#the fan with miles definitely looks more like alex

[uhbasicallyjustmilex]

don’t mind me, i’m just thinking about these photos of alex and miles with fans who look like dfwya era miles and humbug era alex 🫠

#it’s not just me who sees it right??? #(it might be. it’s late and i’ve been writing too much fanfic) #the fan with miles definitely looks more like alex #but idk #there’s something to the hair and face shape of the fan with alex that’s vaguely reminiscent of miles too #(or i might just be losing my remaining sanity 😭) #anyway #i’ll see myself out #milex #lulu posts

[skylarbee]

I just saw your recent post on AM stans hating on Milex stans… I need a catching up please. What about LV and Amanda (?) and Matt too? I rarely ever dive deep into bands and their members, I just like to appreciate their music.

Thank you ♡

! long post incoming and i want to point out that i don't plan on using this blog to discuss any of these people (only maybe very rarely) - i don't like them, i don't think they're good people, i don't want to argue with people who think otherwise, and i usually ignore whatever they're up to - my main focus will always be on milex/miles !

hi anon! <3 i have no idea how much you know already, or if you basically don't know anything related to these three, or any of them. i will say that i have no screenshots concerning the things that i mention, but searching their names up on tumblr and/or scrolling through blogs like @/shit-talk-turner and @/alexstorm will make things more clear.

this whole thing started when louise posted a screenshot yesterday of an am fan saying some dumb shit about her in the comments and bringing up alexa (i still can't believe she posted this). she posted this with some equally stupid words (i don't have the screenshot - you can find it on twitter/tumblr/ig/tiktok/wherever), and matt then reposted her story, jumping to protect her (maybe amanda did too, i don't know). then she managed to screenshot some nice comments and posted those too, saying that 'love always wins' or something similar, and that haters can kiss her ass (this definitely didn't come across as her craving and asking for some compliments; she definitely doesn't need people babying her in order for her to feel good about herself) - which reminded me of something similar that amanda said like a year ago, that they don't pay attention to the haters anyways, of course after posting a long paragraph paying attention to them (makes me laugh just to think about it).

there are so many other hysterical and foolish things she does, like posting pictures of a messy bed (look, i'm fucking alex turner!), selfies with suspicious rings, other pics hinting at alex's presence, calling paparazzis to take pictures of them on the beach, pretending to be jane birkin and alex to be serge gainsbourg, going off about how independent she is while living off of alex's money, somehow managing to make matt's and amanda's marriage about her (with amanda encouraging her), 'accidentally' always doing these when miles has important things going on, etc etc (the fact that her and miles never interacted in real life is also deeply concerning. alex, dear, you should always trust your best friend when they don't like your partner, they always end up being right - especially knowing that miles was always on really good terms with alex's exs). it's clear that she's deeply insecure and adores when the attention is on her and when people are talking about her, and if she goes for a long period without this, she just has to pull something that will get fans talking. she's trying so hard to fit in and be the sexy rockstar girlfriend that she just ends up looking stupid.

if you don't know the real reasons why some people don't like louise, i'm just gonna post some links about her that pretty much sum it all up:

https://www.tumblr.com/snarcticmonkeys/685972106927882240/can-you-recap-the-problematic-things-frencies?source=share

https://www.tumblr.com/snarcticmonkeys/685366553489866753/everybodys-got-something-to-hide-except-me-and-my?source=share

https://www.tumblr.com/snarcticmonkeys/685366736118235136/everybodys-got-something-to-hide-except-me-and-my?source=share

https://www.tumblr.com/snarcticmonkeys/685155230049075200/louise-the-fangirl?source=share

https://www.tumblr.com/snarcticmonkeys/685155226833059841/lyon-july-2018?source=share

https://www.tumblr.com/snarcticmonkeys/685095240693170176/deleted-posts?source=share

about amanda... now, if i remember correctly, amanda had a blog dedicated to her music, and people dug up some screenshots in which she replies to someone and uses the n-word, and then another post where she's being racist. these screenshots are somewhere in the depths of my phone and it would be impossible to find them, and regardless, these screenshots are so old that she could've well changed for the better since then.

