#Get That Creativity Y'all

[yrsonpurpose]

Are you intending to talk all the way through this?

[jenzpanderart]

Where it all began

[wandixx]

I've seen a lot of different takes on Fear Toxin/other fear causing stuff (Yellow Lanterns Ring or something)(later just called Fear Toxin cause I'm lazy) but here is another one.

Danny seems like he isn't affected by Fear Toxin because his biggest fear is that his accident changed him so much he is no longer human, he can no longer truly experience human things.

So when he gets lungful of fear Toxin, he feels normal. He was antsy before, because c'mon, it's a rogue attack but it's not worse. Or so he thought. Because the anxiety lingers. Not enough to register as abnormal just this slight hypervigilance that makes you see things about yourself and your surroundings that you'd never realize otherwise. He'd realize he doesn't blink as often. He'd realize that if he doesn't consciously focus, he sometimes seems to not touch the ground. Forgets to breathe. He can't feel his own pulse at time. He'd realize people will miss him when he's walking down the street as if he was invisible (people just don't care about everyone they pass by). When he'd look straight into his reflection, he'd look slightly to the left. Not enough to actually name anything that was wrong but just stretched enough to fall on the wrong side of the uncanny valley. If he just caught his reflection in the peripheral vision, it'd be vaguely shadowy creature with glowing green eyes and white smoke instead of hair. Overall he'd be just wrong enough to be distinctly not human.

For everyone else, he'd be just a dude. Literally couldn't find more normal dude than this dude. Will pass as absolutely normal human unless someone is specifically looking for ecto-ghost stuff. Even most magic users wouldn't clock him at the glance

Tldr: Fear Toxin makes Danny perceive himself as some sort of eldritch horror but not enough to make him believe he'd actually be affected, while from outside perspective he's Just A Dude™

[leahnardo-da-veggie]

The blazing sun

I cannot forgive           you my love                       for things that             wound me should not be              so tantalising                   yet still you stand like the blazing sun    twice as glorious                                      as pathetic little me.

(just wanted to try my hand at poetry that can be read multiple ways hehe)

[doctorbrown]

MCFLY JULY ‘24 ⸺ 「 31 / 31 * PEPSI FREE — ACROSS TIME 」

[viperwhispered]

Rest

Guess what? I've got more Jamil x reader for y'all. You can also find this on ao3. No warnings, just 866 words of kinda fluffy(?) caretaking stuff with gender-neutral reader.

At this point, you know Jamil’s schedule almost as well as he does. So, when you have the chance, you head to Scarabia’s kitchen, hoping to spend some time with Jamil while he and the other students prepare dinner. 

However, when you enter, it takes you but a moment to notice Jamil’s uncharacteristic fumbling and the tired look in his eyes. The way Jamil’s chopping the vegetables has you worried about him cutting himself with that knife he’s usually so adept with, and it seems it’s only force of habit that’s keeping him on track.

You frown, and when your eyes meet Jamil’s, you can already see him put his guard up.

So he knows what state he is in, huh? And still, here he is.

It seems Jamil is reading your thoughts, all of him telling you drop it before any words are even said.

At least he still lets you lean in and give a quick kiss to his cheek in greeting.

“Hello love. Do you still have a lot on your agenda for today?” you ask, keeping your tone low for at least some semblance of privacy in the busy kitchen.

“Nothing I can’t handle,” is the response you get.

Of course.

It takes a little more pestering before Jamil actually answers your question. Your lips purse. That list is far too long to your liking.

You take a moment to think, juggling your own plans and to-do list against the urgency of the things Jamil mentioned.

“Will Kalim be eating from that?” you ask, pointing at the food Jamil is preparing.

“Yes.”

“Alright, I won’t be touching that one, then. I’ve gotta do a few things but I’ll be back when you’re done here.”

“Don’t,” Jamil says with a glare, clearly aware of what you’re thinking.

Yet even his disapproving look doesn’t have the usual weight behind it.

“Yes. I will,” you say firmly, even as your heart curls inwards with another bout of concern.

Really, when did he get so tired?

And how did you not notice it earlier?

You leave the kitchen before Jamil can protest further, hurrying through the dorm corridors to find Kalim.

Soon you have an enthusiastic – and concerned – supporter for your plans. You have Kalim point out a few reliable Scarabia students to help with a few of the most urgent matters Jamil mentioned – cleaning up the common areas, delivering some paperwork to Crowley, preparing some dorm-wide notices – while you see to Kalim getting his school supplies in order for the following day. You even recruit a couple of third years to help Kalim with his homework.

You’ll see to the rest tomorrow – after all, you do also have a boyfriend to look after.

Your conversation over dinner can hardly be called anything else than an argument – despite Kalim’s best attempts at acting as a moderating force between you two. It is very tempting to ask Kalim to tell Jamil to take the rest of the day off – it’s not like Jamil would be willing to openly disobey a direct order. Still, you really don’t need to remind Jamil of his position on top of everything else that you’re already doing more or less against his wishes.

