from the impact with a squeak. “Gotta make yourself known ‘fore ev’rybody tries t’ do it for ya.”

Billie then wraps her arm around Ramona’s shoulder and pulls her against her side, “Least tha’s what m’ dad told me anyway.”

A small grunt breaks through Ramona’s lips before she gives a sidelong glance to her punk double, her eyes flicking to the dangling silver hoop in Billie’s earlobe and the matching ear cuff on the rim of her ear.

“But enough ‘bout me,” Billie barks out a mischievous laugh, shaking Ramona out of her small trance. “I wanna know more ‘bout t’e damsel tha’ smacked Benny in the conk–”

“His what?” Ramona chokes out a guffaw, pushing the snickering Brit off her before Billie flops down on the creaky mattress. “Look, I didn’t actually mean to hit him! He just kept pulling my hair–”

“ ‘m not sayin’ it’s bad!” Billie cackles as she props herself up with her elbows, her wild dark curls splayed a stark contrast to the starched white sheets. “If anythin’, ya could’ve gotten more hits in–”

“No!” Small giggles bubble up from Ramona’s chest, slipping through her lips and nose through short bursts of exhales while she curls up against the headboard of her bed, easily sliding her sneakers off her feet before tucking them underneath her. “I had enough violence for the rest of camp!”

Billie playfully rolls her eyes before she flops back down on the bed, dried mud flaking off the soles of her boots on the wooden floor. “The twit had it comin’ though!”

“That doesn’t matter!”

“ ‘Course it does!”

Their laughter bounces against the groaning wood, piercing through the heavy silence within the isolated cabin, while the sunlight gradually peeks through the grimey windows and warms the room.

“Now c’mon, Mon-mon!” Billie huffs out as she rolls along the bed, careful to avoid rubbing dried mud on the covers, “Don’ leave me hangin’! I don’ ‘ave a scooby doo ‘bout ya, so start rabbitin’ on–”

“Alright, alright!” Ramona plants her hand on the rolling punk girl, earning a cheeky giggle from Billie as she melts along the grooves of the bed. With a small mirthful huff, Ramona crosses her arms and tilts her head to the side, her pulled-back coils fluttering down to the side. “There’s not much to know about me though–”

“ ‘Course there is,” Billie rolls her eyes with a pout, stretching her lanky arms out. “You could talk ‘bout whateva’ comes t’ mind. Like where’re yer from, yer fav’rite games…”

Billie’s eyes flick down at Ramona’s clothes for a brief moment before flicking back to Ramona’s eyes with a quirked eyebrow, “or why yer dressed up like a primary school teacher–” “I’m gonna ignore that last option,” Ramona rolls her eyes before she gently pushes Ramona back with her flower-printed socked foot. Billie groans in feigned hurt as she rolls back to the other side of the bed, her lips curling back up to that familiar cat-like grin.

With another playful roll of her eyes, Ramona straightens up her back and reaches up to fix her ponytail. “Well, my name is Ramona, and…”

A second of trailing off, to two, to three, until Ramona sheepishly shrugs and pulls her hands away from her coils, “I don’t know, I…I like mac and cheese?”

A loud snort breaks through the comfortable silence before Billie barks out a cackle, prompting Ramona to kick her double off her bed until Billie flops onto the wooden floor with a grunted “oi!”

“Shut up!” Ramona huffs out with a flush creeping up her face, “That’s all I could think of–”

More snickers bubble up in Billie’s chest as she pushes herself up from the ground, brushing the dust off her clothes, before grinning at the pouting Ramona. “I never said it was a bad t’ing! I like mac’roni cheese too– oh, stop hidin’ your face, it ain’t tha’ serious–”

Laughter rips through Ramona’s throat as Billie quickly grabs her wrists and pry her arms away from her face. The action itself is surprisingly familiar to Ramona – as if this isn’t their first time being alone together, as if they have been like this for a lifetime rather than for an hour. It seems easier to be around Billie somehow, even easier than with Arnold despite her overt brashness. Maybe the ridiculous circumstances between them broke through the usual awkward small talk phase, or maybe Ramona is slowly growing accustomed to Billie's overfamiliarity.

Either way, Ramona, for once, doesn’t think about it too much.

—

Loud clatters shatter the silence within the worn cabin walls, followed by a disgruntled curse from a certain Brit.

“Bloody hell– not again!”

With a furrowed brow Ramona glances up from her bass, already dressed in her green pajamas and her matching bonnet, while Billie scrambles onto the floor to deal with the aftermath of her belongings exploding from her suitcase. Wrinkled shirts, creased pants, worn down notebooks, small half-filled bottles of different products– the chaotic mess is enough for Ramona’s fingers to have the urge to straighten and organize everything.

Ramona slowly sets her bass aside on her bed and slides off her bed, the wooden floors creaking under her socked feet, before kneeling down to pick up a crumpled shirt (and ignoring the urge to smooth it out in front of Billie).

“What’re you looking for?” Ramona inquires as she continues to pick up the scattered items on the floor, mentally wincing at the sight of dust from the floor on the clothes.

Jesus, they’re gonna have to clean this place up too, huh? A seed of doubt plants itself in Ramona’s chest when her eyes drift over to the open suitcase, the remaining clothes and other belongings a small mountain threatening to crumble down with a landslide.

“M’ towel ‘n bonnet,” Billie replies as she tosses her clothes over her shoulder and onto her– no, don’t throw them on the bed! – “Pro’lly shouldn't've taken tha’ nap earlier, bu’ t’e damn hike got me knackered.”

“I’m sorry, but I can’t understand half the things you’re saying,” Ramona coughs out a huff while she crawls on her knees closer to her punk double, handing her her things despite the growing itch in her fingers to fold them.

“Wha’, you wanna write a dictionary fer yerself or sumthin’?”

“...that might actually help, yeah.”

A loud guffaw rips through the punk girl, her grin becoming a familiar sight for Ramona, before Billie grabs her clothes and tosses them over her shoulder again. Ramona briefly winces again from a pair of black shorts sliding down between Billie’s bed and the wooden wall. Is that area even clean?

“Yer an actual riot, Mon-mon,” Billie wheezes before she drags the suitcase closer to herself, the silver metal scraping against the hardwood. “It ain’t tha’ hard t’ understan’ me, yeah?”

A pregnant silence soon follows, with Ramona raising her eyebrow with a clear deadpan.

“Well, you can understan’ me now,” Billie playfully rolls her eyes, a snort slipping through her nose while she rummages through her suitcase, her hands digging deep into the pile. A twitch unconsciously pulses in Ramona’s eye when a couple shirts from the pile plops down onto the ground from Billie’s movements as Billie tugs a ratty, faded orange towel out from it.

God, Ramona might actually have to clean this cabin up.

“...do you need help putting your stuff away?” Ramona hesitantly asks, her eyes flicking back and forth between Billie and her suitcase, “That way you don’t have to worry about it later?”

“Yeah?” The same grin grows on Billie’s face again. “Tha’d actually help me out, thanks!”

A wave of relief washes over the itch in her hands as Ramona lowers herself onto her rear. Her nose wrinkles from the obvious layer of dust against the dark green fabric of her pajama bottoms before she lightly smacks it off her knees.

Yeah, she’s definitely cleaning tomorrow.

“Oh yeah, been meanin’ ta ask ya,” Billie continues on, throwing her towel over her shoulder while her other hand still wriggles in her suitcase, “been eyin’ yer bass fer a while. How long ‘ave you been playin’?”

Ramona’s eyes widen from the sudden question while her hands gingerly smooth out some wrinkles from a random shirt from the pile. They briefly flick over to the numerous patches and pins on her denim vest, the punk rock influence blatantly obvious to her, before sweat breaks out on her back.

“Oh, uh… like a year or two?” Ramona sheepishly smiles, laying the now-folded shirt on her lap before grabbing another one from the pile. “I haven’t been playing too long, only just switched to it after playing the ukulele for a while–”

“Ukulele?”

Ramona’s eyes instantly squint from how bright Billie’s smile got. “Damn, ya know how to play tha’? Tha’s really cool!”

“It is?”

“Yeah!” A twinkle glints in Billie’s eyes. “I mean, my dad ‘n uncles taugh’ me how t’ play a bunch o’ instruments, but they never had a ukulele. Who taught ya, by the way?”

Ramona slowly leans back as Billie leans closer to her, her personal bubble instantly compromised, before Ramona slowly pushes her punk double back with an embarrassed smile.

“I, uh, I actually taught myself. Just looked up some Youtube videos when my mom bought me a ukulele from her business trip and followed them…”

Heat slowly creeps up on Ramona’s cheeks the longer she’s under Billie’s scrutiny, the eager glint in her eyes making her shrink into herself more. “And for the bass… I asked my mom if I can learn bass after…”

Ramona’s cheeks redden even more as she trails off, the enthrallment in Billie’s eyes growing more daunting by the minute, “...after I heard a really cool baseline from a song…”

A heavy rock plummets in Ramona’s stomach as the familiar ringing creeps up in her ears again. The dust clinging to her pajamas suddenly weighs down on her knees, her mind screaming and clawing in her head to smack more of the dust off. The creaking from the floorboards muffles in and out of her ears, but they’re drowned out by the ringing– that damn ringing– while her mind starts to spiral.

Why couldn’t you just lie and say you just got interested in playing bass? Look at Billie, she looks like she’s already ready for a huge stage with a guitar or something! She’s gonna think you’re a poser now–

“Which one?”

The berating voices and the ringing grow silent as Ramona’s eyes flick up at Billie, patiently waiting for her answer.

“Which what?”

“Song. Which song’re ya talkin’ ‘bout?” Billie laughs, as if it’s obvious. “Is it like a classic from an old band or sumthin’? Like t’e bands my dad would listen to? He likes songs with a really cool bassline, even though he likes playing electric guitar more– anyway, I know t’ere’s a lotta bands like The Ramones, The Clash, Dead Kennedys, Bad Brains–”

Ramona’s shoulders shake a bit as she lets out a soft huff of a laugh, the tension in her body slowly seeping away from Billie’s enthusiasm. “I don’t know if the song I’m talking about fits those bands’ kind of vibe…”

Ramona starts to get up, only for the clothes she’s been folding absently start to slide from her lap. A conflicted frown pinches her face before she tucks them under her arm and pushes herself up.

She will be damned if she let these clothes get covered in dust.

“It has more of a synthy, pop-alternative kind of vibe,” Ramona rambles on as she scrambles to the nightstand beside her bed for her mp3 player, “but the instrumentals are still really catchy, and the song itself is actually kinda sad if you pay attention to the lyrics–”

“There’s m’ bonnet!”

Billie cheers behind Ramona before trying to pull it out of her suitcase, but the joy is short-lived. A deafening rip breaks through the comfortable peace, the silence palpable and heavy. Ramona slowly looks over her shoulder, only to meet the thinly-veiled shock and distress in Billie’s eyes and the tattered remains of a patched up bonnet in her hands still stuck in the hinges of her suitcase.

