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angel-squid-trash-ghost · 4 years

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Parental Guidance Pt.4

The sled was packed and ready to go. Katara climbed on to make sure their pile did not fall. Zuko, Katara and Kanna had worked their fingers to the bone mending and sewing. Summer had started and by the look of the pile, everyone in the village wanted a new wardrobe. Yise’s baby was also going to get her name soon. The most important delivery was her tiny parka.

Yise insisted on inviting them inside. Her home didn’t look much different besides there being less furs. It had been a while since Katara had seen a marriage bed. Kanna presented the ceremonial dress. It had taken three tireless nights to fix every bead and bone into the intricate designs. On the bottom was a wavy array of blue glass beads and a lining of fox fur. Around the collar was a zig-zag pattern made of shells and bone shards also lined with fox fur. And all around the deep blue garment were threaded embroidery of birds flying. Yise choked up when she held it.

“Kanna, it’s absolutely beautiful. I don’t think Princess Yue’s could have been this fancy. The lamp oil isn’t enough. I have to find something else to repay you.” Yise gushed.

Kanna waved her hand blushing slightly. “Oh you stop now. It will be an important day. She should look her best.” Kanna touched the small nose of the baby on her back.

“Ms. Yise can we hold her?” Katara asked with big eyes.

Yise agreed and took the small body from out the amaut. She sat the children down and carefully placed the baby in Katara’s arms. Katara made sure to hold the baby in all the right places and support her head. She marveled at the new life. The baby’s hair was already thick and curly. She cooed when Katara spoke to her. Zuko was delighted when the baby grabbed his finger. He praised her endlessly on how cute she was. The children laughed when the baby squealed loudly.

“What is her name?” Zuko said unaware of the secrecy that came behind naming ceremonies.

Before Kanna could explain, Yise answered, “Well an Earth sailor said their word for ocean was Temma. I think it would be unique.”

“An Earth name. That would be unique.” Kanna nodded.

“We have a Zuko why not a Temma!”

Kanna smiled. Her heart was warmed in its entirety, “That’s very true. I think Temma is a wonderful name.”

“Can I? Please?” Zuko didn’t move his eyes from the bundle of joy. Yise moved her daughter from one set of arms to the other. “She is so cute! Hi kissy baby! Hi!” Zuko enthused making kissing faces.

“She really likes you Zuko. She’s so small.” Katara laughed with the baby.

“Yeah. Like Lala.”

Katara hadn’t met anyone with that name, “Who’s Lala?”

Zuko thought hard frowning some. “I don’t remember.” Holding the baby suddenly didn’t feel as good as it did a second ago.

Katara sensed his distress, “That’s alright. Maybe later you’ll remember.”

Zuko nodded looking back down at the rosy face, “Yeah. Maybe later. But now I say hi to Kissy baby!” The baby squealed again shaking her chubby arms.

Kanna watched Yise watch the children. Yise was always a sweet girl. She wasn’t one to gossip but she could hold one in a conversation for hours. It came as a surprise when she married the gruff and quiet Danak. But everything seemed to be going well. The new addition to the village was proof of that. Kanna took pride in her role. Her son was chief and led the men in hunts and battles, but she was the leader of the women. She was the one they would go to for advice and counsel. She watched Yise’s face go from content to thoughtful. Yise sighed.

“She’s a beauty. Just like her mother.”

“Oh.” Yise turned back to Kanna, “Thank you. She has her daddy’s stormy eyes and her mommy’s nose. Sometimes I joke that I only married Danak so we can have pretty babies.”

The women chuckled. Yise didn’t keep her smile long before she turned back to the children, “Is everything alright?”

“With Danak? Yes! It was a joke. I know people told me he was a mean one but he’s not at all. He’s truly a gentle giant. May I be swept away if I dared ask for a better husband. And you should see him with the baby. He blubbered when she barely said dada.”

Kanna nodded. That was good to hear. “I’m glad but that is not what I meant, dear.” Kanna had a special skill of drawing information from people. She had to if she was going to keep the women folk safe. “You look to be thinking about something.”

Yise looked at her hands, “I can tell you anything?” She didn’t need an answer when she looked to Kanna’s face. “Well, to be honest with you Kanna, and please take no offense, but I can’t help thinking it’s strange to see a Fire child holding my baby. I never thought I’d see the day! But he’s so well-mannered. And pleasant. Katara likes him too. It’s nice to see her have a friend. After what happened to her mother. Poor girl. Most of us don’t really have a problem with him being here anyway.”

“Most of you? The other women?”

“No, husbands too.” Yise paused, “Danak wasn’t keen to the idea. He was worried the boy would be a firebender. Oh, and do not get me started on Kehana! That old witch has it out for him. I’m surprised she didn’t try to poison him. It was a good thing Katara was there or that poor child would probably be dead!”

“That is troubling. Do people think I made the wrong decision?” Kanna feigned.

“Not me. I knew when you took Zuko into your home that you must have saw something in him. And Hakoda hasn’t made a complaint yet. That has calmed Danak’s concerns down some. It’s all the same to me. The more the merrier.” Yise clapped.

At some point the baby had changed hands again. Katara now had the baby howling in laughter, “I just want to eat you all up! Yum, yum, yum!”

…

Zuko pulled the sled back home. Katara sat in the back holding their basket of traded items. Hakoda had come back early. He had not been feeling well and Kanna put some soup on at the first look of his red nose. Hakoda sat next to the window, against his mother’s wishes and watched the village go on without him.

“Can we go out and play?” Katara pleaded to her grandmother.

“I don’t see why not. It is a beautiful day.”

“Yay!” The children cheered.

“I love you Gran-Gran!” Katara kissed her on the cheek.

“I love you Gran-Gran!” Zuko did the same.

“I love you Dad!” Katara went to leap in her father’s lap.

“Sorry, not today kiddo, Dad’s got the sniffles.” Hakoda stopped her.

“Ok. I love you. Bye!” Katara ran out the door.

“Feel better, Sir. Love you. Bye!” Zuko ran after her.

Hakoda scratched his beard. “Love you too?” He watched them through the window chewing his lip.

“What are you thinking.” Kanna handed him a bowl.

Hakoda blew on his food a few times, “I am not sure about him living with us. You went out today. What are the women saying?”

Hakoda knew it was somewhat inappropriate to have his mother collect information for him. However, it was necessary to be a good chief. He knew some of the men wouldn’t be completely honest with him. But the woman never lied to Kanna. It was a superpower she had possessed since he was a boy. When him and Bato pulled pranks around the village, Kanna was always able to pinpoint who did what, when, where, and why. If there was a why. Just with a few maternal smiles and foreboding stares. She was not a woman to be trifled with.

