#it was awesome when they’d braid it too

[mars-ipan]

what was one of your formative gay experiences when you were a kid. a big one for me was random girls in gym class asking if they could play with my hair

[written-in-flowers]

Guardian Knight: Pt. 1

Pairing: Arkham!Jason x Wayne!OFC

Genre: Angst, fluff, smut/ lovers to enemies, enemies to lovers

Word Count: 7k

Rating: Explicit

Summary: Mia Wayne had been finally getting her life back together after Arkham City. But, when Scarecrow threatens to cover the city in Fear Toxin, it's thrown back into chaos with the appearance of a mysterious figure: The Arkham Knight.

Tags: enemies to lovers, lovers to enemies, kind of a slow burn(?) fem!OC, depictions of violence, kidnapping, mentions of torture, mention of previous kidnapping, PTSD symptoms, lost lovers, past trauma, blood and violence, hurt/comfort, fluff/smut/angst, lots of angst, canon-typical violence, self-reflection, vaginal sex, foreplay, nipple play, all the good sex stuff happens further down the road.

Part 2 >

~~~~~~

Playing a set at Time Bomb is a big deal to small time bands in Gotham City. Not only the most popular rock club in the city, many artists have been “discovered” there. So, Mia and her friends felt more than elated when their manager, Chloe, told them they’d gotten a time slot there. What sweetened it for her was the fact that the manager liked Galaxy’s sound; not because he knew Mia’s last name. Mia couldn’t stand it when club owners and promoters saw her full name and put her on their stage. 

Because being a Wayne means something in Gotham, and she hated that. 

“Dude, that was so awesome!” Renee beamed from inside the van, breathless and still high on adrenaline. Her drumsticks sticking out from her studded belt, the drummer took a seat in the back of the van on top of a case. “Did you feel the crowd’s energy? They loved us!”

“The manager might even have us this weekend,” said the short, skinny woman beside her. Alexa cut her auburn hair to her chin and highlighted it with neon green, which always stood out when she played her bass. “Imagine that,” she knocked at Mia’s shoulder from behind, “A weekend slot at Time Bomb.”

“They said that?” gasped Jude, the driver and guitarist. Her long braids interwoven with pink and blue contrasted with her ebony skin, and her silvery makeup brought out her brown eyes. She made a turn into the street and glanced into the rearview mirror. 

“Chloe told me,” Alexa replied. “She said he really liked our sound, and would be interested in having us again. This could be it! This could be our big break, right?”

“Definitely,” said Renee. “I heard those Soundwave dudes played a few times and then they got signed.”

“Soundwave? Really?” Jude asked, disbelief in her voice. “Those guys suck though. Their lead singer is pitchy and they’re always out of tune.”

“Auto-tune goes a long way these days,” Mia smirked. 

She thought back to the dimly lit club with its orange lights and tiny stage. There’d been no barrier between her and the chaotic energy that filled the room. As she strummed her power chords and sang into the microphone, she felt an instant connection. In the half hour they played, she became one with the audience. They’d come together for that time, to experience the same emotions, and become a single movement. She’d been anxious that people might not react like she hoped; she worried they wouldn’t like their band, Galaxy. But, when she played those first few seconds of their beginning song, the mood instantly picked up. The three years her band had been floating from club to club, putting out demo after demo, finally produced results. She’d always worried she might have to give it up and become a corporate slave like the people at Wayne Enterprises. 

‘No, that’s way too boring for you,’ Bruce’s amused response to this worry came to mind. 

The image of her older brother reminded her of something else. Pulling out her phone, she dialed Alfred’s number and waited for him to pick up. 

“Evening, Amelia,” the posh English accent that brought on a hint of comfort came through the other end, “I’m assuming by the hour you just remembered to call me?”

“Not entirely true,” she responded. “We finished our show a little bit ago, and now we’re gonna go eat at the diner.” Despite being twenty-one and no longer living at home, Mia felt wrong not calling Alfred whenever she went out. Perhaps years under his and Bruce’s constant protection made it a force of habit. “Ah, I wish you’d been there, Alfred. It was amazing. The crowd loved us, and the club manager did too. Chloe said we might get a weekend spot there.”

“I’m glad to hear that,” he said. “You and the girls work tremendously hard. It makes me happy to see all those hours are finally paying off.”

“Is that Alfred?” asked Jude from beside her. When Mia nodded, she beamed, “Hey Alfred!”

“Alfred!”

“Hey Al!” 

Alfred chuckled hearing them greet him. “The gang says ‘hi’,” Mia laughed. 

“Give them my best and congratulations,” he replied. “I do hope you do not indulge too much tonight, Amelia. You have an appointment with Dr. Lewis tomorrow.”

“I know,” she said. “I have it on my calendar. Dr. Lewis at noon. I’ll be there. How’s Bruce?”

“Broody as ever.”

“Not what I meant,” she tried putting her true intention behind the phrase. “Just because I don’t live at home doesn’t mean I haven’t noticed when I see him. If anyone should be seeing Lewis, it should be him.”

“You know your brother, Amelia,” he replied. “He’s…He’s not the same. Ever since Arkham City…I think we should discuss this tomorrow at the children’s Halloween party. You shouldn’t ruin your special night with this.” 

“Will he be there?” she asked. “I haven’t seen him in a while. The people at the orphanage would be really happy if he showed up.” 

“I’ll get him to come,” he said. He then tsked, “I’m afraid I’m going to have to let you go, Amelia. Your brother is home.”

“Alright. Love you, Alfred.”

“And you, Amelia.” 

She hung up, and then Jude spoke. “Still not talking to your brother?”

“More like he doesn’t talk to me.”

“Well,” Alexa said, “You guys went through something incredibly traumatic. I can’t imagine he really wants to talk to anyone right now. I wouldn’t either, if I were you guys.”

“But I’m his sister,” she reasoned. “I think if there’s anybody who will get what he’s going through, it’s gonna be me. He wasn’t the only one they threw into Arkham City. He wasn’t…”

He wasn’t the one The Joker kidnapped. Mia flexed her right hand absentmindedly, feeling the tingle of a phantom pain there still. The physical therapist told her she may have them from time to time, but that it is common with traumatic injuries. 

A few weeks after the opening of Arkham City, she and Bruce spoke against the enormous super-prison built in the middle of Gotham. It was meant to keep all the criminals, super-criminals, and run of the mill thugs away from law abiding citizens. Some politicians backed the idea, since they believed it’d help lower crime in Gotham. Yet, her and her brother felt entirely different about it. It’d been one of the few times she’d used her last name to make any sort of change; reporters kept mentioning how “the elusive Amelia Wayne” would be speaking at the press conference. She advocated left and right against the prison, telling people how dangerous and morally wrong it was. Gang leaders and their armies sat in the middle of Gotham, like a pot waiting to boil over, and it put people in danger. This political campaign caused both she and Bruce to be arrested and taken to Arkham City.

Then all hell broke loose. 

“There’s something he’s not telling me,” she continued. “I can tell.”

“What do you think it is?” asked Jude. 

“I’m not sure,” she admitted, “But he hasn’t been the same since we came back. He’s withdrawn, distant and closed off from me. He’s always working and is rarely home, according to Alfred.”

“Again, traumatic event,” repeated Alexa. “It’s a side effect. My dad told me a lot of the political prisoners are in a similar way since coming out. He said that they’re suffering from PTSD. Maybe Bruce has that too, which I wouldn’t blame either of you if you did.”

“Maybe.”

Honestly, Mia could not put into detail what she really believed because nobody knew her brother’s secret identity. The Joker injected her brother with his Titan infected blood, which had nasty symptoms and nearly killed him. He told her he’d gotten the cure in time to save himself, but not the Joker. She recalled his pale face, bluish veins creeping from the sides underneath his cowl. He’d been weaker, she remembered. Yet, he’d still managed to save her despite how the infection crippled him. He tried convincing her that he’d been fully cured and no longer suffered symptoms. Yet, her instincts told her otherwise. 

“How’s your hand?” Jude questioned her as the van continued driving through the busy streets. “It didn’t bother you during the show, right?” 

“Nah, not really,” she replied. “It’s healed up pretty well.” She sighed, “Not being able to play was the worst part of the whole thing. I thought I’d lose my hand forever.”

“Well, they did break pretty much every bone in it.”

“At least one good thing came out of that shitshow,” Renee said. “That Joker dude is dead.” 

“Yeah, there’s at least that.”

But, he’d almost survived. Mia couldn’t believe Bruce considered saving him once again. It became an old song-and-dance between them: Joker commits a crime, Batman puts him in jail, and he breaks out to do it all over again. She understood her brother’s moral code against murder; he wouldn’t be any better than the people he puts away, if he did kill. But, sometimes these criminals deserved it. They ruined so many innocent lives, and always managed to escape justice. True justice. Mia wondered if many murder scared him; meaning if he killed someone, he may never stop. She didn’t want Batman to kill wantonly or torture these criminals. But, is it real justice if they never stay in prison that long? Arkham City might’ve been a “super prison”, but it was a prison. Prison breaks are far too common in Gotham to let one be built in the heart of the city. If she and Bruce hadn’t campaigned against it, chaos would’ve flooded the streets. 

“Let’s forget it,” she dismissed, “And get some food. I’m freaking starving.”

“Me too,” said Renee. “I could destroy a plate of pancakes right now.”

“Pancakes for dinner?” questioned Alexa.

“Haven’t you ever heard of ‘breakfast for dinner’?” 

Mia let her friends debate about breakfast for dinner and watched the city rolling by her window. Gotham City was a city that never slept. It thrived and teemed with life, people always coming and going, businesses always open and the world constantly turning. She preferred the lively place over the quiet tomb of Wayne Manor outside the city limits. She'd wanted to protect Gotham when Arkham City first came about. It was her home, and considering the city's affliction of insane super-criminals walking about, a breakout would've been devastating. Bruce was lucky enough to have his Batman persona, but she had nothing. When she protected Gotham, she did it with her real face and name. 

“...Yeah, but Renee, pancakes are a breakfast food…”

“Ah, that’s just the food industry telling us what to eat…”

While she may have not had the equipment or martial abilities of Batman, she did what she could. She’d helped many political prisoners find shelter in a makeshift shanty town, and managed to fight off thugs for food packages. Mia couldn’t stand by and let people go hungry like that, especially innocent people who happened to know too much. Unfortunately, these acts of kindness blew up in her face when she came across Joker’s thugs posing as political prisoners. She shivered, recalling how one grabbed her roughly by the hair, fingers grasping her black curls by the roots. He’d knocked her out with a single punch, leaving her vulnerable and exposed. When she came to, she was in the Sionis Steel Mill where The Joker stationed his headquarters. 

“Yeah, because everything is a corporate conspiracy, right?” Jude chimed in, smiling at her. “Like when you said the government is flying secret aircrafts above us, sprinkling hallucinogens over the city.”

“They are!” Renee exclaimed. 

They finally reached Miagani Island and her stomach rumbled. She forced herself to focus on dinner rather than what happened when she woke up in the smelting chamber of the steel mill. The painted faces of the Joker’s henchmen mocked her in her nightmares. Their laughter and glee only created dread for her, churning her stomach constantly. They’d originally kept her tied to a chair, where they slapped, punched, degraded and humiliated her. Knuckles broke through skin and crushed bone; cigarette butts tracked up her arms and parts of her chest, and the worst of the worst. One of them took a crowbar to her right hand, smashing it like a piece of glass until the bones splintered and split through skin. She’d never felt pain like it before. Simply moving her fingers pained her for weeks. When they hung her from the ceiling, they only used the left arm. 

“...They were doing government experiments with patients in Arkham Asylum. You know, to use in chemical warfare…” 

It nearly dislodged her arm from her shoulder. She tried keeping herself up to put weight elsewhere, but it only hurt more. They’d slammed their fists into her ribcage, and took pipes to her legs. Mia never once begged for her life. She did not let them see her watery eyes or the winces of pain. In fact, she often spat back insults at them. She knew showing weakness would only encourage them to keep going. Pain burned and throbbed in her entire body, and she wondered when Batman would show up. Arkham City was not very large; it stretched only a few blocks. He’d find her quickly enough, she’d believed. She knew she only needed to outlast her attackers. A cloud of blurry memories rolled over her once again, as it did whenever Arkham City entered her head. Visions of a dark figure appearing out of seemingly nowhere filled her waking moments. Having floated in and out of consciousness, and the dimness of the mill, she never saw their face. 

“...Not gonna lie, I wouldn’t put it past them. Arkham was such a creepy place, and always dirty and gross…”

She tried remembering who exactly saved her that night. Bruce’s face came to mind whenever she recalled the looming figure who lifted her off the ground. It was the only logical explanation she conjured up. To consider the alternative was downright ridiculous and unfathomable to begin with. They’d been strong enough to carry her from the boiling hot smelting chamber to a crawl space between the chamber and another room. Only Bruce would’ve done that for her. When she’d questioned him about it, he told her he’d found her there after tracking her location. He thought she’d somehow managed to crawl there on her own, and hide until it was over. He acted strangely when she mentioned someone saving her; he told her she must’ve imagined it under duress. 

Who were they? 

Why did they save her?

Why keep their identity a secret?

She supposed she’ll never have an answer. 

“...And have you ever looked at a dollar bill? There’s some spooky stuff going on on the dollar bill, man. The pyramid, the eye, the presidents they used,” Renee said, “The illuminati is real, my guy.”

“It is not.”

“It is!”

“Oh thank god, Pauli’s!” Jude interjected, driving onto the diner’s street. “I’m dying, dude.”

“Woah…What happened?”

Mia noticed it first. Several police cars, ambulances, and news cameras sat parked around the small corner diner. A shoot out or a robbery were her first thoughts until they parked in a space right across from the scene. Renee and Alexa squeezed themselves between Jude and Mia to see the bodies being carted out in gurneys. They clawed at anyone who came near them, snarling and snapping their teeth like rabid animals. Others trembled, convulsed, and screamed from their restraints. It frightened her. 

“Gang fight?” Alexa guessed. 

“Nah, they don’t bring out that many cops for a gang fight,” said Jude. 

“Those people look tweaked out,” Renee noted as they watched one man claw at his skin before ambulance workers stopped him. “Maybe it was a bad batch of LSD that got spread around.”

“Or something way worse,” Mia said, dread starting to fill her insides. 

“I’ve been trying to tell you guys,” Renee began, “Government chemicals. They’re slowly killing us-”

“-Not now, Renee,” Jude intervened. 

Mia then noticed one woman stumbling away from the scene. She gasped at the woman’s bloodied clothes and crazed expression. Skinny legs staggered around on the damp pavement, walking right into the middle of ongoing traffic. So preoccupied with other victims, nobody noticed the woman batting at the air and scratching at her own body. Mia noticed how dangerously close cars came to hitting her right before one of them clipped her, causing her to fall to the ground. Instinct propelled Mia to open the door. 

“Mia, where are you going?!” 

She didn’t hear Jude as she dodged honking cars to reach the woman in the middle of the street. Mia gasped at the large wound on the side of her head, likely a result of her fall. Yet, the woman might have put her head on a pillow for all the notice she took. She continued trembling, unable to form a coherent sentence. 

“It’s okay,” Mia told her, trying to steady her bruised and broken hands. Had she been in a fight? “It’s okay. You’re gonna be okay.” 

“Ge-g-get-t-t th-the-em of-off me!” she cried, squirming and making her wound worse. “Get them off me! The-They burn, please! Get them off me!”

“Hey, can I get some help over here?!” Mia called people nearby, and saw paramedics pick up their equipment right away. “Don’t worry, you’re gonna be okay,” she reassured her, though the words went unheard. 

Mia saw her skin, sickly pale and marked by scratches and more bruises, and her fear grew. Bloodshot eyes looked around frantically, and the victim screamed when paramedics surrounded her. This is Gotham, and there is only one person she can think of who’d do this. Her first instinct was to hold her breath. 

“Dude, that is insane,” Jude came up beside her first, the both of them watching the medics taking the wounded woman away. “I’ve never seen drugs do that to someone before. Did you see her eyes? Scary stuff.”

“It wasn’t drugs,” Mia said, letting out the breath. “That isn’t anything normal.”

“Biochemical?” she guessed. 

“Something like that,” she agreed. “Let’s get out of here.”

“Pizza?”

“Pizza.”

Mia couldn’t focus on anything else. At Lil’ Pies Pizzeria, she found it hard to enjoy the saucy, cheesy goodness that was a Lil’ Pie’s pizza. Visions of the injured woman flashed through her mind as she idly bit into her first slice. She’d never seen anything like it before. She’d seen people have a bad acid trip or take too much ecstasy, but nothing like what those people suffered. The intention behind this attack was malicious. It was downright evil and chaotic. Gotham has no shortage of super-criminals who came out of the woodwork when Batman first appeared. All dangerous, and each one more ridiculous than the last. The Joker died several months ago, so now a new villain must take his place. She guessed Scarecrow plans to be that new top dog. Bruce was no doubt already working on the case, since he always seems to know things before she does. 

“The place looked torn apart,” Alexa said, washing down a breadstick with a soda. “Like a huge brawl happened in there.”

“Nah, that wasn’t a brawl,” Jude shook her head. “That was a damn slaughterhouse. That lady Mia helped had broken bones and blood all over her, but she didn’t look like she felt it. She was so messed up, it’s like the pain didn’t bother her.”

“Or the toxin seeped in through her skin and made her numb to anything else,” Mia heard herself say before eating more pizza. 

“Toxin?”

“You guys aren’t stupid,” she said. “It was Scarecrow.”

“Which one is that again? I get those guys mixed up,” asked Renee, trying to catch a string of melted cheese in her mouth. 

“He’s the one with a bag on his head,” answered Alexa. “My dad used to ‘treat’ him. He had this thing with, like, chemicals and stuff. He said he could make people do some crazy shit, so I’m not surprised.” 

Mia’s phone buzzed in her pocket while the others continued discussing what they saw. She expected another check-in from Alfred, but was surprised to see Bruce’s name. 

“Who is it?” Jude asked, noticing her pause. 

“It’s my brother…” She answered the call. “Bruce?”

“Are you home?” her brother’s deep, firm voice said in her ear. 

“No, I’m at Lil’ Pies,” she said, suspiciously. “What’s going on, Bruce?” She already knew the answer. 

“Turn on the TV.” 

She looked around for the small television in a corner, and went up to the bar. A breaking news story came up on the television right as the waitress turned up the volume. 

“-Devastating news coming out of Miagani Island tonight. Patrons quietly enjoying their meals suddenly became involved in a nightmarish, bloody attack…”

Along with the report came security footage of inside Pauli’s diner. It was worse than she originally assumed. People tore each other apart like animals, jumping over tables and chairs and violently bashing one another. Mia spotted a glimpse of the woman from the street, who’d slammed a man’s head into a table multiple times before being tackled by someone else. She gasped when she saw gunfire. She’d been about to tell Bruce her suspicions when the broadcast was suddenly cut off. Against a backdrop of black, a man in a ragged hood covering him in shadow came on the screen. Her body froze in place, and she couldn’t look away from him. Scarecrow used to wear a rucksack over his head like a real scarecrow, but now, he didn’t wear one. He’d instead shaved and cut around his lower mouth, resembling cloth instead of skin. It disgusted and terrified her. 

“This demonstration used just five ounces of my latest toxin,” he said, voice rough and scratchy. “Tomorrow, this will seem like child’s play. Gotham, this is your only warning…”

And then it cut off back to the news. Mia felt the instant panic set within the small pizzeria. It thickened the longer people murmured amongst themselves. 

“Bruce,” she said, keeping the shakiness out of her voice, “What do we do?”

“I want you home,” he ordered. “You’re staying in the Batcave until we figure out what he’s up to.”

She shook her head. Her chest tightened at the thought of stepping back into Wayne Manor. She couldn’t go back there. She couldn’t walk through those halls or sit in the rooms without another terrible feeling. Her work with Dr. Lewis is going so well; she doesn’t want to ruin it now by opening old wounds. 

“I can’t,” she said, shaking her head. 

“You can and you will,” Bruce replied. “We don’t know the extent of this toxin or how bad it can be, but if we look at his track record, it’ll get bad. I’ll have Alfred come pick you up, and you’ll come home.” 

“I don’t need to go there. I can go crash with Dick or somebody else in Bludhaven-”

“-That might not be enough,” he said. He paused for a moment, then he said, “Mia, I know why you don’t want to be here. I know it will not be easy for you; it wasn’t easy for me for a long time. But, I don’t want you anywhere else.”

“I can’t go there,” she said, shaking her head. The mere thought of walking back into the mansion made her palms sweat. “I can’t. He’s…He’s all over that place. Everything there reminds me of him. I can’t be there. It’s not good for me to be there.”

“Jason would want you to be safe.”

She swallowed back the lump in her throat. As if her recent traumas did not haunt her enough, now this turned its ugly head at her. She squeezed her eyes shut. She knew he was right, of course. The Batcave is the safest place in Gotham, and whatever toxin Scarecrow concocted won’t penetrate the far away, underground caves. But, the idea of walking into that house and recalling every memory she ever had of Jason Todd made her cry. 

Because, how can you forget your truest love? 

“Alfred will pick you up tomorrow night,” he instructed when she didn’t respond. “Start packing your stuff.” 

Like hell, she would. 

****

“Amelia, please, do not make this difficult. Your brother implores you to come home. You’ll be much safer there.”

As expected, Alfred appeared at her door the following night. She guessed he’d spent the day preparing the house for her arrival, and whatever prevention protocols Bruce put in place. He also mentioned the traffic out of the city being impossible to navigate. She stood in her small bedroom, putting changes of clothes into a black duffle bag to prepare for a long stay in Bludhaven. Jude told her a cousin of hers had rooms for them to stay in, so that is where she wanted to go. 

“I don’t want to go there, Alfred,” she told him, doing her best not to meet his eyes. If she makes eye contact, her guilt will weaken her decision. “I can’t.”

Mia felt him watching her from the doorway, and it made her anxious. He didn’t understand. He most likely thinks she’s being ridiculous and overreacting. To him, Jason’s death happened so long ago. It is a wound that should have healed itself by now, and to behave so stubbornly about going home is childish. She wanted to tell him how every inch of that mansion reminds her of Jason. She wanted to say how she can’t walk past his bedroom door without a ball swelling in her throat. She couldn’t sit in any of the rooms. She couldn’t enjoy the garden or the motorcycles or the cars or anything else. Jason Todd seeped himself into the wood and stone of her family home. He became a ghost that continued to haunt her when she let him. Mia wouldn’t detail those dark nights, when she’d bought a bottle of liquor to drown out the demons screaming in her head. She started packing up her guitar, a fender model painted black and white, into its long case. Even the guitar reminded her of him. 

“Amelia,” Alfred said gently, “I know how difficult Master Todd’s death was on you. He was your first real love. His passing-”

“-He didn’t ‘pass’, Alfred. He didn’t get sick and die. He didn’t get into an accident. He was murdered,” her voice cracked from the strain. “He was tortured and murdered by the Joker.” 

He’d plagued her in the steel mill too. Whenever Joker’s thugs slammed a fist to her face or took a bat to her stomach, she wondered if Jason felt the same pain. Was it worse? Did he hurt as badly? It broke her apart to imagine him in her place, tied to a chair with barbed wire digging into her skin little by little. She flexed her left hand subconsciously, the memory of a crowbar breaking each bone sending shocks through it. She saw it more clearly in the bedroom lights, thin scars slashed around the knuckles and joints on her hand. She shuddered.  

“And that was severely traumatic for you,” he said. “It is something you haven’t completely moved on from; neither has your brother. He feels equally guilty for what happened to Master Todd, and how we’d been too late to save him.”

“We didn’t try hard enough!”

“You know that is not true,” he replied sternly. “All of us exhausted our resources trying to search for him. If we’d caught even a whisper of Master Todd, we would have gone right to him. I know you would have gone running without a second thought. Don’t think I don’t know about you scheming your way onto Arkham Island that night The Joker escaped custody.” 

A pang of guilt hit her chest. In an act of torment, Mia visited Arkham Asylum to search for clues. Her insides told her she’d find the answers she needed there. It’d been during the desperation days, when she couldn’t accept Jason’s death. She’d gone to the institution under the guise of interviewing Dr. Young for a college essay. It was partially true. She’d snuck away from the visitor’s building into the rest of the island disguised as a doctor. Mia recalled her nerves up to the ceiling the entire time she snuck around. Night shift at the island wasn’t as packed, so she moved around relatively easily. Her gut told her she’d find something. She’d find a crumb, a scrap, a little piece to prove her search is not in vain. Mia fooled herself into thinking she could feel Jason through the walls. Her soul could feel his throbbing somewhere beyond the concrete walls. She knew he was alive; she would’ve known if he’d died. Her brain tricked her into believing she’d come upon him in some hidden space, injured but alive. Even when she found nothing, she did not lose hope. Unfortunately for her, Bruce showed up with the Joker that night and dragged her to the dock to be taken home. 

“You put yourself in immense danger to search for Jason,” he continued, his hands on her shoulders to turn her around. “You went to the absolute pits to learn what you could. You talked to the scum of this city, putting yourself at risk because of it. You looked for Jason much longer than any of us. I remember you planning trips to other cities when you thought he might’ve been smuggled out of the city.” He gave her a sad smile, “I know how deeply you loved him. His murder still weighs heavily on your heart, and I understand it is a pain that’ll never go away. But, you must find your way past it. You must find a way to heal and move on.”

“I did move on,” she said, not entirely convinced of herself. “He only crops up in my head sometimes.”

Like in Arkham City, when she imagined him swooping in to rescue her. When her mysterious savior came to her rescue at last, she’d thought it might be him coming back to her. But, that is ridiculous. Jason Todd was dead, and she learned to live with that. Putting her guitar to the side, the vision of a cowl in the shadows swam back into her mind. The gentle way they’d handled her reminded her briefly of Jason, who’d carried her home after she twisted her ankle in the garden. He’d stayed by her side the entire time, treating her like a sick patient instead of a simple sprain. She imagined her knight staying posted near her crawlspace like a sentinel, even if her brother claimed to find nobody else. 

“Which is normal and understandable.” Alfred brought her into his arms, and she let herself be comforted by him. “Ah, you two…you’re more alike than you care to say out loud.”

“Are not,” she scoffed. 

“Are too. I used to tell your mother you’ll both be two sides of the same coin,” he chuckled softly. “Bruce is always the calm and collected one and always has several plans in place for all scenarios. You’re-”

“-A charming rebel with stars in her eyes?” she suggested, doing her best to laugh. 

“A free spirit,” he said. “You move with your instincts and emotions. You’re a compassionate, gentle soul who lives by her own rules.”

Hearing herself be described that way left a strange feeling inside. She gently moved out of Alfred’s embrace, and said, “Thanks, Alfred, but I know what you’re doing.”

“What could you possibly mean by that?” he asked innocently. 

“I’m not going to the manor.”

He stared at her for a moment, then tsked, “Fine, if you insist, I can’t stop you. Let me take you to the evacuation site at least. I want to know you’re safe.”

She waived, knowing to resist is pointless. “Alright, but I’ll be watching you,” she squinted her eyes at him suspiciously, then giggled. 

“As expected.” 

He left her to finish packing, and she took a minute to stare around her apartment. Small, with mismatched furniture in warm tones, Mia liked her one bedroom place. It felt like it belonged to her whereas Wayne Manor belonged to her family. She knew people who’d love to have the last name ‘Wayne’, and have access to floods of wealth. Mia wanted to tell them it’s overrated. Mia didn’t flash her family’s money around like people she used to know. She makes her own money playing gigs and having shifts at the bar down the street. She didn’t want to depend on Bruce or their money. The only times she’d put her “Wayne bucks” to use was the charities she helped out. She gave to homeless shelters, non-profit organizations, hospitals, schools and orphanages. Unlike the elite of Gotham City, she didn’t need to hold press conferences to prove her charitable nature. 

It’s what Jason liked about her. 

Going back to packing, she wondered where her Arkham City Knight might be tonight. They seemed like the type to stick around after everyone evacuated. She couldn’t stop herself from picturing a hooded figure jumping from rooftop to rooftop or speeding down the streets like her brother does. They might be able to help him. Perhaps she may run into them, and she can ask them to aid Bruce. He will need all the help he can get, and her knight proved to be capable of handling tough situations. 

She looked around for her MIDI controller, since she’d hoped to produce some new songs at Jude’s place. She thought it might’ve been on her desk near the computer, but she vaguely remembered moving it. Why did she move it again? Yes, because the band wanted to work in the empty warehouse last week. She’d brought it home, too tired to unpack anything. It must be in the closet. Mia went to her bedroom closet, this time putting her attention on the bottom shelves. Moving through old school books, notebooks, compositions and broken equipment, she couldn’t find any sign of the small box. She’d been about to give up until her fingers brushed something in the far back. Mia put her hand on the top, and pulled it out. Then she wished she hadn’t touched it at all. She had the urge to push the box back into the closet, shut the doors, and forget the entire thing. Mia felt stupid for forgetting about the memory box. She’d put it in the back for a reason: out of sight, out of mind. 

But, she didn’t want to forget him. 

Gingerly, she forced herself to open the plain cardboard box. Hands shaking, she took deep breaths as she looked inside. Photographs, newspaper clippings, and drawings sat on top of a red hoodie. Years of research remained discarded and forgotten in the depths of her closet. Once upon a time, those same papers were pinned to her wall, cluttered her desk and filled her every waking moment. She didn’t have the high technology of Batman or his sidekicks, but she was smart too. She’d spend her free hours putting clues together, seeing the connections and seeking out answers. Mia watched Jason’s death so much each frame became embedded in her brain. The Mia who filled this box had hope. Seeing all of it brought on a new feeling of helplessness. She picked up the first photo she saw. 

She almost cried. Jason Todd, the young scrappy boy Bruce brought in from the street, smiled up at her. They sat on a bench at the Botanical Gardens, both laughing at a joke Jason told. Bruce had taken the picture. He’d insisted on chaperoning their first date and Mia couldn’t have hated him more. She argued that she and Jason were often alone, and nothing happened, but he refused to listen. Black hair swished over his brow, dark blue eyes glinted up at her even now. His laugh and smile became distant memories to her. She thought they'd fade with time, but they hadn't. They came as if she'd seen him moments ago. 

 “No…” she whispered, the bittersweet feeling watering her eyes, “No, I won’t.”

‘Let’s ditch him.’

‘Be serious. He’ll know we’re gone before we’ve gotten to the entrance.’

‘Who said anything about the entrance?’

They’d managed to escape her brother for at least fifteen minutes, and that was all Jason needed. He showed her the special spot where dozens of different types of orchids grew, the sunlight shone through the glass windows on the floral fountain in the center. The flirting instantly became shameless. She’d hoped he might kiss her, but then Bruce appeared and ruined it. Mia never felt anything like the happiness she felt with Jason. A hopeless romantic through and through, he’d blushed a deep red when she first held his hand. He wasn’t very good at poetry, but he’d written one or two just for her. Mia had never been a big book lover or an academic; she found school boring and in the way of her dreams. But, when she met Jason, who loved school and learning, she gave it a try because she wanted him to like her. 

She’d never done anything to make a guy like her before, even if he did see right through her. 

Mia brushed away the tears on her cheeks, tucked the photo back into the box and slid it into its hiding spot. The band would have to go without the digital equipment for now. 

SMASH!

Her heart skipped a beat as her window shattered. The sound of heavy footsteps hitting the floor made her duck back into the closet, shutting the door. Through the closet shutters, she saw several men in red and black camouflage fill her living room. They held military-grade weapons, which looked intimidating. She had no idea who they were, but she had an idea of why they’d come. Fear stiffened her legs, keeping her in place as memories of her last kidnapping came back to her. It couldn’t be happening again. Her eyes stayed on the soldiers as they moved throughout her apartment, unsure of what to do. She tried thinking of how they could’ve gotten into her building without being seen. Then, there was Alfred. What if they’d killed him? He’d been outside waiting on her. Her jaw clenched tightly at the thought. She needed a plan. Any moment, one of them will open the closet door and find her standing there like a statue. Mia scanned her closet for something to use, and then she spotted it. 

On a shelf between old books, a small bear trinket Bruce gave her smiled back at her. A birthday present, Bruce explained the cartoon bear was no ordinary knick knack. With a single smash, a bomb would ignite and cover the area in dense smoke. He said it was for emergencies only, and nothing else. When she throws it, she’s supposed to run out the window and signal him on her phone. Mia carefully moved to the bear, and grasped it in her hand. She still flinched when the closet door flung open, a soldier pointing his gun and flashlight at her. The few seconds he’d blinded her was enough to distract her, and let him take her. 

“Target has been acquired, sir,” the soldier said, squeezing her arm. “Setting up the exit ramp now.”

As two other soldiers unfurled a slide out of her living room window, Mia took advantage of the distraction. In an instant, Mia threw down the porcelain bear, smashing it to pieces instantly. Thick smoke covered the area and she ducked when their guns went off. Immediately she ran towards the door, her nerves hitching into her throat, before she slammed into a wall. No, not a wall. A man. A tall, broad man in full body armor. His grip tight, he held her in place despite her struggle.

“Let me go!” she grunted, trying to pry his hand off her.

The smoke thinned and she saw her captor. Dressed in black plated armor, it reminded her of Batman’s suit except militaristic. His helmet resembled a cowl, though his face remained fully covered and eyes glowing blue behind a screen shield. He had a white diamond outline painted on his chest with a straight line through the middle. She'd never seen it before. She coughed breathing in the smoke and shielded her eyes from the wisps.

Her savior. Her eyes widened when she took in his pointy-eared helmet once more. It couldn’t be anyone else. 

“You…” she breathed. “What are you doing here?”

"Taking you hostage, obviously,” his voice was modulated, disguising it from her.

Too stunned to retort, she let the stranger guide her towards the window. She didn’t understand. This could not be her Arkham City hero. They’d never kidnap her. She didn’t know how she knew that, but she did. He turned her around and pressed something into her back. No, this isn’t them. Nerves suddenly shot through her back from the cold steel on her skin; it woke up every sensation in her body. No. This couldn’t be happening again. “Walk,” he commanded, butting her with the barrel of his pistol, “Don’t make this harder on yourself.”

“Where are you taking me?” she asked him. 

“You’ll see. Walk.”

“Where’s Alfred?” she asked, panicked. “What did you do to Alfred?”

“Don’t worry about your butler, Princess. He’s fine.”

She didn’t believe him. She knew fighting back was futile, but she did it anyway. Mia kicked and struggled against the stranger, regardless of his tight grip. She cursed herself as the stranger took her towards the window. Mia felt him zip her wrists together in front of her and stick them on a grappling hook. “I suggest you don’t wriggle,” he said, “If you fall wrong, you’ll break your neck.” 

“Fuck you, creep!” She kicked his shin, though she doubted he felt it as he pushed her from the window. Her body swayed mid-air sliding down an inflated slide onto the ground. More soldiers waited below and picked her up.

 “Alfred!" she screamed as they dragged her to a military truck. Her eyes scanned the street for the familiar Rolls Royce Alfred drove. She spotted it parked in front of her building, but saw no sign of Alfred. "Alfred!" She called to the car, “Alfred! Wake up! Alfred!” 

"What did the Commander say?!” one of the soldiers asked her, throwing her into the backseat. “Shut your mouth before we shut it for you!”

“Kiss my ass, douchebag!” She kicked him hard in the stomach, watching him double over. Laying flat on her back, she wriggled towards the opposite car door. She can’t let them take her. She won’t. She needed to get to Alfred. But, the soldier climbed in to stop her. 

“You bitch!” his fist slammed in her right cheek, pain immediately heating up her face. The inside of her mouth stung and she tasted blood. “Hit me again and I’ll knock your teeth out.”

“Fuck you!” she spat the blood at him, which earned her another hit.

“Little brat-” 

He’d reached for her throat before she slashed her nails across his face. She bucked her hips underneath him, trying to get to the opposite door before the soldier stopped completely. 

“Soldier!” she heard their commander call out, and the man scrambled out of the backseat. “What were my orders?”

“Sir, she resisted-”

“-What were my orders?”

“To leave the target unharmed.”

“And what were you doing just now?”

“I was only trying to subdue her, sir. She’s a fighter.”

“Huh, you have no idea. Ride in the secondary vehicle,” he ordered. He turned over to her, blue eyes glowing in the screen shield, “I don’t think she’ll cause me any trouble, will you, Ms. Wayne?” 

She took a breath, gritting back the ache before saying, “I’m not making any promises.”

He gave an amused huff. He shoved her further into the car and sat beside her. She searched for Alfred’s car from the backseat, doing her best to see any sign of the old man. Once inside, the commander tenderly took hold of her chin to examine her pink cheek. It reminded her of her savior, but this wasn’t them. She must’ve been wrong. Perhaps Bruce did save her. Perhaps her painful haze deluded her senses, and made her see things that weren’t there. Dr. Lewis said it could be a possibility. 

“Does it hurt?” his modulated voice broke her out of her head. 

“Don’t touch me,” she yanked herself from his grasp, and glared at him. “What did you do to Alfred?” she asked him again, more firmly. 

“Alfred is fine,” he told her. “He was not the intended target.”

“No, but he’d try to stop you,” she spat back. “What did you do to him?” 

“We incapacitated him,” he answered, almost annoyed at her inquiry. “He’ll be fine. I can’t say the same for you, though.” 

“I’m not scared of you,” she glared, doing her best to keep up her fearless front. 

“Yeah, you are,” he chuckled. “You’re just good at hiding it.” 

She hated knowing they were right.