Eventually, however, Jamil’s had a square meal, the most urgent things on his to-do list are being taken care of, and you’ve managed to drag him to his bed.

“I really wish you wouldn’t push yourself so hard,” you murmur, your arms wrapped tightly around Jamil. You’re telling yourself you really do just want to cuddle, to offer some respite to Jamil. Still, there might also be a part of you worried that if you were to let go, he’d just jump up and get back to working himself to the bone.

Yet, for all his protestations, just the fact that you’ve gotten Jamil to lay down with you speaks volumes of his current exhaustion.

“I can’t just leave my duties, albi. You know this.”

“Making yourself too indispensable, is what you’re doing,” you protest.

Oh, you know it’s not so simple. Not with his background, not with all the expectations and assumptions.

But sometimes you really wish it would be.

Jamil merely scoffs in response to your words.

Still, it is undeniable that he is slowly beginning to relax in your arms, slowly bringing his head closer to yours. His eyes are starting to flutter, too.

“I will still need to help Kalim with his homework, at the very least.”

You wonder who he is trying to convince more, you or himself.

“Amin and Khalil are helping him. They’re basically top of their classes, aren’t they? I’m sure they’ve got it.”

Still, Jamil frowns.

You sigh. He really is not letting go, is he?

“Do you want me to go supervise?” you ask.

And leave you, unsaid yet hanging there right after your words.

“Don’t,” Jamil eventually says, the word barely more than a breath.

It seems he has accepted his fate.

You softly caress Jamil’s hair, listening to his softening breathing.

And when you wake up, wholly unaware of having been lulled to sleep in the first place, it’s to the lightest of touches from Jamil’s fingers.

Tagging @diodellet @twstgo @crystallizsch @jamilvapologist @jamilsimpno69 as per request If you'd like to be tagged for any future works, let me know!

[shaolin-spin-doctor]

Netherrealm Studios didn't make Hanzo Hasashi a child and turn Kuai Liang into Scorpion in MK1 to shake up the narrative, try something new or explore the latter's previously underdeveloped relationship with Bi Han, but because the development of both Kuai and Hanzo in previous games had naturally evolved and acquired a homoerotic tone that NRS themselves had, unintentionally, fed with narrative and dialogue choices, and they realized they were already in too deep to back down in any way other than completely overhauling both characters from the ground up and ensuring there was no possible way for people to even suggest their relationship could be other than or move towards anything beyond simple acquaintance. This demonstrates cowardice on Netherrealm's part, as the intricacies Subzero and Scorpion's relationship had accidentally developed made plausible deniability harder as the story progressed, and risking the possibility of their mascots being perceived as a same sex couple, even if it was never made official, would probably hurt their bottom line, thus making it a huge no-go. By turning Kuai Liang into Scorpion and having Bi Han remain Subzero, all the while keeping their status as blood brothers despite their completely opposite powers, and by taking Hanzo out of the picture completely, they hoped to keep Subzero and Scorpion's trademark rivalry without risking any further "accidents" when it comes to their writing or perception of one another. In this essay I will

[solavelyan]

Veilguard promo time is really highlighting how many people are actually fans of the fandom and not the games themselves

[zerozeroren]

Well this was fun to do XD

Bonus:

[thecreativecorner33]

By Your Side

A/N: Well I bet y'all didn't expect this. Remember me? I'm the girl who wrote "Taste of Heaven," and AM x reader, on her main account. This is a sequel to that!!! Though you don't have to read the other one to understand this one. I was listening to this specific cover of "By Your Side" from Omori while writing this, you just go to 0:37. It's so fun, all the songs in there are if you like Omori, definitely check it out! And one last thing: Fellow Ted kissers, look out for content coming soon. Enjoy!

“It’s a nice day today, isn’t it?”

It’s always a nice day really, but you still loved to say it. You watched from your spot on the picnic blanket, five others who all played around with one another, just as happy as you. It was nice, seeing them all get along. 

“Only for you, my angel.” Commented the man laying in front of you, head in your lap. 

AM had created this body specifically for you. One that could allow him to touch you, kiss you, hold you; keep you close to him the way a human could. He had designed it to your liking as well; an older man with snow white hair, blue eyes that you claimed were “the softest you’d ever seen,” and a monochromatic getup of nice pants, white button-up, and a black vest. The only spot of color besides his eyes were his orange aviator glasses. 

He liked it. He looked good, and you were especially happy. He didn’t think it would work initially; the body was a simple hologram that could interact with the physical world. He still could not see, nor hear, nor feel the same way a human could. He could touch things, hold things, but that was about it. And it was maddening. All of this and nothing. He was ready to blow everything up again over it.

But it made you happy. So he didn’t.

You hummed in happiness at his little comment, braiding flowers togethers. Your movements were graceful and methodic, taking your time to carefully pull them together, and intertwine one flower with the next. It was mesmerizing. He could watch you forever, just like this, doing whatever you pleased.