“What do you mean?” Kanna sat on her stool.

Hakoda squinted, “Like what are they saying about him being here. How do they feel?”

“Most of them do not mind. Although their attitude is less accepting and more like an unusual fascination.”

“That is not so strange.”

“It isn’t right. Zuko isn’t an oddity. He is a little boy.” Kanna snapped.

Hakoda took his eyes out of the window, “I know that, mother.”

"Mm. They all agree that Kehana has the strongest opinion."

Hakoda sucked his teeth, "That miserable hag. Chief Arnook and his shit excuse to send a spy. She does not even bend. I should have been more forceful in my refusal. Anyway, she isn't one of us. She does not have a say." Hakoda ate, “Anything else.”

“About Zuko? Nothing really. They do not know much about him. He is with us all the time.”

A lightbulb went off in Hakoda’s head. “Mother? Have I ever told you how much I enjoy our talks?”

“Oh, hi Dad. What are you guys talking about?” Sokka walked in and threw his practice gear at the entryway.

"Sokka go outside and play." Hakoda said plainly.

"But I'm hungry. Can I have some soup?"

"Did you hear me?" Hakoda raised a brow.

Sokka threw his arms down in disbelief, "I don’t want to play with them. They’re babies. They’re probably playing some stupid baby game."

"Boy, if you do not get your narrow behind-"

Sokka threw his head back, "Argh! Fine!"

“My little boy is getting older.” Hakoda looked to the window.

Zuko hopped in place humming a song he made up. Katara put the finishing touches on their snow castle. Which was really just a six feet high pile. They rebuilt a few times as the weather got warmer. Katara giggled to herself watching Zuko go up and down. Zuko hopped when he was happy. She didn’t know why but she didn’t mind it. She liked to see Zuko happy. His first weeks had been rough. But he was able to say more and he was a lot more comfortable in the house. It was the best thing in the world having your best friend live with you.

"What song is that?" Katara asked him.

"The sun is out, and it is so pretty!" Zuko sang leaping higher.

"Just like me. That's why I'm the princess! Let's go Warrior Zuko. You have to defeat the monster!"

Zuko grabbed his piece of driftwood. "Ok!"

Katara sat atop her snowy throne. She described a giant green winged monster to Zuko. They planned how to defeat it with their many pretend abilities. Zuko was going to make his first attack when Sokka sulked towards them.

"What do you want?" Katara sneered.

"Dad says I have to play with you guys."

Before Katara could say anything Zuko happily agreed. It was strange because Zuko didn't like Sokka that much. It all made sense when Zuko told Sokka he had to be the monster.

"I'm not going to be the monster!" Sokka crossed his arms.

"Yes. You have to." Zuko grinned like a fox.

"Nuh-uh. I'm going to be a real warrior one day. And Katara is my sister so I have to save her."

"But I marry Katara." Zuko scoffed.

“You what!” Sokka bared his teeth. “You will never marry my sister!”

“In the game stupid head!” Katara hands fisted.

“Stupid head?”

“Don't say that Zuko. It's not nice." Katara wagged her finger.

"But you say-"

"No. We don't say mean things."

"Ok." Zuko glanced at the ground and then back up. "Katara!"

"Yes?"

"You stupid head." Zuko cackled.

Katara threw a chunk of castle at him. He laughed anyway. Even Sokka laughed a little.

"We can settle this easy. Stick your feet out." Katara demanded. Sokka stuck his foot out. Zuko mimicked him. "Water, water in a pool. Show me which one is the fool." She pointed back and forth until she landed on Sokka's foot. "Sokka you're the monster." Katara hailed.

"Pfft! Fine Whatever." Her brother griped

Zuko hopped twice and then held his driftwood as mighty as any warrior would.

"Alright. Mighty warrior Zuko! Save me!" Katara put her hand to her forehead.

"Yes Princess! I will defeat you, monster!" Zuko declared.

Sokka quickly got into character. The baby games notion completely disappearing from his mind, "Not if I get you first!"

Zuko and Sokka went back and forth trading blow for imaginary blow. "I use bite power! I bite you!" Zuko open and shut his hand.

"I use my roar power. I knock you back." Sokka yelled towards Zuko.

Zuko put up his arm, "I block it. I use my weapon! Jah!" Zuko swung his stick but not too close to touch Sokka.

"My skin is impenetrable! I use punch power! And hit you directly!" Sokka punched the air over Zuko's head.

Zuko only knew what some of those words meant but dramatically fell back anyway. He held his chest and stuck his tongue out, falling to the ground, “Princess Katara! Help me!"

“She has powers too?” Sokka laughed.

“Of course I do! I’m the princess!” Katara slid down the castle landing to Zuko’s unmoving body. Sokka almost fell over with laughter. “Princess healing powers go! I make the warrior Zuko all better!” She placed a butterfly kiss in his hair.

Zuko bolted up, “I am better! I use my weapon. I hit you on the belly! Jah!”

“Oh no! My only weakness. My stomach!” Sokka fell to his knees, “Ah! My guts!”

“I got the monster!” Zuko celebrated.

“And then we live happily ever after. The end!” Katara hugged him hard.

“What do you want to play now?” Zuko asked Sokka.

“Hey Sokka! What are you doing?” A voice called.

Katara saw the twins Noaluk and Yoton, Moak’s sons, coming up the hill. They were older and boys so Katara didn’t have much to do with them. Sokka knew them though. They would have had to been at training and hunting trips with him. Katara wanted to think that they wanted to join them. But by their faces and contentious gait that they weren’t there to save a princess.

“I’m playing.” Sokka stood up. He put his hands behind his back.

“With the burnt bastard?” Noaluk spoke first.

“Yeah. Aren’t you afraid he’s gonna set you on fire?” Yoton snickered.

“It’s not like that. My dad made me. It’s no big deal.” Sokka rubbed the back of his head.

Yoton walked up on Zuko. Katara instinctively grabbed his hand, “Just go away.”

“Why? We want to play. We can play soldiers. We’ll be Water Tribe and Zuko can be the Fire Nation soldier we kill.”

“That’s not funny. Go away!” Katara balled her fists.

Noaluk smirked, “You’re pretty bossy. Why don’t you be a good little girl and shut up.”

“Hey! Don’t talk to my sister like that.” Sokka took a step forward.

Noaluk pulled Sokka by the collar, “What are you going to do? Are you a traitor like her?”

“Come here, you ugly brat.” Yoton took another step forward.

“Leave them alone!” Sokka kicked Noaluk and tackled Yoton.