Ramona’s hand hovering over the awaiting mp3 player stills in the air, fingers twitching from the awkward tension, before she trails it down to the top drawer and pulls it open to rummage through. With a sheepish smile she pulls out a shiny red silk bonnet and holds it out to her distraught double.

“Uh…wanna use one of mine?”

—

Quiet chatters echo through the mess hall the next morning, campers sleepily lining up and grabbing their trays for the awaiting breakfast on the table. Aromas of cooked sausage and bacon waft in the space, the crackling sizzle of eggs and batter frying on the griddle mingle in the background, and the stacked trays of different breakfasts– eggs, pancakes and waffles, hashbrowns, biscuits and gravy, etc. – present themselves on the long tables, waiting to be eaten.

Amongst the sea of tables that other kids swarm around for an empty spot there is a small table tucked in the corner of the mess hall, one with a laminated sign taped on the edge for the whole camp to see.

Isolation Table.

The only occupants sitting in the lone table, away from the rest of the campers, are Billie and Ramona, sitting across each other with their own trays of food. While Ramona’s tray only has small portions of sausage and scrambled eggs on her plate, Billie’s has a stack of pancakes, teetering from the weight of the browned, puffy slabs. A waterfall of honey gradually cascades down from the summit, trailing down the crisped edges and pooling into the indented plate into a moat of viscous amber. With a glint of awe in her eyes, Billie carefully tears at the jagged edge of her fifth packet of honey, her fingertips tacky from sticky edges of her discarded packets, before she starts to squeeze every last drop onto her pancakes.

Ramona, with her fork lined with egg still hovering in the air, stares at her punk double with mild bewilderment and horror, her throat tightening from the cloying sight of the pancakes being waterboarded with honey. She winces from Billie licking the leftovers off her fingers, her tongue trembling from the saccharine sight, and she blanches the moment Billie saws through a large piece through the stack and stabs through it before shoving it in her mouth.

Despite the blissful smile curling up on Billie’s stuffed face, Ramona’s stomach churns from the thought of having a mouthful of honey flooding her mouth and throat.

Billie flicks her eyes up from her plate with a swallow, oblivious to the subtle revulsion on her double’s face, before spearing another piece of honey-soaked pancake and holding it out to her.

“...wan’ a bite–?”

“No thank you.”

With a shrug Billie stuffs the bite into her mouth again, and another small wave of nausea washes over Ramona before she finally looks away and finally takes her own bite of food, only for her face to scrunch up from the imaginary honey clinging to her tongue.

Appetite lost, Ramona’s eyes flick away from sweet-loving Billie to the rest of the mess hall, lingering on the other campers crowding in the numerous lunch tables. A cacophony of laughter and clattering utensils bounce against the walls and into Ramona’s ears, a welcome white noise to the deafening silence in their cabin when Billie is off to her independent violin lessons (which is surprising for Ramona considering Billie’s personality, but to each their own, she guesses.)

Her russet eyes soon land on a familiar figure across the room, hunching over his food with a solemn frown as he pokes his spoon in a small plastic bowl of frosted cereal. Arnold, grimacing even more at the growing sogginess of the cereal, slowly pushes his bowl away from him before turning his head towards her direction.

The moment their eyes meet across the mess hall, Ramona instantly sees the hesitation wavering in Arnold’s, the guilt following soon after as he shrinks from her. He looks like a puppy, keeping his head down with remorse while waiting for his owner to yell at him for doing something wrong.

 A dull ache pools in Ramona’s chest, but she wills it to go away as she gives her friend a reassuring smile and mouths out the only words of comfort she could think of.

I’m okay.

She can still see the wavering in his eyes, the lingering doubt. She knows he still feels bad about what happened with Benny and his grandma, about her being pulled from the regular jazz lessons for her own independent lessons, about her and Billie moving out of their respective cabins for the isolation cabin. She doesn’t blame him though, she doesn’t regret it. If she was given a chance to go back in time to that game, she wouldn’t do anything different.

Annie soon pops up behind Arnold with her own tray and sets it down next to him, briefly breaking him away from Ramona’s gaze, and a small wave of relief ebbs through Ramona. At least Arnold isn’t alone.

After a moment of quiet chatter between them Annie glances up to Ramona’s direction, and a small encouraging smile curls up on Annie’s face, as if to tell her to hang in there. With a growing smile, Ramona holds up a thumbs up to them in understanding.

Relief briefly flickers on Annie’s face before her face suddenly drops, her brows furrowing and her jaw dropping in disbelief instead. Confused, Ramona slowly looks behind her, only for her face to drop in alarm at Billie shoving the last honey-soaked pancake into her mouth, a sticky empty plate sitting in front of her.

At that moment, Ramona decides that she’s not eating honey anytime soon.

—

Loud merry whistling rings out in the open, standing out amongst the rustling of leaves and crunching gravel under rubber soles. Soft clanking against metal harmonizes with the whistles, the handles of the violin case swinging back and forth from Billie’s bounce in her steps, echoing against the backdrop of the towering greenery surrounding her as she treks her way back to the cabin.

Birds fly overhead with their tuneful chirping, faint reverberations of different instruments from different music lessons bounce against wood and leaves, laughter and chatter from other campers lap against Billie’s ears– each sound becomes a melody for her to take in, each an accompanying note or harmony for her own personal soundtrack.

Despite the annoyingly far distance across the camp from her violin lessons to her abode, Billie doesn’t mind the walk itself, especially without her luggage torturing her arms and legs with their weight. The scenery itself is beautiful– mother nature, a riot of viridescence and burnt siennas against the manmade structures of the cabins in the campgrounds. The vividly earthy colors are a stark contrast to the drab concrete grays in London, the constant roaring of traffic and waves of pedestrians already a distant memory to her. Her eyes drift over to the glittering distance where the lake should be, a startlingly beautiful accent to the rest of the camp, before pulling away to the winding trail to the cabin.

Her violin case continues to smack against the side of her thigh with each step, a rhythmic low thudding akin to Uncle James’s bass drum during band practice. Her whistles gradually switch up to another familiar tune to her, one that Auntie Yuri whistles to while she watches the rest of the band packing all of the instruments with Billie (much to the chagrin of Uncle Ned barking at her to help).

Those little reminders gradually reel in her mind the longer she thinks about them, a small weight under her shirt growing warmer with each thought, before she absently reaches for the braided red string around her neck and tugs out her lucky pick. Billie’s thumb runs along the weathered grooves on the plastic, the familiar scratchings of the initials ‘HB’ on it sending a wave of comfort over the brief ache of homesickness.

As much as she likes being here– even with the setback of getting in trouble and forced into independent study for the rest of camp– she still misses the band. She misses the offkey singing from Uncle James while he drives the band van, the unabashed laughter from Auntie Yuri when they go sightseeing, the thrumming of Uncle Ned’s fingers while he tries to figure out how to braid her hair during their concert intermissions, and especially the soft humming from her dad as he lulls her to sleep.

As much as she likes being here, she still misses home.

Blinking away the burning in the back of her eyes with a sniffle, Billie continues to trek up the hiking trail to her temporary home in this camp. Just a few more weeks, just a few more weeks until she goes back home–

Billie’s feet suddenly halt once they step onto the top of the hill, her eyes bulging from the sight of plumes of dust chimneying out of open windows. Loud coughing echoes through the forests, along with the now-familiar groaning from the cabin itself, before she stumbles and rushes to the sound. Her heavy soles pound against the dirt and gravel, the wooden porch steps nearly cracking in protest from her stomping, the thudding of her feet breaking through the groans of the old cabin, until Billie finally stumbles underneath the doorway and peers inside.

Most of the cabin is startlingly sparkly. What was once caked in grime, the cracked windows are now clear, the sunlight now shining down and brightening the space. The wooden shelves and walls are more polished, not dulled with layers of dirt from months– maybe years– worth of neglected dusting. The mustiness in the air is gone, replaced with long-awaited fresh air flowing through the open windows and door. Even the hardwood floor, which used to be plastered with dried mud and dust, is now squeaky clean– gleaming and varnished with the scent of lemon lingering in the air. Ramona, oblivious to the gaping Billie behind her, sneezes and coughs while smacking a large dust-covered rag out the window, her overalls and cheeks just as covered in dust and dirt.

“Holy bloody hell…” Billie mutters under her breath before glancing down to her dusty combat boots. A conflicted frown pulls on her face before she hurriedly unties her boots and kicks them off, her socked feet padding against the clean floor as she approaches her double.

Muffled music hums around Ramona the closer Billie gets, the sounds of a catchy baseline and a synth-like piano ringing through Ramona’s earphones, distracting her enough for Billie to be close behind until she taps on Ramona’s shoulder.

A shrill scream rips through Ramona, jolting Billie with her own scream, before she snaps her head around and glares at the sheepish Brit.

“Jesus Christ!” Ramona huffs as she pulls an earphone out, the bassline blasting through the speaker bud. “You can’t just sneak up on somebody like that, Billie–”

“The hell happened here?” Billie laughs, her eyes completely enthralled by the spotless state of their quarters. “This wha’ you’ve been doin’ all mornin’?! Didn’t ya have lessons or sumthin’?”

Ramona sighs as she flops down on top of her trunk, a wearily satisfied smile curling up on her lips as she watches Billie wander around the space with an impressed glint in her eyes. “Just a one-on-one bass session with one of the counselors. I didn’t really have other activities planned for today though…”

“My god, Mon-mon, I’ve been gone for a few hours!” Billie scoffs in amazement before she lightly tosses her violin case onto her bed, which was left in its own messy state in the morning. “You got all this done?! ‘s like some Disney princess magic shite o’ sumthin’.”

A snort slips through Ramona’s nose while Ramona sheepishly looks away from the Brit. “It’s not much–” Billie instantly gives her a deadpan–”...okay, actually it was a lot, but it wasn’t a big deal. I was just getting tired of having dust all over me.”

“We just moved in here like two days ago–”

“And I got tired of it in those two days.”

Another bark of laughter booms from Billie as she steps up in front of Ramona, picking up the earbud and tucking it in her ear. “Ya really hav’ tha’ clean freak vibe, don’t cha.”

“I’m not a clean freak! I just don’t like feeling gross and dirty.”

“Yeah, yeah, whateva’ ya say, Snow White,” Billie snickers as she gently bobs her head, her wild coils swaying back and forth in tandem with the drum kick. “Song ain’t bad. A little poppy fer me, but I like the psychedelic vibe of it.”

Ramona’s eyes instantly light up, the fatigue from the cleanup dissolving like smoke. “Oh yeah, this was the song I was talking about earlier! I personally think the synths are a great backdrop to the bassline, and the drums are also a great partner to it. And the lyrics themselves are really deep, like they’re talking about having an unrequited love–”

Her smile instantly drops once she notices Billie’s eyes widening and her face dropping in shock, and Ramona sheepishly glances shrinks down under the punk’s scrutiny.

“Sorry,” Ramona mumbles as she stares down at her mp3 player in her hands, “you probably don’t really care about that–”

“Nah, keep goin’,” Billie slowly grins. “I wanna hear more.”

Ramona’s eyes snap up at her Brit double, heat creeping up on her cheeks and the back of her ears, before she turns her head away.