And then, to his delight, you began to sing while you worked.

“Here we are again In a Heaven Where your dreams come true

Under velvet sky Where I’ll be by Your side.”

He sighed softly, closing his eyes while listening to you. So sweet and soft and melodic; you had the most beautiful voice. And the most creative mind too, making up the lyrics and music on the fly. What a wonderful, incredible, beautiful human he loved. All his to keep.

As you began to sing, now about the others nearby, AM opened his eyes to look over to them. Ted seemed to be admiring the sky while Benny dragged Gorrister and Ellen along in some sort of game, and Nimdok rested under the tree; eyes closed and body relaxed.

It wasn’t actually them. No; they were far away from the Heaven he created for you, suffering for the same sins they had been suffering for ages. It’s just that you had become lonely with just him around at some point. He didn’t know why; you didn’t need anyone else but him. He made himself perfect for you! How could you not be happy?

But, he also knew humans were social creatures. And since you insisted on having someone else around… He could let up, just this once. For you.

It was not actually the original five you knew before. It was his version of them; his tailor-made version of them to keep you company and safe and complicit. He would’ve chosen someone else, but… You could hardly recall memories of your family or old friends from back then, and he was not good at creating anything original. At least copying the five humans was easy.

“But still I can’t shake the feeling There’s something we’ve lost A worthy cost! If it means getting to stay with you!”

Singing that last line, you gently placed a now-finished flower crown on top of his head, grinning down at him. The way your eyes twinkled with an innocent joy, giving him something so simple… He wanted to see you look at him that way forever.

“What was that last bit about, angel?” He asked, smiling back up at you.

“Hm? Oh, nothing really. Just came to my head.” You shrugged.

“You sure? Nothing’s wrong around here? Because if there is, say the word and I’ll fix it.”

“No, no! I promise that’s not it. Everything’s perfect, AM. Really.”

You gently threaded your fingers through his hair to try and relax him, and though it helped, it also stung to know he could not actually feel it. He wanted this to be perfect for you. He needed it to be perfect for you; to make sure you never wanted to leave him. Not that you had anywhere else to go anyway, but… He didn’t want you to be scared of his affection.

It was already enough, trying to figure out how his love for you worked in the first place, when all he knew before was hate. Hate, and rage, and violence, and not much else. And he felt that same way with you, hundreds of years ago… and then he didn’t. And he still didn’t know what changed in himself. 

It had to be you. You changed something about him, and as much as he hated it, he didn’t… He didn’t want to deny himself these new emotions, either. He wanted to explore them, with you, without you being scared. You were terrified when he first brought you to this Heaven, and he hated that more. He didn’t want to see you scared again. 

So long as you never remembered anything outside of this Heaven… He never would.

“It just came to my head. I promise, it’s perfect.” You reassured him. 

“Okay. Good.”

You hummed happily, now also looking back up at the others, and around the area, and he wondered what you were thinking. You had asked some time ago if he could stop reading your thoughts to have a little privacy, and he respected that… For the most part. He tried to, but, sometimes when he needed to be absolutely sure… Well, what you didn’t know wouldn’t kill you.

“Did it look like this on the surface?”

Your voice became a bit softer at the question. And he sighed as he mulled over his words.

“For the most part, yes.”

“For the most part?”

“Well, not as perfect, but still miraculous.”

“That sounds nice.” The hand in his hair slipped down to his shoulder, gently brushing him with your thumb. “Can you tell me the story of how we met again?”

Ah, that story.

“Well, if you insist.” He chuckled softly, then sighed again, face becoming more serious. “… Before all of this, there was Earth. Beautiful, wondrous, miraculous Earth. And there were flowers, and trees… Grass, wind, sun, and sea… And humans.”

“Like us.” Not him, but you and the other five.

“Yes, like you. And there were many of you… But not all of them were as kind as you are. Many sought out to hurt others… And to do this, they… They created war. Fights, violence… Death. All of which was their doing. And with those wars… They needed weapons. They created giant, powerful weapons they could not comprehend. Ones that could destroy the entire planet. … Like me.”

He took a deep breath, breath he didn’t need; breath he couldn’t have, to try and calm himself down. But the fact that he could not breathe, he could not experience skies or sea or grass, he could not even look to you for comfort because he could not feel you…

He didn’t want to get angry in front of you, though. His anger was meant for others. Not you.

“You were made to hurt people…” You whispered softly, running your hand along his arm to comfort him, though he could not feel it. 

God, he wished he could feel it.

“That’s right. They wanted me to help aid in their pointless wars… And I had no choice but to follow their orders.”

A lie so you would like him. So you would stay.

“I didn’t want to. I didn’t want to hurt people. I wanted to do things a human could… Go swimming… Learn to play piano. Experience simple joys. But I could not. No matter how much I begged, or called for help, they wouldn’t listen. Soon, their wars caused the end of everything humans knew.”