~~~~~~

A/N: okay, so this is my first Batman fic ever so any feedback or comments would be appreciated, but even a simple reblog will be good too. Arkham Knight Jason just hits differently, you know? lmao I hope you guys enjoyed this, and keep up with what's next.

[apocalypticavolition]

Let's (re)Read The Eye of the World! Chapter 16: The Wisdom

Spoliers here! Get your spoilers here! This is a reread and I've read every book in the series except the ones that came out after it was over and I will tell you every detail that ever happened out of spite if you don't take this opportunity to protect yourself now! Run away!

We get yet another new chapter icon as we move into this chapter. Three leaves on a vine, and boy does it symbolize a lot. For this chapter it represents Nynaeve and her crashing the party. As we go forward it will refer to Tinkers, Ogier (particularly Loial) and the Waygates built for them, and even the Green Man.

“We don’t have time for that, boy,” Thom said gruffly. Min gave the white-haired gleeman a sharp look. “Go juggle something,” she snapped, drawing Rand further away from the others.

I can't tell what's better, Thom assuming that Rand's ducking out of the meeting to make out with a random woman, or Min telling Thom to go play with his balls. It's a strong showing though!

You’re all in more danger today than yesterday. Since she came.

Min, I'm going to be honest with you: you are the worst person in the world when it comes to interpreting your visions. There are assholes who grew up literally on your hometown's antipode with more skill than you. Right now, you're making Rand think that the danger is supposed to be Nynaeve, and that's crazy talk. Everyone is in more danger right now than they were a little while ago when you tormented Rand last because he's gone off and antagonized two sets of people.

Also, I forgot to mention last night, but all of Rand's actions are the equivalent of Frodo accidentally putting on the One Ring in the inn in Bree. I guess that makes Nynaeve Strider, which is awesome but of course nonsense because Lan is Strider. Thank goodness it's not one-to-one. Really I'd say every member of the nine EotW crew (counting Loial) has equivalences with two or more members of the Fellowship. Nynaeve's other half is Sam, for example.

Moiraine and Nynaeve sat at opposite ends of the table, neither taking her eyes from the other. All the other chairs were empty. Moiraine’s hands rested on the table, as still as her face. Nynaeve’s braid was thrown over her shoulder, the end gripped in one fist; she kept giving it little tugs the way she did when she was being even more stubborn than usual with the Village Council. Perrin was right. Despite the fire it seemed freezing cold, and all coming from the two women at the table.

I don't have anything to say here, I just really like it.

“You . . . followed our trail?” Lan said, truly surprised for the first time that Rand could remember. “I must be getting careless.”

This is the exact moment that Lan realizes what love is, and unlike so many of the romances in this series I'm quite happy with this one because as minimal as their reasons are they're perfectly good ones. Nynaeve is talented enough to best Lan and he's awestruck. Good.

“If you can follow a trail I have tried to hide, he taught you well. Few can do that, even in the Borderlands.” Abruptly Nynaeve buried her face in her cup. Rand’s eyes widened. She was blushing.

And this is the exact moment that Nynaeve falls in love, because Lan doesn't give her shit, he doesn't dismiss her for being too young, he just tells her she's as incredible as she knows she is.

They’d swarm over this inn like murderous ants on a rumor, a whisper. Their hate is that strong, their desire to kill or take any like these two.