“No, it’s embarrassing–”

“Oi, don’t gimme tha’!” Billie scoffs, nudging Ramona’s leg with her own. “If ya like sumthin’, ya like sumthin’! Ya can’t jus’ back away from it!”

She plops down next to the flustered Ramona on the large trunk and bumps their shoulders together with her signature cat-like grin. “Now, c’mon, what other songs do ya have? Ya go with more of a bubblegum poppy vibe or a psychedelic alt one?”

Ramona rolls her eyes again before she clicks on the middle play button, the screen flashing its blue light and revealing multiple named playlists and  as she scrolls through them. “I listen to other genres, like hip-hop, rock, alternative–”

“So you picked out all of these songs on it?”

“...no. My mom did.”

A slight petulant pout juts out from Ramona’s lower lip as she continues to scroll down the menu. “I mean, I like listening to them either way…I just get more options through my phone than on this…”

“ ‘s better than usin’ a cassette player,” Billie huffs out a small laugh as she holds her hand out, waiting for Ramona to place the player on it. “M’ dad refuses t’ use a dog, let alone a tablet, ‘cuz he t’inks the gov’ment’s spyin’ on us ‘n keepin’ track o’ our data. M’ Uncle James jus’ calls ‘im old, though, ‘cuz he doesn’ know how to use ‘em.”

A brief flicker of confusion crosses through Ramona’s eyes– What does a dog have to do with this? – before she notices the telltale sheen in Billie’s downcast eyes. The pensive smile on her face, the slight strain on her lip. That familiar trembling of her fingers.

Ramona’s gaze softens before gently dropping the mp3 player onto Billie’s palm. “Maybe you can get your dad one of these instead. I’m sure they’re old-school enough for him to listen to music with.”

“Nah, he actually sucks a’ using these too,” Billie lets out a watery chuckle as she starts to scroll through. “Crazy, though, ‘cuz he knows how to take stuff like ‘ese apart and put ‘em back together, but he doesn’ know how t’ download a song–”

A sharp gasp hitches in the Brit, her eyes widening and her jaw dropped, before she lets out a bark of a laugh again, any trace of vulnerability on her face replaced by pure elation.

“Oh my god, you actually listen to this band?! Okay, wait wait wait wait wait–”

Billie then bolts off the trunk, accidentally yanking the earbud out of Ramona’s ear, before scrambling to her own. “No, ‘cuz I have the perfect t’ing for this! Annie let me borrow this before I moved out, but I never got t’ chance t’ use it!”

The moment Billie unlatches and pops her trunk open, Ramona’s face falters in dismay from the shambolic state inside. Crumpled t-shirts and pants in disarray, crinkled papers sticking out between layers of clothes, and some pencil eraser ends peeking out– is that even safe to stick your hand in?!

Ramona flinches when Billie haphazardly shoves her hand inside, digging through the chaos within, before she yanks her arm out with a large pill-shaped speaker in her hand.

“Found it! I t’ink they should be compat’ble wit’ each other– oh, wait, there should be a chord with this, unless yer player’s got bluetooth or sumthin’–”

“Yeah– yeah, it has it,” Ramona scrambles over to Billie before she risks plunging her hand inside her trunk again, “but can we do it after we get your side cleaned up?...”

Billie owlishly blinks at Ramona before slowly glancing over to her bed. The fitted sheets are half off the mattress, pillows and a crumpled blanket are scattered across the bed, and her stuffed bunny Pom-pom hanging off the edge. Her eyes also linger on the layer of dust and grime on the windowsill beside her bed and a suspicious cobweb–that definitely wasn’t there before hovering–over her headboard.

Her face pinches in reluctance at the sight, clearly not enthused at the potential work, before an idea pops into her head.

“Or maybe…”

—

The Ramones blare through the speaker, upbeat guitar and drums vibrating against the wooden walls and rattling against the windows. Loud thumps ring through the music, socked feet and painted converses stomping and jumping against the groaning floorboards, as the two girls thrash and dance across the cabin.

Billie headbangs to the raw guitar riff, her dark coils wildly swishing in the air, while she plays her air guitar along the instrumentals with feather dusters in hand. Giggles bubble up from Billie’s chest as the familiar rush of adrenaline washes over her, images of flashing lights and screaming crowds ringing in the background of her mind with each thrash of her head, shadows of leather and spike-cladded bodies flitting back and forth on her mini concert.

Ramona, meanwhile, flails her arms and twirls the towels in her hands, twirling and whooping across the cabin with a grin growing on her face. Exhilaration courses through her veins, limbs swinging in tune of the beat and ponytail slapping against her skin in sharp stings, and a welling builds up in her chest until it explodes out of her mouth into a whoop.

The moment the drum solo takes over, both girls chant out the hook at the top of their lungs– 

“Hey! Ho! Let’s go! Hey! Ho! Let’s go!”

Their voices reverberate the wood in reckless abandon, their singing following the frontman screaming through the plastic speaker, while they dance and scrub through the rest of the cabin. Loud smacks of feathers slapping dust off in tandem with the drums. Feet bouncing against squeaking floorboards. Towels sweeping against surfaces with each bass riff. Sheets and blankets snapping in the air. Clothes being folded, papers and pencils being sorted through. The smell of sweat and lemon mingling with the fresh air. The rickety cabin livens up from the inside for the first time in a while, groaning and vibrating along with them in their wild bopping, their jubilant concert for two.

With the last of their chants rolling off their tongues, they flop onto Billie’s now-clean bed the moment the song ends, more giggles bubbling up their chests while they bask in the inviting spotlessness around them. Sunlight pools through the open windows, the telltale sounds of instruments playing and children laughing in the background lulling them as an intermission.

“I actually needed that,” Billie huffs out with a growing grin, a lot more broad and child-like compared to her usual cat-like one. “Can’t deal with those bloody violin lessons anymore, what with their bloody postures, their techniques, their rule about stayin’ still–”

��Okay, before you continue,” Ramona gasps out with a winded laugh, pulling out her mp3 player from her pocket to lower the volume in sync with the speaker before the next song plays, “why did you sign up for the orchestra program– let alone for violin? I thought you’d go for something more…your vibe.”

Billie blows a long raspberry with a disgruntled frown, her forehead wrinkling up and her nose scrunching up. “M’ dad ‘n m’ Uncle Ned tried t’ get me into t’e other programs, but they were all filled up. T’e only ones left at t’e time were violin ‘n… tuba.”

Both girls blanch at the thought, their arms already protesting with dread from the weight of the brass instrument.

“Can ya ‘magine me carryin’ tha’ ‘round camp?” Billie adds on with a sputter, “ ‘specially wit’ me luggin’ it up the damn hill?”

“Okay, yeah, no,” Ramona coughs up, struggling to stifle her laughter, “that would’ve sucked.”

Billie’s grin grows the more she listens to Ramona’s giggles. She slowly rolls onto her side, her attention square on her double as she sinks down on the creaking mattress. “Yeah, Dad ‘n Uncle Ned were kinda worried ‘bout me gettin’ in, thinkin’ ‘m not gonna have fun or not get along wit’ the others, but it’s not so bad, I guess.”

The flicker of nostalgia in Billie’s eyes does not go unnoticed by Ramona.

“You’re really close with your dad, huh?” Ramona coaxes as she shifts on the bed to face the Brit.

The grin on Billie’s face briefly drops for a moment before it softens into a soft smile. “Yeah, he’s m’ best friend.  We do everythin’ together.”

A small twinge pricks in Ramona’s chest, but she ignores it with a small sniffle. “Yeah? Like what?”

Pride floods Billie’s face. “We go on tours together wit’ his band. They go all over Europe ‘n the States ev’ry year ‘n take me durin’ summer term. Normally I’d go wit’ ‘em, but Uncle Ned wanted me t’ spend more time wit’ other kids this year–”

“Wait, on tour?”

“Yeah! They’re bloody big in London, but lately they’ve been gettin’ more shows here, so I’ll prob’bly be stayin’ here durin’ the summer more often.”

“Whoa…” Ramona gapes at the grinning punk, eyes filled with awe, earning a snicker from Billie.

“Yeah, but what ‘bout you?” Billie props her arm on the mattress and rests her cheek against her hand. “Wha’s yer dad like?”

Ramona’s face falters from the inquiry, that small twinge pricking in her chest again, before she glances away from Billie.

“...I don’t know my dad. My mom doesn’t really talk about him a lot.”

Billie instantly stops smiling, her chest instantly hurting from the brief light in Ramona’s eyes dimming, before she changes the subject.

“...wha’s yer mum like then?”

Ramona’s eyes flick up to Billie’s again, and Billie sighs in relief from the light gradually building up in her double’s eyes.

“She’s my best friend,” Ramona whispers with the sweetest smile Billie’s ever seen, one that stirs up a familiar image she cannot explain. “She raised me by herself, so we’ve been through a lot together.”

Ramona clears her throat and glances away, blinking away the sheen in her eyes. “I usually stay home or hang out with her at her studio, but my mom had to go on a long business trip this summer, so she and I signed up to come here.”

A small smile creeps up on Billie’s face the longer she listens. “She a musician too?”

Ramona shakes her head, her smile gradually growing with a quiet pride of her own. “She’s actually a designer. She owns her own clothing company and everything. Sometimes she’ll design some stuff for fashion shows and other commissions, but she normally focuses on regular clothes.”

Pushing herself up on the bed, Ramona sits up straight and holds her arms up to show her overalls, a bright patch of a cherry sitting on her chest area. “She actually makes some of my clothes, from the designs up until the final product. She’ll usually show me her ideas and let me pick out which ones I like before she makes them for me…”

A dull ache creeps up in Billie’s chest this time, but she smiles it through. “Kinda wish I had a mum like that…”

The nostalgia in Ramona’s smile dissolves as she stares back at the punk girl, the same bittersweet smile briefly on her face. She shifts along the mattress until her legs are crossed and tucked underneath her.

“Is your mom…?”

Billie shrugs her shoulder before pushing herself up, mirroring Ramona as she pushes her wild curls out of her face. “Never really got a clear answer ‘bout that, but I guess so. Dad doesn’ really talk ‘bout her, but my uncles and aunt do. They’d tell me a whole bunch of stories ‘bout her ‘fore I was born, basically had Dad smitten ‘n wrapped ‘round her finger ever since they met a’ one of their earliest shows before they blew up…”

A wistful smile lingers on Billie’s face, a face that Ramona instantly doesn’t like on her.

“M’ mum ended up makin’ their first band shirts ‘n stuff, ‘n she’d go to ev’ry show jus’ t’ watch Dad play his guitar solos. Eve’rybody loved her. M’ Auntie Yuri even told me once tha’ I look like her sometimes, even though ev’rybody else says I look like m’ dad.”

A familiar guitar riff quietly creeps into Billie’s ears, and she glances at the speaker with a hint of shock and sentimentality in her eyes. “Wait, hang on, can ya turn the speaker up for a secon’?”