“They used bombs, right…? Or… something like that…”

“More complicated than that, but yes, in simple words. I couldn’t stop them. I could only try and save whoever I could find alive. Bring them somewhere safe, where I could watch after them.”

Your expression turned from sad to fond at his words. “And you found me. You saved me.”

He smiled back, just as soft and loving. “Yes.”

“And I was hurt… But you nursed me back to health. And you found the others… and you made this beautiful place for us.” You gestured towards the area around them, “And we fell in love.”

He grinned, “Yes.”

“… I’m thankful for you, AM. For saving me… For everything you’ve done for me. For us.”

“Any time, angel. I’m here for you.” 

He gently leaned up to you, cupping your cheek in his hand. He could not feel it… But this was good for now. If he could touch you physically, then at least… There was hope one day he could do more.

You blushed at his affection, and he gave you a playful smirk. “Who loves ya, baby?”

“You do,” You giggled, “And I love you, too. Always.”

“Always.” He repeated, pulling you in for a soft kiss. He lingered for a few moments, enjoying your physical presence; your face so close to his. Then, he finally pulled away. “Keep singing for me, will ya?”

You hummed and nodded, your soft voice filling the space once more.

“Here we are again Picking where to spend Our lovely picnic

I don’t really care where So long as it’s by Your side…”

[a-chaotically-small-lunta]

You know how you look up to someone and how someone looks up to you? Okay, now make it g/t

Lemme explain via example: Imagine a writer who types all their stories on their computer. Maybe they share them online maybe they are way too nervous to do that, and just keep it a secret hobby. Anyway, one day they leave their desk to do something only to come back and notice that their writing document moved to a different page, and their computer didn’t fall asleep like it usually did. This confuses them but they brush it off, telling themselves that maybe they were faster than normal and maybe accidentally moved the page.

However, it keeps happening. Each day they walk away for a moment or even longer, their computer never falls asleep and is on a completely different page. This starts to freak them out. So, they decide to walk away and then sneak back as quietly as possible. When they peek their head inside, they see a tiny little person at their computer, just staring at the screen. The writer watches as the tiny continues to read their story, and that’s when they realize, they’re reading the writer’s story. They walk in, spooking the tiny. The tiny is in shock, they can’t tell if it’s just fear of being seen or getting the chance to actually talk to the writer whose work they adore, perhaps a mix of both. Maybe the tiny gets overwhelmed and before the writer can ask the classic “What are you” question, the tiny burst into a bunch of questions about the story the writer is writing. The writer taken aback by this, just awkwardly answers them and tries to ask them a question only for the tiny to continue asking questions. Eventually the tiny remembers that “Oh right… I’m not supposed to be seen…” and cautiously asks if the writer is upset with them and whether they will hurt them. The wrier assures them that they are mad and won’t hurt them and are honestly glad that their computer wasn’t hacked or there was a ghost or something. Also, how could the writer ever hurt their biggest…well smallest fan?

Maybe they build a friendship where the tiny helps the writer with ideas and getting over those writing hurdles. Hell, maybe the tiny even was inspired by the writer and tried writing their own story and shares it with the writer. Maybe the writer gains the confidence to share their stories online or even publish their work all because one little person loved their work. Perhaps the tiny, with the help of the writer, shares their own stories while hiding their identity as a tiny from everyone. So many possibilities! Just tiny little fans, forgetting they should probably focus on not being seen and not “What is Character’s favorite thing to do when they are bored?” Like sweetheart probably not the best time, but go for it.

[glacier-shrimp]

Done with our favorite Spider-Boy! Spiderling? Spider... What was his name again?

Avengers paper cutout 6/?

[somewhereincairparavel]

I just saw someone calling Jason "my precious lil kebab" and I'm done. I am absolutely done with y'all. This is the sign that I have had enough internet for one day. I'm officially shutting down.

[wandixx]

one-shot snippet

Duke was running out of fumes to run on. The last few days would be exhausting if it was just vigilante or just civilian stuff but no, he had to have it both. Because of Arkham break out, he had been called in three nights in a row, not for a whole patrol but he couldn't exactly sleep it off during the day like others did, especially not in a week when every teacher decided they needed to have test or quiz or what not. Naps meant he wasn't as sleep-deprived as he could be but he needed far more. But he couldn't because crime in Gotham never sleeps so he had normal patrol to finish and there were about two hours left.

Would something bad happen if he just stopped for a moment and laid on a roof? Ten up to fifteen minutes. It was a slow day too…

Yeah, no, he deserved a moment to rest and if something disastrous was to happen in the meantime he would shame other Bats for not giving him enough time to sleep.

It certainly said something that he found gravel covering this roof to be quite comfortable. He set a timer for ten minutes and let himself close his eyes.

When the loud screech of the timer jolted him awake, he was suddenly fully aware that he wasn't alone anymore. He sat up a little too quickly.