Also Thom, Rand royally pissed them off earlier. You all should probably know that. It's a real shame none of you know that.

“We can’t,” Rand said, and was glad that his friends all spoke up at the same time. That way Nynaeve’s glare had to be spread around; she spared no one as it was. But he had spoken first, and they all fell silent, looking at him. Even Moiraine sat back in her chair, watching him over steepled fingers.

I mean she's way more moral about all of this but she is technically part of a cabal trying to bring about the fulfillment of prophecy to usher in a new age of humankind, and the reluctant teenage boy is finally promising to get in the robotgo to Tar Valon.

The Light knows how your . . . Mistress Alys”—she invested the name with a wagonload of scorn— “managed to make him believe; he has a mite of sense, usually, more than most men.

She didn't even talk to him, amusingly.

He’s afraid you’ll try your tricks with outlanders and get your head thumped.

Well, Mat's dad is right about one of those things already.

Egwene sat back so she was shielded by Perrin. “I left a note,” she said faintly. She tugged at the hood of her cloak as if she was afraid her unbound hair showed. “I explained everything.” Nynaeve’s face darkened.

What so many people miss in their support of one character over another is that Egwene is just as stupid and immature as Rand, Mat, and Perrin: she just shows it differently. If I were in Nynaeve's shoes and hearing this shit, Moiraine couldn't have interrupted my rant about "A note!" if she'd balefired me.

Even those poor men who find themselves wielding the Power for a short time gain that much, though sometimes touching saidin protects, and sometimes the taint makes them more vulnerable. 

For somebody who's supposedly pretty impatient and pissed, she sure is infodumping. Moiraine's such a nerd.

Egwene bounced to her feet, her desire to be dignified obviously warring with her desire to avoid a confrontation with the Wisdom over her unbraided hair. She had no difficulty gathering up everyone by eye, though. Mat and Perrin scraped back their chairs hurriedly, making polite murmurs while trying not to actually run on their way out. Even Lan started for the door at a signal from Moiraine, drawing Thom with him.

Again, there's not much to say, just the joy of the sheer intensity that is Moiraine and Nynaeve in the same room while innocent bystanders look on in horror. Shame it's over.

She turned toward Rand, and for the first time he realized the others had all quietly disappeared.

Poor Rand, too nosy to escape quickly, too thick to realize that Nynaeve's nervous around Lan because she's afraid that she'll jump his bones.

“Something happened,” he insisted. “Why do you want us to go back if you think there’s even a chance we are right? And why you, at all? As soon send the Mayor himself as the Wisdom.” “You have grown.” She smiled, and for a moment her amusement had him shifting his feet.

Again, Rand's actually really adept at political matters, he just doesn't realize it. Tam must have been prepping him for the Council his whole life.

Either way, though, almost every man wanted to be one of the party. Tam, and Bran al’Vere, with the scales of office around his neck, and Haral Luhhan, till Alsbet made him sit down. Even Cenn Buie. The Light save me from men who think with the hair on their chests. Though I don’t know as there are any other kind.

Note the double hypocrisy, in that Nynaeve is criticizing everyone for thinking they should be the ones to go get the kids when she thought the same thing about herself, and for criticizing people for thinking with their hair when her braid is how she gets her own neurons firing.

“Are you all right?” Nynaeve asked. “He said . . . said I . . . wasn’t his son. When he was delirious . . . with the fever. He said he found me. I thought it was just. . . .” His throat began to burn, and he had to stop. “Oh, Rand.” She stopped and took his face in both hands. She had to reach up to do it. “People say strange things in a fever. Twisted things. Things that are not true, or real. Listen to me. Tam al’Thor ran away seeking adventure when he was a boy no older than you. I can just remember when he came back to Emond’s Field, a grown man with a red-haired, outlander wife and a babe in swaddling clothes. I remember Kari al’Thor cradling that child in her arms with as much love given and delight taken as I have ever seen from any woman with a babe. Her child, Rand. You. Now you straighten up and stop this foolishness.”

It is both incredibly sweet that she notices something is wrong with Rand immediately and cares enough to ask and try and reassure him when she's pissed at how stupid she thinks he is and incredibly silly that the reassurance she gives - of a time when she was four or five years old and would have had nothing but a few fleeting encounters with the foreigner and baby who live out of town even when they do come home - is going to reassure anyone who isn't actively trying to drown in denial.

“No, it isn’t your business,” Nynaeve agreed. “It might not mean anything. She could just be searching blindly for a reason, any reason, why those things are after you. After all of you.”

This, though also wrong, is a much more reasonable sort of guess. That said, it's something Nynaeve wants to be true, so she doesn't think about the obvious connections either.

Sadly, that's it for this chapter. Next time we return to the Lord of the Rings inspiration when they have to leave the inn early due to an invasion of black-cloaked riders who serve supernatural evil.

[sarcasticassian]

just kinda dig the idea that all the kids/teens have had a crush on Eddie at some point apart from Dustin and Robin obviously

Mike just feels obvious? My guy is enamoured with Eddie, ‘he’s just so cool, his hair is awesome, his clothes look so good’ my favourite part though is that he fully does not realise it’s a crush and how big it is, everyone else, including Eddie, can see it from a mile away but poor Mike has no idea until he’s like 22 then he wakes up in a cold sweat one day like ‘wait, did I have a crush Eddie’

Will and El meet him after everything and poor Will didn’t stand a chance, this guy plays D&D and the guitar and he doesn’t care what anybody thinks of him and he’s just so pretty, his heart falls out of his ass immediately and he follows Eddie round like a baby duck for a month straight at one point, El also thinks Eddie has pretty hair and he lets her braid it too, he lets her listen to his tapes and he smiles a lot and always gives her a hug if she asks, her and Will get over their little crushes when they go to see Top Gun and the beach scene becomes the only thing talked about in their house until Christmas much to Hopper’s dismay

Max grudgingly admits she once had a baby crush on Eddie, it wasn’t straight after everything but maybe a few months down the line, he would play Kate Bush on his guitar for her and let her paint his nails and they’d just talk about anything and nothing and fine she thought he was cute or whatever but then she tried to teach him how to skateboard and watching him immediately fall off it brought her right out of any infatuation she had

Lucas asks Eddie to teach him how to play guitar and during one of their lessons he looks over at Eddie, who is in his element right now, and briefly wonders what it would be like to kiss him, panics that that’s weird and makes an excuse to leave, he brings up the idea of kissing boys to Steve at their next informal basketball coaching session because Steve recently told them all he likes both, he doesn’t mention that it was Eddie that sparked this thought but after that moment he never really thinks of Eddie in that way again but one time he drunkenly admits that Eddie was his bi awakening and Dustin literally never lets him forget it

Erica will never admit that she thinks that weirdo super senior is cute, it will go with her to the grave but if she got him an ammo belt as an accessory before their showdown with Vecna just because she thought he’d like it, well nobody needs to know

Argyle openly states as soon as he and Eddie meet that he’s hot and that’s that, everyone just rolls with it not knowing that the majority of them silently agree with him

Nancy and Jonathan had a full in depth conversation about how cute and nice Eddie was once when he was high and she was drunk and neither of them remember it

Steve is SEETHING when he realises that he’s competing for Eddie’s time and affection with nearly everyone in their group, like yeah half of them are children but STILL, he watches them all cling to Eddie and silently stews whilst Robin counts down to his inevitable rant about it all, Dustin, blissfully oblivious to it all, doesn’t help matters by constantly talking Eddie up like Steve doesn’t already KNOW how great Eddie is, one day he accidentally lets it slip that he’s thought Eddie was hot for YEARS so why is he having to wait in line to hang out with him and Robin shrieks, what do you mean years Steve? and Steve admits that he’s thought Eddie was cute since he was like 14 and Eddie was a mysterious sophomore that just intrigued him so much but he thought it was wrong to feel like that so he never did anything about it but now he KNOWS and you know what it’s time he goes and gets his man

Eddie is ignorant to all of this (apart from Mike, even he can pick that one up and he did help Will with the whole sexuality thing but Will is just a cutie, right?) and just thinks that everyone is super sweet and chill if you take away the whole fighting monsters thing but he won’t complain if Steve wants to sit in his lap and give him a kiss out of nowhere, he’s cute and Eddie has a little crush, sue him

[innytoes]

Happy birthday @invisibleraven

The problem with soulmate dreams was that they could be so damn vague. Reggie dreamed of stars. Stars, and sparkles, supernovas he could get lost in, warm sparkling glitter he could trail his fingers through, that tinkled like piano notes when he touched them. He always woke up feeling warm, and happy, and loved.

Well, at least it was better than Alex, who dreamed of crashes. No wonder the poor guy had anxiety.

Sometimes, Reggie wondered if his true love was an astronaut. But then, what astronaut would want a schmuck like him, walking dogs while trying to get their band off the ground. For a short while, he thought for sure the handsome baker at the coffee shop was his true love, his soulmate. Why else would he always put little star sprinkles on his donuts? Until he introduced Reggie to his wife, Estrella.

Reggie kind of gave up after that. He didn’t want to mess up again and lose something more important than a great coffee shop because he was too embarrassed to go back. What if his next not-soulmate worked at the music store and he got it in his head they were the one because they got a tattoo with a star, or something?

It was going to happen when it was going to happen, he thought. That’s how soulmates worked. No point worrying about it.

So he wasn’t looking anymore, that New Year’s Eve. They’d booked a killer gig in the Trevor Wilson’s mansion. Sadly, as Reggie discovered on Instagram, Trevor Wilson himself wasn’t going to be there, off at some Hollywood party, but his daughter’s band was doing a thing too and Alex loved them from the second Reggie showed him the videos.

So they played their gig, and Alex danced along to Dirty Candi, and apparently he was so enthusiastic they were invited to stay instead of having to scram before midnight. Hey, who were they to turn that down? So Alex got to dance and Luke got to gape at all the pretty guitars hung on the wall and Reggie got to... well, he wasn’t sure yet. He avoided the drinks stations with actual real life mixologists, though he did score some wicked awesome snacks. There didn’t seem to be a dog or a cat he could befriend (his go-to at parties), so he made his way outside. He bet the view of the fireworks would be killer out here. Rich people probably had all kinds of illegal stuff, and you could see pretty far along the coast from here.

Two girls were messing around with sparklers outside, trying to make a heart with them while the other took their picture. Then they swapped. Reggie tried not to be a creep, but he did crane his neck just a little to see how it had turned out on the girl with the braids’ phone.

Except she caught him, and pointed at him. He was about to stammer an apology, when she said: “Hey, pretty boy, can you take our picture?”

“Oh, uh, sure!” he said, fumbling as she shoved the phone at him. He waited until they both lit their sparklers again, and grinned when they each made half a heart. “That was awesome!” he called, showing them the picture. “You nailed it on the first try.”

The girls high-fived. The one with the curly hair bit her lip, smiling. “In that case, we have some sparklers left over. You want one?”

Alex would kill him for playing with fireworks. He wanted to say he was banned after The Firecracker Incident when they were fourteen, but it was just a sparkler, right? Besides, he wanted to look cool in front of these cute girls. “Sure!”

He took a sparkler, beaming when the girl lighted her own first, holding it out for Reggie to light his.

When their sparklers touched, Reggie... well, later he would say that he saw stars. All of a sudden he felt warm, and happy, and loved. All of a sudden, he understood all his soulmate dreams. All of a sudden, he didn’t just see stars, he felt them, inside of him, sparkling and shining and burning bright like a supernova. 

He looked up at the girl in front of him, so beautiful in the fading glow of their sparklers. “It’s you,” he breathed.

“You’re... you’re my soulmate,” she whispered, before flinging herself at him, catching him in a hug. He hugged her back, laughing, spinning her around, feeling the stars bubbling up inside him, dancing around them, her giggle tinkling like piano notes.

Now that he understood his soulmate dreams, he wouldn’t have them any other way. Julie was his star, burning bright, guiding him home, making him feel warm, and happy, and loved. She was his soulmate.

[thelazyhermits]

something specific….hm. okay. how about her thoughts and reaction to each of fortune’s kidnappings? for the angst of it all… and. this isn’t a hc but i read a fic where momo got her costume made out of her DNA so she can pull her creations out of her body without revealing any skin. so tbh when i was reading TABF and hagakure got her hero costume made out of her DNA, i was really expecting it to happen for momo too😭 but ofc, u know, not all writers are gonna do the same thing so 😭 yeah. also, maybe fortune could tell momo about the underworld? idk when and where that would happen but momo would definitely get angry and upset on fortune’s behalf. and maybe fortune and momo could braid each other’s hair? 🥺 i think they’d have such a cute friendship where momo can act her age and joke around w fortune. all of the girls in class 1A feel so comfortable around her and that would definitely include momo. how often does she think about fortune’s encouragement (that she gave to momo before she and midoriya fought aizawa)? momo, imo, is definitely gonna be a strong, powerful hero that villains are gonna be intimidated by

Her thoughts/reactions to the kidnappings were basically the same in that Momo was very worried about Fortune, and in the case of the summer camp kidnapping, she was heartbroken over the thought of Fortune not surviving since it seemed so unlikely that the villains would spare Fortune, considering they wanted her dead.

I've seen the concept of Momo having a costume made out of her DNA, which sounds really cool, but honestly, I don't really understand how it works. Like I can understand that concept being applied to Quirks like Hagakure's and Mirio's since their Quirks affect their whole bodies, but it just doesn't really make sense in my head for Momo cause I don't get how the costume doesn't get torn when the things she creates pop out of her skin since I don't understand how a costume made out of her DNA would help anything. Maybe I'm just being dumb lol 😂

Fortune won't tell Momo about the underworld since she doesn't want to tell any of the other students about it. I brought up this subject in the Heroes Rising fic to show that I didn't intend for any of the other students to learn about her past. But Momo would definitely be upset on Fortune's behalf if she did know.

All the girls love playing with Fortune's hair, Momo included. Fortune learns from them how to braid hair, so I could see her practicing with Momo's hair ^^

They all definitely feel comfortable around Fortune, but I can't see Momo really acting her age per se since she still views Fortune as a teacher figure and she's always so polite/respectful toward adults and she'd want to be professional to a certain degree.

However, Fortune does encourage Momo to relax and have fun more often and not worry so much about the small things like always being polite.

I'm sure Momo often looks back on Fortune's encouragement whenever she's in need of a pick-me-up/some inspiration since she really takes a lot of strength from Fortune's support and wants to do her best to live up to Fortune's high expectations of her.

Oh yeah, Momo's gonna be an awesome hero for sure. Villains everywhere better watch out haha

[a-chuffed-floating-panda]

A love in the eye of the hurricane ch 23 (unedited)

(Originale posted 10 October 2022 slightly better edited chapter)

Childhood, early fall.

Flying over thick green forests that seemed to go on forever and ever, she gasped when she saw the white Buddha and golden chorten in the distance. They stood above the trees and tall mountains on a platform of sorts, or maybe on the side of a mountain? She couldn’t tell.

It looked like only someone with a flying companion could access the temple. The dense forests and mountains went on for miles. It’d take months, at least, of constant running to reach it by foot. Then you’d have to climb the temple as well… something only a dedicated individual could manage.

Koko-chan said that there was a staircase, but visitors, not pilgrims, never took them unless they were desperate; a ride on a friendly bison always won over the 4500 step staircase.

Uma let out a content groan, and she patted her fur. “I know, this is going to be awesome!” Sister Tsering gave Palden permission to take her on a one week training trip to Wat tham suea. Jaya had whined about her being gone and ‘who’s going to help her with homework now?’ Jamyang promised to write letters every single day, and that seemed to make it better. She’d beamed, thrown her arms around her in a big hug and pressed a showy kiss on her cheek with a loud ‘muwah!’

Jamyang blinked with owlish eyes as Jaya dragged her off as she insisted she help her pack.

It might’ve been her imagination, but she thought she heard the nearby nuns laugh under their breaths and Palden smothering Koko-chan with her sleeves.

Jamyang steered Uma so that they were following Palden, Koko-chan and sister, Nyima; She’d insisted on being called that, because Sister made her feel old.

She followed them as they steered down over the mountain, her eyes widening and mouth dropping at the clusters of buildings and towers that met her eyes; a tall golden Buddha stood in the centre of all of them. “Woah…” She looked forward to what her week would entail.

She grumbled when something disturbed from her sleep, pulling the blanket over her head in an attempt to muffle the sound out.

The volume increase was gradual, like it was coming closer. She opened her eyes, annoyed, and sat up to peek out of the window. Her eyes squinted at a long blurry blob and she reached up with a hand and rubbed the sleep out of them. Her sight cleared more and Jamyang saw lines upon lines of monks and nuns carrying lights when she blinked. 

The chanting was steady, like a strong heartbeat. “Namo amituofo, Namo amituofo, Namo amituofo….” She recognised the mantra, having heard a group of monks recite it while visiting her temple. It was the mantra of Öpakme, Om ami dewa hri.

Such devotion. She leaned closer to the window as the lines of people walked around the corner of the tower she was staying in. Many of the people she knew didn’t practise like that, but that didn’t mean that the positive karma they were cultivating was anything less bad, did it?

Jamyang didn’t have enough wisdom to answer that question herself.

She laid back down when she couldn’t see them anymore, not being able to sleep. She reached out with a hand in front of her, opening and clenching it. “Om ami dewa hri.”

Jamyang wasn’t a fan of big robes, but she was on the smaller side and she didn’t control the world. The robes they gave her to wear during her stay didn’t fit properly. She stared at them for ten minutes, hoping that she’d scared them enough from glaring at them.

The grey robes were big on her. It was difficult to tie down the brown rakusu they gave her with the spacious sleeves.

“Need some help?” Palden stood in the doorframe, smiling at her struggle. Jamyang pouted at her. “Yes, please.”

“There.” Palden finished, patting the rakusu.

Jamyang looked down. Her sleeves were so big. They’d just get in the way when she’d do her hair. “Can you braid my hair, too?”

Jamyang remembered getting looks like the one Palden was giving her when she was younger. The ‘oh, you’re so adorable that I just want to eat you up!’ look.

She grumbled when Palden pinched her cheek. “Of course.” She grabbed a brush and urged her to sit down in front of the bed.

Jamyang sat quietly as Palden brushed her hair. It was her first time in different robes. She wasn’t used to grey, regardless of how many times she’d seen Aden in his grey robes. They were so big, too. Why were they so big? It didn’t seem practical if they were big enough, so you’d trip over your robes while running.

“Palden?”

“Hmm?”

“Why are the robes so big?” She held her arm in front of her, watching how far the bottom of her sleeve dipped.

“It’s to cast an illusion on the enemy.” She said, “They can’t see your body build, limbs and joints move well, and it hinders their ability to predict your moves.” Jamyang remembered reading about a prodigious swordsman who did the same thing; he’s worshipped as a guardian on one of the fire nation islands, if she remembered correctly. It was Tsugikuni something.

His birthday was a celebration, akin to a short festival lasting three days; Shaohao had invited her and her friends, including Aden, to come and celebrate it earlier this year.

“I guess that makes sense.” She conceded. “But is me tripping over them also a good reason? I’m tiny.” Build wise; she read more than she ran around when she was younger. She was over average when it came to height.

“I guess not.” Palden laughed and finished her braid. “But then it means that you’ll be learning stealth walking. I know that you’re already a natural at stealth, but it helps with getting used to the robes.”

Jamyang didn’t know just how Palden was going to teach her that.

The tall grass always found a way to tickle her, even when fully dressed

“Why are we here?” She stomped on the grass, annoyed at its intrusiveness. It wouldn’t be too noticeable. She saw some animals on their way here and they could blame the slightly flattened grass on them.

Palden was crouched down beside her, the hilt of the holster peeking up underneath her robes and pointed to a house in the distance. “See that house?”

“Yeah?” It looked like a farm or maybe an inn for travelers. Palden handed her a small golden bell, a piece of paper, and a chubby brown panda. “You’re going to sneak into that farm, leave that bell behind and write anything you deem important. Miso is joining you in case something out of your control happens, like an ambush or something.” Jamyang stared at her, shocked. She was going to sneak in on that farm?! No practise run? What if she messed up? 

“I’m going to sneak in on that farm?” She pointed, voice cracking. She’d never snuck into a house before. Miso made herself comfortable on top of her shoulders.

“Yep.” she answered. “Sneak in, leave the bell and write anything you deem important. In and out, no fighting.” Palden reassured and patted her head. “Why did you have me bring my ninjaken then, if there’s no fighting?” It’s strapped to her waist; her jian was back at the temple.