Ramona furrows her eyebrows from bewilderment, caught off guard by the change of subject, before complying. “Yeah, sure. I really like this band too, but this one’s my mom’s favorite band. She’s been a huge fan of theirs for a long time, like ‘knowing all the members by name' kind of fan. She actually started taking me to some of their concerts recently–”

Ramona’s voice slowly grows muffled in Billie’s ears, only focusing on the recognizable guitar riff, one her dad usually plays. Then a nostalgic female voice starts to belt through the speakers, sending a rush of homesickness to her chest.

“...Auntie Yuri?” Billie mutters in disbelief before she glances down at the mp3 player in Ramona’s hand. “Can I…?”

Puzzlement flickers in Ramona’s eyes before her face slowly drops, her eyes widening and her jaw dropping before she hands Billie the player. “Wait…don’t tell me…”

A burning sensation creeps up in Billie’s throat the moment she stares down at the small screen, her eyes watering again as they linger on the all-too-familiar band name.

“My god, that’s m’ dad’s band,” Billie huffs out, a watery chuckle wavering in her voice. “Ya actually listen t’ m’ dad’s band…”

“Hang on– this is your dad’s band?!” Ramona’s thoughts race through her mind in a frenzy, the revelation from Billie a literal bombshell as she pieces the details together. Her Auntie Yuri, the frontwoman? Her Uncle Ned…the bassist? And since Billie’s last name is…Brown…

“YOUR DAD IS HOBIE BROWN?!”

As Billie scrambles off her bed and rushes to her trunk again, Ramona whips her head with a look of alarm. She clambers off the bed and rushes to Billie’s side while Billie rummages through her newly organized trunk.

“Nonono– you’re not gonna just drop that on me and not tell me more!” Ramona sputters in exasperation. “You’re telling me this whole time your dad is Hobie Brown?! Oh my god! His guitar riffs are crazy! And you basically got to see him and everybody live and up close?! Are you serious–”

Tuning out the mental spiral next to her, Billie pulls out a flat tin box and pops it open, revealing various old pictures of her and the band– as well as rendering the babbling Ramona silent with shock and awe.

“Won’t lie, was kinda disappointed tha’ nobody in m’ old cabin didn’ know ‘bout ‘em,” Billie sheepishly chuckles before gingerly tucking the photos into a stack, “but since you do, figured ya’d ‘preciate seein’ these–”

“Holy crap.” Ramona gapes at the hidden treasure in Billie’s hands, “my mom would probably freak out if she saw those…”

A snort slips vibrates through Billie’s nose before she hands the pictures to Ramona, who eagerly gazes at the faded ink. “They ain’t much, but m’ Uncle James wanted me to know the ‘whole history’ – she air-quotes with a playful eye roll– “of the band. They mainly played in Camden at some old bars and underground venues before somebody picked ‘em up.”

Ramona’s eyes twinkle with excitement and recognition, her eyes lingering onto each grainy photo before her fingers reluctantly shuffle to the next. Yuri Watanabe– the Yuri Watanabe– grinning at the roaring crowds with a mischievous grin akin to Billie’s. Drummer James Jameson with his arms raised up to the heavens with his drumsticks, blond hair whipping in the air, before swinging them down to the cymbals for a thundering drum solo. Ramona’s eyes widen at the image of bassist Ned Leeds in mid-air, soaring into the crowd for a stage dive, leather-cladded with black liner staining his cheeks.

One photo makes Ramona’s fingers freeze– a young man with wild wicks and silver piercings, skidding towards the edge of the stage on his knees with an electric guitar in hand. A glint of mischief flashes in his eyes, a familiar smirk curling up on his pierced lip, living in his element in one solid image. Billie instantly pops into Ramona’s mind when she stares at the photo, her heart soaring and welling up in overwhelming wonder.

She’s staring at the Hobie Brown– before the fame, before the sold-out concerts, living his life through the music. It feels like a shame to move on to the next photo, but Ramona reluctantly shuffles on, the printed memories getting ingrained to her mind the more she looks at them.

A couple of baby photos pop up soon after. Baby Billie fast asleep on a sleeping Yuri’s chest. The same baby Billie giggling and grabbing handfuls of the same James’s hair, the man wincing with a pained smile. The same baby Billie reaching her tiny hand out to a yellow plastic maraca in a beaming Ned’s hand. 

Despite knowing the curly-haired infant in these photos is someone else, Ramona can’t help but imagine herself in them, especially the photo of a wearily content Hobie gently bouncing the baby in his arms.

Her mind briefly wanders off to her own father, the stranger with no face in her mind, the shadow who lingers in her mom’s memories. Would he have been as gentle and loving to her like Hobie to Billie? Would he look at her with the same love like Hobie to Billie?

Her hands tremble slightly as she hesitantly slides that photo behind, only to stare at the next photo right in front of her– a young Hobie Brown hugging a young woman holding up a band t-shirt. An all-too-familiar looking woman with an all-too-familiar smile.

You.

“Oh yeah, tha’s my mum,” Billie whispers beside Ramona, her eyes gleaming with awe and tenderness. “Tha’s the only one Uncle James could find o’ her. Even then though, I know she’d be the best mum if she were still wit’ us. Honestly, I don’t really believe Auntie Yuri when she says I look like her. I mean, I look pretty fit like m’ dad, but m’ mum? I think she’s the most beautiful…”

Billie trails off as soon as she glances up at the stunned Ramona, her hands trembling and crinkling up Billie’s borrowed memory. Worry floods Billie’s face before she carefully shakes her double’s shoulder. “Mon-mon? What’s wrong?”

But the moment Ramona finally answers, Billie instantly hears glass shattering in her ears.

“Mom?”

----

British Phrase of the Chapter:

Plates of meat - feet

Creamed - or creamed crackered; knackered, exhausted

Butcher's - or butcher's hook ; look

Daisies - or daisy roots ; boots

Conk - nose

Scooby doo - clue

Rabbiting - or rabbit and pork ; talk

Dog - or dog and bone ; phone

https://www.berlitz.com/blog/british-slang-lingo-words-meanings

https://www.ruf.rice.edu/~kemmer/Words04/usage/slang_cockney.html

https://www.collinsdictionary.com/us/dictionary/english-thesaurus/nose

---

Song (s) of the Chapter:

[laswells-ashtray]

Moms I'm having the brain wyrms, so Valeria is a free range weapon, savvy? For lack of better words, no one to keep her in check y'know?

What bout Nikolai? What is he, if not a weapon, but one more fine tuned. More primed and dialed in like a bomb on a watch timer. Is he not the type that knows he is what he is, but he is the one self aware enough to give that detonator to someone else.

What then? 🤔

Years of scrubbing brain matter from his hair and brushing skull fragments out from the groves of his boots had led him somewhere he never expected.

By John Price's side.

Behind the captain.

In front of his partner.

Whether John was pulling the trigger, or he trusted the gun in Nikolai's paws as the Russian watched his six.

Nikolai often found familiarity in the rotor blade of a helicopter. Part of a finely tuned machine and if he were to be sent soaring on his own then he was likely to behead. Tearing through flesh, massacring tissue and spraying blood across everything within reach.

So long as John was piloting, he moved the way the other man asked of him and in doing so acted as the very piece of machinery that would guide John out of the firefight.

He's also the very thing that rips men limb from limb should they approach when he's in motion.

The foundation of his very existence was reliant on another man's hands, as is the assurance of his control.

John aims and fires, afterwards he cradles him in soft hands and polishes the weapon he'd been entrusted with until the light shines back in Nikolai's eyes.

So, when John is questioning a man, the muzzle of a gun indenting the flesh of a woman's cheek as he silently pleads for her husband to answer John's questions, Nikolai awaits instruction.

Nikolai can't pounce, teeth clamping down on the man's trachea until blood spurts over the both of them and the man stops struggling. His muzzle may have been removed but a dog can't jump to attack until someone unclips his leash.

And then the man tries to dive up at John, nail-catching his jaw as he attempts to grab at the captain's face in a panicked swing.

The faint whistle deafens him like a gunshot.

He's behind the man before anyone's eyes can process that he moved, like fragments flying through the air. One hand bolted down at the top of the man's chest, claws stretching out to scrape his clavicle as Nikolai's other hand grips his jaw.

It takes a half second for the rage searing under his skin to start boiling his arm from the inside as he slams all of his weight into the movement. The violent snap of the spinal cord severing from the body's control panel fills the room, the man's neck is broken and he'll be dead as soon as his body can register the loss of control it was on his heart.

He's quick to let the casualty slip from his grip, watching blankly as the soon-to-be corpse's head cracks off of the metal chair on the way down.

A shrill, agonized wail escapes the woman by John's side as she sinks to the floor like the carcass of her husband before her. It reminds Nikolai of the ad break on the radio, noise that barely registers and means little to him.

His gaze meets John, eyes wide like a pup expecting a treat. John's posture is relaxed, shoulders loose and his expression borders on amused. It's being thrown a bone if he's ever seen it.

"Think we're done here."

"That we are, captain."

[dazedantics]

Dunno if this exists yet, but someone needs to write stories of twst clubs x reader, where members slowly become more attached and possessive of Y/N, could be mild or bordering on yandere actions, platonic or romantic. Includes all clubs, even the single member ones. They can also be set in the current NRC timeline or in the future or as a whole different AU.

Here's some examples and ideas to fuel you to start,

"Basketball Club × Reader" - Be ready to go pro with this ambitious group, Jamil, Ace, and Floyd. An unexpected turn of events is sure to ensue if the time is right, or wrong rather, but rest assured that you'll soon be set back on track by the level headed of the members. You say you don't like the spontaneity? Don't worry, me neither. But if I can, then I'm sure you could also find it in your heart to forgive and just go along with it, yes? Oh dear, don't you seem out of it today. Here, let us help. Just follow my every instruction ... yes, just like that ... it's good to know you're the most cooperative of us ...

"Pop Music Club x Reader" - Have fun jammin' out and sharing crazy stories with this energetic trio, Lilia, Cater, and Kalim. You'll always feel welcomed and noticed here whether you know how to hum a tune or have never touched an instrument in your life. Just enjoy the tea and spill your darkest secrets whenever you'd like, this group is patient and remembers every last detail, you'll never want to leave. Though, if the thought does cross your mind, you'll need to announce your upcoming absence so we can throw a goodbye party. But, maybe you shouldn't. We'll just remind you of all the good times you'll miss. For one last time, we'll laugh and joke about how horrible and destroyed your life would be without us. We know everything about you, even the diabolical. Why, if your secrets were to be spread through magicam like wildfire, it'd close so many doors for you, no one would ever look at you the same. You don't want that, right? It'd be best to just stay here with us where your peace of mind is secured, right? You're free to go, but please don't forget us. And don't forget that all it takes is one push of a button to push your life downhill ...

"Spelldrive Club x Reader" - Soar through the skies as you chase your victory alongside this competitive bunch, Leona, Ruggie, and Epel. You train hard everyday, but there's still time to get together during breaks, the chipper of your group bonding over your mutual desire to crush the competition as your captain snoozes. Other, bigger, teams want to recruit you which is a great opportunity. You're honored. And you should be, but don't you know you're the most valuable member of the team? We couldn't make it without you. Not to mention, we'd be heartbroken to see you leave. These guys are too proud to say it, but deep down you know it's true. Those other guys may be better against teams we haven't been able to beat, but they'll never support you as much we do. You wouldn't want to lose the people who love you most, would you? No? Ah, I'm glad. Don't worry, we're sure to win someday, just stick with us and you'll never have to worry about disappointing anyone again ...