the problem with her is the fact that she's having arguments in the comments with young fans (asking stuff like did they have brain tumours for breakfast and other ridiculous things...or was that louise?) and posts even more ridiculous stories in response to people bullying louise, and protecting her like she's a toddler who can't take care of herself. the pure arrogance and self-importance with which she communicates her ideas is just mental, she thinks that she's on the top of the world, and encourages louise to act the same way. it's baffling that two 40-ish women think that bullying 14 year olds will achieve anything other than encouraging other 'fans' to act the same way.

the thing about matt is just basically the fact that ever since he's been with amanda, he acts the same way as her. now, i know there's been some issue about some idiots commenting about his daughter, which made him deactivate his ig account, and i have absolutely no words for the people who dared to say anything about that poor, innocent, completely blameless child. but even before this, he turned to the same kind of arrogance as amanda and reposted all her stories concering louise. the way that they need to say over and over again what a good person louise is, how much alex loves her, how great their relationship is, how beautiful and kind and caring she is... makes you really question if she really is indeed all those things (especially if you opened those links i posted). more importantly, what exactly do they plan to achieve arguing with teenage girls? it's so childish, my god, they are only adding fuel to the fire. god knows what they're telling alex and also god knows what he thinks about it all.

there's something that i'm not 100% sure about, but i'm gonna say it in the hopes that someone will see this and will tell me if this is wrong or not: matt cheated on breana when both her parents died (this one is definitely true), and left her with 1 year old amelia, and fucked off to live with another woman (amanda denies being the woman in question, i have no idea). she was solo parenting for a while (breana said all these in a podcast), then matt woke up and decided that he wants something to do with his daughter after all, and ever since then he takes care of her too - good job love, you're still horrible though.

in short, l&a's insanely childish antics dragged matt into the whole thing too. they're constantly throwing hissy fits, in hopes to achieve god knows what, and then they feel proud of themselves for telling teenage girls off. which makes you think, what would happen if am would be 10 times more popular than they are know, and louise would get 10 times the hate she gets now? or even better, what would happen if louise would get the same amount of hate miles gets on the daily? she said in her screenshot that she knows that it's only a minority of the fandom that leave such mean comments - then what's the point of paying attention to it? all this just shows another reason why these two definitely don't like each other - miles has brains, the other one... well, i'm sorry. i tried my best to like them and look past their mistakes,but i just can't do it.

#lord have mercy #alex turner #arctic monkeys #amanda blank #louise verneuil #matt helders #anon

[marsalaqueen]

Ok, I have a sad theory about Alex Turner's relationships with his women and his music, that is, I hope, not 100% true. And I do want to share it with you!

The concept is that Alex takes only inspiration from his girlfriends for the new albums, write lyrics about them, but not really love them. And the only person whom he is in love with is Miles Kane.

Before we start I'd like to say that I don't wanna blame or offend anyone. I personally do not know any of the people described below and I can be wrong about them. I respect everything they do, and in fact I sympathize with absolutely every character. All the thoughts described below came to my mind only during a small investigation of some Alex's texts, which hooked me with their references even though sometimes they are not obvious.

Sooo, let's begin with Johanna Bennett. They were dating in 2005-2007, Alex was 19, for sure just a kid. The development of Arctic Monkeys has just begun, first album, first fame and fans confession. In fact, there is little information about them on the Internet, and the only thing I found was what he recorded with her "Fluorescent Adolescent". I can't say anything about specifically her influence on the first albums, because the press did not really catch their relationship. Then let's slowly move on to the favorite of most fans Alexa Chung.

Alexa was a real match. Their names, appearance and magnetic charisma spoke for themselves. They were dating from 2007 to 2011, Humbug and Suck It and See were released in this period (Favorite Worst Nightmare was recorded before her). And if in Humbug I can’t clearly trace any references (except perhaps Crying Lightning), then SIAS is one continuous declaration of love to Alexa. It has a lot more melancholic, romantic, incredibly touching songs - «She’s Thunderstorms», «Reckless Serenade», «Piledriver Waltz», «Love Is a Laserquest», «Suck It and See» and others. There is no doubt that the main source of inspiration was Alexa. And when Alex performed live She’s Thunderstorms after their split, the bitter pain was felt throughout the song. I mean, read some lyrics from SIAS:

Your love is like a studded leather headlock

Your kiss it could put creases in the rain

You're rarer than a can of dandelion and burdock

And those other girls are just postmix lemonade;

The type of kisses where teeth collide

When she laughs, the heavens hum a stun gun lullaby

Those twinkling vixens with the shining spiral eyes

Their hypnosis goes unnoticed when she's walking by

And I do believe that Chung was his last true love. Some sort of a special chemistry could be seen between them, a strong real feeling. Alexa was loving, easy and sincere, just like SIAS.