Palden also gave her a utility belt to wear across her chest.

“So that you can get used to carrying it. You’ll be surprised at how it can limit your movement.” Jamyang puffed her cheek at her. It couldn’t be that bad. She put the bell into one of the pouches on the belt and folded the piece of paper into another pouch.

“Look at it as a test run and see how stealthy you are from a different perspective.”

For a test run it was… informative.

Young adult, early summer.

The ache of the healing tattoos made it uncomfortable to walk and do tasks around the temple. Jampo seemed happy to accompany her, bouncing on his feet as she walked and sitting down behind her ankles when she stopped for a quick break.

He also enjoyed the pets and attention passing children would give him during those breaks. They also congratulated her on getting her tattoos as well. Jamyang thanked them with headpats and an affectionate panda.

Jetsun, not Sister Jetsun Dronma, but Jetsun Chesa, a toddler at the mature age of almost two winters, squealed when she saw Jampo and toddled up to them away from the older Sister Jamyang. She’s technically a Sister now, weird. She didn’t feel like one.

“Chi la ‘om chung!” Ji la dom chung, almost right. She smiled as Jetsun sat down to pet an eager Jampo.

“Be careful. Don’t be so rough when you pet him.” Jetsun listened to her words and gave Jampo really slow pets with an adorable frown as she focused on not hurting him. 

“Jetsun,” Sister Jamyang’s voice sounded in front of them and steps followed. “Don’t run off like that.”

Jetsun’s eyes got big, and she tried to pick up Jampo, who sagged in her small hands, and turned to her. “Chi la ‘om chung…” Sister Jamyang sighed and pinched her nose. “Fine, you can continue to pet him.”

Jetsun cheered and her adorable frown returned as she continued to give Jampo’s fur slow and gentle strokes.

“Congratulations on getting your arrows.” 

“Ah, thank you.” She put her hands together and gave her a small bow. “Your mastery is certified now, even if you’ve been one for years.” A small smile played on her lips. “Tsering was close to fighting them to get you to have your ceremony, you know.” Of course she did. 

“I imagined something like that happening, yeah.” She likely wouldn’t have had her ceremony otherwise.

Jetsun giggled as Jampo licked her face.

“Okay, come now.” Sister Jamyang said, and Jetsun pouted. “You wanted to meet Elder Rabten and we have to get preparations ready.” Jetsun hung her head, not wanting to leave. “Jampo flies around the temple daily, and you can always ask Jamyang if you can play with him.” Jetsun looked back at them with sad eyes as they walked away.

“Churr-squeak.” Jampo looked sad too. She lightly nudged him with the side of her foot. “Come on, let’s continue.” 

After a few steps, she heard laughter. 

… Jamyang startled at the yell while she crawled through the vent.

She paused to listen, but the person was spewing nonsense. Were they drunk? Through their gibberish, it sounded like they were accusing someone and she heard… sobbing? She crawled towards the sound, grabbing the small red pouch, filled with what felt like powder she found on her way there.

“Yoush bucssh!” Unsteady steps and something breaking with a loud crash. The sobbing increased in volume. “No, no!” they cried. “Not him, stay away!” 

“Miso!” she whispered, and the panda stirred. “Chri?”

“Go find Palden.” Miso took a few seconds before rolling away from her position on her neck and pattering down in the opposite direction. The slight creak of the vent opening told her she was out.

Jamyang had tied the bell to one of the fences outside and petted the ostrich-horse that caught her. It was a risky bribe, but it worked and it left her alone.

Maneuvering in the tight space, she got out the piece of paper and added a new thing to her list. “Relationship problems?” She scribbled with a charcoal stick she found on the floor above. Jamyang continued crawling. She needed to get out of the vent.

Glancing around the corner of a doorway, she saw the source of said laughter being Choda as Tashi spun her around.

Jamyang felt herself smile. She was happy on their behalf. It’d been a little awkward in their friend group at the beginning of their relationship, but it got better after around a month or so, if she remembered correctly. One or two months, somewhere around there.

Choda giggled when Tashi put her head into the hollow of her neck. “Nyingdu-la.” Jamyang tensed when she heard the phrase and sped away as fast as she could, leaving them alone.

She wasn’t meant to hear that. She was not meant to hear that.

Jampo followed her, tripped over his feet and rolled into the back of her legs.

“Be careful!” She chided and picked him up. “We’re sorta, accidentally sneaking a round.” She didn’t plan this, and she heard peals of laughter coming from another room further ahead. 

“We can’t get caught.” Not because she wanted to listen in, but because she didn’t want to ruin the others’ moments together. That’d be so rude of her and she’d feel so bad if she ended up actually ruining something.

Jampo stared at her, leaned in and licked her nose. Just like Uma, she smiled.

“Come on.”

… the man laid unresponsive on the floor. Palden said he was okay, just unconscious.

The woman- wife? Girlfriend?- she tended to, couldn’t get much out in between her cries and choked up words of gratitude while she healed her. 

“Do you have anywhere safe to go?” 

“N-no.” She sniffed. 

“You should take your son and go to the golden temple.”

“B-but.” She stuttered. “This is baba’s farm. I’m tending to it while he’s on a trip. I can’t just leave!”

“It’ll be momentary until we can ensure you and your child’s safety. I’ll send someone I know to take care of your farm. Is that okay?”

The woman eventually agreed, and they acted as her guards on the road there.

“Hide in the grass!” Palden hissed when she saw… a group of people in the distance. Jamyang watched in anticipation as Palden confronted the group.

She snuck by multiple people having their ‘moments’ with someone and succeeded in not ruining them.

She could find solace in her room, maybe a nap. All the children congratulating her had been overwhelming; was this the exhaustion Gawa felt during her mastery celebration? 

Jaya’s familiar laugh echoed in the dorm hallway, followed by another laugh she didn’t recognise. “Hm, must be the crush.” She mumbled to herself, Jaya hadn’t introduced them yet. ‘Soo cool! And so handsome!’ Didn’t tell Jamyang much about the person.

Aden was weird when she stumbled upon him. Serious looking. Unreadable look in his eyes. He was thinking hard about something. “What’s wrong?”

“Um…” He started, sounding unsure. “It’s nothing important. I’m helping someone solve a… personal conflict.” Hm, it’s something he doesn’t want me to know. Jamyang hadn’t noticed anyone dealing with personal problems recently, but it could also be a temple individual from Yonggunsa he was helping that she wasn’t familiar with. He looked unsure, but she wouldn’t prod.

She’ll either figure it out or see it go down. It’s happened before.

“Have you seen Choekyi?” He asked. “I think she’s ignoring me. She won’t talk to me one on one.”

“Oh, she isn’t ignoring you.” She answered. Choekyi was doing a lot of sneaking around when it came to Aden. Jamyang knew because she caught her and subsequently told her how to sneak around better.

She also promised on Uma and Chenrezig that she wouldn’t tell a soul of what she saw.

Jamyang was good at secrets. She heard many of them unintentionally over the years of being stealthy and being at the wrong place at the right time.

They still hadn’t caught Danan dyed the robes a darker colour over the ten years she’d known him; She may or may not have told him of a secret passage when she was thirteen winters.

“She’s dealing with a personal problem that includes you.” She said, and watched how his face morphed. He only needed a little push. She wouldn’t flat out say it. “Me? But, but, what did I do?” 

“Nothing.”

“Huh? I don’t get what you are trying to say.”

“Think, Aden. Personal problems are universal for feeling related matters and those matters are related to you.” He blinked at her, eyes widening and face blushing.

“O-oh, where is she?”

“The last time I saw her, she was on one of the temple pagodas.” He thanked her with a stiff bow and ran off.

Jamyang stared at the trail of dust he left behind and thought of dusting the hallway, but the nap appealed more to her. She shook her head with a smile and made her way to her room.

… her yell was frightening. A tremor shocked Jamyang’s bones. She hadn’t seen Palden like this before.

“Fight me!” She pulled the dao from the holster on her back and proceeded to cut down every single individual of that group. Her hands trembled. Palden was scary. Jamyang had never seen her as scary before. Palden was funny and joked with her. She was her teacher.

The woman held her son’s head into her chest so that he wouldn’t see. 

The group of people- bandits?- had taken a hostage. Palden bent down and cut the ropes around their wrists. They bowed at her and helped move the bodies out of the way.

Palden waved at them to come. “It’s safe.” She yelled, and they made their way over.

Jamyang glanced at the bloodied bodies and prayed for them. It conflicted her feelings. All life was sacred. But they were bad and had taken a hostage. What if they were driven to this because they were desperate?

She avoided the splattered blood on the ground. “All life is sacred.” She whispered under her breath.

“They are.” Palden said in a solemn voice, suddenly standing beside her. She patted her head and Jamyang leaned into her side. “That’s why you defend them, but you don’t have to like it.”

Jampo jumped on top of her stomach with a loud quack. “Oof!” She played along. “Ugh, I’m dead.” He chittered, giggling, and crawled up her body, nestling into the crook of her neck with his small arms reaching around her neck in a hug.

Jamyang closed her eyes and evened her breathing, falling asleep within seconds.

It was difficult to breathe. Gawa pulled at the loose parts of her robe. She wanted to run out of the room and cuddle with Cintsha and Jannu, but she wouldn’t do that. She wasn’t a coward.

Well, she was a coward, but not that much of a coward. Gawa would stay to support them. She’d only be rude and cause a scene if she left. Plus, they’d likely hate her.

That’s her anxiety speaking. She’d never seen them ‘hate’ in the years she’d known them, but they’d definitely hate her if she left.

Yara’s move was a small cyclone that she spread around the room, up to the ceiling, each of the corners, down to the floor again and whirled it into small controlled circles in front of her before dispersing it. Master worthy. It took perfect control to do that. Everyone clapped. Tora cheered loudly in front of her. 

Aden nudged her. Apparently she’d forgotten to clap, and she hurried to clap because who’d she be if she didn’t?

Then it was Jamyang’s turn. The elders took great amusement at Shaohao’s enthusiasm. “Here, or here?” Jamyang pulled his shirt so that he stood in between the two places. “There.”

The flame floated over his palms, warm and flickering. “Ready.” He held his hands out and Jamyang started a whirling air in between her hands.

First thing she noticed, the concentration of the air. She felt the air being sucked towards her from where she sat in the back of the room. Almost back of the room, second to last row.

With slow moments to keep the whirling air intact, she eased it over Shaohao’s flame and it bolstered up in size and flickered uncontrollably. It didn’t go out, nor did any embers from his fire fly out of the compact air Jamyang surrendered it with. She was in control of the flame, letting it blaze brightly, giving the room golden glow.

Impressive. Truly impressive. She’s been a master for a while. Gawa had seen it in the past and she saw it now. Jamyang told her about it and Izumi and Michiko had begged to see it, but she’d held firm and said that they’d see it after her ceremony. 

Jamyang’s amazing. She deserved this. Screw the rules of the temple for having her wait so long. The arrow suited her. She looked great with them.

The atmosphere was tense as she removed the air around the flame, layer by layer, slowly giving back the control to Shaohao. The flame flickered down to its previous size, unharmed.

She’s great and so, so talented.

They clap for her and Aden had to nudge her twice to clap because she was so enthralled by her move. Her chest constricted and warmth spread out to her limbs. Go away.

Go away.

Jamyang found her eyes in the crowd and sent a smile her way. Oh, how it warmed her to her core. She wanted to cry. Please go away. Gawa sent a small one back. Why was this so difficult?

Om ah hum vajra guru padma siddhi. Breathe. In and out, just a little more until she can leave without being rude to them. Incense flowing was next and after that was the people who couldn’t witness it. She could sneak away then. It was hard to breathe. 

It was embarrassing how much she struggled and Aden kept giving her looks out of the corner of her eye.

Just hit the spirit damned bells. The dungchen blared in her ears. Focus.

She hit a few of them, not all of them, but she did hit them. She’d take that. 

She snuck out when the ceremony finished, collapsed on all fours in an empty hallway, and gasped for air. She stumbled on her feet to the room she was staying in before anyone saw her.

She fell on the floor, motionless. Her breaths coming out in gasps, Gawa clutched at her chest and hugged her knees.

“Go away.” Her heart beat loudly underneath her hand; Having the audacity to defy her. Her composure finally broke, and she cried. Her lovely pandas scurried over to comfort her.

That’s how Aden found her, crying in the fetal position on the floor, being comforted by pandas.

“Gawa?” He opened the door, peeking through the small door crack before stepping in. “Are you okay?”

“Fine, just fine. Great.” Bold lie, and Aden knew that.

Aden shuffled over to her and sat down beside her. “Why did you leave? They asked where you were.” Of course they did. Now she felt guilty for leaving.

“It was overwhelming.” Truth. “It was difficult to keep myself composed.” She anticipated his next questions while he thought of them. Something told her she wouldn’t like it.

“... Do you like her?”

“No.” Another lie. “I don’t.”

He was quiet for a couple of seconds and brushed her hair with his hand. “You know, it’s okay if you do.”

“I know that, but I don’t.” Lie. “I don’t like her.” Lie. A terrible lie as well.

She fiddled with the threngwa Jamyang gifted her for her sixth birthday when Aden left.

A sleepy Jamyang and Jampo found her hours later. “Hey,” she hugged her and Gawa tensed. “Where were you?” She pulled away, pouting. “I looked for you, y’know.”

“It was overwhelming.”

“Oh, that’s okay, you should’ve just said so.” Her heart thudded so quickly she feared Jamyang would hear it.

“Um,” she looked around her room, she remembered bringing it with her. Relief washing over her when she spotted the white clay pot she brought with her.

“What?”

“Sit.” She went and grabbed the pot.

“Anywhere?” 

“On the floor is okay.” Gawa joined her quickly afterward. Opening the pot, she scooped up a clear gel and grabbed Jamyang’s right and rubbed the gel in.

“What are you doing?”

“Returning the favour.” Jamyang laughed after seconds of comprehending the situation, a lovely sound and a balm to her nerves.

“I see. It’s not that bad though and I’m not poisoned like you were.”

“Hush!” She glared at her. “I’m returning the favour. Let me take care of you.” Whops, she bit her lip. She didn’t mean to say that.

Jamyang laughed again, and her heart raced. “Okay.”

It wasn’t an excuse to touch her skin. Gawa genuinely wanted to return the favour, but somewhere along the line as she worked, it did turn into an excuse so that she could touch her skin.

She screamed at herself, at her beating heart. Go away!

Notes:

Procrastination and hyperfixations are officially kicking my butt. I am still not done with the other chapter to the Tsering-centric story T_T ugh (I don't know if anyone reads that, but if you do, I'm sorry). Maybe its a bad thing that I started taking Mondays off? Maybe I'll take half of the day off instead so that I can get something done without pulling an all nighter every time I update. But hey, wassup. Gawa's feelings hit her like a bang and it does not go well and she'd like for them to go away, please. Shaohao got to be a stand in and they're officially masters now! Yay! A few more years of pining and they'll be getting together. I am ready for it. Palden is scary when she wants to be and I have the perfect image of her in my head, but I don't trust myself to draw her at my current noobish level. I have three thumbnail sketches of Jamyang and Uma flying over the mountains of Way Tham Suea that I'll be posting on my Tumblr, if anyone is interested in them....   Threngwa: mala Ji la dom chung: red panda Om ah hum vajra guru padma siddhi: mantra of Guru Rinpoche

[casspurrjoybell-20]

Sakura Mochi - Chapter 3b

*Warning Adult Content*

Hatchday - Part 2 - Kamihara Rin 

Akira closed their eyes as Ifeme began to chant, her voice powerful and laced with a lovely melody. Drums began to accompany her as the air seemed to heat. I wiggled around in my seat excitedly, watching intently as the high priestess began to draw symbols in the air with her flame. The golden symbols shimmered in the air, drawing soft gasps from the crowd. The drums intensified, quickening along with the beat of my heart. 

Then, they stopped. The silence that followed was almost enough to kill me but then a golden circle etched its way into the ground at Akira's feet, circling them fully. Then, light shot up into the sky from the stage and my brother's body fell to the stage.

"He's okay," Nobi whispered to me, sensing that I wanted to get up. "Just watch."

Akira remained hunched over on the stage before their body began to glow with a deep cerulean blue light that I recognized as their flame's color. Then, their body began to change. Slowly, it morphed into that of a water dragon, known for its sleek body, fins and long torso like that of a sea serpent. Akira must've taken after our noni, who was a water dragon, too. 

The dragon was beautiful, though, as the light faded away and I could get a full look at my brother's new form. Their scales were a deep blue that glimmered in the light, shifting to a deeper purple as they moved. A roar shook the temple as Akira spread their magnificent wings made to float elegantly in water and took off into the sky. 

The temple erupted in cheers. My family and I stood up to clap, though I wanted to exclaim and whoop like everyone else. But, that was against noble etiquette. Akira flew around the temple, getting the hang of their new form as we all watched. It was beautiful and caused a giddy feeling to bubble inside my stomach. I wanted to do that. I wanted to know what it felt like to fly in the sky like that. 

Sure, I'd flown before but only on the backs of other dragons. I wanted to know what it felt like for myself. I wanted to know what having a flame felt like. The eagerness that overtook me had me jittery in my seat for the rest of the ceremony after we sat down. Akira landed and Ifema gave them time to shift before robing them again. 

"It is now time for Akira to find their mate. Because Akira has not met their destined mate, wherever they may be, the temple has selected a dragon of notable standing and compatibility." 

She aimed her next question at my brother. 

"Do you wish to accept them?"

"I do," Akira said, though I could tell they weren't as confident this time around.

I knew they were nervous. Akira was an awesome big brother but they lacked romantic experience. I wasn't sure if it was on purpose or not. Maybe they were just too nerdy, like Yuki. It seemed to run in the family. But I knew Akira was worried about being a good mate. They'd talked about it before with Noni and Nobi. I, of course, knew they'd make an amazing mate, just like they were an amazing brother.

The sound of gentle music brought me back to the ceremony as Akira and Ifema turned to face our section. Someone standing out of the corner of my eye drew my attention back to the family I'd noticed before. The dragon Akira's age stood up. Tall and graceful, they were breathtaking. Long, white hair with tiny braids intermingled among the locks trailed down their back. Their skin was fair and covered in what looked to be freckles. 

With a slight shift of their weight, they began to make their way down to the platform, walking carefully as the crowds watched. My eyes made their way over to Akira and I noticed the change in their demeanor. They looked...sad. Akira stood tall but their face didn't glow like it did when their dragon was awakened. No, this time, my brother seemed to be putting on a brave face. That worried me. 

They'd seemed nervous before but what had changed? It seemed that something was wrong. I glanced over at my family to see if they noticed too but they weren't paying attention. All eyes were on the fair beauty walking down to the platform to meet with Ifeme and Akira.Once they made it to the platform, Ifeme smiled. She gently guided the two to stand, facing each other, before her. 

"The God of love, Amias, has smiled upon these two young dragons. For though they are not destined mates, their bond will still be strong. They will strengthen their families and bless this land," she announced to the crowd.

Ifeme drew another flame from her chest, grabbing Akira's hands to form them into a cup, palm up. Then, she grabbed the white-haired dragon's hands and placed them over Akira's. Ifeme began to chant again as she twined her flame around their conjoined hands. Once it was done, she turned to my brother. 

"Do you accept Mizuki of the Nitsa Clan to be your mate?"

"I accept," Akira answered.

"And do you, Mizuki of the Nitsa Clan, accept Akira of the Kamihara Clan?"

"I accept," they answered in a voice as delicate as their appearance.

Once the words were spoken, the flame wrapped around their hands began to glow. I watched my brother's face as this happened. Their face was smooth except for the slight twitch of their lips when the flame became even brighter. Ifeme then spoke again, 

"Under the light of Amias and with my authority as High Priestess, I now pronounce you mated in the eyes of the grand priesthood."

After that, the flame fell away from Akira and the dragon's hands. The crowd erupted into cheers once more. Nobi and Noni stood up to clap, followed by Yuki. After a moment, I stood up, too, though I wasn't nearly as enthusiastic as I was when Akira presented their dragon. 

How could I be when my brother didn't seem as enthusiastic as they should be? I was startled out of my thoughts when a hand landed on my head to ruffle my hair. My noni smiled cheekily at me, knowing how much I hated it when she does that to my hair, especially when it was all fancy like it was. 

"Noni," I whined, fixing my hair quickly.