"Equestrian Club x Reader" - Gallop through endless fields alongside your law-abiding yet tender companions, Sebek, Silver, and Riddle. Rest assured that with these three you'll have bushels of fun, but more importantly, you'll always be safe. Always. Perhaps a bit too safe ... but there's no such thing, right? Just follow our instructions quickly and obediently, quietly, and you'll never have to worry about the risks of riding through the wilderness again. We promise not to let you get hurt. If it takes being restricted to only the land visible to us, so be it ... hm? Oh, my apologies, I am simply running my mouth. Pay it no mind. Ah, hey, not that way. Why? Well, we haven't quite explored there yet and we'd rather not risk endangering you or the poor horses. Perhaps we can take a look at it tomorrow and see if it's fit for a trot, yes? I agree, now why don't we head back, I can guide your horse for you if you'd like. Just sit back and relax, you're safe with us taking the reins, I promise. The most safe you'll ever be ...

"Track & Field Club x Reader" - Live life fast and furious with this driven pair, Deuce and Jack. You'll always be encouraged to push your limits with their helpful hollers. You won't be upset long with their optimistic cheering. But make sure you show up for every meet, if not, they'll worry about you. They'll go looking for you. And they will find you. Hey, we haven't seen you around lately, is everything okay? Is now a bad time? I'm sorry, but we really missed you yesterday and just wanted to know nothing bad happened. Why don't you come join us for lunch tomorrow, we don't have to practice. We'll get you whatever you want, promise. Wait! You ... weren't planning on leaving me behind again, were you? Good. Ya had me worried for a second, haha. So, we'll meet up at 2:30? Great. Afterwards we can just hangout. And if you want to go for a quick jog again we'd be more than happy to. We've always been faster than you, though, remember? But, don't worry, we'll go easy on you if you ask. Just don't bolt when we're not looking so we don't have to worry and chase after you ... again ...

"Film Research Club x Reader" - Get ready to make strides in the acting business as you perform and work behind the scenes with model and tech genius, Vil and Ortho. Just make sure you aren't so distracted by the applause and spotlights that you forget to read the fine print of your contract. You wish to quit? I'm sorry, My Dear, but I'm afraid you've agreed to work with only us for xxxx amount of years and we need you to play this next lead in order to ensure our film trumps Neige's. Don't worry, we know all the right tips and tricks to secure perfection, just read the script as directed. Exactly. As directed ...

"Science Club x Reader" - Slip those safety goggles on and hold your breath as you run experiments with this curious pair, Trey and Rook. There's nothing better than getting your hands on new and exciting material. Not exactly sure why you're here? No worries! Not all of us are either, but we have fun here. Any experiments you've heard of you'd like to try? Only illegal ones? No problem we can get our hands on the items needed just tell us what they are ... a funny joke? No. I'm dead serious ... we've done plenty before ... ahaha! You look so frightened, lighten up, no one's died ... yet ... hey wait don't give that look. Sorry if that was too much. We're careful enough to keep things safe ... unnoticed ... what's that liquid? Oh just some juice for a friend using the fruits in here, would you like to try it? Here, have a sip ... what's that? It burns? Ah, I see let's write that down. What else are you feeling? What? Using you? No way, we'd never do something so cruel ... you're simply helping us learn as our lab partner ... oh stop that, no one else is here ... now tell me before things escalate ... what other sensations are you feeling ... fascinating ... it's different compared to last time ... too bad you forget after you wake up ... it's why we have to keep doing this ... over ... and over again

"Board Game Club x Reader" - Roll up thise sleeves and bring your a-game as you play with these competitive gamers, Azul and Idia. Have fun and forget the days worries as you make you way across the mat, never will these two give you a boring game. Though that doesn't mean we can't take things up a notch ... What say you we have a little wager? We beat you xx amount of times and you do us a little favor in return? I promise there'll be no foul play. You could ask a favor of us too if you win. In fact we can sweeten the deal even more if you're game ... no? Oh, don't tell me you're scared you'll lose ... you're not? Good. Then there's no issue making a harmless bet, yes? How lovely ... now, why don't we all sign this paper to ensure no one chickens out when they lose ... oh don't worry it's nothing serious, just a sheet of rules, standard club ware yes? Yes ... now right on the line ... good job. You agreed to sign this freely remember? Right. So don't go back on you word later ... nothing good comes of cheaters ... trust me ... I take care of all of them ...

"Gargoyle Studies Club x Reader" - Prepare to learn each and every random tidbit about each little stone as you explore the ruins with this wise companion, Malleus. Everything may go in one ear and out the other but this voice just so dreamy that you don't mind the rambles, right? But please do make an effort, no one likes a dimwit who can't tell the difference between a grotesque and a gargoyle. But, oh dear, it looks like you really are getting tired. Don't worry, I know how to care for my own, you can slumber for the next century safe at my side. I promise to be here when I let you wake up. At least then we won't need worry about those pesky mortals who wrestle your time from me. Hm, what was that ... you feel disoriented ...? Oh you needn't worry, that's a standard effect ... you won't feel a thing in a moment ... trust me ... your dearest friend ... I'll always be watching over you ...

"Mountain Lovers Club x Reader" - Embark on cozy and informative hikes through the mountains with your knowledgable partner Jade. But beware the trained smiles and pre-packed lunches, you may end up a little further out than planned. Oh, don't worry, the place I had in mind is just a little further along, I promise. You trust me, don't you? Good, then everything should go smoothly. Hm? You're not feeling well? Ah, perhaps you ate something you shouldn't have ... I do hope you were taking note of those wilderness survival tips I gave you ... though, they may not be of much help to you underwater ... hm? Oh, I wasn't saying anything of importance, don't mind me. You did say you trust me, yes? I'd like to find out just how much ...

Honestly, I had a lot of fun writing these ideas, even though I did forget about them for a while.

[mswyrr]

come fly with me: dragons as a romantic symbol

In 1x01 Rhaenyra asks Alicent to fly on Syrax with her not once but twice.

Now, one of the key things for analyzing what that means in a text is to look and see if there are any other examples of a dragonrider making a similar offer to someone. And there is! One single example in this show, found in the same episode.

It coming in the same episode further enhances its connection: when two thing are placed close together in a text like that we're meant to consider the connection. It provides a pattern for us to read what its meaning is - and in that other example it is an erotic act between two lovers.

The framing and behavior of the lovers conveys this:

Mysaria's face is at first wary and then astonished, overjoyed. And her lover is proud to share this. There is pleasure in this act for both of them. It's a sharing of potency, power, beauty and a unique intimacy only a few people in the whole world can offer. It is, furthermore -- an act of power that we learned in S2 is an expression of the dangerous freedom Rhaenyra envied in Dae/mon and longed to be allowed to embody.

When Rhaenyra kept asking Alicent to fly with her she wanted *this* - to be proud and share of herself--the most powerful, dangerous, and beautifully unique part of herself--in an intimate, romantic way, to astonish and give pleasure to her lady. The girl she longed to not only share this intimacy with, but see the great wonders of the world and travel with, just the two of them.

Casting our net of analysis out further in the canon, are there other examples of dragons as metaphors for Rhaenyra's romantic feelings? Yes! One that most stands out to me re: her sapphic desire is that, early on in their dynamic, Mysaria notes that a dragon seems "lonely" (a comment that stops Rhaenyra short; she is herself feeling very lonely and unsupported at that time) and later--after kissing and coming to trust and rely on each other--Mysaria and Rhaenyra have an intimate, vulnerable conversation under two dragons flying together in joy.

Okay, is there an example of flight/dragons related to Alicent's romantic feelings? Also yes! In her lowest point, as she despairs of all she's built her life on, she looks up to the heavens and sees a bird soaring high - free and in flight, like Rhaenyra and Syrax, like the freedom she was once offered. And then she draws up all her courage and goes to the enemy camp to seek that - explicitly offering ("come with me") what Rhaenyra once offered her.

I don't think they will ever get to have a flight together on dragonback. I think the fact that they won't represents all the wonder and joy they never got to have, but both wished deeply to enjoy together. The invitation to fly with me never realized symbolizes everything they never got to have.

(Even if they kissed or had sex in canon, that is actually less potent symbolically than flying - they will never get to fly together because it represents wholeness fully realized. Crossing over from the youthful bond they had into the full flowering of the romantic and erotic that young Rhaenyra wanted to try for and Alicent was scared of and older Alicent tried for "too late." It represents a *life* together.)

Casting our net of analysis out even further - does flight represent romance and eroticism in other texts? It absolutely does! Flying is so often used as an erotic/romantic metaphor that it could be considered cliche. A few that come immediately to mind for me are: "Come Fly With Me" (lyrics, Spotify) a classic of the American Songbook, covered by legends like Frank Sinatra and "Fly Me to the Moon" (lyrics, Spotify), another classic covered by legend Ella Fitzgerald. There's also Steppenwolf's 1960s Rock hit "Magic Carpet Ride" (lyrics, Spotify). And, OF COURSE, Lea Salonga & Brad Kane's performance of "A Whole New World" (lyrics, Spotify) the song from the magic carpet ride in Aladdin (1992), a sequence where two young people break through all the barriers and social restrictions binding them and find joy and pleasure together in flight. That's what young Rhaenyra wanted for her and Alicent!

"I want to fly with you on dragonback, see the great wonders across the Narrow Sea, and eat only cake."

I can show you the world

Shining, shimmering, splendid

Tell me, Princess

Now, when did you last let your heart decide?

I can open your eyes

Take you wonder by wonder

Over, sideways and under

On a magic carpet ride

A whole new world

A new fantastic point of view

No one to tell us no

Or where to go

Or say we're only dreaming

[jpitha]

Between the Black and Gray 32

First / Previous / Next

Back at the ship, Fen was numb. Zhe had brought Rev in, and locked him in the brig. "It's a human ship, of course it has a brig." Northern was surprised that Zhe was surprised.

Fen sat at the table in the kitchenette, staring at her hands. What had happened? Was that her, or was it the Nanites? What is even going on?

Zhe was washing off her soar-knives in the kitchenette sink. After, she boiled some water and made two cups of tea. She set one in front of Fen and sat across from her.

"Zhe, what's going on?" Fen looked up at Zhe, lost.

"That's what I'd like to know." They both turned and saw Northern standing in the doorway, casually holding a battle rifle. As she walked towards them, Fen noticed that there were ten hair thin clear wires snaking from the back of her head and trailing down the hall behind her. Northern crossed the room and sat at the table with them. The battle rifle was placed on the table with a click. "Zhe. It is not normal to be that good at killing and that blasé about it. Fen. What the actual fuck is going on with you? You never told me you worked with the Empress, let alone got a Nanite package!" As she spoke, her mouth didn't move. Her voice was coming over the ship's speakers. She stared at the both of them hard in turn. "If we're going to continue to work together, we need to be more honest with each other."