But after only a month in 2011 he started dating Arielle Vandenberg, a Hollywood actress. With her they had their best (commercially and judging by the love of the audience) album AM. IT was cheeky, luxurious, sexy - posh as an American dream, whose incarnation can be called Arielle. She was in R U Mine? and One For The Road clips (maybe even in some more), she is definitely his Arabella starting at least from the leopard coat that she often wore. In a word, she fit well into the concept of AM. They also looked cute with him, drinking together in bars and wearing damn cool Halloween costumes. And, more importantly, she got along with the rest of the members, as did Alexa, by the way!

Several months passes and Alex is in a relationships again - this time with a model Taylor Bagley, the most chaotic and crazy one (in a good way). After stunning success of AM Monkeys are taking a hiatus, and Alex starts having fun with Miles. We come to the intriguing part. During their relationship with Taylor, they are recording a new album with TLSP, which, in addition to the sound of vintage soul with strings, is also very romantic and poignant. What they did with Miles on stage is another story, but we'll get to that later. So, he and Taylor got paired tattoos with their names, he literally wrote at least "Sweet Dreams, TN" about her (Although being born in Oklahoma, she states in interviews that she considers herself a Nashville, Tennessee, native and she has a piercing in her nose), by the way, she also made a tattoo with the name of this song. Together with Miles they hang out at her house with a pool and dog; she is in "Bad Habits" clip, and in general they are real safely threesome. They are crazy, drunk and happily doing some odd things, like the 2nd TLSP album.

And finally we are coming to the most provocative part. Louise Verneuil. I will not say whether he cheated on Bagley with her or not, but the time between the breakup and the new relationship was negligible. Rumors say that Louise was almost in his dressing room backstage while he was still in a relationship with Taylor. So, so far, their relationship with the French singer is the longest he's ever had (2018-till now). Visually, I am insanely impressed with how they look together, they complement each other incredibly, if only because Louise is finally lower than him ahahaha. She is petite and flirtatious, infused with the spirit of the 70s and Jane Birkin. Look at her clips (Love Corail, Desert and etc.), and then at the Car....

Yes, he produced some videos for her, so maybe they are similar. But his style of Alain Delon, the image of the horny teacher of geography from the 70s, scarves at concerts and so on - all this gives off the atmosphere of Louise. For example, a There'd Better Be a Mirrorball clip, in which, by the way, there is Louise as well.

The only thing that confuses everyone is her bad relationship with fans (I saw a screenshot of the correspondence somewhere, where she rudely asked the girl to remove the photo with Alex from her stories), scandals with likes on posts about rape, photos of Alex once in a while a year, and the absence of Alex's sincere smile next to her, let's be honest. And one important notice - he stopped celebrating Halloween with Louise, which he apparently loved very much, as he always carefully approached the choice of costume (my favorite is Florence and the Machine with Arielle, it's fantastic)

Let's sum up a little. 1) Since 2005 Alex cannot be without a relationship for more than 4-5 months, which is not normal obviously. He seems to be afraid of being alone, thinking that he will not find inspiration for a new album, or, in principle, he has a fear of loneliness. 2) Vibes of all his albums are a reflection of his girls. Next to them he changes also. 3) Remember the evolution of his images, in addition to age and interests, the style of girls also influences him. With Alexa, it’s simple T-shirts and old jeans, while she is in plain dresses and shorts with knee socks; with Arielle he is in tight pants and leather jackets, and she is in extravagant coats and heels; with Taylor he is in colorful suits and flared pants, and she is in very short tops with pink hair; with Louise he is in corduroy jackets and white shirts, whilst she in vintage jeans and flowing blouses - boom, all matches! 4) Obviously he has a type of girls with a square face, blond hair and bangs. The only one who deviated much from this type was Taylor. 5) I have not seen him hugging, laughing and kissing someone the way Miles Kane does, next to whom he literally glows, not afraid to show himself, not afraid to be real, foolish, but really himself.