Noaluk recovered quick enough to get to Sokka before he could land his first punch. Katara’s reacted quickly and jumped on Noaluk. She wrapped his arms around his neck pulling him away from her brother. She didn’t think she was strong enough to fight the older boy. She knew she wasn’t. But it didn’t stop her from trying to help. Yoton flipped Sokka over onto his back. He belted Sokka relentlessly. Zuko was yelling something in Fire’s tongue, struggling to force him off. Yoton shoved Zuko away. Hard. Zuko hit his head

Katara gasped and lost her grip. Noaluk threw her over himself like a ragdoll. Katara thought hitting the soft snow would hurt less. She felt the sting in her eyes as Noaluk pulled her up. She heard Zuko roar something in Fire’s tongue. The thwack was louder. Zuko had swung the driftwood into Noaluk’s temple.

"Bato mentioned that he heard Zuko talking to Katara in Fire's Tongue. What do you think about that?"

"It'll be good for them."

"In what way other than that my daughter would know a language no one else can speak?" Saying it out loud made waiting for an answer useless. "I will only allow it in the house." His mother did not make a gesture to disagree, so he continued, "What if he turns out to be a bender?"

Kanna nodded slowly, "Well you would have to get a master to teach him."

Hakoda scoffed. “Yeah I will just send a letter to the Fire Lord and ask nicely.”

“A better question is how will you handle it. Do you think he will be a danger? Will you be more likely to let him stay if he was not?”

"If he were, we could use it to our advantage. At the end of it...he is a child. And I..."Hakoda forgot he was speaking aloud and went back into his own head. He peered back out the window. “Shit!” Hakoda leapt up. He rushed to get up, his body protesting with shallow aches.

Kanna put a hand to her chest. “What is the matter?”

“Zuko just hit someone with a stick!” Hakoda made his way outside.

“Oh my! He probably had a good reason.” Kanna followed him out the door. Now Hakoda was running. “Do not be too hard on him!”

Yoton abandoned his assault on Sokka and made for Zuko. “I’ll kill you, Fire Nation scum!”

The blood rushed in Katara’s ears. She watched Yoton sprint for Zuko. He flinched but gripped the wood ready to swing again. And then it was as if time had slowed down. Something pulled in Katara’s heart. Her hands tingled. A strange sensation reverberated through her veins. Like a river surging, flooding everything in it’s path. She screamed at the top of her lungs. Suddenly, their castle, the little world Zuko and her had created together, broke and shot at Yoton. The air around them sparkled as the snow exploded. Yoton was thrown into his brother. She inhaled. The shimmering snow crackled and froze. They both struggled to break the icy cage. Katara was sweating suddenly completely drained. She saw spots and Zuko. Then Sokka. She rocked back. Strong hands caught her. It was her dad. She let herself slip into darkness unable to answer to her own name.

…

Katara felt like she had woken up from a really long nap. She had somehow ended up in her bed. She blinked around the room. She went to rub her eyes but pulled something with her. Zuko had his fingers locked in hers. He sat up. She saw he was crying. His eyes were so red. She instantly cupped his chin. She didn’t like she wasn’t there for him. There was yelling just outside. It had gotten dark. She must have slept for hours. She wondered why he just didn’t wake her.

“Katara? Are you ok?” Zuko’s voice was hoarse.

“I’m sleepy. What happened?”

“You trapped Yoton and Noaluk in a block of ice. They’re out there trying to get them out. Then you wouldn’t wake up.” Sokka answered with his mouthful. He didn’t seem to be as troubled as Zuko was.

“Me?” Katara tilted her head. Zuko hugged her tight.

“Oh, my dear. You’re the first waterbender in the Southern Water Tribe in forty-three years.” Gran-Gran didn’t look as thrilled as Katara was.

#katara #Zuko #sokka #hakoda #zuko x katara #baby zuko #kanna #oc #atla fanfic #Avatar The Last Airbender

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eno-shima-jot · 4 years

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YELLOW || homare arisugawa

a/n: this is an old songfic i had from yoh kamiyama’s song “yellow” and i listened to it and i was like “ITS LITERALLY HOMARE ITS HOMARE!!” so uh here it is my boys and girls and everything that lie outside and in betwixt !!

In other words I was trapped in curiosity Breaking through anything precious A whole cake with no radiance I was dancing with a wooden puppet of you

Homare wasn't quite sure if he had always been like this, or if it was some inadequacy of his that had developed somehow like a cancerous tumor. It was a hindrance to his personality, it made him feel so incomprehensibly alienated, and also caused him to alienate others without meaning to. He sometimes found himself wishing that he had discovered some other art, anything that may have lead him to become someone different. A zeal for life inspired him, but his inability to properly care for the lives surrounding him left him sitting at a desk writing outlandish rhymes.

It was silly. He knew it may be a slight issue, but it exploded in his face so suddenly with his previous romantic partner. Romance was... Something else. It was a spice to life, and a relationship was a labour of love. So why had his partner cried so much during their time with him? On worse nights, he recited the conversations he had with them and tried to pin what things he had done wrong. Tsumugi's words echoed in his head sometimes. 'I know you mean well, but sometimes there's a line you just don't cross.'

Once again, in the closet Huddling our small bodies inside We'll sleep, we'll change It's safer to think that way

Homare had lived an entire twenty-seven years observing others. It wasn't something he would call a guilty habit. He couldn't find anything wrong with people-watching. It was simple, impassive, and he got to see life continuing on right before him without him setting anything off. In all of those twenty-seven years, a slow realisation crept up on him. It was cold and lonely, icy tendrils that infiltrated through all physical barriers and wrapped around his very soul. The things he saw were irreplaceable memories, commonplace and fleeting, but never the same. The joy he felt from seeing a child blowing a dandelion at the park, the tenderness in his chest when he witnessed an old couple feeding pigeons, the determined energy he traced off of people who jogged at the edge of grass that was barely dried of morning dew, it was all going to fade away and never be acknowledged again. Maybe they'd be reclaimed in deep dreams, but that had to be a rare occurrence. So he began to journal, filling pages up with the wonderful things he saw in scratchy handwriting by junior high. All of those disorganised thoughts began to refine themselves into flowing lilts in his mind by the time he was in high school, and his handwriting became easier on the eyes and on the wrist from frequency and practise. He people-watched when he could, finding a routine spot to sit and view the sights without thinking much to actually interact with the world stretching in front of him. It was the first day of third year when he found a girl sitting where he normally sat during lunch. He had quietly sat next to her and made no statements when a small group of girls joined her and they all began to talk. He wrote in his journal quietly, a small poem about a flock of birds that gathered to relay messages that were decreed late at night. "Hey, you there." a slightly rough voice called to him and one of the girls leveled him with a mild glare. "What are you writing in that diary of yours? Nothing weird, right?" she challenged. Homare blinked at her a few times and then grinned broadly, sliding his notebook into the crowd of curious underclassmen with a hint of pride. He watched the girls scan it with interest, sharing looks with each other that he couldn't quite place. The girl who questioned him slid the notebook back to him and eyed him dubiously. "Man, what the hell is that stuff? Are you in lala land?" she scoffed a little. An unfamiliar feeling had hit Homare at that moment, one that he would later come to describe as humiliation. "That's too harsh!" the girl who had originally sat at the table gasped, returning Homare's notebook quickly. Like a lagging robot, Homare took a few seconds to actually grab it. He was stunned by one of his first in depth social interactions. "I think your writing's really interesting." she tacked on. He wasn't sure if she was trying to be nice, or if it was a sincere compliment with unfortunate timing. He grabbed his notebook, bowed to the group of girls, and left. For the rest of the year, he spent lunch bouncing around locations to people-watch, but he didn't go to that same bench again. He could still remember it perfectly years after he graduated though. It was a fond setting he sewed together in fragments to send himself off into sleep. Sometimes he'd jolt awake at the faint muttering of a gruff female voice, but it wasn't so hard to return to sleep after that.