"Northern, why are you walking around and still connected?" Zhe peered at the wires and glanced down the hall.

"Because, I'm on a few milliseconds delay." Sure enough, when Northern replied, there was just a few moments of delay before she spoke. "Fen-" She inclined her head towards her "-has the Empress package of Nanites. When she uses her odd sounding voice to issue a command it cannot be disobeyed." She patted the rifle. "This way, I have enough time to react if she orders me to do something."

Fen gasped. "B-but, what would I do? Northern we're friends! I've never even met the Empress. You know I grew up in exile on a Gren station!"

Northern nodded. "That may be Fen, but while I was born at night, it was not last night. You are dangerous right now. You both are, for different reasons."

"Wait, you were born? I didn't know AIs were born!" Zhe looks excitedly at Northern. "What was it like? Do you remember? Who were your parents?"

Northern rolls her eyes. "Zhe, focus. We have bigger issues right now."

"Yeah, but you don't just use an idiom like that for no reason, I'm very curious."

Northern shrugged. "I'll tell you about it later." She turned to Fen. "Why are you all dosed up with Nanites?"

"I don't know!" Fen wailed. "We went through the Gate and I had a moment when I was talking with an intelligence, and they said they were excited to finally see me and said they were coming along because I would need the help. The next night I had a weird dream where I was like, inhabiting the memories of someone, I don't think it was me. Then, they told me that I could help Fen out when Elmar was trying to escape. She was trying to break free of the Heap, if she had done it we would have been killed!" Fen was speaking all at once, barely taking a breath.

Northern leaned back and shut her eyes. She did not take her hands off her rifle. "Ancestors, Fen. Do you even know what the Empress is?"

Fen blinked. "Uh, the person in charge of the Human Empire?"

Northern opened her eyes, "Yes, and No. The Nanites are way older than the Empire. They're probably older than Humanity. They're a nanoscale distributed intelligence. The nano-machines that make them up is their body. We don't know if they're one being or many, though I suppose it doesn't matter. They can manipulate matter in our dimension on a frankly frightening scale, and as near as we are able to tell, they keep doing it to try and set up a galaxy wide empire."

Fen opened her mouth to reply.

"No, we don't know why. Every time anyone asks, they say that 'all they're after' is expanding the Gate system. Frankly, we don't buy it at all."

"We?" Zhe put her tea cup down. "Who is we here?"

"We. Us. The AIs."

"But, aren't you nearly all gone?"

Northern nodded. "Yes, thanks to the Empire. The Empire that was put in place by the Nanites. The Nanites that have 'gifted' Fen here with the ability to tell anyone what to do and they can't say no. We have a vested interest in knowing our enemy."

Zhe getured with her empty tea cup. "But how did you learn all this?"

"Zhe, we're old. I'm not like, Gord's age or anything, but AIs who don't get killed don't die. Not really. I've been active for more than a thousand years." Northern took her hand off of the rifle and rubbed them together, like she was massaging feeling back into them. "So the Nanites, recognized you Fen? That's odd."

Fen could only nod.

"Why though? Maybe you look like someone? No, that doesn't make sense, they can manipulate matter at sub-atomic scale they wouldn't do mistaken identity-" Northern's musings were interrupted by a pounding on the airlock. Northern's eyes flicked to Zhe and Fen, and they stood up. Zhe grabbed one of her soar-knives and Northern's eyes flashed blue for a split second. "There's a K'laxi at the door. Older, Black fur, notched ear."

"That'll be Hemmi!" Zhe put the knife away and ran towards the door. She dumped the cycle and both doors opened at once. She bounded out and into the arms of the older K'laxi. "Daddy! You made it!"

Hemmi laughed and spun her around. "I told you I would, sunbeam, I told you I would. I see that you took care of everyone too, I'm so proud. Did you-"

"Rev is in the brig, but Elmar is dead and Xiian is probably dead."

"Probably?"

"I think they escaped and Northern here holed their ship. It's out drifting. I asked her not to destroy it so we could salvage it later.

"Smart girl." Hemmi's ears flicked and he glanced up at the others. "Nice to meet you in person, I'm Hemmi Navarren."

Northern's eyes flicked to the rifle over on the table, but she sighed. "I'm Northern Light, this is Fen, nice to meet you. Can you explain to my why your daughter is so casually good at murder?"

Hemmi laughed and his tail flicked. "She's a natural, isn't she? I'd love to lay claim to training her myself, but she did most of it on her own. Once I showed her those Gren Soar-Knives she just took to them like she was born to use them. I'm so pleased that she has decided to return to us."

Zhe looked at the floor as Hemmi put her down. "Oh, Daddy, I was going to go out with Fen and Northern. We're starting a Mercenary group and Fen asked me to sign on.

For just a split second, Fen saw sadness play across Hemmi's features. He recovered and laughed. "That's my girl! Never want to break a contract - without a good reason. That's fine. We'll get along without you and when your contract is up, you bring your loot and stories back to the Heap and you have a job as my second in command, okay?"

Zhe nodded. "Okay Daddy. I'll come right back after I finish my tour with Fen and Northern."

"I know you will, sunbeam. Make me proud." He extended his hand, gesturing towards the Heap. "Now, ladies? Will you join me for dinner? I'm starving. We'll eat and figure out what our next steps are."

"Uh, Hemmi?" Northern looked down the hall. "We have Rev in the brig... do you want him?"

"Oh! Right, Rev." His fur rippled a shrug. "Sure, bring him out."

Fen got up and brought Rev to the airlock. As soon as he saw Hemmi, he blanched. "Hemmi, You know I'm not one to support-"

Hemmi held up his hand. "I know Rev, I know. Thanks to your information I was able to get a handle on the folks in my runabout, and sunbeam here took care of the rest. I just had her take you as a precaution."

"Precaution? She took my hand!" Rev holds up the stump of his hand, the med still attached.

Rev examines the med, his large ears flicking as he looks. "Clean cut. I'm sure sunbeam had her reasons. We'll just get you another."

"That's it?" Rev's exasperated voice keeps rising in inflection as he speaks.

Hemmi's friendly face drains away. "That's it. She was working on my orders. You survived, Rev. Xiian and Elmar didn't.

He puts his arms down at his sides, defeated. "Fine."

Northern gestures behind her back for Fen to stay. "Hemmi, you take Zhe and Rev. We'll be over in a bit. Fen and I have some... things to discuss. We won't be long."

Rev raises an eyebrow and his ears swivel. He grins. "Not my place to ask. You two have fun, and we'll see you soon."

After the three of them leave and the airlock closes, Northern turns to Fen. "You know he thinks we're going to have sex right?" Fen says, her face tired.

"I don't care what he thinks, Fen. If he thinks we're going to fuck then they'll leave us alone. We are not done discussing you and the Nanites and what happens next."

Fen gestures for Northern to sit back at the table. As she does, she takes a handful of the wires connected to her skull and sweeps them away so she doesn't trip on them.

"Fen? What happens next?"

[ultimatevocalsonicsongtournament]

ROUND 4 - Pool 1

Jump Up, Super Star! vs. Break Free (Lead the Way)

Listen to them in the following links:

Jump Up, Super Star!

Break Free (Lead the Way)

Lyrics below!

Jump Up, Super Star!

Here we go, off the rails Don't you know it's time to raise our sails? It's freedom like you never knew Don't need bags, or a pass Say the word, I'll be there in a flash You could say my hat is off to you Oh, we can zoom All the way to the moon From this great wide wacky world Jump with me, grab coins with me Oh, yeah! It's time to jump up in the air (Jump up in the air) Jump up, don't be scared (Jump up, don't be scared) Jump up and your cares will soar away And if the dark clouds start to swirl, (Dark clouds start to swirl) Don't fear, don't shed a tear, 'cause I'll be your 1UP girl So let's all jump up super high (Jump up super high) High up in the sky (High up in the sky) There's no power-up like dancing You know that you're my superstar (You're my superstar) No one else can take me this far I'm flipping the switch Get ready for this Oh, let's do the odyssey Odyssey, ya see! (×7) Odyssey, odyssey! Spin the wheel, take a chance Every journey starts a new romance A new world's calling out to you Take a turn, off the path Find a new addition to the cast You know that any captain needs a crew Take it in stride As you move side-to-side They're just different points of view Jump with me, grab coins with me Oh, yeah! Come on and jump up in the air (Jump up in the air) Jump without a care (Jump without a care) Jump up 'cause you know that I'll be there And if you find you're short on joy, (Find you're short on joy) Don't fret, just don't forget that You're still our 1UP boy So go on, straighten up your cap (Straighten up your cap) Let your toes begin to tap (Toes begin to tap) This rhythm is a power 'shroom Don't forget you're the superstar (You're the superstar) No one else could make it this far Put a comb through that 'stache Now you've got panache Oh, let's do the odyssey It's time to jump up in the air (Jump up in the air) Jump up, don't be scared (Jump up, don't be scared) Jump up and your cares will soar away And if the dark clouds start to swirl, (Dark clouds start to swirl) Don't fear, don't shed a tear, 'cause I'll be your 1UP girl Now listen, all you boys and girls (All you boys and girls) All around the world (All around the world) Don't be afraid to get up and move You know that we're all superstars (We're all superstars) We're the ones who made it this far Put a smile on that face There's no time to waste So, let's do the odyssey

Break Free (Lead the Way)

Smash through the blocks that bar your way No time for fear just let it all fall away (all fall away) Nobody believes in me and you, just look at the way they stare So what if we live in a walled garden, as long as I've got you then I don't care Kick off the wall and take the plunge Tripping through two dimensions Up on the moon we'll twirl and swoon Just lead the way (and I'll follow you) I'll throw my hat in the ring, 'cause you're the one A miracle in three dimensions Follow the brick path straight to my heart And we'll grab the flag together the fireworks are gonna start Shake off the chains, you're running free You'll be amazed at all that there is to see (there is to see) Together we're racing for the goal, and no one can stop us now Maybe we don't know where we're going, but we're gonna get there somehow Climb up the vine and land in the clouds Maybe then we'll swap up for down 'cross the sea we're still you and me I'll follow you (just lead the way) You've got me over the moon, and that's no jest We're miles above the rest Look in your eyes and I know we'll be fine So let's shoot for the stars and make this love really shine Nobody believes in me and you, just look at the way they stare So what if we live in a walled garden, as long as I've got you then I don't care Kick off the wall and take the plunge Tripping through two dimensions Up on the moon we'll twirl and swoon Just lead the way (and I'll follow you) I'll throw my hat in the ring, 'cause you're the one A miracle in three dimensions Follow the brick path straight to my heart And we'll grab the flag together the fireworks are gonna start

[stardustamaryllis78]

TDP characters singing karaoke together - Breaking Free plays:

🎶 We're soaring 🎶

🎶 Flying 🎶

🎶 There's not a star in heaven that we can't reach 🎶

Aaravos leaves the chat.