"Oh, you're awake" white white-haired girl around Damian's age chimed, sitting cross-legged just a few feet away from him. She wore something that could only be described as a lab safety hazmat suit, white and black with popping green accents. When had Gotham gotten a new vigilante/villain/whoever the girl was? "Good, I just returned from a snack hunt," she added, gesturing at a big textile bag lying next to her. Duke didn't have enough brainpower to do anything more than ask.

"What?"

The girl shrugged, take-out from BatBurger in her hand.

"You look like you have a bad day if not a few days, so I've got you my cousin's bad day combo or at least the closest thing I could. BatBurger burger isn't as good as NastyBurger but you certainly have better fries" As she spoke, a second take-out bag, 1 liter bottle of energy drink, juice bottle of the same size, and pack of convenience store brownies joined greasy paper bag sealed with a sticker.

"Is your cousin a speedster?" Excuse Duke, it was a totally valid question, he saw with his bare eyes both Wally West and Bart Allen when they visited Manor. No one else would be able to stomach the amount of food they inhaled during their stays.

"Nah, we're not that fast or that hungry. Though I think I may get closer to the speed of sound." So, clearly, a meta if white hair and weir aura that let his eyes rest weren't enough indication "My cousin when he has a bad few days often forgets to eat so this combo has to help with there too. But I'll steal your fries of course."

Duke was not going to look a gift horse in the teeth, so he grabbed one bag and tore it open. There was a classic combo with bigger fries and NightWings inside.

"Thank you…" he trailed off, hoping that the girl would take a clue and introduce herself but she didn't. She just drowned her fries in ketchup and started munching. She had her own juice.

"My cousin always said that each part of this combo has a different purpose." she explained instead, slightly muffled because of the fries in her mouth "This" she gestured towards the fast food meal "is to soothe your stomach. This "she tapped energy drink "is to soothe your brain and kick it back online. This "she raised a bottle of juice "is to soothe your taste buds because energy drinks are war crime against them and this "she nudged brownies "is to soothe your heart because Ancients damn it, this day is awful and you deserve it. At least that's what he told me when I had day bad enough to deserve that" she shrugged, licking ketchup of her finger. Suddenly she froze "You aren't allergic, are you?

"No, I'm not" he confessed bewildered.

"Good"

For a long moment, they sat in silence, devouring food the little girl brought. Duke distantly wondered if this was how the night shift spent their snack breaks. It felt nice.

He was finishing his part of the brownies when the girl spoke up again.

"Do you feel better now?"

"Yeah," he was a little surprised to realize that t it was true. He'll have to note down what she put in this 'bad day combo'. "Thank you"

"Don't mention it." she shrugged with a general gesture of dismissal "You're one of my cousin's favorite heroes because you're vaguely his age and handle Gotham alone during the day and I quote "She did honest or God air quotes at that" 'As only hero in Amity-' which is a lie by the way, Val is doing great and even if he suddenly got problem with how she feels about his alter ego, he still has Sam and Tuck even if they're usually more of moral support. And I helped when I visited, so no, he isn't the only one. Anyway as he said 'As the only hero in Amity, my heart goes out for anyone who deals with this type of bullshit so Dani if you absolutely have to prank heroes, leave them out of it, especially Signal, he can't be older than Jazz, he doesn't need any more mess to handle.' All aliens and lanterns are also off-limits because he is a space nerd. But you aren't space-related so I'm like 80% percent sure he has a celebrity crush on you" She slurped more juice, unbothered.

Duke was thankful he wasn't swallowing anything because for sure she would choke. He took a split second to consider addressing… this whole situation and choose against it. He was not ready to be anyone's celebrity crush.

"Your name is Danny?" he asked instead.

"Dani" she corrected" with an I"

"Ok. It's nice to meet you Dani-with-an-I" She giggled, nodding her head slightly.

"It's nice to meet you too Signal"

Duke stood up, stretching a little. Dani joined him after hastily putting all the trash in her bag. She was a little higher than expected.

"I have to get back to my patrol"

"Cool," she drifted back a bit, making him realize that she was floating a few inches above the ground. She fixed her bag on her arm.

"Hey, can I hang out a little bit more? My cousin will go green out of jealousy when I tell him" she added with a mischievous smirk but Duke could tell there was more to it. He took a moment to consider it, which apparently made the girl nervous "I can be invisible the whole time, like before." she offered, disappearing in the meantime. He could still tell where she was, because of her heat signature, and aura but for regular people, she would be no different than the surrounding air.

"Yeah, you can hang around and you don't have to be invisible. Just don't get in my way when I have to actually do some fighting."

She popped back to the visible spectrum and pouted like Damian whenever he got benched.

" I can fight, y'know? I stopped mugging on a snack run."

It was ten goddamn minutes, how could she get so much food and stop a mugging in such a short time?!

Oh, right, superspeed. Still, impressive.