"Don't abandon me, for I'm just a foolish child" Awaken your naive eyes before my muddled identity All the toys were put away last night I still want to stay as innocent as ever...

Homare's small taste of companionship from that one underclassman had him intrigued. It wrapped a string around his heart that tugged him towards more interactions until he had found that people-watching turned into true socialisation. He wrote a lot less at school. It should have bothered him that it took until his last year of his school youth to actually seriously partake in social events, but he still felt that people-watching was never a waste. He learned about others through that, after all. Now he was just taking a more hands on approach. Learning people though; it wasn't something that split between learning types where you could find the one you were best at and capitalise on it. Homare had originally thought that the gateway to people and their souls was philosophy, a careful exposing of the human condition that so many could drone on about for hours, but people had a tendency to turn their nose up at it and call him just a little bit pretentious when he brought it up to spark conversations. It wasn't that Homare hated it, but mundane conversation felt like pulling teeth for him. Hearing it and listening had brought him a bit of joy when it was two other people, but the magic was sucked out as soon as he tried. "Good morning, Akito. How are you today?" Homare cast another line out into the sea of people and waited for a tug. The boy in question looked up with defeated slumping shoulders and dark circles under his eyes. "I'm alright." Akito said halfheartedly. Homare could see the lie from a mile away. He wanted to help, to see order restored to that little slice of life in front of him. "You don't look alright. Your girlfriend broke up with you, so of course you'd be upset since she did it at a festival." Homare pointed out. Akito's shoulders tensed at Homare's words. "You have the right to be upset. We can talk about it, if it makes you feel any better." "Leave me alone, Arisugawa." Akito requested quietly. His eyes narrowed and his face soured even further like a sheet of paper being scrunched up after water spilled over it. The distant use of last names made Homare pull back and disengage. He knew he messed up. It wasn't the first time, but it always felt awful. After some bad encounters, he had learned to relent when people said something. "Have a good day, Akito." Homare excused himself quietly, turning his face towards the front of the room to wait for homeroom to begin. Akito didn't talk to Homare much after that, cold and curt and always itching to start a conversation with anyone else in the mornings. Homare found himself wishing that he could have just stayed in his little box on the map, people-watching forever without consequence.

Affections are just 'high' to throw away Skinning away that precious memory But if you regret this 'low-life' Shall a summer with a hopeless wish come

Love was a sacred thing to Homare, even if it was something that he wanted to give out freely and without restraint. It was an infinite resource meant to be tapped into to enrich the lives of everyone. That why he felt so betrayed by society when he found out that the people who buzzed like bees around him hadn't acknowledged its sanctity. Betrayed was a harsh word. It wasn't quite that he had felt betrayed; he never asked for anything in the first place. He was disappointed by how trivial love had become in a modern setting. There was no longer the grand exclamations, unashamed and passionate, or the gentleness of courtship. Love itself had become one of those things that fell away from the extremities of aesthetics. Homare was infinitely disappointed in those sorts of things. The world had become less aesthetic about the things that mattered and the childlike wonder that Homare got from people-watching fell away quickly when he became an adult going to bars to see what happened. So he developed a new intense love for pragmatism. A new world for him to be inspired and moved by the world around him. How compact paint bottles became! How economic apartments were! How sleek and streamlined vehicles got! But he missed the sight of people ducking their top halves under the hoods of cars when it wouldn't start. He missed the charm of a bulky disconnected refrigerator. He missed the ugliness of old paint bottles, tin caps crusted shut from a person's earlier artistic ventures. He missed aestheticism. A part of him screamed at him to continue being a romantic about life, but it was so much effort to put into such a wishy-washy world that used extremes for mundane and useless things.

It seems like he was killed by curiosity Testing it with sly means Nothing will raise from such independence, I sang with a wholehearted smile

Had he learned the art of compromise and nuance, Homare would have been fine when he entered his first relationship. It wasn't so dispassionate, but he had mostly done it out of curiosity without realising how strongly his partner felt about it. If he had watched himself from a third person view at the same time that he was engaging with the relationship, he would have felt the same bitter disappointment of the pure despondence of love on his side. He had come to love them, of course. There was no question about that. He had loved them, but there was a ravine between them that he always failed to cross. Whenever certain things came up, he hopped onto the tightrope in an attempt to make it to their side, but every time he would become stuck. As a result, his partner would try to meet him halfway, but they always suffered and lost their balance before they could help him. Was it his fault? He had trouble figuring out what he did wrong to cause them to hurt so much. He was hardly ever angry or resentful of them. He couldn't imagine snapping at them or raising voice or hand to them. They were younger than him, but something made them much wiser and they became the leader of the relationship until they just... Stopped. Perhaps it was because they were so tired of falling into the deep dark ravine so many times. Homare couldn't blame them for being tired. All of his efforts to find a different approach were always wrong.