Perhaps happiness loves silence and Alex, as a not very public person, keeps all the feelings between him and his woman, but he is too open next to Miles, not afraid to show his feelings in public, which raises some doubts.

I would like to write a separate final post about Al and Miles, if it is necessary at all. Please let me know if any of this resonated with you, and if I can flesh out any of these points to you in more detail, I will do so with pleasure!

#alex turner #arctic monkeys #miles kane #alexa chung #louise verneuil #arielle vandenberg #taylor bagley #milex #tlsp2 #theory #relationship

[rpfisfine]

do you hate miles?🤨

i was wondering when someone would send me an ask like this yeah i dont like him to be honest. i know ppl on here have largely moved on from the fateful 2016 interview and it has been discussed to death and yeah he immediately said he was joking etc etc but i dont think its weird to think you shouldnt have to feel pressured to like completely forgive and forget and absolve the sins of a male musician saying something that made a female reporter feel unsafe or objectified or 'caught in an increasingly distressing situation' or act like its some sort of unheard of and unimaginable offense that has never happened before in the history of music interviews and one someone’s favorite musician who can do no wrong in their eyes could definitely never get caught up in (esp given how gross in general the music industry is towards women). OR even go so far to say the reporter did it all for attention i cant believe this is even a discussion that has ever been had in any form ever like genuinely nothing makes me angrier than ppl who literally turn into blatant sexists whenever their favorite white guy's reputation is even mildly put at risk ive literally seen one person on here say the whole interview was made up and exaggerated and that she just wanted to 'join the me too movement' which is like Okay man i think you might just not have any respect for women in real life maybe. even watered down and not as extreme its a take thats more prevalent on am tumblr than i thought or previously imagined and i hate how bad it makes the fandom look like i trust that everyone on here is a reasonably intelligent and empathetic human being who has at least a basic tumblr education on the fact that victim blaming is bad so we dont rly need to turn around and immediately go 'she just misunderstood what he was saying' or 'she just didnt get his sense of humor' like Alright

i hope im articulating all this reasonably well like i think its literally fine that ppl have accepted his apology and moved on and are able to enjoy him as an artist and/or as a person too thats awesome and im happy for the ppl that i follow that have this kind of relationship with him. even if it wasnt for the interview thing he stil wouldnt be for me i used to be a pretty big fan of his music when i was younger but nowadays since ive found different music i dont rly pay any attention to him. im glad he was able to spark alex creatively but thats as far as my enjoyment goes of him to be yonest

also ive just realized now that all this makes me look kind of contrived given the fact that ive written milex before and i dont rly have like an impenetrable explanation i literally started writing for jamex around the time the car album came out bc i found out all my fav jamex fics had gotten deleted by their author so i wanted to fill the void and then one day i was like wait am i good enough yet to write a functional milex fic (plus i was hoping to get more ppl to notice my writing and milex offers a pretty easy way to do that) so then i wrote 2 and i was like ok i am cool. i dont intend to write another fic for them

hope this makes sense i probably forgor to say like 10 other things i wanted to say but thats okay

#i didnt rly wanna talk abt this but now i cant dodge it anymore i trust my friends respect my opinion and arent mad at me #also wanted to make a disclaimer that ive never set foot on am twitter so my opinion isnt influenced by amtwt at all #i know ppl dont like miles on there but i have genuinely no clue how they go abt it or what they say im not brave enough to make an account #there. #asks #Pleasneeeeeee dont harrass me over this im literally just doing my thang over here in the czech republic #also ive literally had that one shitty take screenshotted since like november of last year LOL it made me soooooooo mad

[shit-talk-turner]

I don’t understand miles or his fans. His fans literally love everything he does and treat him like he’s their buddy. He hints at Alex non stop always pumping the shows. I don’t get him.// I went to the TLSP show in San Francisco and I admit, my eyes were on Alex the whole time. Miles was obviously more enthusiastic and he loved rousing the audience but he just... made me cringe? It was like watching that one guy from class who always did shit to receive attention, performing. He no doubt is a great guitar player and his voice is not half bad but, it just hurts watching him 😅 even from online. Maybe Alex is just more charismatic. Being amazing at what he does also definitely helps. Not gonna lie, a few times during the show, it looked like Alex was glowing and it was like an oh shit moment every time it happened. His pants were also a spectacle 😂, I don't know if it's a natural occurrence to see him like that, but his dick just kept poking out. I do notice tho that there seems to be a hate boner for Miles and sometimes it's too much, twitter especially. As much as he can be annoying, he's just living his life, enjoying performances.