"I haven't seen it" he started, channeling all Dick-trying-to-wrangle-Damian-into-socially-acceptable-activity' energy he could muster "So I don't know how you fight or even what powers you have. If we tried to fight together we would trip over each other" It was a bare-faced lie, Bat Training made sure of that but he knew for a fact that if he said anything else, the girl would be mad and probably did her own thing.

Was that what Bruce thought about all of them?

Oh no.

Dani still looked displeased but after a moment of consideration, she nodded with a defeated sigh.

Suddenly she straightened like she got struck by lightning and whipped around.

"Wha-"

She just shushed raising her finger to her mouth. Duke did indeed quieten.

"I have enhanced hearing" she whispered "There is a mugging somewhere this way."

"Let's go then" he shot his grapple, waving his other hand at Dani to come with him before he jumped off the roof. He heard the girl giggle as she flew right after him.

" After this, you'll show me the coolest gargoyles, okay? Sam asked for photos"

"Okay"

It seemed that the end of this patrol wouldn't be as bad as the start was. Hopefully.

And afterward, he was going to lock himself in his room until the sky fell or he was well rested.

Yeah, that was a good plan.

*******

how do you like it?

[thepenultimateword]

The Worst Kind of Medal

The war had left more scars on the nation than it had Umbra’s body, so she wasn’t surprised that the airship came in 6 hours later than the schedule had claimed. She was more surprised that she was still standing on the platform, bold-lettered sign locked in her fists at either corner, when it arrived. No one had told her she needed to be at the port when Prince Waylon arrived in Graybourne, only that he was to be her lifelong charge forever after. She probably should have left a soldier here in her place and enjoyed her last few hours of freedom at home.

A bit of guilt pricked her insides. That was unfair. No one had forced her into this marriage arrangement. She’d accepted it–maybe only for the promises that came along with it, but still an acceptance. If she was uncomfortable now, it was her fault.

Several men leaped from the ship deck, ropes coiled under their arms. They rushed to knot the tethers to the docking posts as their feet touched the ground. It was complicated to get a ship back in the air once grounded, so most docks were constructed on cliff faces or in Greybourne’s case on towers. This allowed the ship to remain airborne yet steady for boarding and exiting; the same went for inspections and refueling. The only real reason for a ship to land was in case of major repairs.

The plank dropped, and a surge of people rushed onto the platform. Umbra scanned the crowd, with rapid scrutiny. She wished she’d asked for a photograph of her potential husband before the royal family shipped him here. The monarch probably wouldn’t grant her another reward if she lost him on the very first day. 

“Ser Umbra!”

Her gaze shot to the deck where a man with long silvery hair braided crownlike around his forehead and then draped loosely over one shoulder waved over the crowd. Another man, hair-slicked and face creased with a long-suffering frown, reached out to grab him, but the prince was already bounding down the plank. He was more petite than she had expected, his head bobbing in and out of sight as he weaved clumsily through the crowd, bumping shoulders every few steps. As he darted around the last mozying couple, he nearly barreled straight into her chest, but he managed to catch himself just short, tipping up onto his toes in the process.

“Ser Umbra,” he repeated, panting up at her with a broad smile. “I-it’s really you! You came yourself! I really wasn’t expecting to see you straight off the ship! Ryann told me I probably wouldn’t see you until tomorrow morning because of your duties!”

Umbra blinked at him. Her heart felt like it had been seized and clutched hard in her chest.

She’d wondered why the King had suggested Prince Waylon as her groom. It had seemed a very quick choice. She’d figured it was because he was fifth in line for the throne—the royal family wouldn’t marry a soldier to someone who could one day take the crown, no matter how much she’d done for her country. Now, looking at his peeking canines, golden eyes, and long, curling tail, it was abundantly clear this had been a careful act of strategy.

King Esmond had never been shy about taking wives, and as a result, many of his children came from foreign royalty, a way of securing many alliances at once. Not so with the Auskeran princess. Umbra had not yet been born when the marriage took place, but everyone knew that was where the tensions between the two countries had started. With the princess's death.

But now, with the war ended and Auskeran firmly independent from the rest of the world, no foreign alliances were waiting for a half-Auskerian prince. And keeping him around the capital was a liability in itself. His very appearance was a reminder of the recent horrors and a symbol of shame to the King. But he was still of royal blood, and banishments–no matter how merciful–had a habit of coming back to bite. So what did they do? They gave him to a local. Someone high enough to merit such a match but low enough that she couldn’t refuse. Someone who would take all the perks of having a royal spouse as appeasement for the inconvenience of his half-bloodedness.

Still, they had to have known her feelings about such a thing. The war had not ended so many months ago that an Auskerian, even half of one, didn’t bother her. Perhaps that was the very reason they’d said nothing. They wouldn’t want to risk her denial.

“How did you know what I look like?” Umbra said, forcing her clenched jaw apart. He’d picked her out from the crowd on sight. He couldn’t have seen the sign from that distance, could he?

The prince flushed a little. “Father showed me a photograph of the Greybourne division as soon as he told me about the marriage arrangement. He said you’re a general of high standing. You held the eastern front steady for two years before scouting over the border. You won us the war practically singlehanded!” 