Once again, in the closet Waiting alone is always like this it'll change, it'll end, it's confirmed Continue to seek that worth, worth, worth

Without anyone at the wheel of the relationship, it very quickly swerved off of the road and crashed in a blazing fire. Homare watched it veer sharply, but he didn't find any courage within himself to reach out and redirect it, to save it. His partner had sad obsolete and empty, curled up like a hurt animal in the driver's seat. A relationship was a huge investment, but Homare had been unlucky enough to find within his first one that sometimes all that hard work lead to nowhere. The resentment bubbled over eventually, but Homare couldn't say it wasn't deserved. After making his partner cry so much, after burning out the light of passion that they had tried to extend to him, he could only listen to their words and seriously reconsider himself as a human being. By the time it had all come to pass, Homare found himself alone again. Looking at his notebook filled with strange musings, he was terrified to find that all of his words sounded shallow. Any poems dedicated to his partner were so abstract that he couldn't help but wonder if they had smiled and thanked him for them out of pity. He knew love. He knew it from seeing it everywhere, but he had failed to execute it. He didn't know what the problem was called until it was pointed out to him directly by a bartender once. It was an issue of emotional maturity. Emotional intelligence. He had failed to grasp that in his formative years, and drifted so much that he was so terribly ill equipped by adulthood that he could see things exactly as they were and still manage to do the exact wrong thing. Homare became a pragmatist in his poetry after that. The different approach lead to a surreal style that fans ate up, but he sometimes worried about the state of mind of his fans if they accepted what he wrote without question.

As the second hand approaches Roll it up till it's deep Eventually, both Heaven and Earth goes upside down Why? How come? See it got all blurred and transparent "I still remember that scenery I saw out the window" The 'yellow' that is better off to disappear

It wasn't quite a renunciation of romance itself. Homare was not a bitter man who would dwell on such things. He still wholeheartedly believed in love and romance, but hearing the rest of the Winter Troupe discussing their love lives hit him with a certain tugging again. It bordered between that slight disappointment, but there was something else too. In hearing about the love lives of everyone around him, he had to wonder how it felt for them. Save Azuma, the descriptions had been fairly vague. Homare admired how calmly Tsumugi talked about breaking it off with his previous girlfriend just for acting. The weight of different sorts of love was another thing Homare couldn't fathom. He didn't understand the point of rejecting one sort of love for another because love was such an infinite source that he couldn't imagine having to turn any one type down. The conversation fell around him like comforting raindrops on a window until he was asked about his own love life. The memories of it flashed by him, blurring past with only a fragment of the emotions he had felt at the time. The camera roll violently turned and turned on different scenes, only offering him a glimpse, until he was looking his old partner in the eye again as they told him of all of his shortcomings. "I have nothing to discuss." Homare dug in his heels at the prospect of having to divulge any of his love life. "No romantic experience?" Tasuku prodded, not quite processing that Homare was avoiding eye contact. It was hard to believe, given that Homare was nearly thirty years old. "No type?" Tsumugi added with an encouraging smile. "Nothing." Homare confirmed, frowning sternly. "Really? No romantic opinions either?" Izumi asked, a little bit pleading really. "Nothing at all." as the speculation continued around him, without his input, he focused on trying to redirect the conversation away from such an ugly memory. He had broken through with a sudden poem, an empty poem that he had written in his youth when he had the dream of having a partner at all. The heavily romanticised words struck hollow and bounced off of the image of his previous lover like gravel on a car wheel. It was so superficial that he felt bad to think he may have subjected someone to such juvenile idealism.

You've purposely mistaken that; that day will not arrive Collapsed, divergence and disengagement There's no salvation within your reach Yet still, I recall your warmth...

At first, he had taken no interest in another new face who had dropped into the Mankai Company. There was nothing special about them and their affiliations at first, but then they started to speak. Speak about themselves, speak about the others, they just spoke about life. They had such an enthralling voice when they talked of normal everyday occurences that he felt like he was reading a long lost letter that never made it to its intended destination. He was quite clear about that fact as well, as soon as they had walked through the door and identified themselves. Homare had lost his belief in most superstition and idioms, but his heart was subtly set alight. He didn't even realise it was happening until it was completely on fire. The flame had licked at its base and then slowly engulfed and seared it. There was a sudden passion and love that he had forgotten existed within him. It was different from his inspired moments from life, something that tugged at his ribcage and tangled it until it could constrict it at will. Inspiration would pick at his brain until he put it down on paper, and he did feel some upon becoming better acquainted with them. By the time he had written a poem dedicated to them as a gift for becoming his friend, he remembered very suddenly those feelings. What he felt had slipped between pragmatism and aestheticism, but he jumped down into the gutters of that place along with the rest of those proclaimed 'plebeians' just to grab it again. It was a dark and confusing swarm and he felt like he was drowning in molasses, a sea bird caught in an oil spill. He tried to imagine it, a romantic future with them, and his hand tingled at the thought of intertwining fingers. A ghost of a touch had latched on and dragged him back to land before he could completely drown, but he exited that place feeling heavy and weighed down.

Affections are just 'high' to throw away Skinning away that precious memory But if you regret this 'low-life' Shall a summer with a hopeless wish come

Who was Homare to compete? He hardly competed for anything in his life. He never competed in the publishing industry. He had rolled with the initial punches and suddenly found himself with a following without much effort. Of course, it was a far cry from Banri's effortless life, but it was still considerable when he had realised that it seemed that the arrival, his new friend and flame, had him completely beat out in the books of love and its vastness. They weren't particularly open about it, but Homare was good at discerning people's emotions. He was almost as good as Azuma. But he was worse than everyone else at doing anything about it. It was not for lack of trying, but because he had never managed to find that emotional intelligence that was so essential to forming functioning relationships. Even now, he was still maturing with the help of the Mankai Company. Slowly but surely, he was starting to pick things up without having to use that Loupe as a crutch, but... Everyone else was always leaps and bounds ahead of him, especially outside of the Winter Troupe where mere children had solved deep issues within days. Homare wasn't an envious man. He stayed in his lane most of the time, and so he could accept that easily. What he couldn't accept was the possibility of repeating the same mistakes with someone else. The newcomer had dispensed love like an infinite fountain, but it seemed that his previous partner could do that too. What if he snuffed that flame too? What if he hadn't learned a single thing after all this time? His bonds in the Mankai Company had grown stronger, but romance was a different level of emotional awareness that Homare hadn't dipped his feet into since the fall of his previous relationship.

That's why he had quickly sidelined himself, giving the rest of the men wide berth and only interacting with them as if they were anyone else. Because if he treated them differently, wouldn't that just inevitably lead to the same kind of memories? Homare had felt upset at the world's inability to devote romance to any extremes, but he had learned the hard way that doing so was harmful. So he stood back and resolved to grow as much as he could. If they had left by the time he was ready, then it would be another regret to add onto his romantic life. But it was better, he felt, if things ended that way. There was a once touched upon path that lead to a much more painful alternative.

#a3! homare #a3!#homare arisugawa #idk if i could call this an x reader because i originally titled it its homare arisugawa's scheduled character assassination hour #mod bing #act! addict! actors!