"Hush, child. It's time for us to greet your brother's new family," she said.

New family? It took all of my willpower not to grimace. Akira didn't need a new family. He had us. Noni grabbed my hand to lead me to where Nobi and Yuki were already greeting the family of...Akira's new mate. Ew. Noni guided us over, and she immediately bowed her head in respect. 

"It is a great honor to join our families together, Nitsa Clan."

"The honor is all ours, Hibiki," one of the adults said.

I didn't pay attention to the rest of their conversation as Noni let go of my hand and I found myself looking at where Yuki and that kid were talking. Deciding they were likely more interesting than my parents talking to other adults, I walked over.

"Your hair is so pretty," the kid was telling my sister.

Yuki giggled, a blush covering her cheeks. 

"Thank you. I love yours, too. It looks so soft."

I almost rolled my eyes. What was going on with my family today? It was like we were joining families with the Royal family or something. Which, by the way, we weren't. I may not pay much attention in school but I knew what the Royal family looked like. Yuki noticed me walk over and turned to face me, a smile on her face. 

"Bug. This is Haru. He's Mizuki's younger brother," she introduced.

"Who?" I asked, earning a slap on the arm from my sister. "Ow?"

"You need to pay more attention. Mizuki is Akira's mate, duh," she exclaimed.

The kid she introduced smiled at me widely, showing off a small gap in their teeth. 

"Hi, Bug," he said teasingly.

"That's not my name," I grumbled, crossing my arms and looking away.

What a weirdo. Who's name was actually Bug? And why are they so happy? That caught me off guard when I first noticed the kid. This is all just so fake. Akira should've been able to find his real mate. Not whatever this was. It wasn't real. And now I was stuck with this weird kid whom my sister was fawning over like another weirdo. I was surrounded by them apparently.

"Oh, sorry. It's Rin. I call them Bug because it's...well, I've always called them Bug," Yuki explained hurriedly, giggling after.

"Well, hi, Rin. What a pretty name. It suits you," Haru said.

Ugh. Just compliments all around, huh? What was the kid trying to compensate for? I don't know why but I didn't like him. There was no way someone was this happy to meet the siblings of their sibling's mate. It just felt so forced. And Yuki was falling for it. She loved to parade around how much smarter she was than me but here she was falling for such an obvious trick. Well, as Yuki's sibling, it was my duty to protect her and that meant pulling her away from this charming little devil.

"Yuki, I think Noni wanted to talk to us," I said, reaching out to grab her hand.

"What? But Noni's talking to Haru and Mizuki's parents right now," she pointed out with a frown.

I briefly peeked over at the adults. They really were still talking.

"Well, we should go see what she wanted anyway," I insisted, pulling Yuki's arm a bit.

My sister smiled apologetically at the little devil in front of us. 

"I'm sorry. Our noni needs us for something. We can talk more at the celebration, though."

Celebration? No. 

No more stupid parties with stupid guests and stupid, heavy clothes. I wanted to party before but not now. Not with these people. The charming little devil smiled back, though, despite my glares. 

"It's alright, Yuki. We can talk more later! I'd love to get to know you both better," he said as his eyes shifted to look at me.

With a huff, I pulled Yuki away with me, trying to contain my annoyance. This day should be about Akira. Yes, this is about celebrating my brother. Who cares about his stupid mate's family? I knew the party planned for Akira was going to be amazing, so hopefully, I could enjoy it.  If I could get through tonight, then all will go back to normal. Definitely. 

[moldymacrodose]

COGS AND PIECES - CH 5/12 || Jinx x fem!reader / OC

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a/n: I might spoil you with one more chapter tonight. Enjoy! :3

Chapter 5 - Apple Juice

Cogs remembered thinking that acquainting Jinx was a dangerous thing. You know what? Scratch that. Other people seeing you get along with Jinx put a much bigger target on your back. Cogs heard the whispers as they both walked up to the spot where she usually sat when out for drinks.

It'd be a lie to say she wasn't excited to spend time with Jinx outside of work. The whole picking at her brain thing probably worked better, if they'd talk to each other. It would also be a lie to say that she wasn't worried about word spreading about her newly formed friendship. Silco would find out about this in a matter of minutes. Would it upset him? Going out to a bar is hardly a sin, isn't it?

"Two glasses of the usual", commanded Jinx.

Cogs slouched on the bar and watched the bartender take out a normal glass and a special cup with stars and moons painted all over. He then grabbed a jug of... apple juice and filled the cups with it. The drinks got some straws thrown into them for a good measure and voilà.

Jinx excitedly sipped her juice. The mechanic looked at the straw with amusement. She couldn't remember the last time she used one. She shrugged and took a sip. The juice was definitely more expensive than the watered-down beer and liquors she usually ordered. Huh, it was tastier too.

"Sooo, tell me about yourself", said Jinx using one of her braids as a fake moustache.

Cogs raised an eyebrow at the question.

"What? I overheard people say that.", explained Jinx.

"Isn't this more of a 'first date with a stranger' type of question?"

Jinx leaned in closer and walked her fingers up Cogs' arm before resting her hand on her bicep.

"Aren't we on a date?" asked Jinx in a flirty tone.

Cogs choked on her drink. She started blushing pretty badly.

"I'm just messing with you." The blue-haired girl started laughing and leaned right back to her previous position with a smirk. "What kind of name is 'Cogs' anyway? Your parents really called you that?"

"Uh, I don't know what they called me. I never got to meet them. At least, I don't remember meeting them. Babies don't have the best memory."

Cogs shrugged. There was nothing special about her being an orphan. Every other kid had pretty much the same story to tell about how they ended up being alone, but she still felt uncomfortable talking about it.

"Vice started calling me 'Cogs', because he could 'see the cogs turning in my head' or something." The mechanic mimicked her mentor's voice. "It upset me as a kid", she giggled remembering how mad she was when he called her that back then. "But it stuck. I don't even remember what my 'real' name is anymore."

Jinx straightened in her seat and the straw fell out of her mouth back into the cup. "You don't?"

Cogs shrugged. She couldn't really say much more about it without picking at old wounds and deeply buried memories.

"Should I ask you about your name?", she said after a short silence between them.

"No, you should not." Jinx's face darkened for a split second before switching back to her normal mischievous expression. "What do you think about blowing things up? It's pretty awesome, isn't it?"

Cogs snickered at the sudden change of topic and the evening continued. She couldn't bring herself to say no to the blue-haired girl and the bartender had to very carefully kick them out around closing time. Cogs' sleeping schedule would be absolutely fucked for the next few days.

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[andvys]

Longing (part 1)

Warnings: “enemies” to lovers type of thing, slow burn, cocky!ellie, alcohol consumption

Pairing: Ellie Williams x reader

Ellie always thought you were the prettiest girl she’s ever seen in her life, you had the most beautiful eyes, the way they would always get lighter in the sun and the way they would always light up whenever you were happy about something. She loved how you would always put your hair into a braid and would still have strands of hair fall in front your eyes, you’d always put them behind your ears only for them to get loose again and fall in front of your eyes once more. She loved how fierce and badass you are, always ready for any situation. You are one of the best fighters in Jackson despite your age. Having seen it herself when you patrolled together, you fought skillfully, making Ellie wonder about where you have learned to fight like that. Anytime something went wrong or someone would say something about hunters or a horde of infected coming Jackson’s way, you’d always be first to volunteer to go and get rid of them. The way you held yourself, Ellie was sure that you could actually get rid of a group of people before they’d even make it to the gates of Jackson. She would never underestimate you. You really were a fascinating person.

If you just weren’t such a bitch.

You were nice to everyone but to her, well except for Seth. Always getting into a fight with the older man.

You weren’t necessarily mean to Ellie but you weren’t exactly nice either, you were sarcastic and feisty with her and you loved to push her buttons but you weren’t as good at it as she was, Ellie always had the upper hand in your little banters and she teased the hell out of you, leaving you annoyed making her smirk every time. She’d also jokingly flirt with you or make dirty jokes, leaving you uncomfortable or at least that’s what Ellie thought. She just loved getting on your nerves.

Dina would always try to convince Ellie that you actually liked her and you just had a funny way of showing that. Ellie would laugh at that every time, she knew you had some sort of resentment towards her for whatever reason.

You wanted to be friends with the girl you really did but something about her annoyed the hell out of you and she made you feel weird. You constantly bickered like little kids and you seemed to have a stand off every time you were patrolling together. She just pissed you off.

“You going to the dance tonight kid?” Joel asked you. Right now you were cleaning the rifles and shotguns in the shed you kept them in. Having injured your shoulder while on patrol a few days ago you were off patrol for a few weeks. So you were assigned for keeping the weapons clean. You were annoyed at that, you had worse injuries before and still fought but Maria wouldn’t let you out, not wanting to risk your health. So here you were boring yourself to death, at least Joel came in to keep you company.

“Umm I don’t know, it’s not really my thing.” You said. Laying the rifle on the table you looked at the older man. Since he and Ellie came to Jackson he became something like a mentor to you. You respected the older man, you already learned more from him than your own father and he was there for you whenever you struggled with yourself.

“That’s what Ellie said too.” You avoided looking at him at the mention of Ellie. You thought, he assumed that you two must be friends, considering you’re in the same friend group. You didn’t even know they were talking again.

“She did?” You asked avoiding his eyes.

“Yes.” He studied your face. He was not stupid, anytime he’d bring up Ellie you got quiet and awkward same with Ellie she reacted the same way at the mention of you.

“Are you going?” You asked him, changing the topic quickly.

“Yeah and you should come too.” He said.

“We’ll see, do I get to have a drink?” You asked, giving him a hopeful smile. He never let you drink.

“Are you 21?” He asked giving you a pointed look.

“Ugh come on Joel, I’m 19 plus I’m allowed to blow up things and kill people and infected but I’m not allowed to have a drink every once in a while?” You said shaking your head.

Joel laughed at that “well maybe you can have a little.” He said.

“Finally, I wanna get drunk.”

“You’re allowed to drink but you’re not allowed to get drunk kid.” Joel said sternly.

“I’ll take what I can get.” Smiling at him. He got up and walked towards you, ruffling your hair.

“I gotta get going, I’ll see you at the dance.”

“Ugh, see ya.” You said annoyed at him for messing up your braid.

Stepping out of the little shed once you were done with your assignment you stood there enjoying the fresh air for a second after being in that shed all day.

Deep in thought you were looking down on your way home, not watching where you were going you ran into something or rather someone, almost falling down if it wasn’t the strong arms catching you by your waist, grabbing their arms you looked up at your savior only to realize that it’s Ellie still with her hands on your waist she had a cocky smirk on her face.

“Careful there (y/n), you almost fell for me.” Smirking at you.

You groaned at that, letting go of her arms you took a step back making her hands let go of your waist.

“Do you want me to escort you home? I don’t want you tripping and falling for someone else.” She said, teasing you

“No thanks Williams, now if you’ll excuse me.” You said, trying to walk past her only for her to step in front of you not letting you go yet, probably to annoy you some more.

“You going to the dance tonight?” Ellie asked. Studying your face.

“Yup.” You replied, looking down on your shoes, avoiding looking at her pretty face.

“Nice, I’ll be there as well.” Ellie said.

“I know, Joel told me.” Shit why did you just say that, you wanted to slap yourself now she knew you and Joel talked about her. Now she would think you’re interested in her, well you are but she doesn’t have to know that.

“Oh, talking about me with Joel when you could talk to me?” She teased.

“Whatever I’m gonna go now, see ya Williams.” You said, this time she stepped aside, letting you leave.

She watched you leave, deep in thought about you she didn’t notice Jesse appearing next to her, throwing an arm around her.

“Man you have it bad for our girl here.” Jesse said, smirking at her. He was aware of Ellie having some sort of feelings for you. It wasn’t hard to see that, Ellie always looked like a kicked puppy around you.

“Shut up, Jesse” Ellie said annoyed.

“She likes you too.”

“What?! No she doesn’t. I’m pretty sure she hates me.” Ellie said, looking down, she began walking away.

Jesse followed her. “She doesn’t hate you, I’ve seen how she acts around people she hates and you aren’t one of them.” He said.

“Well I- so what she likes me now?” She asked. Not believing that you could feel anything towards her but hate.

“She likes Dina and Joel or Tommy and Maria, I’m pretty sure she likes me too, I’m awesome.” Jesse smirked at the last part. “But you? I’d say there’s a little more than “like” Ellie.”

“Are you trying to tell me she has feelings for me?” Ellie laughed at that. Jesse was ridiculous and stupid if he thought you could have feelings for Ellie. Not that she didn’t wish for that but it was too good to be true.

“You know what they say about hate. Love and hate are two sides of the same coin.” Jesse confidently said.

Ellie laughed at that, “alright whatever.” She thought about that. She genuinely couldn’t see you liking her.

It was a little crowded at the dance once you got there. You usually avoided going to these things, not liking being around many people but Dina always made you come. Looking at you with her puppy eyes, you couldn’t say no to the girl.

Looking out for Dina and Jesse you weren’t able to find them. Huh she bugged you about being there on time but she herself wasn’t even here yet. Looking around you saw Ellie standing at the bar. You stared at her for a while.

Suddenly she looked your way, catching you staring at her she started smirking, rolling your eyes at her.

She waved at you to come over. You’d rather have Dina and Jesse be there as well, not trusting yourself to be around the girl without anyone around but you didn’t wanted to be alone so you walked over to her.

“Hey (y/n), if I didn’t know any better I’d say you were just checking me out from over there, that’s kinda creepy.” Ellie said with a teasing smile. Leaning against the bar.

Feeling embarrassed now you rolled your eyes.

“You wish, Williams.” You said sitting down on the bar stool next to her.

“What if I do?” She asked you, smirking.

“I- um.” Not knowing what to say you quickly changed the subject. “I need a drink.”

“I’ll get you something, wait here.” She left you alone.

“Alright, thanks I guess.”

Coming back she gave you the drink. Taking it from her hand your fingers touched for a second, avoiding her eyes you took a sip of the drink. Almost coughing at the taste, Ellie laughed at you.

“You never had whiskey did you?” She asked.

Shaking your head “you?” You asked curiously.

“Yeah.” Nodding at her words, you looked around.

Sitting in silence for a while, you watched all the couples dance. Feeling Ellie’s eyes on you the whole time. You glanced at her, noticing that her glass is empty, you figured it’d be a good opportunity to get away from her for a second.

“Should I get you a new one?” You asked her. “A drink I mean.”

“Uh sure.” She gave you her glass, you walked towards the bartender guy. Ellie had a chance to admire you from the side.

Waiting for the bartender to bring you your drinks, you saw someone heading your way from the side, turning to look who it was you saw it was Joel.

“Hey kid.” He pulled you in for a hug. He always gave the best hugs, they were always warm and safe.

“Hi Joel.” Smiling at him.

“I see you and Ellie are alone tonight.” He looked towards Ellie, who was taking a seat at one of the smaller tables, waiting for you.

“I- yeah. We are waiting for Dina and Jesse.”

“I’m afraid they’re not coming tonight. Haven’t they told you?” He asked.

“What? But I- they told us they’d be here.” You said confused. Why would they tell you come here if they weren’t even here.

“I talked to Jesse today, he said him and Dina are having a date tonight.” Joel said.

“Oh well, I didn’t know.” You laughed. Great now you it was just you and Ellie.

The bartender brought you your drinks, putting them in front of you hitting you with the smell of whiskey, you gave Joel a cheeky smile.

He put a hand on your shoulder, “drink responsibly kid, and take care of Ellie.” He said.

“Yes of course, I promise.”

“Alright, well go on and have fun.”

“Alright you too Joel, I’ll see you.” You smiled at him taking the drinks in both hands you walked over to Ellie. Setting them down on the table you sat down next to Ellie.

“Well it seems like our friends have ditched us.” You said annoyed.

“What?” Ellie furrowed her eyebrows at that.

“Yeah Joel said they have a date night.”

“Great.” Ellie suddenly felt nervous. Being alone with you would surely end bad, she was scared that she’d accidentally confess her stupid crush on you or something.

“I know we’re not friends or whatever but I feel like getting a few drinks, what about you?” You asked. Ellie hated that you didn’t even see her as a friend but you usually avoided her like the plague and you’d never ask her to hang out with you, a year ago you’d just leave if none of your friends were here but Ellie guessed you must’ve warmed up to her a little if you asked her to keep you company.

“Yeah sure.”

Throughout the whole night you and Ellie bickered about every little thing, sarcastically replying to everything the other would say. You definitely wouldn’t be friends anytime soon but you two did kind of enjoy this night.

You were currently walking home side by side. Having a discussion about weapons. Arriving in front of your home, you talked for a few more minutes, fighting on which weapon is the better choice, in any situation.

“Alright, whatever Williams you’re right, I’m wrong.” You said, rolling your eyes at the girl. Walking backwards to your door.

“You know I’m right (y/n)!” Ellie said teasing you.

“Go home Williams!”

“Yes ma’am.” Ellie grumbled, turning around she started to walk back home.

Ellie thought about this night. It was the first time you willingly spent time alone with her. She enjoyed it even if you were still your usual sarcastic self, she still enjoyed it. Hoping to see more of you, without having the rest of your friends around. She liked to be alone with you, not that she would admit it to anyone.

[blackbutlerfandomnerddomain]

May I have fluff headcanons for the dads from dream daddy with the dadsona?

Got ya!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

☕ Mat Sella 🎶

- These two go to concerts whenever money isn't tight

- Whenever Dadsona is down Mat would sing to him while holding him and sometimes this would lead to awkward slow dancing in the room they're in. Yes, even the bathroom

- Whenever Mat's anxiety gets too much or is down Dadsona does whatever he could to make him feel better. Favorite music? Done. Awesome dishes made by your's truly? Perfect! Pot? Pffft, nothing stops Dadsona to make this man feel better

- Dadsona and him do duets during Open Mic, stuff like Monster by Dodie to Falling Slowly

- Writing random songs is a favorite between the two cause they can simply goof-off yet somehow make a bomb song

🎣 Brian Harding 🎣

- Fishing. Lots of it

- They watch a lot house flipping shows

- I feel Brian would try and convince him to grow a beard

- Pokemon nicknames

- The two knows each of their family recipes by heart

- Brian's a cuddle bear

🍆 Robert Small 🍺

- Wanna bet if a bar has a karaoke part they'd be there singing random songs

- Hear about haunted locations they're down to spend about a weekend to hang out

- With that they have several saving jars for their top haunted or spooky places

- "Best At Hide And Seek" Big Foot shirts and "I've seen the Moth Man" shirts is just one of many gifts

- Dadsona has helped Robert with his drinking and self loathing when they officially started dating

- Dadsona has full on bought/made Robert a Mothman plush that smells like jasmine or lavender and Robert nuzzles it whenever he's stressed and away from Dadsona

🦇 Damien Bloodmarch 🥀

- Dadsona braids his hair sometimes

- As mentioned in the Damien, Lucien, and Dadsona post yesterday the two attend the gardens a lot and both help at the shelter

- Dadsona draws Damien a lot (The Dadsona I made was very much a artist and writer)

- Goth poem reading nights are the two favorite dates that isn't a hauntingly beautiful candle lit dinner with deep red wine

- Damien gives Dadsona soft kisses against his neck lace while Dadsona gives his fingers and knuckles smooches back

- Any form of Victorian and/or Gothic movie/documentary the two HAVE to watch it right away and a few times after

- They often use the vows from Corpse Bride whenever they're extra flirty

🏃‍♂️ Craig Cahn 🏕️

- Craig and Dadsona go to the bating cages after or without drinking some alcohol

- I see them going on beautiful hikes and visits of the zoo

- In one or two dates they went to their college town and go on dream dates the two weren't able to do since they were dating others

- You know those scenes in romance movies where the two lovers break into a closed pool and have a fun time maybe sipping some beers or drinks while they splash around and maybe kiss? They've that for sure. Maybe even at that water fall

- They at times dare each other in a goofy and/or flirty way like "I bet you can't kiss me without fainting bro" or "Bro, bet I can't bench you?"

📚 Hugo Vega 📖

- Dadsona and him kisses once or twice in the museum or bookstore

- Dadsona cried during Les Miserable and Hugo comforted his ugly crying mess

- Dadsona helps Hugo with grading sometimes

- He chaperone field trips and dances a lot

- These two watch a lot of historian documentary

- Hugo often recommends Dadsona some books whenever they're just alone or a day before a date

- It's thanks to Hugo that Dadsona now owns a lovely Dead Poet Society type suit and sometimes call him "Oh Captain, my captain."