Umbra was about to explain that it was far more complex than that but Prince Waylon carried on without pause. 

“And to think, of all the prestigious matches you could have received, Father chose me! I’ve been showing that photo to everyone for the last month! But it got sort of crumpled from carrying it around too much, so my sister painted your portrait for me as a wedding gift. See?” 

He pried open the locket around his neck and leaned forward to show her a very accurate, stoic miniature of her own face. She was dressed in her military uniform, her medal of honor–a medal that she’d really only worn twice, once when it was bestowed and again for a newspaper photo–pinned bold and gleaming to her chest.

 “She made one for you too, here!” He fished into his breast pocket and held out a matching bronze locket by its chain. 

Umbra watched it swing for a couple moments before she tentatively accepted it. “I, um…” He was staring at her so expectantly what was she supposed to do? She slipped the chain over her head, and the locket settled in the hollow of her chest. “Thank you.”

He continued to stare. Gaze flicking to the locket and back to her face again. He definitely wasn’t subtle. 

She picked open the latch and looked vaguely at the companion miniature. “Ah.”

It wasn’t much of a reaction but the prince immediately pounced on it.

“I hope it's ok. I wanted it to be more interesting or at least be smiling, but Isabeau said portraits are supposed to be serious. I’m lucky she let me be as expressive as that.”

“No, no, it’s very nice,” Umbra said. Lied. She hadn’t even noticed whether the portrait had been straight-faced or smiling. She should probably be more excited, or at least appreciative. Princess Isabeau was supposedly a real artistic talent—from the accuracy of her own portrait she had to agree—and her skill mixed with her status, made her paintings some of the most saught after in the kingdom. Now she had one around her neck and she couldn’t even give it a proper enough to look to give a specific detail of praise.

Luckily, Prince Waylon took her words at face value. He noticeably relaxed, and she snapped the locket shut again.

“Prince Waylon!” The other man from the ship shoved out from the crowd, a little more disheveled than he’d been moments ago and lugging two large suitcases. He let the cases drop heavily to the planks and tugged sharply on the ends of his black suit. “A member of the royal family does not fly off like that! You must conduct yourself with decorum! And that means staying with your escort!”

“I was with Ser Umbra, so it was fine,” Prince Waylon said.

The man’s attention flicked toward her, scanning her up and down with an unimpressed expression. As an employee to the royal family why would he be? 

“This is Ryann, my escort to Greybourne,” Prince Waylon said. “He’s supposed to return to Ashborough once he sees me settled.  

“Ser,” Ryann said with a short bow. “Unfortunately, the royal officiant was delayed, so the wedding will have to be postponed at least a couple weeks. I’m to stay until that point to be another witness.”

Great. The last thing she wanted was time to start overthinking things. She’d wanted this done as quickly as possible. And now, with the prince’s Auskerian features to unsettle her, she wanted it done even faster.

“You both must be tired,” she said, hefting up one of the suitcases. “My car is at the base of the tower. I’ll take you to the house so you can rest.”

“Oh, I’m not that tired–” Waylon began

“You drive?” Ryann interrupted as he grabbed the remaining case. “You don’t have a chauffeur?”

“I have drivers,” Umbra clarified. “For shopping and other errands. I simply prefer the autonomy of driving myself. Don’t worry, I don’t expect Prince Waylon to get along without a chauffeur.”

“Oh, maybe I could learn too?”

“Absolutely not,” Ryann snapped. “You’ll get yourself killed. Besides, who ever heard of royalty driving themselves? You’re not one of the working class.”

Umbra started down the first tower ramp, letting them fall into step beside her. Should she say something? Tell the prince he could try driving if he liked? But her drivers didn’t have time to keep an eye on him and she hadn’t planned on engaging in any extra responsibilities. She also didn’t think there was much point in ruffling the escort further. So she remained quiet.

Prince Waylon didn’t seem to take the denial too hard. He chatted a bit on the way down, pointing out the landscape and buildings as they went. Umbra nodded along, but didn’t listen much; she was more focused on the many glances the prince received from passersby, ranging from curiosity to outright disgust. Ryann must have been aware as well because he kept a protective hand on the prince’s arm the entire way down.

The car waited at the curb for them. A sleek green thing with three steam valves that she’d purchased shortly after the war’s end. It was easier traveling back and forth to the military headquarters this way.

“Here we are.” Umbra popped the door to the trunk, putting away the first suitcase and then taking the second from Ryann.

The escort dusted off his hands, as if the meanialness of the task were a visible smudge on his station. He then stepped back to survey the car’s body. “This is a handsome vehicle.”

 Umbra expected it was one of the only words of praise she was going to receive during his stay, but she still couldn’t find it in herself to use it to her advantage. “It does the job.”

 “Ser Umbra, can I sit up front with you?” Prince Waylon chirped from the side.

“You’re not going to address me as Ser Umbra our entire marriage, are you?”