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pass3rby · 5 years

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Element of Surprise

Fandom: X-men (movies) Pairing: Allerdrake (Pyro/Iceman) Summary: Everybody has to make decisions. Decisions that might or might not work out. He wasn’t in a habit of looking back either way.

A/N:

Greatest thanks to my brother from another mother for bestowing an infectious prompt upon me and all the wretched jokes that accompanied his insightful comments. You’ve been a great help and an ass at the same time. The rest of my gratitude belongs to my dear family who has an immaculate sense of recognizing each highlight and “I saw the light!” moment of my writing, reliably and effectively ruining every single one of them. You’ve been an invaluable teacher of forced multitasking (which I still fail at spectacularly). Thank you, guys, for harassing me at the most unfortunately-picked times imaginable but standing by me still. Love you.

St. John Allerdyce was a survivalist. And this might be a very sucky way to begin one's story, but he was nothing but cut-the-crap kind of guy, so go deal.

Where was he again? Ah, yes. Good at the pretend game, he knew how to play tough; easily irked when deprived of a fire source. Bad-tempered, really. All of these stellar qualities went well with him being a realist to the bone. Wrap it up and ship it off.

He wasn't confessing all that out of some twisted delusion of having a chance at redemption, though. Wanting to save his tar-dark soul? No. It was only so that when he says that he's done morally questionable things to pull through, it would be clear that it was no slip up, not a 'few times' kind of deal. He's actually done them more often than not. Not that he counted; just saying. That was what he meant by being a survivalist. That was what this was about.

The main point here? He kept on going. Always found a way. Pushed. Squeezed in. Got his hands dirty. Gritted his teeth. Whatever it took. Morality was overrated where he lived; nobody abided by it anyway, so why should he? He was just a 'misfit' trying to get by, same as the next guy from a broken home.

On the streets and on his own. Making it, no matter the circumstances. That was the source of his pride. He might have turned out brash as a result, distrusting on a good day and suspicious round the clock, but who gave a shit. Certainly not him, not when it kept him alive this whole time.

When the X-men found him, he didn't feel elation; not even relief and he was far from thankful, too. He suspected the worst and he kept on running from them until they corralled him in and got him on their overly flashy and disgustingly impressive jet.

They took him in; full of reassurances that he'll be alright from then on, that he'll be safe now. Who were they to tell him that? Who were they to be so sure about it, to have balls to warrant that? What was the guarantee? Their skin-tight black&yellow spandex? If so, allow him to doubt the empty promise, because those were a sight for sore eyes – literally, just to make them sore.

Everything would work itself out and quite naturally in its usual, wary and solitary way, though (after all, once you lean onto someone, you're only bound to fall sooner or later) – if only they didn't have Bobby Drake on their "team" already.

The guy was way too cheery and overly friendly. Optimistic. An impersonification of a 'Think positive!' attitude, "Not made from concentrate, one hundred percent natural". It was almost like he was shooting for some such ad twenty-four seven. Think about the descriptive adjectives for a straight-laced goody two shoes from suburbs; you name it, he's that.

Everything was perfect.

Everything was dandy.

Bullshit.

He couldn't stand the guy. The poster boy irritated him; got on his nerves like no one else before. John was way too pragmatic to join this sort of let's pretend. But when dear Bobert started cracking, show that not everything was quite so well in his lala land… That's when John took real notice and interest.

You see, he couldn't be arsed to give a flying fuck about some fake looser, but a kid who had his whole life perfectly lined up and sorted only to get "screwed over" by mutation his parents wouldn't take well to? That was John's kind of real that he was willing to interact with.

Sure, Drake was still a sunny boy with majority of views intact and therefore headdesk-ishly naive, but he wasn't all plain "guy next door" (quotation marks because same door actually) anymore. And while John's own personality and stands had been torn down or have crumbled and been rebuilt time and time again, making him into who he was (coincidentally basically the opposite of his roommate), he and the Snowflake there suddenly had a link of communication and it held ever since then. Thus, their companionship begun.

It didn't hurt they both were element-sensitive – that wasn't to say their co-existing was a cakewalk, though. After all, like Ice and Fire, they too were diametrically different. Just a small example to draw a picture here: while Bobby was afraid of his abilities, scared of his element, John felt an undeniable thrill whenever setting free his own; he loved to see fire reign over anything in its way, watch it burn strong.

Ultimately, their mindsets resulted in both of them failing and it was all for the best that they were roommates in the end, because accidents.

Reason number two was that they were a good "confidence boost" and "recklessness dampener" (whatever) respectively for each other, too. That's what their instructors said, but if anybody asked John what it was for him, he just simply enjoyed coaxing Sub-Zero ("Very funny, you pyromaniac." "C'mon, that was weak. You'll have to do better than that, Ice Cube.") out of his shell, letting his fire frolic with its counter element. Negative and positive of the same, if you wanted to get poetic.

Of course, there was also the aspect of them both being young and as such, hormone-driven, too. He was always open to some serious self-exploring opportunity. Safe environment for that wasn't a given, not for him, and even less so in combination with someone begrudgingly-trustworthy (i.e. with no other agenda hidden behind the forementioned romping between the sheets).

It was nothing; just fooling around – one that was kept secret from their teachers and anyone, really, since Bobby-boy was too chickenshit to admit to a healthy dose of experimenting himself. John couldn't care less; he wasn't the guy's keeper after all.

Until he somehow turned out to be. What was worse? Without him even expecting it. You see, the thing was… he kinda screwed himself over. For all his puffed-up chest and big shoulders about how he was prudent and cautious, he landed himself in a swamp (or moving sand if he'd so chose to rather stay dry; same difference, though) right there. Knee deep and it was only a matter of time until it swallowed him up whole.

It was all the Ice-berk's ("I'm not stupid, John!" "Sure, whatever helps you sleep at night.") fault. If he wasn't so pure and open and easy to approach – hell, he, approaching him all of his own! – in the first place, John wouldn't have fallen into this trap.

Who was he kidding. He blew it. Big time.

But it was still all good, right? What he meant was, there was no rush or anything. They could simply keep at it the way they had up til now with Ice Ice Bobby none the wiser and everyone chilling, pun intended.

He should have known that he was never meant to have a happy end. Not ever (as if life hadn't showed him enough indications to that already) and definitely not with Snow White on top of that. When had he sunken so low as to think he even could?

Shame. Shame on you, St. John Allerdyce.

As he was forced to witness and live the changes that wafted in after Rogue's appearance and continued presence, years of evolved camaraderie and any ease connected to it began to shrivel.