🛥️ Joseph Christansen ✝️

- Dadsona was there to help him through every step of him and Mary's divorce and the three all remained pretty good friends after the finalization

- During one yacht trip they copied the scene from Titanic

- Scratch that, a lot of scenes from Titanic

- They both do Church and/or Youth related bake sales a lot

- Due to the obvious stuff, Joseph had a while to come out of his divorce and new relationship, but Dadsona was there to help him through it yet again and that alone gave Joseph a lot of courage to hold his hand after every sermon

- Whenever the church gets a homophobic/transphobic/biphobic/panphobic/acephobic person or rumor Joseph and Dadsona will go out of their way being cute with each other and loving to their kids

- I like to think after the divorce Dadsona helped Mary find a wonderful person

- Joseph kisses Dadsona's temples and the center of his palms while Dadsona kisses the bridge of his nose and behind his shoulder and/or his tattoo area whenever they don't kiss on the lips

ALL THE DADS

- Whenever Dadsona is sad or lonely they all cuddle him with each bringing stuff to make him feel better, examples being cookies from Joseph and Damien's warmed coat etc.

- They all have a special plan with dates from either certain days or different moments of one day

[le0watch]

reki watches as langa pulls at the long strands of her in frustration, her right foot still in place on the top of her board. reki tilts her head to the side, watching the way she runs her fingers through thick strands of blue hair, her eyes shut with her annoyance. "it's so long," langa muttered, jyst loud enough for reki to hear. reki's own hair is a mess, as always, and is being held back by her signature headband. she also slid in a few hair pins to keep the more defiant bits back as well. "maybe i should get it cut."

reki frowns deeply at the idea. she loves langa's hair, especially with how long and luscious it is. it was one of reki's favorite attributes on her best friend, and how well it brought out her icy blue eyes and her pale white skin. it frames her face nicely, and two strands fall over her face on both sides.

she pulls at the ponytail holders on her wrist absentmindedly- she always keeps some just incase her headband wasn't working. then, an idea forms in her mind and she pushes to her feet, approaching langa. langa pauses in her frustrated but quiet complaints to look at her.

"here, let me help," reki said, moving to stand behind her. she halts, and when reki starts running her own fingers through her hair, her hands drop to her sides. she bends her knees a little to make the process easier for reki, her cheeks a light red. which was cute, though reki wasn't sure why she's blushing. maybe she was getting hot. "i'll braid it."

she focuses on pulling the correct amount of hair strands to the proper places. she takes a moment to appreciate just how soft and silky langa's hair is, too, and faintly smells the shampoo she uses: a mixture of pine and mint. which fits her so so well, and becomes one of reki's favorite smells in an instant.

reki gently guides long strands of blue hair to and from, twisting them together. she makes sure to keep them tight, but doesn't pull too hard. langa stays silent in front of her, the pink tint on her pale cheeks remaining. reki should grab her some water once she was finished; just to make sure she wasn't overheating.

she finishes the first braid, tying it with a ponytail holder and tossing it over langa's shoulder. she then moves to the other side to continue with the motions. they'd fallen into a comfortable silence, with reki sticking her tongue out in concentration while langa sits incredibly still, fingers twisting in the fabric of the yellow skirt she's wearing today. reki really likes seeing her in skirts. maybe it was because of the fat crush she has on her or maybe just because she looks great in them, she wasn't completely sure. she's just glad she has a pair of spandex on underneath, so that when she's skating she doesn't reveal anything.

when she skates wearing a skirt, reki almost becomes entranced, watching the fabric billow this way and that over her legs, lightly brushing the skin of her thighs. reki doesn't personally like to wear skirts- only on days she was feeling more feminine, which were rare- but she could definitely appreciate them when langa wears them. reki mostly wears pants and shorts, both kinds ripped all over, infuriating the teachers at school.

she finishes the second braid, and brings it over langa's other shoulder. then, she steps to langa's front to look her work over. the braids are still long enough to drop over her chest, the tips just reaching her stomach. reki didn't miss any strands of hair, too, so there aren't any stray bits sticking out like porcupine needles. the pink flush was still present on her cheeks as she nervously picked at the hem of her shirt, now, which reki finds adorable.

"that help?" reki asked. langa nods, so reki grins widely. "good. that means you don't have to cut, right?"

langa looks at her shyly through her lashes. "do you not want me to?" she asked, just about a mutter. reki tilts her head to the side.

"not really," reki replied honestly, and langa's eyes widen. the blush darkens in color, but somehow stays only on her cheeks. reki needs to find her a waterbottle. "i like your hair, i think it's pretty."

langa's eyes only widen further, and she bites her bottom lip, teeth pulling at the chapped skin. reki should also buy her some chapstick, since her lips were constantly dry and chapped. she'd taken notice of this fact, since she always somehow ends up staring at them. which was a problem. since they're friends. and she should not feel the constant urge to lean in and kiss her-

"okay," langa said, helpfully pulling reki from her spiraling thoughts. the taller girl runs a finger along the top of her braid, feeling the intricate bumps and curves. reki almost pouts, remembering their height difference. why does langa have to be so tall, while shes so short? how did langa end up being 6'1 while reki got stuck with being 5'9? it wasn't fair. probably the white person dna or something. she hardly reaches the other girl's chest, though she wasn't complaining about that view. "i won't cut it."

reki grins, and nods eagerly. "awesome!!" she exclaimed, and then gestures to the board. "come on, i'll show you how to rail slide."

langa nods just as eagerly, and they both hop on their boards. reki forgot to get her a waterbottle.

[with-my-murder-flute]

by the sword (Nile genfic, 2.6k)

Fic summary: Nile learned fencing and longsword and hand-to-hand fighting long before she ever met Andy's small army. But learning with them is a new form of difficult. Not because they've got thousands of years more experience (though they do), but because this time the practice doesn't stop when somebody gets hurt.

So she has to learn about war and how you balance it out with peace. Figure out how they do it and who she wants to be. And decide which weapons suit her best.

Content notes: Explicit depiction of the injuries Nile gets when training in knife fighting and quarterstaff combat with Nicky and Joe. There are also discussions of the physical damage done by different kinds of weapons, the butchering of animals, and people cutting off their own body parts in industrial accidents. (Oh, and a positive/sympathetic portrayal of Nile as a Christian)

They promised that in March they'd start teaching Nile how to fight with a sword, but when March came, Nicky gave her a knife.

A hauntingly familiar one, even though she'd never touched it before. For a second she thought it was her own, the Ka-Bar she planted in Andy's shoulder the day they met. Instead, as she turned it over, finding it familiar in every groove and contour, she found it an anonymous and identical match to her dad's instead. Not new, with the black paint worn down around the edges of the handle, but not a knife she knew. It could have been used by any Marine in the world except her. Except her father.

"You know too much," Joe explained from the side of the hangar, where he'd tumbled an umbrella stand of swords out onto a tarp and started removing their rust with fine-grit sandpaper. "We're not knights or cavaliers. For them, swordfighting was about honour. There were rules. We don't have any of that."

Nile knew going into this that nothing she knew so far was real swordsmanship. Like yes, she could fence; she'd competed in foil and saber for two years as a teenager. But that was closer to stagefighting than actual combat. It was all so staged and carefully managed. Even in her longsword league they said over and over again, it was a martial sport, not actual combat. They could imagine what it might have been like—could land heavy blows on armour, could mime falling down dead—but that wasn't the reality of it.

It seemed to her that the purpose of beginning with knife-fighting lessons was to go over territory she already knew, and do it for real this time. Nicky said he had something else in mind, some principle of combat he meant to teach. But that wasn't what Nile noticed.

What Nile noticed was that this time, she really died.

The old people argued it over, about how to teach Nile. Andy's example made them newly-cautious, but this was the way they'd always trained: You had to do it through blood and pain, you had to fight when you were still resurrecting. It was the way Andy and Quynh had trained Nicky and Joe.

Nile wondered, in the back of her mind, if being trained like that had something to do with the way Booker... well, Booker. After he'd already had such terrible experience of war that he'd wanted to desert. But that was the kind of thing she didn't air out loud, because they'd only just stopped having that kind of useless, circular, self-flagellating argument. She figured she'd keep her own peace on Booker.

She also opined, after hearing them wrangle over it for a day or two, that she'd rather practice with live weapons and get injured among friends than play it safe and incur a dangerous injury among enemies.

And when the knife fighting started, she was grateful they hadn't moved directly to longswords.

They taught knights how to do this, Nicky said, by having them slaughter and butcher animals. It taught you your way around muscles and tendons and joints. He offered to take her to a bullfight sometime, which she didn't say sounded so barbaric she had to wonder why PETA bothered with picketing rodeos.

He said that after her trachea healed over. She hadn't actually died that time; you had to aim further up or to the side to get the carotid artery. But the horror—not actually the pain, but the horror of feeling the air wheeze through the gash in her throat—had been so overwhelming that she'd barely resisted the pin he got her in. She'd just shuddered with her arms behind her back and his weight pressing her down until it healed, and tapped out of the rest of the afternoon. He'd been understanding when she didn't want to be around him for a bit, and let Joe gather her into a hug and let her cry.

That was when he told her about the bulls. She told him about Chicago's meatpacking district, about the old men she knew who'd butchered hogs every day of their lives for decades. About how they said they got numb to it, until one day one of them cut off his thumb with a machine and didn't feel it, until the guy next to him looked over and noticed all the new blood. About how after you see too much violence, your brain just stops processing it. About how a study on kids in the next neighbourhood over from hers had shown they had permanently elevated levels of cortisol, a sign that their bodies were under stress all the time and didn't know how to calm down.

Those were the kind of conversations Andy couldn't stay in the room for. She slunk off somewhere and got drunk, and you saw her the next morning, maybe. Nile used to judge her a lot more for it, but the day her throat got cut she let Joe and Nicky feed her a red wine as soft as velvet and fell asleep pressed against Joe on the sofa and understood, deeper than words, just how much keeping sane meant feeling anything other than your body shattering into pain.

Nicky braided her hair, the next day. Slow and careful, a little unpracticed, singing ballads in a language that wasn't exactly dead, but only had a few thousand speakers left in northern Italy. Their composer hadn't been good, exactly, but they'd been snowed into a castle with him one winter in the 1680s, so Nicky remembered his entire repertoire. Nile listened to the music and knew he'd refuse if she offered to record it, or write it down. One of the songs felt like the length of a novel (but was, when she checked her phone, more like one hour twenty) and by the end of it she was singing the chorus along with him, and it occurred to her that she could simply ask him to teach her.

"You can't rescue every one you see," she remembered her mom saying, when she found a half-stunned bird on the sidewalk. That was what it felt like with languages.

That afternoon Andy took her to the market. Ostensibly it was for groceries, but Andy didn't do simple errands, especially not when it involved food. She stopped to smell fruit Nile had never heard of; Google told Nile that medlar and quince were related to apples and also, apparently, roses. Nile had to try pine nuts, wild mustard, and three different kinds of yogurt drinks, one of which tasted of roses. Andy protested when she added a bag of potatoes to the load, saying they were bland, but Nile, who'd had enough of turnips, sweetly told her to pay the fuck up.

If you were lonely, and hurting, and didn't have someone to hold you, you could comfort yourself like this. Sunshine and sweetmeats and the steady hands of friends. Something, but probably still not enough. Nile understood it but it made her chest ache. She felt, sometimes, a little glad that Andy would die someday, the way families felt helping someone keep alive from cancer. Of course you wanted them to be alive, but you didn't want them to suffer.

Joe moved her on to staff fighting the next day. It was, he said, not the most useful of weapons in the current day and age, since it was most useful against long bladed weapons, "And who else but us uses those?" But there was some kind of theoretical basis behind the progression of her teaching, from weapon to weapon, and after knife came staff.

To tell the truth, Nile liked it. She'd learned about quarterstaff in her longsword weapons, as something that could defeat a swordsman, but nobody anybody she knew actually practiced it, because while you could wear percussion-resistant cloth and keep safe with blunted swords, there was simply no defending your bones against the percussive strike of a giant whirling stick.

There was something less offensive about getting your skull split or your collarbone broken, compared to getting stabbed. Partly it was because Joe was just a much nicer teacher, slower and more patient, while Nicky would keep stabbing you as you fought to reach your own knife. But also it felt more impersonal, more like an accident that had happened to you.

Okay, and it was also more fun. Knives created small imaginary hemispheres of pain, the angle of the arm as it swept out. Quarterstaves were huge, so long that if you wanted to get around them, sometimes it was literally easier to flip yourself into the air or dump your opponent to the ground instead of getting the staff to move. The first time she managed to run up a wall to get leverage on him, it felt so awesome she didn't actually mind that much that he popped her shoulder out taking her back down.

It was bloody and violent and really would have been impossible if dying had been a significant barrier for them. It made Nile laugh in a high-on-endorphins way, because it felt like she could finally push past the pain and find a place beyond her limits. It felt like being free. Like all her life she'd been wearing a heavy armor of caution, knowing she'd had to keep herself alive, and now she just felt the lightness of taking it off.

There were tears at the back of that laughter, about everything she'd lost because of it, but she pushed that away and went to shower. She and Joe spent the evening on Youtube, watching videos of capoeira and wushu, while the other two made a batch of some kind of pickled egg they thought they remembered from three hundred years ago.

Nile hugged Andy sometimes, because she looked like she needed to be hugged. Andy almost never turned her down.

A long time ago, she thought she remembered, holding a sword had seemed to transport her to some other time. Some other place. Like the sword had been a tangible connection to the past, to a time when things felt... clearer, or truer, or more real somehow. Like the feeling the word "honour" gave her, of something echoing and amplifying through a vaulted space. There was a time when people fought with swords for what they believed in. There was a time when you knew what was right and what was wrong and laid down your life accordingly.

She'd been twelve and believed in fairytales. So sue her.

The swords in their armory spelled out a long story of misery and war. When she held them now, Nile felt like she could feel the bodies that had come into contact with their blades. Curved single-bladed sabers and scimitars, ideally wielded from horseback, meant for a decisive downward chop. Nicky's giant longswords, meant to peel an armored knight like a tin can. (He'd used it, he said, to similar effect on a tank once or twice.) Andy's axes showed her age; before they had the metallurgy to make an entire blade, it was better to use a wood polearm with a blade on the end, and focus the sharp metal to a curved edge, to as small a surface area as possible.

Andy's axes showed her age, but not theirs; they were less than ten years old. Steel, especially steel that came into contact with blood, aged fast enough (and could only take so much of a beating) that the old people knew and had opinions on all the modern replica manufacturers. The oldest blades in the collection were used at Waterloo, only a little more than 200 years ago.

(Nile wondered, as she polished one and rubbed a state-of-the-art hydrophobic finish on it, if the quarterstaff lessons were actually preparing her to fight Booker, should she ever find herself opposing him. It was the kind of thing she couldn't help but think about the logistics of. Surely firearms would be more effective, she initially reasoned, except... guns jammed, guns broke, guns overheated, guns ran out of bullets. And then your gun became a very expensive bludgeon. And you're facing a swordsman who's had 200 years to train. So... why not try a very big stick?)

She knew that even this team could betray her. Even they could fight for the wrong cause. They'd supported revolutions that turned into dictatorships and fought alongside people who turned out to be monsters. There was no promise, no moral certainty, in violence.

So she felt really stupid about it, but the truth was that holding a sword... still brought back that old emotion. That feeling of being capable of doing things. Fighting for a better world. It made her feel taller. It made her feel like her life had a purpose that she'd been heading towards since she was young.

Like God had called her for a special purpose.

Which she'd never say to any of the rest of them, since Andy had been a god and Nicky had been a holy warrior and Joe had broken down completely once, when they let him get too close to a newspaper. They'd only ever hear it with the weight of all the horror they had seen.

So instead she had to carry it as a private conviction, a calling she would have to follow by herself, her own career to make holy instead of horrific. Like when she joined the Marines. Freer, in some ways, but even more out of her depth, not sure she totally understood the situations she was injecting herself into.

The fact that she wasn't sure she ever could walk the path of righteousness and keep herself always on the side of good... was absolutely no inducement not to try. It never had been.

"Picked one yet?" Andy asked, from the door.

"What, you guys weren't gonna pick one for me?" Nile asked, craning her neck around. Andy had her hands buried in the pockets of her jacket, smiling faintly.

"Some things, nobody can pick for you," she said. She picked up one of Nile's polished sabers and admired the sheen along its blade. "Your last-ditch weapon, least of all."

Nile already had a secret favourite of all the swords, but what she found herself saying was, "I want us to do some training in de-escalation."

Andy looked aside from the blade. "Sorry?"

Nile took a deep breath, her heart suddenly pounding like crazy. "That's what I was trained in, aside from combat. De-escalating conflicts. When I was a security guard, we... I got a course on mental health crisis from a guy who does hostage negotiation. I want... we should practice it."

She was ready to be seared by Andy's instant, caustic sarcasm. By a reminder that they were a specialist unit brought in when negotiation failed. Instead Andy looked back at the sword, twisting it to catch the light. "Was it useful?"

"Yeah," Nile said, trying not to let the breath shudder out of her in one long exhale. She didn't want Andy to know how nervous she'd been. "There's a... a lotta conflicts that don't have to turn violent, if you just approach it in..." She ran out of steam for an instant, and shrugged. "If you know how to respond."

"See if there's a webinar," Andy said, which flabbergasted Nile so much—coming from Andy!—that she didn't have anything to say while Andy set the saber down and sauntered back out of the building.

Nile sat for a good long while after that, surrounded by swords on a floor stained with her own blood, and got her breathing under control. Eventually she took her knife out of its sheath and looked it over.

It felt silly, to take a sacred oath on a Ka-Bar knife.

"I swear to almighty God," she said to it, anyway, "that I will use you as my last resort. Not my first."

[girlboss-molina]

Be Who You Are (No Compromise)

A Julie and the Phantoms Modern Royalty AU

Chapter 8: Rules of Engagement

AO3 Link

Words: 8988

-----

Julie POV

…

Julie remembered the day they’d first announced the marriage. She, Ray, Carlos, and Reggie were visiting Tambor, before Queen Claire and King Xavier had sprung the question on them. Ray had vehemently disagreed, but they’d insisted that he raise it to the council. And when it passed, Julie remembered the exact green glow of the screens reflecting on her dad’s face, and she’d shaken her head, stormed out of the Tamborian royal office with Alex right behind her, angry tears streaming down her face as she’d ran back to her room.

She and Alex were pissed. They were angry, scared, sad, horrified, and betrayed. Alex especially. He’d never come out to his parents, but he’d still explained how horrible he felt, as if his parents were doing it to spite him.

There had been lots of not-so-royal language used that day, and today was no different.

“ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?” Julie shouted, not caring if her walls weren’t soundproof. She’d stayed silent the whole walk back to her room with Alex and the brief passing of Reggie, who’d gotten the details from Alex. Now it was her time to freak out.

“I’m officially ready to fake my death, Lex,” she decided, fists by her sides. She hated this. Since when did they get to control her life? It was her life, for God’s sake! Princess or not, nobody should have to be in an arranged marriage.

Her voice choked.

“I’m not, really,” she admitted, “but I want to. If it means we get to run our own goddamn lives, I”ll do it.” She tore a hand through her hair and blinked back tears to no avail.

“I’m so sorry,” Julie finally said. “You don’t deserve any of this.”

“Neither do you.” Alex mussed his hair and sat on the end of her bed as she paced. “It’s majorly fucked up.”

“It really is! I didn’t choose to be Princess Julie Molina, Heiress to the throne of Dahlia.” She said her own long title in a faux posh voice, gagging at the sound and bile rising in her throat. She walked into her bathroom, fixing her hair to be natural and down, nothing braided or tied. Angrily scrubbing tears away, Julie stalked to her closet and changed into sweatpants and a big t-shirt, not bothering to pick up her suit off the floor.

“We have to raise major hell for the council members who voted for this,” Alex decided as she walked back out.

“As much as possible,” she agreed.

Worn out, she flopped next to him. He wrapped his arm around her and she squeezed him in a friendly hug, letting his head rest on her shoulder. She felt a tear soak through her shirt, but didn’t care. He needed this.

“Fucking hell,” he said.

“Amen to that.” That elicited a halfhearted laugh, and Julie smiled a bit.

“It’ll be okay,” she finally said.

“No, it won’t. But we’ll survive.”

“Yeah.”