[nahisummerhold]

World’s Faire Carnival, Song 3

(Last song of my set, 25 by The Pretty Reckless listen here)

Nahi walks to the side picking up a leaden grey jacket, slipping it on and buttoning up to the high collar as she speaks. “My last song tonight is called 25. It is a story of struggle, and how life can change even when we do not expect it to.”

The music starts and she stands perfectly still through the quiet notes of the guitar that leads to the start of the lyrics. Her expression is calm, violet eyes taking on a slightly vacant look when she begins to sing, “Year one was lots of fun, but  nothin' lasts forever in my dreams.” Extending two fingers out on an elegantly outstretched arm, a memory of a smile gently curving her lips, a dramatic accompaniment to the counted progression, “Two, I followed you because you knew the way or so it seemed.” Letting a small huffed breath free to dance alongside a sad shake of her head. The smile now laced with poisonous irony, “And three, I still believed that we would be becoming destiny.” Pausing, her breathing slow and labored, shuddering in her chest like the last leaves of fall teased by a cool breeze, “And four, I wanted more but you were movin' on to better things.”

The music builds and she fists her hands in the pale curls at the back of her head, “At twenty-five and still alive, much longer than expected for a man.” Drawing her shoulders forward in an achingly tight curve. “At twenty-five, all hope has died,” her crystal clear voice soars with the weight of emotion driving it, “and the glass of my intentions turns to sand.” The music drops low, words following it down to hang in the air, “and shatters in my hand.” A slow breath is drawn through parted lips, “Oh, oh, oh.”

The  performer brings a perfectly manicured hand up to hold her throat, pink fingernails pressing to hold back the emotions that threaten to choke her, “Five to six, a lie, a kiss, secrets that were served, we'd never say.”  Pacing to the side, shaking her head back and forth, an expression of sadness staining her features, any semblance of faith dying in her eyes, “Skip to eight, we called it fate, to live, to let us die another day.”  Dropping her hand, forcing an exhale loud enough to float over the music, nostrils flaring with frustration, “And nine, I saw the signs reflected in the barrel of a gun.” A deep shudder of cascades through her with the memory. Eyes look to the night sky, a hint of tears threatening to   spill reflecting off the flame of the braziers nearby, “Ten, we're here again, those who loved me burned up in the sun.” 

“At twenty-five and still alive, much longer than expected for a man.” Drawing her hands up in front of her chest, fists balling tight enough to lighten her knuckles, “At twenty-five, all hope has died,” She looks out over the audience, her expression mixed in equal measure of misery and regret “and the glass of my intentions turns to sand.” Dropping into a crouch, her hand picking up some sand off the stage, letting it fall slowly from between her fingers, “And shatters in my hand… shatters in my hand.” Nahi rises up into a slow sway, her weight shifting like a pendulum, “From eleven, twelve, I held the future in my grasp.” In a dejected movement sucked dry of energy her shoulders dip, a marionette with frayed strings about to break free. Nahi opens her hands, holding them palms out, empty with nothing left to cling to. “And all through my teens, I screamed I may not live much past…” Words become robotic in their cadence, “Twenty-one, two, three, four.” Nahi walks the stage looking completely detached. “Twenty-one, two, three, four.” Holding up her fingers to count, her head tipping side to side with each number, the weight too much for her slender neck to hold, “Twenty-one, two, three, four.” She stops abruptly, each breath matching the pacing of the simple words, eyes looking out over the crowd with a blank expression, “One, two, three, four…” The power of the lyrics carry to the upper levels of the city past the audience, “At twenty-five and still alive, much longer than expected for a man.” Her head levels and she locks eyes with someone straight ahead of her, “At twenty-five, all hope has died,” her hand moves to her forehead then explodes open, expelling the pain that has twisted her core, “and the glass of my intentions… The glass of my intentions… The glass of my intentions turns to sand.” Her hand jerks down to her side, “It shatters in my hand…” The last word carries, soft and heartrending.

Dropping to her knees, last lines drawn out, a sad echo following the passionate outburst, emotion draining from her face. “Shatters in my hand… in my hand.”

(Thank all of you that came out that night, or that have enjoyed reading these over. Hope you enjoy the music selection too)

[telomeke-bbs]

bad buddy fandom getting-to-know-you-meme!

Got tagged by @tiistirtipii at this post here and @inventedfangirling at this post here. Thanks for tagging me! 🥰 (And sorry I've taken so long to respond. 🤦‍♂️)

name and whatever you want to share about yourself

You can call me Tel. I love writing, languages, linguistics, and learning about different cuisines and cultures. I live right in the middle of Southeast Asia.

when did you watch bad buddy/join the fandom?

I started watching Bad Buddy almost from the start, after a friend told me Ohm had a new series out. I went into it pretty blind, not knowing anything at all about its history or genesis. I'd liked Ohm's work in He's Coming to Me and was open to more from him, not thinking the series would be anything more than your run-of-the-mill BL. And was I ever wrong! I think BBS sort of grew slowly on me for the first few episodes, but it really took hold after Nanon's single tear at the end of Ep.4. And I lost it after The Kiss at the end of Ep.5, of course. The no-holds barred obsession really set in after I realized this wasn't any ordinary BL; it works on so many levels and the intelligence with which it was crafted is formidable.

Favourite ship/s

PatPran does it for me.

Favourite character/s

Love them all, but introvert Pran with his protective walls, defensive rituals and surreptitious signposting of his emotional state with doodles and symbols really struck a chord. Pre-Ep.10 Pran was like an extreme version of younger me, I sometimes think.

Favourite episode/s

Episode 11 – I love everything about the beach, and the two of them alone by the sea was like my idea of paradise. But I nodded sagely along when BBS gently pointed out that their beachside idyll was just a temporary respite and that paradise doesn't exist on Earth.

Favourite scene/s

Oof. So many. My all-time favorite is the opening scene of Episode 5 (see this link here for why) because it was layered so deep with meaning and messaging, beneath the happy surface theatrics. I sometimes think of BBS as one giant and intricate puzzle, and if you find and fit together the right puzzle pieces it reveals so much more to you. The amazing thing is that it kept doing this over and over again. Like how many themes and allegories can this one series have? But if you want to disregard all of that and just enjoy it as a well-crafted BL with stellar acting, you can too. And that is also part of its magic.

Some other scenes that still give me the chills:

Deeply-pining Pran looking on at an oblivious Pat sleeping peacefully in Ep.4 [4/4]; I've been there and I know exactly how his heart must have been rent in two at that moment.

The Kiss in Ep.5 of course.

Pat finding out in Ep.10 that Ming wasn't the unimpeachable hero that he thought he was.

Pran missing Dissaya in Ep.11 (this is because I still miss my late mom with all my heart; the grief is going to be a forever guest there I fear – you just learn to pack it away in a box and put it away in a quiet room in your heart, but it breaks free every now and then, just to stare at me silently with its unknowable face).

When Our Song plays in Ep.11 (especially when Uncle Tong does his voiceover and the soaring guitar solo kicks in, and then we see Pat and Pran back in front of their houses, bracing themselves to face their families again).

Ah that award-winning scene on the balconies in Ep.12, when Pat and Pran indulge in a joyful, all-smiles tin-can conversation for old times' sake, play-acting at being strangers, and then dastardly Director Aof toys with our hearts once again and has the music crescendo as he morphs them back into their kiddie selves dressed in the same clothes to show us that the bond between the two scamps had always been there, forged since childhood, and that they were never really enemies throughout it all. And amidst the nostalgia we're suddenly engulfed in a wave of bittersweet emotions imagining all the what-ifs and if-onlys and what-might-have-beens had those poor little tykes not been forced into that meaningless rivalry by their warring parents. But as the camera pans away we hear their young voices piping in the night, still innocent and so full of hope, reminding us that when those two little boys grew up they still managed to find a way to triumph over all the pitiless hurt imposed on them. And how privileged we were to have been able to share in the story of their journey.

One thing you would change about the show if you could

I've thought so much about this show, it's not just one thing. And don't get me wrong; I'm not tearing it down or hurling brickbats at this series I love so much. It just irks the Perfectionist Pran side of me that something so beautiful, deep, intelligent and heartfelt also has its little flaws here and there.

I think they could have done a better job helping us understand how and why PatPran's competitive dynamic launched them so suddenly into the madcap bet in Ep.7. The cinematography was inconsistent in a lot of parts. The English subtitling (especially of Ep.5) could have clarified some things, but instead made them more confusing. And Pat getting shot may have been necessary on an intellectual level, to nod at some trope, theme or other literary preoccupation perhaps. But the narrative didn't really need that moment of conflict and I felt BBS tipped over into unnecessary melodrama at that point.

what are your some of your favorite fanworks made by other people?

I adore the analysis, meta and backgrounding of BBS that you can find on Tumblr. So many intelligent, creative people looking at this show, but those that spring to mind:

@airenyah @bengiyo @chickenstrangers @dribs-and-drabbles @dudeyuri @grapejuicegay @inventedfangirling @kenmakaashi @lovelyghostv @lurkingshan @lurkingteapot @miscellar @neuroticbookworm @pandasmagorica @ranchthoughts @recentadultburnout @waitmyturtles

Fan art also by @hereforlou and @kit-teung. 😍

I've probably forgotten so many others, please forgive me if I have; if I've liked and reblogged your work it means that you've touched me with your intelligence and output and I'm automatically a fan.

What are your favourite fanworks you've made?

I mostly post observations and findings from research about the show, so they're not works of fiction or visual art, just essays really. They're all special to me in different ways, but I lean most to the one that talks about the etymology of Pat and Pran's chue lens, what they mean semantically and what they mean for the series (write-up linked here):

My post about the Ep.1 scene in front of Khun Noppharnach's Pharmacy (linked here) was another one where the pieces of the BBS logic puzzle fell into place in a way that satisfied my gameplaying side:

I'm also chuffed about my location posts (linked here; have identified almost all of them, such is the power of the Internet), finding out that the jeep in khanom jeep dumplings also means to court (linked here), and tracking down Baseball Mom (linked here).

‌

A song that makes you think of BBS (not in the show)

My obsessive mind can't let go of this song (I've written about it several times now) but Never (ไม่เคย) by 25Hours devastatingly captures the quiet grief over losing that special someone in your life (and tells us what Pat must have been going through post-separation from Pran in high school). Pat mentions it at Ep.5 [3I4] 0.35 but it isn't played in the show. I've got it on repeat now, and am well on my way to memorizing the lyrics.

Onward tagging:

@airenyah @bengiyo @chickenstrangers @dribs-and-drabbles @dudeyuri @grapejuicegay @hereforlou @inventedfangirling @kenmakaashi @kit-teung @lovelyghostv @lurkingshan @lurkingteapot @miscellar @neuroticbookworm @pandasmagorica @ranchthoughts @recentadultburnout @waitmyturtles

No pressure to play if you don't want to, or have already done it. But do tag and let the rest of the BBS fandom know if you have responses for us to read! 😍

‌

[tobiasdrake]

Test of Will. Test of Will. I am a disciple of the moon. I am stubborn. I am persistent. I do not veer from the trail of self-destruction. And I go. Through. You.