He had suddenly more free time on his hands than what he knew what to do with, his subconsciousness developed an almost uncontrollable need for a facepalm at least once per every 24 hour mark, his teeth were bound to rot any day now with the diabetes-inducing teenage romance developing before his eyes and he better man-the-fuck-up right now, because he did not make it this far only to become a sob story.

So, he watched with skeptical interest as Bobby, encouraged by Rogue's supporting words, froze his mother's disgustingly milk-ruined coffee instead. John knew long before they had even opened their mouths, what side Bobby's parents would pick, what their reaction would be. He could not keep his sarcastic thoughts pointed at his roommate from emerging then.

Why did you think, all of a sudden, they won't mind? We talked about your bigoted parents so many times… You think that you having a girlfriend like a good, normal teenage boy somehow neutralizes your negative mutant points?

If not knowing better, John would say Bobby did it on purpose just to fuck with him. Nobody could be that sickeningly foolish after all. And the Drakes? He silently dared them to surprise him; to call their "Art teacher" out on his blatant lie even. To prove him wrong.

Which would be when Wolverine got shot in the head right infront of them. That did surprise him, John will give them that.

An unexpected rush of everything followed right after and with startling clarity.

One too many black eyes.

Sleeping in a cardboard box, freezing (nobody cared).

Broken jaw.

Stealing a pack of matches the first time around – to get to feel at least a bit safe (they were too tricky to operate, to strike with shaking hands, wrong move there wrong wrong wrong).

Hungry, impotent anger.

Running away.

The breath; foul and heavy with booze.

First fire (pure accident please!).

His mother on the floor, bleeding (never fighting back; just taking it run!).

Heavy hands.

Cops chasing him back into slums (you'd have to know it here better to catch me, assholes).

Bloodshot bottomless eyes. A vortex about to swallow him up, too.

Events flashing before his mind's eye at random and in no chronological order.

His heart not having a foggiest how to deal with the overabundance of adrenaline that jumped up out of nowhere.

"And the rest of you, on the ground. Now."

He could almost physically feel Wolverine, right before his feet, lifeless.

See Bobby, lying down, obedient.

"Look, kid. I said, on the ground."

Rogue, too; docile.

They can't be serious. Why were they kidding themselves? They were gonna die here.

"We don't want to hurt you, kid."

Really. The fucking cop just shot Wolverine. If they won't protect themselves… They're dead. If he's not gonna do anything now…

He gulped. Palmed his zippo; the warmed-up steel that bit slicker with sweat. Or sick memory?

C'mon, Pyro, show up. Fight.

In the pit of his stomach, hot magma twisted and curled, warming him up until he could almost sense the licks of unborn fire on his fingertips.

There.

He won't lie down. Not until he's six feet under.

A/N: So I’ve found something of a themesong for EoS I think. If you’re wondering, you can check it here.

A bit of explanation on a side:

My idea is that St. John Allerdyce still has Australian background, he just moved to US with his family when he was a small kid or something. So... just bear with the little mess, please. I love him being "St. John" way too much as to delete half of it from my story.

Also, I’ll deviate a bit from the movies timeline (which is a tangle anyway) in this version (I got two total, don’t panic), which you’ll notice on the transition from X-2 movie to X-3.

#marvel #x-men #allerdrake #pyro/iceman #eos

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under-latest-nostalgia · 7 years

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Got Scars on Our Future Hearts (But We Never Look Back) [5/7]

Where Carlos keeps disappearing, Evie is scheming something, Mal knows and won’t say and Jay just wants to struggle about his new found crushes in peace.

Alternatively, Carlos is in a secret underground rock band and is totally crushing on Jay. Jay finds out about said secret band and finds the lead totally hot. Evie planned it all from the start and Mal likes watching her emotionally stunted male friends fumble about their love lives as much as she did. (Even more alternatively, the Punk Band AU I talked about with be-a-thief-in-the-night)

Chapters: [1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7]

<AO3>

Carlos laughed as he ran off stage, out of breath and hyped up on the adrenaline of a gig.

“Goodness sake, Snowflake,” their bassist, Beck, says as they pull off the plague doctor inspired carnival mask and ruffling their dark hair, “Really pulling for some groupies, huh?”

“Oh shut up Crow.” Carlos replies, using their stage names in case the mics weren't off yet.“You know I've only got eyes on one.”

“And what a tragedy that is.” Elliot comes in with a flourish and a wink, shaking his sweat soaked hair, dropping the motorcycle helmet he used on the couch and sitting beside it with a groan. “You've got too pretty a voice to get all hung up on one person now.”

Harriet comes in and smacks her brother up the head before squeezing in beside him, “As if you'd actually go for it if he was available you dork.”

Elliot rolls his eyes, “I'm trying to teach you, dear sister. Just because I don't want or need any doesn't mean you have to live your life in constant awkward pining.”

“Oh shut up!” Harriet replies, blowing a raspberry in her twin’s direction.

“Still, I can't believe our lil baby singer had the guts to do it.” Kali replies as she gingerly places her guitar on the stand.

Carlos groans, “You act as if I pushed him against a wall and made out with him- “

“And what an image that would've made.” Elliot cuts in cheekily.

“ -thanks Lio- as I was saying, I just dedicated to an anonymous person, I didn't even say his name.” Carlos finishes, exasperated.

“Maybe you should.” Beck says with a grin that reminded Carlos a tad too much of the Isle. “We could set up a club to go with our gig next time. Have you corner the unsuspecting Jock as the party dwindles.”

Beck waggles their eyebrows suggestively and grabs Kali's hand and pulls her into a dip. “Imagine, you, him, bright light, a dark corner.”

Kali laughs as Beck pulls her up into a twirl. Kali sighs dreamily for effect, “You whisper in his ear, and before you know it-”

“BOOM, “ they say together, as Kali extends her hand in a dramatic pose, “He's all flustered and you have him right where you want him.”

They bow dramatically and the twins clap lightly.

“Take him home, maybe ravage him, or the other way around, whichever,” Elliot adds with an eyebrow waggle of his own, “And happily ever after happens.”

Carlos shakes his head and groans into a facepalm, “I regret telling you all about him.”

Beck laughs, “Telling us? Dear, don't pretend you had a choice.”

Carlos sighs and shakes his head, “Ugh, whatever.”

Kali takes pity on him and pats his head, “Don't worry about it too much. But I do think it's a good idea to invite him to our next gig and have it in a place where you can talk to him instead of having to leave immediately.”

Carlos sighs, less exasperated and more defeated, “Yeah, you're right. You sure we can pull that off?”

Beck and the twins have what you can only describe as Cheshire cat grins on their faces, Kali shrugs and looks at him with an expression that said well, what can ya do?