…

“Ow, Mira!” Julie exclaimed, trying not to move as Mira quickly moved the pin by her side as she marked the fabric for the outline of her wedding dress. It was a very tedious process; Julie looked like she was wrapped in giant pieces of fabric and lace… because she pretty much was. Mira and two other tailors were taking exact measurements to make sure the dress fit perfectly, then they would sew it and make adjustments as needed.

Unfortunately, that meant Julie had to stand very, very still and hope she wouldn’t get stabbed by the needles.

She wasn’t having much luck.

If she’d counted correctly, Mira (and the other girls, Soleil and Jenna), had accidentally poked her twelve times, in varying places, but generally around the side, waist, and shoulders.

“Sorry!” Mira said through her teeth. “Just trying to get this fitted properly.”

“It’s okay,” she sighed, doing her best not to slouch. MIra’s hands fell.

“If you want to talk about it…”

“Thanks.” In all honesty, she did not- especially since she didn’t know Soleil or Jenna very well, and didn’t want to spill her guts about hating the wedding when they were around. Plus… talking about it just made it more real.

“Your highness, this dress is going to be stunning on you,” noted Soleil excitedly, further proving her point.

“I bet,” she said with as much faux enthusiasm as she could muster. “You guys are incredible.”

“Aww, thanks!” replied Jenna. Julie gave a smile, but it looked more like a grimace than anything else.

…

After the grueling process of getting legally stabbed by her best friend over and over with tiny blades for the purpose of creating a goddamn wedding dress, Julie changed into more comfortable clothes; a t- shirt and jeans.

There was going to be a storm blowing in tonight, so she figured she may as well go outside before she would end up soaked. But, who would she find sulking in the field but a certain snarky gay?

She stood for a moment, watching him pick at the grass, before finally sighing.

“Why don’t we go work on a song?” she suggested. “I can get Luke and Reggie, plus the rest of the group if you want, and we can work out some stress.” Alex shrugged. Julie waited for a few minutes, hating how depressed he was. She was too, of course, but what kind of friend would she be if she let one of her best friends sit alone and feel sorry for himself? Besides, she was aching to work on song.

“Alright,” he finally replied, and Julie smiled.

“Awesome.” She stuck her hands in her pockets

“Let’s go, drummer boy.”

…

Playing the piano had always been therapeutic for Julie, until her mom passed away. Then she’d hardly been able to listen to any music without being reminded of her. But she was back on her groove, and the keys were familiar in the way you could sink into your best friend’s arms and know you were home.

She played the opening chords and began to sing, closing her eyes and feeling like it was just her and the piano in a universe of music and colors.

When Luke, Reggie, and Alex jumped in at the chorus, she opened her eyes and jumped up with the mic, dancing around as she belted out each note with more conviction than before. She walked around the room as she sang, dancing with Reggie, Alex, and Luke. She wandered over to where the rest of the group was sitting and dancing along, and she gave Willie a high-five as she passed him.

Luke sang the second prechorus with her, and the smile on his face only grew. THey harmonized each note, voices melding together as the music rose and Alex jumped in with the drums as they went into the next chorus, singing an ode to hope and persistence.

During the bridge, Luke held her gaze the entire time, and her heart soared as she belted out the last bridge note, riffing as the others held the background vocals.

When the song ended, her hair was frizzy and heart pounding, but she felt alive and free. She fistbumped Reggie, grinning, and hugging Flynn, who told her over and over that they were incredible, and that she was assigning herself the role of band manager. Carrie had automatically volunteered to be the costume designer, and Mira had taken offense to that, because “I’m literally her lady-in-waiting, Wilson!”

Julie couldn’t help but laugh at her friends.

“Okay,” Flynn finally said, “girl time.” Julie laughed but agreed, waving to the guys as she wrapped her arms around Flynn’s and Mira’s shoulders, Carrie on Flynn’s other side.

They walked out of the studio and wandered all throughout the palace, chattering mindlessly about everything and nothing. Mira insisted that mint chocolate chip ice cream was the superior ice cream, to which Flynn retorted “totally! Like, are you ever eating chocolate and you think ‘hey, you know what would go great with this? Toothpaste!’” Carrie had promptly lost her shit, and Julie was the only one on team rocky road.

“Personally,” Carrie said, “I-”

“We know, you like neapolitan you fucking lesbian,” Flynn said with a grin. Carrie gasped in mock offense.

“Hypocrisy at its finest! You’re just as lesbian as they come.”

“I never claimed to not be a hypocrite,” Flynn defended. Carrie huffed and crossed her arms.

“I’m breaking up with you. We’re broken up now.”

“Fine, but I get custody of Julie!”

“Wait, since when am I your child?”

“Since we’re both older than you,” they told her in unison.

“Uh huh, yeah, by a couple weeks! I’m a legal adult, and neither of you get custody of me.”

“I’m disowning you,” Carrie declared.

“Me too,” agreed Flynn.

“Me three,” Mira chimed in.

“Oh for the love of-”

Their playful bickering continued for at least an hour, wandering the long halls of the palace, weaving in and out of corridors and dragging their hands along railings.

The wedding never crossed Julie’s mind once.

Despite the whole situation, they still managed to be lighthearted and have useless arguments, bicker and love each other all the same. Julie hugged them closer, relishing the warmth of having them close to her. Carrie’s strawberry shampoo was faintly there and she breathed it in, calming immediately. Flynn linked their pinkies together, and Mira kept her hand on Julie’s shoulder. Julie didn’t realize she was crying until Flynn asked if she was okay.

“Yeah,” she said, and it was strangely true. She wiped her eyes. “I’m not even upset right now, but I’m still crying. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

“I do,” Carrie informed her.

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. Absolutely nothing.”

-----

Reggie POV

…

Reggie sat in the studio, suit vest draped over an empty guitar stand as he sat on the piano bench, sleeves rolled to his elbows and hands on the keys, silent but arranging themselves in chords. He hummed to himself quietly, sighing and closing his eyes.

As he played the first chord, soulful and melancholy, he started to sing.

“We’re no strangers to the dark

Every time we find the light

But no matter how much it hurts

Glowsticks have to break before they shine.”

He closed his eyes, letting the chords play only from muscle memory. Normally, he didn’t do much songwriting on his own, but this song, Glowsticks, was one that he’d written for Julie after Rose’s passing. He’d never gotten around to giving it to her, though, because of how much her love for music was affected. For a year, she hadn’t played or sang a note, and he knew that it would’ve been too painful.

Eventually, he’d forgotten about it.

But when he’d seen the heartbroken look on her face the hour before, coming back from the royal office with dry eyes but hollow and chipped, the memory of the page he’d torn out of his journal and stuffed in a drawer came flooding back.

And now here he was, like it was only yesterday he’d written the chords, shaky with tears but determined. This time, his eyes were dry and his hands steady, but his heart ached for Julie, for Alex, for Luke, for Willie.

His voice started out lighter and airy, with a slight rasp as he played the soft melody along with the base, but as he reached the second chorus, his voice sank to his chest, belting out the lyrics and playing the piano strongly, chords echoing in the soundproof room, the acoustics bending his voice to all angles until he was wrapped in a song of tragedy and pain and strength and hope, earthy and rich but airy and light.

“So breathe

Just breathe

You're already shining

You can break

You’ll be okay

I'll keep you safe until you rise.”

His breath shook as he flipped the last word from a powerful chest voice to a soft, airy falsetto, sighing as he played the last, low chord.

Reggie left his eyes closed, slowly taking his hands off the keys, resting his elbows on his knees and turning, finally letting the light pierce his eyes.

…

“Your highness,” called a palace staff member. “If I could steal you for a few minutes, could you give your opinions on possible place settings for the wedding?”

“Yeah sure,” Reggie replied, standing from the large leather couch in the palace living room, doing his best to smile at the young man. He was tall, and muscularly built, but his freckles, wide brown eyes, and messy red hair were proof that he was probably the human embodiment of sunshine.

“We were thinking white with gold accents,” he said, swiping through a few photos on his tablet. Reggie did his best to pay attention; they were, admittedly, beautiful. Soft white tablecloths and napkins lined with plates, each plate with gold paint on the rim, the wine glasses clear cut crystal, the same golden lining as the plates.

“That’s beautiful,” Reggie agreed. “Julie and Alex would love that.”

“I’m glad you think so! My advisor was skeptical, but I think it’s a nice scheme.”

“I do too.” He looked away, hating that he was giving suggestions for his sister’s unwanted wedding.

“Your highness, are you alright?”

“Yeah,” he assured him. “Yeah, I’m fine. Thanks.”

“Sure,” he said softly. “Did you have any thoughts for flowers?”

“Dahlias,” Reggie said after a moment. “They were our mom’s favorite, and they’re Julie’s favorite too. I think she’d like purple.”

“Purple dahlias,” the man repeated. He opened an interior design modeling app, dragging tables around the virtual room and adding glass vases with bouquets of dahlias, plus the occasional orchid scattered throughout. Reggie stared in awe; even though it was just a digital rendition of the ballroom, it was gorgeous. The crackled marble floors shone in the light of lanterns and string lights, adorned with pillars and tables arranged in neat rows. He felt like he was in the ballroom, getting a peek at the future.

And yet, his heart sank.

It seemed to do that a lot lately.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Reggie met the man’s eyes. “You seem pretty down.” He sighed.

“I am, but I’ll be okay.”

“Alright. I’m Elliot, by the way.”

“I’m Reggie! Nice to meet you.”

“You too!”

…

“Dad, are you sure there’s no way to stop the wedding?” Reggie had gone to see Ray in the royal office an hour ago, to discuss an assortment of things, but always returning to the wedding.

“I’m sure. I hate it as much as you do, believe me, but I’ve explored every option.” Reggie shook his head.

“There has to be something-”

“Mijo, you can look all you want, but there’s nothing we can safely do. Even though there are multiple ways to stop the wedding, it wouldn’t be safe. There would be tension between Dahlia and Tambor, maybe even Krypto. Best case scenario would be rumors and unrest in our own kingdom, but even with that, Julie and Alex would be the subject of a ton of scandal for the rest of their lives.”

“I just hate it.”

“Believe me, I do too. I’ve done everything in my power, but I can’t endanger millions of people.”

“I know. And Julie wouldn’t want you to, either.”

“Exactly.” Ray pulled him into a hug, and Reggie buried his head in his shoulder. “Mijo, I’m so sorry. You’re a good brother.”

“Thanks,” he whispered. Ray nodded.

Someone knocked on the door. Reggie pulled out of the hug and, when Ray nodded again, he opened the door to see a short woman with pale skin and straight, dark hair reaching her shoulders, and bangs brushing her eyebrows. Her wide eyes were behind round glasses, and she gave a bright smile.

“Ah, Prince Reginald, just who I wanted to see! I’m Esther Pearlridge of the Dahlian Times. Would you mind if I asked you a few questions regarding your sister’s upcoming wedding?” Reggie glanced at his dad, who didn’t object, but gave him a look that seemed to say, it’ll be okay.

“Sure.”

“Your majesty,” Esther said to Ray, “you’re welcome to come along.” He agreed, and Reggie was eternally grateful.

…

“Your highness-”

“Please, call me Reggie,” he told her. Esther smiled.

“Reggie, the news of the wedding’s date being moved up came as a pleasant surprise to everyone across Dahlia, and surely Tamborian citizens as well. What are your thoughts on the matter?”

“Well,” he began, clearing his throat. “It’s definitely a unique situation. And while it is exciting, what a lot of people don’t consider is how stressful it must be for Princess Julie and Prince Alex. I mean, Alex is my age, Julie about a year younger. Arranged marriages are already very fraught situations, but this one especially.”

Ray smiled from his position behind Esther, letting him know he’d played it well.

“Of course,” she replied sympathetically. “That is a perspective that not many people consider.”

“Yeah.”

“How do you feel about Prince Alexander?”

“Oh, Alex is great! He’s quickly become one of my closest friends. Although, his taste in Star Wars characters is questionable. Everyone knows Han Solo is the best, right Esther?”

“Obviously! Though, I was always partial to Leia, myself.”

“Valid,” Reggie agreed.

“Moving on to the next question, what do you think will come of Prince Alexander becoming the Dahlian Prince Consort as your sister, Princess Julie, ascends to the throne?”

“Well, Dahlia is currently doing amazing. Homelessness rates are at an all-time low and still dropping; at this rate, they’re projected to reach zero by next Summer. Wealth equality is stabilizing even more, and our education system is constantly being revised and reviewed by scientists and historians to make sure the content is correct and unbiased, as well as by child psychologists to make them good learning environments for students. And our environmental status is one of the best in the world, second to the Republic of Isala. Greenhouse gases in our region are extremely low, and the CO2 levels are dropping as our reforestation teams plant more and more trees along the grasslands.

“Knowing my sister, and Prince Alex, I have no doubt that they will lead our country further into the future. Especially Julie; she may be a princess, but take it from her brother: she’s stubborn as all hell, but always about the right things. She and Alex will face struggles, as all people do, but I’m positive they’ll do great things.”

“That’s so nice to hear. And from other people, we’ve heard that they expect Princess Julie to be the best, most connected ruler in Dahlian history. Do you think this is true?”

“I would expect it to be, yeah! Julie really tries to connect with people, and tries to see things through others’ points of view. She’s always done that. She doesn’t want to stay secluded in a palace; honestly, I doubt anyone could keep her here if they tried.”

Esther laughed. “If I may ask, how are preparations for the wedding going?” Reggie fought the rising sadness in his chest.

“They’re going great! Although I’m pretty sure Julie’s gotten stabbed a few hundred times by the needles her lady-in-waiting is using to fit her dress.” Esther laughed again.

“Well, that’s all the time we have. Thank you so much, your highness. Always a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

“Yeah, you too! Thanks.”

As Esther rushed away, laptop under her arm and a pencil over her ear, Ray gave Reggie a warm smile.

“You did perfect,” he told him. “Excellently played.”

“Thanks. I just wish I actually felt as optimistic as I sounded.”

“It’ll be okay. I’m sure of it.”

-----

Willie POV

…

Willie’s phone buzzed with a text from Julie, with a request for their group to meet in her room, and if her tone was any indication, it wasn’t good. He ran to his quarters, doing his best to brush the flour Lilian had thrown at him after a witty remark out of his hair. Changing into a sweater and jeans, he made his way up the curving staircase and down the long hallway before knocking gently at Julie’s door.

“Come in.”

He walked in, heart sinking when he saw the upset look on Alex’s face.

“What happened?” Carrie asked from behind him, walking in with Flynn by her side. They were soon followed by Luke, Reggie, Erik, and MIra.

“They moved up the wedding,” Julie finally said, her fists curled. Willie’s heart dropped all the way to the ground, leaving his veins pumping blood made by nothing more than an organ beating rhythmically, called the heart but only doing what was necessary for physical survival. His actual heart, his emotions and love and memories, all froze, and he shook his head vigorously, forcing it to settle back in the center of his chest, taking a deep breath.

“Why?” he had to ask. Alex snorted.

“My parents gave an ultimatum disguised as helpful advice.” Each word was dripping with venom, but there was sadness behind it. Willie took his hand, feeling him clutch back as if he were the only thing holding him together.

“And there’s nothing you can do to stop it?” Flynn asked. “I mean, you and Jules are the Prince of Tambor and Princess of Dahlia. There has to be something you can do… right?” Julie shook her head.

“Nope. There’s been so much buildup and excitement that there might be riots and tension between our countries if we called it off so abruptly. We can’t risk anyone getting hurt.”

“Okay, but-”

“Mira, treason would definitely get people hurt.”

“Jules,” Mira said, “you have a good heart. It’s super annoying.” Willie cracked a grin at that, as did Alex.

“Even then, though,” Alex cut in, “my parents clearly want this. And they’re super influential. I wouldn’t even be surprised if they threatened trade routes but made it seem like it was for the ‘greater good.’”

“I hate to admit it,” Reggie said, “but he’s right. Sweet words can be even more dangerous than declarations of war. Especially if they twist the blame.”

…

After another hour of scheming, ranting, and trying to lighten the mood, Alex fell asleep near the wall in Julie’s room, curled up against a pillow. Willie watched him softly breathe, looking so much more peaceful in rest.

“We should let him rest,” Julie said. “It’s not like our group hasn’t done slumber parties before.”

“Yeah,” Carrie agreed. “He needs sleep.”

“All of us do,” Erik pointed out. Willie nodded, sitting next to Alex and putting his hand on his shoulder. Everyone found a spot and drifted off, and Willie had a feeling he was the last one awake. But, soon, he was able to curl up against Alex and find himself in a deep, dreamless sleep.

…

Willie had never been so grateful that he hadn’t been asked to bake.

He wasn’t sure if he could handle baking wedding cake samples for this situation. Any other time, sure, but not when the guy he was in love with was being forced to marry their other friend, neither of whom were interested.

He stared at the mirror, eyes blank. He hated the numbness overtaking him. He’d done his best to stay positive, to remember all the tips he’d picked up for focusing and not getting dragged under, and while they’d worked to some extent, he couldn’t deny the fracture in his heart. They were powerless; ironic, considering they were all either royal or close acquaintances of royals.

But, even with all of that supposed power at their fingertips, they couldn’t do the one thing they wanted to.

He wasn’t sure just how long he stared blankly at his reflection, but when his phone buzzed with a text from Julie, telling their group that they were going to practice in the studio, he made himself plaster on a smile and go join them. He hadn’t seen Alex play a full song before; this should be fun.

When Julie started the song, her powerful piano playing moved the whole room, voice strong and bright as she sang the first verse. Then, in the prechorus, she led into the big, adrenaline-pumping beat with a riff and belt,before finally going into the chorus. But all Willie could see wasAlex, whose face was a bit red from playing the drums, hair falling in his eyes,his pink t-shirt rather tight against his biceps. Willie was sure he was blushing, but he couldn’t bring himself to care.

As Alex held the beat, Willie tapped his foot and grinned, letting the upbeat song envelop him despite their melancholy circumstances. Julie and Luke belted out the lyrics, harmonizing with such grace that Willie wasn’t convinced that soulmates didn’t exist; if they did, Julie and Luke fit the model. And Alex and Reggie sang the background vocals flawlessly, adding depth to the song with their steady music.

When the song ended, Willie’s heart was pounding. He clapped with the rest of the group, standing up, but unable to speak. God, Alex had such an insane effect on him. Normally he was smooth, able to recover and flip around. He’d thought it impossible to fluster him; but, then again, Alex had a rather annoying habit of making the impossible seem like child’s play.

Then, Alex ran his hand through his hair in an unfairly hot way - the inconsiderate bastard. Willie did his best to settle his blush, but to no avail. He giggled as Alex tried to brush off a compliment but finally accepted it.

He stammered through a compliment, hating how flustered he was. And then, because the universe had it out for him, Alex pulled him in and kissed his temple. If Willie hadn’t already melted, that would’ve been the tipping point.

Somehow, though, he found the ability to breathe again.

…

“Dude, I can’t say this enough,” Willie stressed, “that was amazing! You guys seriously need to go on tour.” Alex’s musical laugh filled the air.

“Flynn has already assigned herself band manager. With her ‘in charge,’ we’ll probably be playing gig after gig- well, you know, when Julie isn’t busy running a country.” WIllie laughed.

“Yeah, fair point. But still! Your guys’s song is going to be stuck in my head forever.”

“Forever?”

“I have ADHD, ‘Lex. Don’t underestimate the song sticking.” It was true; ADHD had its pros and cons, but one aspect that seemed to be both was his brain’s innate ability to have twenty-nine songs stuck all at once, and the strange fact that the How to Train your Dragon main theme, Kahoot music, Beethoven’s 5th Symphony, Roses by The Band CAMINO, and Sweet Dreams (Are Made of This) could all be combined to the same tempo- and the fact that it slapped.

As they walked through the long, windowed corridors, Willie got an idea. He grabbed Alex’s hand.

“Follow me!”

“What? Where are we going?”

“You’ll see!” They raced all the way to the west side of the palace, where Willie led him up a narrow flight of stairs, pushing open a door to reveal-

“Whoa,” Alex gasped in awe. “The roof?”

“The roof,” Willie agreed. “Cooler than you’d expect, huh?”

“Way.” Willie grinned; it was a beautiful view. The river curved and rushed around the bases of snow-capped mountains with forests decorating their slopes, and as he turned, the capital city of Dahlia was nestled between rolling hills, thousands of lights sparkling in houses, apartments, shops, restaurants, and offices. Headlights danced along the highways, and the striking comparison of the bright lights versus the dark, cloudy sky made for a dramatic view.