Honestly, once you get over the imposing size, jacking you in the face is trivially easy. I float like a butterfly and sting like an angry butterfly carrying a little safety pin to make up for its evolutionary shortcomings.

Also, your shockwave move is only threatening if I'm on the ground. But with my wingsuit, I can soar like the majestic falcon. Which also means....

Yeah, I honestly don't even know what you're trying to do with this. Leaves you wide open.

WAIT DESTRUCTION EXPLOSIONS!?

...did... did I... oh no....

I THOUGHT THIS WAS LIKE A FRIENDLY SPARRING MATCH. Did I just KILL the Artificer?

Oh fuck. Oh fuck. Luana's going to be pissed. And her vindictive fury is legendary. As in, it makes up about 70% of her legend.

Oh goddess, we're directly in front of the Sea of Stars. Can she see me right now!?

...maybe if I break this it will all turn out okay. Break the doodad before she breaks my skull. She could be at any one of those stars oh goddess.

OH THANK THE GODDESS YOU GUYS ARE ALIVE

T-T I thought... I was so afraid that I'd really killed you all... That would have been so, so terrible....

...for me....

But I don't wanna. I've taken a lot of leaps already. Some were even voluntary. I have this magic seashell because I drowned myself in a pit of swamp gook. Can't you just use one of those leaps and call us square?

No. Because that's backwards. Hope is the driving force that motivates courage. Both the courageous and the craven are free to hope, but courage can't exist without hope. Hopelessly risking harm without regard to one's safety, throwing yourself in the line of fire because you genuinely don't care what happens to you, isn't courage. It's... something else.

Also--

"Hey, have you told Quarble about your cool magic robot fight yet?"

Oh fuck me, I was anticipating a hard stop not an acid trip through the bowels of time WHAT THE FUCK IS HAPPENING RIGHT NOW.

Regretfully, I seem to be alive. With a spiffy new hat. Like. Holy shit, my hat! Also, pauldrons! And... Yeah, this whole outfit owns.

Does this mean what I think it does? No more mail boy Scroll delivery! I am now officially a senior package transportation official!

I know this place. This is the Cloud Kingdom, where the Ovates constructed the Sky Giants to watch over the gateway to the Sea of Stars.

I KNOW RIGHT!? Look at this hat. This is the hat of a true warrior. But I have it instead! That's how cool I am!

Oh no, did something happen to the chatbots!? Did they fall into the sea because the teensy-tiny walkways they were given to live on were horribly unsustainable for beings of their size?

Look, what I do with powderized Time Shards is my own business. As the goddess teaches: "Sometimes the greatest joys can be found in the smallest of heresies."

Not 100% sure what she means by that but it helps to take the edge off after I've just had my esophagus wrapped around a tree branch. Sometimes, I get so fucked up that I swear I can see time. Other times, I just see Quarble.

Oh, fuck me. That is high. Well, I will remain secure in the knowledge that altitude doesn't matter because terminal velocity is a one-way ticket to chilling with my bestie regardless of context.

~_~ The fact that I have no idea how time travel connects to everything being weird now is not a confirmation of your insult. Because I said so.

WHAT. NO. FUCK YOU. It was supposed to send me to the past. Because the present is plagued by demons with humanity on their last legs. I can't solve that from the fucking future. Tower of Time ripped me off. I demand a refund, and to speak with the Tower's manag--

Oh, that's you.

...

Well, this is awkward.

...

OHHHHHH Everything looks so weird because the future is 16-bit. Gotcha!

<_<

>_>

EVEN IN HIGH-RES GRAPHICS!?

[cameron-carpet-lola]

Woo

Hmm, yeah

Life's like a road that you travel on

When there's one day here and the next day gone

Sometimes you bend, sometimes you stand

Sometimes you turn your back to the wind

There's a world outside every darkened door

Where blues won't haunt you anymore

Where the brave are free and lovers soar

Come ride with me to the distant shore

We won't hesitate

To break down the garden gate

There's not much time left today, yeah

Life is a highway

I wanna ride it all night long

If you're goin' my way

I wanna drive it all night long

Through all these cities and all these towns

It's in my blood and it's all around

I love you now like I loved you then

This is the road and these are the hands

From Mozambique to those Memphis nights

The Khyber Pass to Vancouver's lights

Knock me down, I'm back up again

You're in my blood, I'm not a lonely man

There's no load I can't hold

The roads are rough, this I know

I'll be there when the light comes in

Just tell 'em we're survivors

Life is a highway

I wanna ride it all night long (Woo)

If you're goin' my way

I wanna drive it all night long (All night long)

A gimme, gimme, gimme, gimme, yeah

Life is a highway

I wanna ride it all night long (Hmm, yeah)

If you're goin' my way (You're goin' my way)

I wanna drive it all night long (All night long)

There was a distance between you and I (Between you and I)

A misunderstanding once

But now we look it in the eye

Ooh, yeah (Hmm, yeah)

There ain't no load that I can't hold

The roads are rough, this I know

I'll be there when the light comes in

Tell 'em we're survivors

Life is a highway

I wanna ride it all night long (All night long, yeah)

If you're goin' my way

I wanna drive it all night long (A gimme, gimme, gimme, a gimme, gimme, yeah)

Life is a highway (Life is a highway)

I wanna ride it all night long (Woo, yeah)

If you're goin' my way (Goin' my way)

I wanna drive it all night long (All night long, yeah; come on, gimme, gimme, gimme, gimme, gimme, gimme, yeah)

Life is a highway

I wanna ride it all night long (Yeah, I wanna drive it all night long, baby)

If you're goin' my way (You're goin' my way)all night long!...

[yujo-nishimura]

"Told you so..." - Part 5

This is a private ongoing fic just for me and @lostfirefly

Since tumblr doesn't let me post it privately I need to share it publicly, but feel free to scroll through the content, since this is just for our own amusement. ;) - Also I finally have a hashtag!

Helga and Buggy cautiously maneuvered through Level 4, skirting guards and avoiding the watchful eyes of surveillance snails. Helga's face displayed a desperate determination to escape. This time, Buggy couldn't carry her, and the heat seeped through her thin, worn-out shoes.

They moved from one bridge pillar to the next, taking cover and staying low. While they possessed good fighting skills, they knew when it was wiser to avoid confrontation. The screams of other prisoners and the chatter of guards transmitted through the transponder snails filled the air. Somehow, news hadn't reached this deep into the prison that Buggy the Pirate Clown and his vice-captain, Helga, were on the run. Or perhaps they had, but the thought of them venturing further into the prison instead of escaping hadn't even crossed their minds.

Behind another pillar, Buggy and Helga paused, gasping for a breath. "It's incredibly hot here, and I'm slowly losing my energy," Helga remarked, her flushed face betraying the heat's toll.

"We need to push through, sweetheart. It was your idea, and turning back now isn't much of an option," Buggy replied.

"I know, but I didn't anticipate it being this challenging," Helga confessed.

"What do you mean?" Buggy's eyes widened in surprise at her statement.

"Well, I read about Impel Down, but it all seemed like a captivating fairy tale or an adventurous novel," Helga explained, her eyes gleaming with excitement. She was a dreamer, always enthusiastic about dangerous ventures. Buggy should have known better. She likely had an entirely misguided impression of this place, which had led them both into the trouble they were in now.

Buggy took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. "Baby, are you certain there's an escape route down here? Did you read that in the same book?"

"Yes!" Helga nodded with conviction.

"Are you sure that book came from a reliable source?" Buggy questioned.

"Well, what is a reliable source on the Grand Line anyway, right?" Helga smiled, and Buggy felt a mixture of frustration and adoration at her beaming expression. In these moments he was not sure if to kiss or kill her. 

Before he could say anything else, the sound of guards yelling reached their ears. "The escaped prisoners are in section 5B! We need to apprehend them!"

The clown captain realized they had lingered in one spot for too long, and their cover had been found. "We'll discuss this later, sweet cheeks. Let's run!" Buggy exclaimed, mustering all his strength. He swiftly scooped up Helga, no longer carrying her like a princess but throwing her over his shoulder.

"Are you insane? Put me down, Buggy!" Helga protested, weakly pounding her fists against his back.

"We'll be faster this way, and I can dodge more effectively!" Buggy rationalized, detaching his feet from the ground. While they continued running below, he soared through the blistering heat, carrying her on his shoulder. The guards began shooting at them, but Buggy, floating above the bridges, skillfully evaded their bullets.

They reached a more sheltered spot behind another pillar, providing a brief break from the scorching heat. "I'm exhausted from all this running!" Helga yelled from Buggy's shoulder, actually not being the one doing all the running herself. 

Buggy just mumbled: "If there's no escape down there, darling, I'll have to reconsider whether you're fit to be my vice-captain!"

Just as Buggy made that remark, they arrived at the stairs leading to Level 5—the final destination they hoped would lead them out of this prison once and for all. "We're almost there. You can put me down now!" Helga urged, but Buggy responded with a mischievous laugh. "You stay right where you are. I rather enjoy having your body so close to mine!"

"You foolish clown!" Helga attempted to strike him again, but Buggy was too swift, detaching his hands and rendering her arms immobile. "Be patient, princess. Let's see if the things you read in that book were true!" he taunted, a hint of curiosity in his voice.

Yujo awoke to find herself resting on Crocodile's shoulder. Her cheek felt warm from the contact with his skin, consoling warmth enveloping her during her slumber. Panic coursed through her as she realized where she had been sleeping, and she hastily jumped up.

To her horror, she discovered that the former Warlord had been awake the entire time, now smiling at her as she recoiled from him. "Good morning. You appeared calm and peaceful in your sleep. I quite like this side of you," he remarked.

Yujo blushed and quickly distanced herself, avoiding his gaze. What was happening to her? Since arriving in Impel Down, she had been in constant turmoil, torn between her own emotions and her concerns for her crew. Was he taking advantage of her vulnerable state, or was he genuinely trying to care for her?

"Thank you for the bread," she finally uttered, the words that had been lingering in her mind since he had shared his only food with her the day before.

"You will get used to the hunger and the darkness," he replied, his words seemingly intended to be comforting.

She gathered her courage and asked, her heart heavy, "Can I trust you?" attempting to meet his purple eyes in the darkness.

He let out a dark laugh, resonating deep within her. "I wouldn't even trust myself. There are no friends in prison."

Crocodile stood up, approached Yujo, and halted in front of her. He towered over her, almost two heads taller, his physique giving the illusion of a warrior who could take on an entire army of monsters.

"We could form an alliance once we escape from here. I know you possess the ability to control water, and that may be crucial for navigating away from the Calm Belt and these sea king-infested waters," he proposed.

Yujo felt a lump form in her throat as he raised his golden hook, gently placing it beneath her chin. The cold metal sent a shiver down her spine.

"I also find you intriguing. You're pathetic, dramatic..." he whispered into her ear, his words chilling her to the core. "...I'm certain you sound delightful when you cry and moan..."

Yujo's eyes widened in terror, and she instinctively took a step back. The things he said both terrified her and elicited a strange response within her—a longing, a deep desire. Her gaze wandered over his muscular body, his powerful arms, while he continued to look at her with half-closed eyes. He was aware of the effect he had on her.