Carlos can already feel the regret climbing up his spine.

Carlos gets back in a simple shirt and some sweatpants. He heads to Evie and Mal’s dorm room. He gives two sharp knocks on the door and out opens to a widely grinning blue haired princess.

“A note, Carlos?” Evie says with a sly smile, “How old fashioned of you.”

“Ugh,” Carlos grunts as he walks in and lets himself fall on one of the beds, “I would've thought the teasing would end at my bandmates.”

Evie somehow snorts like royalty, “Oh please, C, our resident badass wannabees wouldn't have even touched the tip of the teasing iceberg.”

“Honestly, this is the most fun Auradon drama I've seen.” Mal says from her bed with a grin that reminds Carlos of her mom. “Ironically the main characters are VKs, but then again we are the most fun in general.”

Carlos sighs, wanting to steer the conversation away from his train wreck of a romantic conquest. “Beck’s planning an afterparty for the next gig. Thought you guys might want in on it.”

Carlos doesn’t mention that it’s planned deliberately to move his love life forward but he figures he deserves a bit of reprieve before Evie and Mal find out eventually. He sees Evie with a twinkle in her eye and Carlos already knows he’s going to either owe Evie his soul for the rest of his life or regret this with the force of a thousand dying suns. (Okay, so he’s being a tad dramatic. Don’t judge him, Evie’s plans are always over the top since she, and he quotes, “missed out on the prime of my party planning youth because of a certain half fairy.”)

Mal is giving Carlos the stink eye for planting a party planning thought in Evie’s head and turns to face the blue haired princess with a neutral expression.

“Evie…” she starts cautiously as the other girl turns to her excitedly.

“Mal…” Evie says with a sly smile. “You’d do anything for your best girl right?”

“Don’t you drag my affection for you into this!” Mal says, shaking her head violently and giving Evie what could only be called a childish pout. Not that Carlos would ever say that to Mal’s face.

Evie laughs and pats Mal’s cheek. “You know you can’t turn me down, sweet pea.”

Mal growls playfully, wraps her arms around Evie and pulls her down onto the bed. Evie shrieks with laughter, playfully struggling against Mal’s grip, too distracted and breathless from laughing to really try.

Carlos rolls his eyes at the two and decides that it was his time to leave, he says a quick goodbye the girls won’t hear and hops off the bed and out of the room.

Carlos pads silently to their room, a habit that sometimes freaks the Auradon kids out. Heeled shoes aren't exactly quiet and on the Isle quiet is a lifestyle. Although, to think of it, Evie has perfected the art of stiletto sneaking.

Carlos gets to their room and he opens the door, the hinges creak and Carlos’ jaw locks instinctively. He grimaces at the habit as he loosens his jaw. He wonders when he'll be able to stop locking up at the minutest sound when he's alone, reacting like he's still afraid of a slap to the face for existing.

(He guesses it would be when he actually feels that it's ok for him to exist.)

He opens the door wide and sees Jay sitting up on his own bed, eyes alert and muscles coiled like snake readying to strike. Jay visibly relaxes into a smile when he sees Carlos. A part of Carlos is relieved that he wasn’t the only one with remnants of the Isle in him, the other part is angry that someone as precious as Jay had to live with the Isle marking him.

“Sup, Pup.” Jay says, raising a hand lazily, heavily contrasting the attack-mode he was in earlier.

“Hey, Jay.” Carlos says as he closes the door, walks over to his bed and sits down.

“You alright, C?” Jay says with a worried tone, Carlos looks up in surprise and is startled by the pouty look on Jay’s face, “You look exhausted.”

Adoration bubbles in Carlos’ chest, he couldn’t believe Jay would bother worrying about him, Carlos kicks off his shoes in an effort to get his mind busy and keep his tone light. “Uh- I-I’m fine. New project is’all, keeping us up.”

Carlos looks at his abandoned shoes like they’re the most interesting thing and Jay frowns, worry lines deepening before shaking his head.

“Oh, that’s cool.” Jay says with a strained smile Carlos misses, “Just… don’t go around collapsing.”

Carlos feels a blush starting, which is honestly the stupidest thing seeing as he sung the dude a love song just a couple of hours earlier. Carlos looks up and smiles at Jay, “Thanks, Jay. Don't worry, I'm pretty sure I can handle it better than the Auradon kids.”

“Course you can.” Jay says with a snort, “You'd be hurtin’ the VK pride if you didn't.”

Carlos laughs, it was nice to be able to banter with Jay like this. It's been awhile since they weren't both either asleep or busy. That afternoon was actually the first time in a couple of months that they really got to hang out together and now that the rush of the show was fading from Carlos’ veins, he realized that he really missed the older boy. Even on the Isle where Mal and Jay were more frequently out thieving together whilst Carlos and Evie worked on the logistics side of things. When it came down to it, the moment the four of them were in a room, Jay had managed to squeeze into whatever makeshift beanbag Carlos was on, chattering idly about his thoughts and Evie was off to sweet talk Mal into whatever plan she had come up with to get whatever thing she wanted. Honestly, Jay's existence was entwined into Carlos’ life and if it were up to the younger, it would ne-

“Earth to Carlos.”

Carlos blinks as his train of thought stops suddenly. “Huh?”

Jay looks at him with a mixture of fondness and amusement, “Off to lala land again?”

Carlos shrugs and smiles, “Just thinking about how it's been awhile since we got to hang out together. Just us.”

Jay looks startled, mouth opening and closing a couple of times like a fish out of water.

Carlos laughs, embarrassed, “Cat got your tongue?”

Jay looks like how speechless feels before he snaps out of it, “W-wait, are you saying you want us to go out- hang, hang out together?”

“Course,” Carlos says, “Just ‘cause I've got new friends doesn't mean they're higher on the list than you, bro.”

Jay looks taken aback before giving a grin that Carlos has figured made every vaguely interested person swoon on the spot. Carlos manages not to through sheer willpower and built up tolerance over the years.

“Hah, of course I am.” Jay says with faux confidence, “Best bros for life dude.”

They both go quiet.

Jay looks down and speaks up, “I just figured, you'd be better off with the Auradon kids.”

Carlos frowns and sits beside the older boy, nudging the other's shoulder, “Hey, I might not be the most evil but we're VKs for life, right? Ain't nobody but us could really get it.”

Jay grins, “Cause we’re rotten.”

Carlos laughs at the old phrase, “To the core.”

#jaylos #disney descendants #jay descendants #carlos de vil #malvie #the jaylos punk band carlos au #finally releasing the fifth chapter HAHAHA #jaylosfic

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