^

[wannabe-fic-writer]

Kara Danvers x Reader : Chose

Angst 20 -“ Don’t look at me like that.” “Like what?” “Like you still love me.”   Fluff 2 -“ It’s you, it always has been.”  

Genre: Bit of Angst w/ Fluff

Word Count: 1,419

* * * * * *

Wind brushes past you. You focus your senses on this feeling. Floating thousands of miles in the sky, the hum of the city below you, and the stars seeming to be in arms reach.

You take a deep breath in and smile softly.

Rao you love being able to fly.  

The faint sound of a siren wailing catches your attention and you focus in on it. With a deep inhale, you shoot across the sky, releasing the breath as you do. In seconds you’re flying above the three police cars chasing a truck. 

The situation becomes clear when the trucks back door is yanked open, two men standing in the back with rifles. As always they make the mistake of firing at you. 

“You’d think they get it by now.” Her soft voice sounds from right beside you and somehow you’re heart flutters and breaks all over again.

Glancing over, you find blue eyes looking back at you, a soft smile on her pink lips.

Not having a reply for her, you clench your fist and address the threat. 

Turns out they aren’t just a merry band of misfits. After they run out of normal bullets, they exchange their guns for some very high tech weapons. 

Winn assists you two from the D.E.O, telling you all that the weapons’ power sources are definitely alien but nothing you can’t handle. They’re heat weapons and luckily neither yourself or Kara are effected by fire. 

It takes a minute, but you eventually disarm them and stop the truck. You and Kara hang around a bit until the police have them squared away in their cars and the weapons confiscated.

“Another win for the super friends.” Winn exclaims as you and Kara walk in from the D.E.O’s balcony. 

You lean against the table in the middle of the command center,“ we really need to get a source on these weapons. I know there’s a lot of alien tech that came from the debris of Fort Rozz but this is insane. Every bad guy has an alien weapon now.” 

“She’s right,” J’onn comes in, Alex by his side as usual,“ someone must be selling them.”

“I can try tracing the heat sigs,” Winn spins around in his chair and types at lighting speed,“ they were pretty high levels so if someone is indeed selling them I should be able to pinpoint where they. . are.” It’s quiet for a second.“ Bingo!”

All eyes flick to the many monitors ahead. 

Alex steps forward,“ they’re selling out shipping containers on the docks. Why there? The Fort Rozz crash site is right here in National City.”

You sigh,“ because local police forces don’t really bat too many eyelashes at high activity on the docks. It’s usual that there’s a large amount of equipment moving in and out of there. It’s likely they’d let some alien parts disguised as normal tech slide.” 

J’onn is quick to get a team ready to go, sending you and Kara ahead as usual. 

Tension is thick, even with the two of you in open air, flying above the city. It translates into your fighting.

Before, you and Kara fought together as if you were attachments of one another. No communication needed, you stopped threats without breaking a sweat. Now though, due to recent events that’s not the case. Even as you two talk, things get lost in communication. 

Luckily with the help of the D.E.O. you neutralize the threat and secure the weapons. Instead of returning to the D.E.O, you check in with J’onn and head home. 

Tonight is game night and you have to gather your thoughts before you end up sitting in Kara’s apartment for hours. Especially with everyone acting as if things are perfectly fine. 

All of your friends are aware of the rift between you and Kara. They all knew about the reason for it but not the reason behind the reason. Not even you know the reason behind the reason. 

You just know that the choice she made changed everything between you two. And that it hurt like hell. 

By the time you have to arrive you’re feeling a little better mentally. Enough for you to at least act like being in Kara’s place is perfectly fine. You manage to get through two and a half games, laughing with everyone, and joking around. 

That stops though when you catch Kara’s eyes. It’s clear she’d been looking at you for a minute now and the emotion in those pools of blue once again makes your heart pound and break. 