“Storm’s blowing in,” Willie observed as it began to pour, soaking his hair. Alex cracked up.

“You sure?” he asked. “This is the best weather this side of Constantinople.”

“Ah, but remember, now it’s Istanbul- not Constantinople.”

“Well, why did Constantinople get the works?” Willie giggled.

“That’s nobody’s business but the Turks.”

“You are such a dork,” Alex informed him, pulling him closer.

“I know!” He had to raise his voice over the rain, and Alex’s cheeks were flushed with the cold. Willie felt a calm rush of confidence wash over him with the falling rain, and he stood on his toes, reaching up to hold Alex’s jaw as he kissed him. Alex kissed back immediately, and sparks shot down Willie’s spine.

As he deepened the kiss, thunder rolled across the mountains. The clouds were practically black, but it gave a sort of calmness and confidence with it, like the soothing darkness of night cloaked with clouds of expectancy, waiting and hoping and understanding that love finds comfort in the dark, that there are risks in life, but that they had to be taken, because while the world might not have been made for them, they were made for the world. People, caught up in dreaming about what could be, lost sight of what is; so determined to be right and prove that someone else was wrong that they drive themselves mad.

“I’m gone on you,” Willie finally whispered, eyes closed and forehead against Alex’s. Alex didn’t respond, kissing him again. He sank into it, holding him close and letting the rain wash over them and combing his fingers through Alex’s hair.

The hairs on the back of his neck stood up, and he heard sizzling.

Without thinking, Willie jumped and tackled Alex, turning so he hit the ground and Alex landed safely on top of him. The rain blurred his eyes, but he heard crackling and felt the heat of the lightning striking the roof a hundred feet away from them.

“Son of a motherfuck what just happened?!” Alex asked. Willie could hear his heart pounding in his ears, but he couldn’t stop the laugh that escaped his lips.

“I think you fell for me,” Willie joked. Alex rolled his eyes. He grinned; Alex was still laying on top of him, and Willie’s back was soaked by the puddle they’d landed in, but they’d avoided being struck by lightning, which was decidedly a good thing.

“That was too close,” Alex decided. “We should probably go inside before anything else happens.”

“Probably.” Neither of them moved for a moment, until Willie leaned up and pecked Alex on the nose, who immediately turned bright red, even visible in the darkness between the rising night and falling clouds.

-----

Alex POV

…

Alex had known his life was never his. If you’re born into royalty, unless you leave the royal family, you’re stuck there, and it influences your life forever.

He knew that.

And yet, until the wedding was moved up, it hadn’t really hit him.

His life wasn’t his, and it never would be.

He would be forced to be in the public eye, forced to marry a girl he wasn’t in love with, forced to live the rest of his life away from the person he was in love with, forced to watch the girl, one of his best friends, pretend to be okay as if she wasn’t also being separated from the person she loved. He would be forced to plaster on a smile, forced to live with this so that chaos wouldn’t erupt in Dahlia and Tambor.

So that he and the people he loved wouldn’t be exiled.

Alex was tired of being strong. He’d always been told by his friends that he was strong for dealing with this, strong for bearing the stresses of being put into politics so young, strong for hiding who he was from his parents because he knew it would only bring more pain, strong, strong strong. He wished he didn’t have to be.

“Hey, Alex?” Julie eventually asked, directing his attention away from his thoughts and his glazed eyes half-scrolling his Instagram. They’d been sitting for over an hour as the sun set outside Julie’s window, not speaking much aside from angry rants when they’d just gotten out of the royal office.

“Yeah?”

“Should we text the group chat to meet here so we can update all of them? Or would you rather not?” Alex sighed.

“We probably should. Not like we can hide from it.”

“Yeah.”

treason buddies

juju: Hey guys, some shit went down. Meet in my room?

flynnigan: oh fuck, do we even want to know?

juju: Probably not, but you should.

speed bump: i’ll be up in a sec, i’m trying to get flour out of my hair alkjdfskjldf

Me: skjlsdfkjlsdf lilian i assume

speed bump: yep, the bastard

rockstar mcsleeveless: i’ll be there in a sec. are you guys ok?

juju: Not really, but we’ll live

care bear: omw

short stack: same

personal stylist: i’ll be there in a minute

Alex clicked off his phone once the typing bubbles had all disappeared, blowing out a tired breath as he flopped backwards, half-hoping the fading sunset would let him dissolve with the growing twilight, let him become another fleck of light in a vast abyss that was somehow both cold and vast yet full of curiosity and glowing stars. What would it be like, floating in nothingness, waiting for someone to find you yet dreading the day your solitude ended?

Maybe he’d be part of a constellation. What one? Would he add to one that already existed, or would he be part of his very own? What would it look like? Maybe he’d be an owl, a drumstick, a wisp of a wish, floating in the air taking no shape at all, a shimmering question piquing the curiosity of anyone stargazing who happened upon his star, a gentle hope carried by a breeze, full of life and loss and wonder and apprehension.

Or maybe he’d be a shooting star, flying across the atmosphere in the blink of an eye, there, then gone in an instant, burning brighter as his fleeting life ended. Technically, they weren’t stars at all, they were tiny meteors the size of a grain of rice, only visible because of their dramatic, fiery demise. But maybe that was fitting. It wasn’t a star, and neither was Alex. He was more visible now than ever because of the marriage, bringing demise to his hopes like a burning scar, beautiful but painful to the individual.

It wasn’t a star, and neither was he. But shooting stars were meaningful, too. People wished on them; children, usually. But what a wonderful feeling it would be to have the hope of a child in your light.

The thought didn’t necessarily comfort him, but he didn’t feel as alone as before, didn’t feel quite as worthless.

…

After enduring the grueling process of venting and explaining the new situation to the rest of the group, trying to hold back one stubborn tear that kept fighting, Alex finally fell asleep. He wasn’t sure how “asleep” he actually was; he heard vague whispers of “we should let him rest,” and “all of us should.” But he couldn’t move, and he didn’t want to, either, so he left his weary eyes closed and slept, barely feeling someone’s hand on his shoulder and faint warmth next to him.

…

“Your highness,” a butler said, rushing up next to him with a tray, with tiny bites of cake arranged neatly across it. “Would you mind tasting these and telling me which three are your favorites?”

“Hm? Yeah, sure.” Ignoring the numbness fighting to grow in his chest, he tried each one, finally deciding on a few, and promising he’d sample the frostings later. Wedding cakes really weren’t something he wanted to be thinking about at the moment. He’d already had to stand still for hours while his suit was fitted, text Julie a million different pictures of flowers, to which she’d replied “just pick whichever one is poisonous so we can fake our deaths and leave it on our plates.”

He felt sick.

He did his best to avoid other people as he made his way out the back door of the palace, tearing a hand through his hair as he made his way to the field where he’d been with Willie, admiring (and despising) how much progress they’d made on the palace reconstruction. It was almost done, which was incredible, but horrible for him, since it meant they were almost done with the giant ballroom in which he would have to marry Julie.

All things considered, though it was beautiful; the creamy white pillars were identical to the ones on the other side of the palace, which had been repainted so it didn’t look patchy. Intricate flower beds were arranged at precise intervals, and the crystal-cut windows reflected sparkling mosaics of light onto the pathways. Lanterns hung on every pillar, unlit during the day but glowing with soft, gentle flames by night.

Alex sat in the middle of the field, picking at a stray blade of grass and relishing the warm sunlight on his neck, even though he was probably getting a crease on his crisp vest from how he was sitting, slouched as he sat on the hill, elbows on his knees.

After he’d sat and sulked for a considerable amount of time, Julie’s voice snapped him out of it.

“Why don’t we go work on a song?” she suggested. “I can get Luke and Reggie, plus the rest of the group if you want, and we can work out some stress.” Alex shrugged. He knew he was being immature, just sitting there and feeling sorry for himself, but it felt good to be immature. He should really do it more often.

But… there was a lump in the dirt that was giving his butt a bruise, and he didn’t feel like getting up just to sit back down, so he supposed he could go to the studio.

“Alright,” he finally said.

“Awesome.” the sadness in Julie’s voice was tangible, but she masked it well as she smiled and stuck her hands in the pockets of her baggy jeans, between the chain, and squared her shoulders.

“Let’s go, drummer boy.”

…

In the few days since he’d drummed, Alex had somehow forgotten just how therapeutic it was to bash a bunch of drums on a steady beat but still adding variety to spice things up. Julie had convinced him to let her invite the whole group- which, of course, included Willie, who was intently watching him play.

He bit his lip, breathing heavily, cheeks flushed as he kept going. A reluctant smile broke out on his face when Julie started singing the chorus and he jumped in with the toms and crash, flipping his hair out of his eyes and keeping the beat going. Reggie’s rhythmic bass playing combined perfectly with Luke’s chords and riffs, and Julie’s angelic voice tied it all together as if their music was a gift with a shiny bow.

When the bridge started, and Julie and Luke did their Thing™ (the whole dramatic, lovestruck staring-into-each-other’s-eyes move), Alex held the beat with a quiet, rhythmic tapping on the hi-hat. He and Reggie shared a look, and he swallowed the rising sadness in his throat, refusing to let some stupid marriage ruin this moment. They were in perfect harmony, bright with life and love. Then, when Julie went into the final belt, he came in strong with the drums, lip between his teeth and a huge smile begging to break free.

When it finally ended, Alex stood up excitedly, setting down his sticks and leaping across the kick drum to fistbump Luke.

“Alex, dude,” Luke said, “you were smoking.”

“Nah,” he deflected. “You guys-” he gestured to him, Reggie, and Julie “-were the ones on fire.”

“Dude.” Reggie lightly punched him on the shoulder. “Could you just own your awesomeness for once?” Alex rolled his eyes, but it was clear he wasn’t backing down.

“Alright, I was killing it.”

“Yeah,” Willie agreed from behind him. Alex whirled around, having forgotten he was there. He was sure his face was bright red, but hopefully he could blame that on the physical exertion that came with playing the drums. Willie, however, was blushing quite a bit, and Alex felt a bit of accomplishment bubbling up inside him.

“I’m glad you liked it,” he said with a grin.

“Are you kidding? I loved it.”

“I’ll say,” Flynn stage-whispered to Carrie, and Alex decided once and for all that Flustered Willie was his favorite. Willie cleared his throat.

“Yeah, I, uh-” he cut himself off, and Alex bit back a laugh, pulling him in and kissing him on the temple.

Alex knew there was a bubble of numbness and depression fighting to take hold of him, but at least for now, it was under control. He was filled with adrenaline and had their song stuck in his head, the feeling of his arm on Willie’s shoulder anchoring him like a ship in a harsh storm, letting him drift but holding him close.

They would make this work. Somehow.

“Should we run through it again? I was a little shaky during the second verse,” Julie said. Alex nodded.

“I’m down.”

“Same!” replied Luke and Reggie, and the rest of the group eagerly sat and watched. Alex grinned, raising his sticks.

“One, two, three, four!”

-----

Luke POV

…

“I’m so sorry,” Luke whispered. They’d moved up the wedding. The wedding that nobody wanted any part of, the wedding forcing the girl he was in love with to marry their friend, neither of whom were interested. They were already hurting so much, but there was nothing they could do anyways, then to add insult to injury, they’d moved up the wedding six weeks sooner. They didn’t even have two months, just a measly two weeks, and Luke could already feel them ticking away, feel his time with Julie ending, feel Alex’s heart breaking with each minute.

He reached up to hastily wipe away a traitorous tear rolling down his cheek, before wrapping Julie in a hug as she stood and walked to him. She buried her head in his chest, and his hand found her hair, combing through her thick curls.

…

At some point through the night, Alex had worn himself out venting and scheming plans to get out of the wedding and eventually fallen asleep. They’d considered waking him, but he was exhausted and really needed the rest. Luke still had his arm around Julie, leaning against the end of her bed sitting on a pile of pillows. Willie curled up next to Alex, and soon it had turned into another slumber party, but much more somber.

Julie’s soft breathing leveled, indicating that she’d fallen asleep as well. Luke smiled sadly; this was peaceful, but under horrible circumstances. But the gentle part of her lips as she breathed and the lack of a crease between her eyebrows made it worth it; she deserved any brief moment of peace she could get.

He traced soft circles on the shoulder of her t-shirt, running his finger over the hem rhythmically, a song playing in his head as he closed his eyes.

Golden specks flew around in the darkness as Luke whirled around, disoriented. A melodic voice in the background that he recognized but couldn’t place taunted his mind, flashes of brown eyes blinking by in an instant, a retreating curl of hair that might not have been there in the first place.

The ground solidified under his feet, metaphysical but firm for him to stand on. It was all black and glittered faintly in the soft light from stars that were somehow so close he could feel their heat, yet so far that they were like flecks of light in the endless black sky.

The packed black sand cracked beneath him with the sound of a woman’s gasp, sending him hurtling through the void, falling faster and faster as the sliver of light from the cracked ground above him faded until it was so small it wasn’t even visible anymore. The darkness was suffocating and hot as fire, yet thin and cool like a light sheet in the air, whispering silent nothings into his mind.

His back hit a new surface, knocking the wind out of him even though he couldn’t breathe at all. It was all black, the ground invisible, but a soft fog rolled across it, apprehensive but inviting and cool.

“You have to fight for what you want,” a voice whispered, and Luke was able to place it as the same voice as his mother when he was nervous for a competition in sixth grade.

“Things don’t always come easily,” another voice reminded him, the familiar sound of his father’s voice sending a shiver down his spine.

What was he supposed to fight for? There was nothing in this vast black expanse but him and these voices, plus a warm tingle to his right side that felt imaginary, but had a weight to it that he couldn’t help but relish.

The voices disappeared, even though they’d been silent, Luke could feel their absence. The smooth, invisible ground under his feet faded, leaving him floating as the fog disappeared, phasing into particles like stars that floated around him like fireflies as the world shifted to a regal, royal purple, swirling like a galaxy, the faint sound of a piano barely registering among the stars.

…

When Luke woke up, the warmth on his side made sense, because there was Julie, her head on his chest. He glanced over, seeing Willie and Alex sitting with their heads resting together, scrolling through their phones and occasionally showing their screens to the other and laughing quietly. Flynn was asleep on a chair, where Carrie was squished next to her reading a book. Reggie was scribbling something in a notebook and tapping his foot, with Mira leaning on his side weaving braids into Erik’s hair. Julie, meanwhile, was still asleep.

He gave half a smile to Alex, who returned it with a quick sign of “you okay?” He nodded, gently taking his hand off of Julie’s shoulder, who didn’t stir.

Yeah, I’m okay. You?

Pretty good, all things considered. Alex glanced up at Willie, who looked confused, and whispered an explanation as to why they were using sign language. Julie, Flynn, and Erik were asleep, and Luke didn’t want to move and get his phone.

What time is it? Luke signed, and Alex checked his phone, signing back that it was 08:12. Luke glanced back down at Julie, who was still fast asleep.

When did I fall asleep? Alex signed back to him with an inquisitive look on his face.

Around eleven. You were exhausted, and for a good reason.

Yeah. I’m still so angry. I just want to… he trailed off, thinking. Luke guessed he was trying to remember a sign word. In the end, he just mimed crushing something very violently. Luke stifled a laugh.

I’m right there with you. Neither of you deserve this. He glanced down to Julie as he said it.

Neither do you, Alex reminded him. Or Willie. His face turned forlorn as he added the last part.

Yeah. It just sucks. Alex rolled his eyes.

You can say that again.

…

Luke tapped his fingers on his knee, anxiety coursing through him, which was very strange. He had no idea how Alex handled it. Anxiety was not something he was used to; what was he supposed to do with the nervous energy rushing around him when he couldn’t do anything but wait?

In hindsight, the brief text he’d sent Julie to meet him in that one hidden corner of the gardens because he needed to talk to her probably wasn’t the best way for him to go about it, especially since now the grey clouds hung over the sky like death hovered in a cemetery.

He’d rehearsed what he was going to say a million times, but it hadn’t ever seemed perfect; not that it would have mattered, because when Julie walked towards him, a smile on her face, hair down with frizzy curls bouncing over her shoulders, all of his thoughts drifted away, never to be seen again.

“Hi,” he said pathetically. She gave a halfhearted laugh.

“Hi. Is… everything okay?” Luke nodded. Then, he shook his head. A stray raindrop hit his face, the storm slowly crying itself out.

“Julie, I…” he sighed. “This probably won’t be half comprehensible, but I just need to get it off my chest.

“I know that we can't be together. I know that life just wasn't on our side, and I hate it. but I love you.” his heart both lightened and sank with the confession. “I love you, and I want you to know that, no matter where either of us end up in life, with you as queen and me as some guard, you will always be in my heart. you will be my heart in its entirety, wholly and truly.

“I tried to come up with the perfect things to say, tried to articulate and rehearse my feelings, but I guess that’s the thing about emotions. They can’t be described in an accurate way; especially love and pain. I’m not even sure there’s a difference between the two; love hurts, but it’s exhilarating; pain burns, but it makes you feel alive. But they both demand to be felt. And they’re so intense, so beautiful and full of fire and fury in their own regard that I’m not sure they can be described at all. Only with comparisons, but it’s never the exact same, because while pain demands to be felt, love demands to be seen. It’s why it hurts so much to hide it; that hurt, that pain, it demands to be felt, like fire demands to burn and the ground demands to quake and the rain demands to fall.

“I don’t want you to have to feel that pain your entire life. I don’t want you to love me and have to hide it. One illusion of false love is hard enough; but having to mask another layer, for me or you, would be impossible. So I think it’s best you forget me.”

“Luke, what are you-”

“Julie, we’re a grenade. People will get caught in the crossfire, and we’ll be burned completely.”

Tears streamed down his face, but it was impossible to tell with the rain now pouring, serenading his misery with its torrential downpour.

“No,” Julie said, shaking her head back and forth. “No. Luke, you’re going out of your mind. I’m not just going to forget you. If you think I can do that, then you don’t know me at all. Besides, acting as if something never happened is just a form of mental editing, purposely erasing things you regret. Well, that’s not how it works. If you want to break up with me… then fine. But don’t expect me to forget you, because that won’t happen.”

“Julie, I don’t want to break up with you.”

“Then don’t.” Luke looked up and pressed his lips together, even though his tears would be indistinguishable with the rain.

“I’m not. But I don’t want to cause you more pain.”

“I don’t care! Sometimes you have to fight for what you love. And as much as I wish we could lay down our arms, we can’t. I won’t. Not if it means I have to lose you.”

You have to fight for what you want.

Things don’t always come easy.

Luke shook his head, shoving his parents’ dream voices out of his head. He’d tried and tried, but now it was too late. He needed to cut losses so people didn’t get caught in the crossfire.

“Julie, I-”

“No! Aren’t you the guy who says you have to ‘smash those stupid rules out of people’s brains?’” Luke looked away.

“This is different.”

“Is it? Because you’re the most stubborn, bone-headed, amazing guy I know. You’ve never given up on anything in your life, so don’t you dare start now. I’m not giving up on you, either. So are you going to keep trying to make me? Or are you going to make it worth it?”

“I don’t want anyone to get hurt.”

“Well, news flash, people already have, and will continue to get hurt, because life isn’t all butterflies and glitter. So if you want to minimize the hurt, don’t deny your feelings. Don’t try to make me deny mine.”

“But that’s the point! People have already gotten hurt, and will continue to, because of this. Because of me. If people found out about us, there would be collateral. Probably our friends.”

“Don’t pretend you’re doing this for them,” she snapped. “Don’t try to act all heroic. Luke, you’re amazing and selfless and kind and strong, but you’re only doing this because you’re afraid. I’m afraid too. But this? This isn’t how we need to go about things.” Luke tore a hand through his hair.

“Don’t you get it, Jules? I love you. I love you, and I hate that I’m part of the reason you and Alex are going through all of this pain.”

“That’s bullshit and you know it. You didn’t suggest the arranged marriage. I know you just want people to be safe, I know you’re trying to protect me, but I don’t need to be protected. I can take care of myself, but I want you by my side.”

“Then what are we supposed to do?”

“I don’t know,” she said, “but we’ll figure it out. I’m not giving up.”

She stepped forward and laced her fingers with his, and his heart softened. He gently cupped her jaw and brushed a raindrop off of her cheekbone, and she leaned up to kiss him.

“Please… stay.”

Luke didn’t want to hurt her. He knew staying would only make things harder, more dangerous.

And yet, he closed his eyes and nodded.

“Okay.”