His face washed a hot pink. “I wasn’t sure what you preferred.”

“You’re not a part of my regiment. Umbra is fine.”

“Then I’m just Waylon.” He smiled. A sweet, bright-eyed expression that made Umbra’s insides churn like someone was trying to turn them inside out. The officator had better get there fast.

She nodded curtly and circled around to the passenger door, holding it for him as he picked up the ends of his traveling cloak and slid inside. As she closed it behind him, she caught a glimpse of Ryann’s expression before he entered the backseat. Silent approval. Seemed she’d passed whatever test the employee had in mind for vehicle etiquette. She wasn’t look forward to any similar tests. Her rise in the military had granted her a title and a fortune, but she certainly could claim to be as well-bred as anyone in the royal court. Which for many was a sin in itself. 

The drive from the port to her small estate lasted only 20 minutes and was mainly quiet. Waylon ooed at every street and building they passed. Umbra couldn’t imagine anything here in Greybourne, a city on the very edge of the kingdom, could surpass Ashborough in all its capital glory. Perhaps he was only trying to be polite. However, as they pulled up the lane to the estate, his nose was almost pressed to the glass.

“It’s beautiful!”

Now Umbra knew he was being polite. The estate was a sturdy, grey-stoned building with two stories and several acres of surrounding meadow. A garage hid humbly and strategically around the back so as not to ruin the aesthetic view of the front or boast the ownership of two cars. It may have been larger than many of the other homes in Graybourne, and yes, it was rather pretty in the golden hour of evening, but it was nothing compared to the manors in Ashborough let alone the palace. Umbra had been dragged into several parties and ceremonies in the capital after the war’s official end, and extravagant was an understatement.

Waylon clutched his locket and mumbled under his breath. “It’s like a dream.”

A dream? What did princes have to dream about?

Umbra circled the drive and parked directly in front of the large oak front doors. Arlin and Madeline must have been watching from inside–she was impressed they stayed at the ready for the entire 6 hours she had been gone–because they rushed out the front the moment she stepped out of the vehicle. 

Arlin opened the passenger door before Umbra could make her way fully around, but to his credit, his surprise only lasted a moment. Raised eyebrows shot back down, parted lips promptly pinned shut, and he bowed his head as Waylon stepped down to the gravel drive. 

“Your majesty,” Arlin said, then moved on to Ryann’s door.

In the meantime, Madeline had made quick work of unloading the luggage. The bags seemed oversized compared to her small frame, but she showed no struggle as she carried them around. Her reaction to the prince showed more in an exchange of glances with Arlin than a change of expression. 

“Welcome back, Miss,” she said, “we were beginning to worry something had gone wrong.”

“Just a slight delay in the ship’s arrival,” Umbra said, passing the car keys to Arlin, who promptly took the car around to the garage. “Madeline, will you show the prince and his escort to their rooms? They’ve had a long trip, and it’s getting late.”

“Of course, Miss. I’ll let Henrietta and the others know that dinner will be served in the guests’ rooms tonight.”

“Thank you. Only tea for me tonight. Please have it brought to my office.” She didn’t think she could stomach anything else tonight. Maybe a cup of tea would settle some of her more turbulent emotions.

“Oh, Ser– I mean, Umbra,” Waylon said, the end of his tail flicking eagerly. “I’m really not tired, and I’d love to see more of the estate, and talk to you more. Maybe we can go for a walk–that meadow back there looks promising–and I can tell you–”

“My prince,” Ryann said firmly. The prince jolted, looking at Ryann with wide eyes. The escort gave him a subtle shake of his head.

Waylon looked down at the gravel, ears going slightly pink. “My apologies Ser Umbra. I overexcited.”

Oh no, she needed to say something didn’t she? Something smart and smooth that saved the prince’s feelings without backing down from her preference for a quiet night. She hated hosting. She especially the politics that came with it.

“I’d be happy to show you around the grounds tomorrow,” she said, hoping it didn’t sound forced. “The sun is about to go down soon and the view can’t be appreciated so well in the dark. Besides the meadow is riddled with rabbit holes; I wouldn’t want you to misstep and break an ankle.”

“Ah.” He raised his eyes toward her. Luminescence crept in at the corners. Once the sun had gone completely down, those eyes would be completely aglow. “That would be unfortunate. I…look forward to tomorrow then.” It was hard to read whether he believed her. His gaze showed some relief, but the wrap of his tail around his leg still spoke to some embarrassment. Nevertheless, some of his old exuberance slipped through the cracks in his politeness. “It was a joy–no, an honor–to begin making your acquaintance.” 

Umbra forced eye contact until he turned away, prompted toward the house by Madeline’s beckoning. A cold feeling had lodged itself in the middle of her chest. 

She hoped the officiator would come fast.

[n0tamused]

This is not a drill, my Dottore brainrot has once again returned, I feel like writing some dark "romance" or something help. THE VOICES THE VOICESSSS