“Excuse me guys.” You pat James’ shoulder and head over to the kitchen. 

You can hear Kara excuse herself as well and walk over after you and you can feel her eyes on you as you pull her fridge open. 

Turning back to the island, you sigh and catch her gaze, eyebrows pinching together,“ don’t look at me like that.” 

“Like what?” Her head tilts just barely and the look remains.

“Like you still love me.”  

Your words make her breath hitch. She gulps and taps nervously on the counter top, you know if she keeps it up she’s going to dig a substantial hole in the wood.

She speaks, voice wavering in the slightest,“ I do love you.”

A scoff falls from your lips,“ just not enough though right?” Her pained expression returns.“ Not more than you loved him.”

Her shoulders sag at your words. She doesn’t know how to tell you that’s not true because you have every right to believe it is. Kara knew full well that you loved(love) her and she admitted to loving you too. Yet and still she ended up dating Mon-El. 

The decision to do so shocked everyone and broke you. While she doesn’t regret being with Mon-El, she has always loved you and always will. 

“Y/n,” she rounds the corner to stand at your side,“ it was never about who I loved more.” 

Eyebrows pinch together,“ so what was it exactly? Was I not as good as the Daxamite prince?”

“I never said that and I would never compare you and Mon-El.” Determination and honesty set in those big blue eyes.“ It’s you, it always has been.”

This time your shoulders drop, her words sinking in but still not making much sense seeing as that wasn’t the case before.“ Then why? Why choose him and not me?” 

“I was scared okay.” Tears begin to well in both your eyes.“ Y/n, I didn’t want to ruin our friendship. What if we broke up or fought and we couldn’t fix it-”

“Kara we fought as friends. We went days without talking but we always worked through it, that’s how much we meant to each other. We always tried for each other. That wouldn’t have been any different if we dated.” 

Both of you know your friends are listening. Even though you’re speaking quietly, they noticed how long you two had been gone and stopped talking to listen. 

The blonde looks down ashamedly,“ I know that now, I just didn’t think about it then. But I’ve long since stopped being afraid.”

“Wh-” your gaze snaps up to hers,“ what’d you mean?” 

“I mean,” taking a deep breath, she steps closer,“ if you’ll have me, I want there to be an us. More than there was before. Romantically I mean.” She rushes out the last bits and you chuckle. 

She’s a little shocked when you raise your hand to cup her cheek. A smile of her own forming at the sight of yours. 

Leaning forward, you rest your forehead against hers.“ You broke my heart pretty bad Danvers.” 

“I promise I’ll fix it.” 

With the breath of her words fanning your lips, you close the short distance. Lips meet in a long awaited kiss. The cheers of your friends behind you blocked out by the rush of feelings and warmth. How either of you had gone years without this is lost on you but so worth it. 

“We are still playing a game you know.” J’onn is the first to break your moment up, shortly followed by teasing comments from everyone else, and calls to come back over. 

Kara’s hand in yours, you both rejoin your friends. The tension no long there, the night continues smoothly. Laughter rings loud and surprisingly, none of you are pulled away by some alien threat. 

It’s the first night in a long time that everything as perfect as possible. 

#kara danvers #kara danvers imagine #kara danvers fluff #kara danvers x reader #dcu #dcu x reader #reader insert #request

[something-in-the-seas]

Sorry to bother once again, (I had the Bioshock Infinite bullshit centrism ask and the Burial at Sea ask) but I’m replaying Bioshock 2 again as well and I can’t help but think...why does this one in particular have such a hardcore fan base? Returning to Rapture just isn’t very thrilling whatsoever, and the level design as well as even the graphic design of ads and art in the world is an enormous downgrade from the first game. Sure, the gameplay was good for 2008, but it has aged pretty badly a few things aside (the improved hacking creates great moments of tension). The color palette of the game goes from brown to dark golds, and the splicers just aren’t as engaging either. The world building and characters just feel incredibly expository and unnecessary. Sophia Lamb and collectivism just feels like cliche cult writing and not as wholly dangerous as objectivism/anarcho-capitalism and also feels like at times it’s just trying to do a critique of left wing politics and it doesn’t work. I understand Rapture is pretty much a post apocalyptic society and is just degrading rapidly, but the world just isn’t as immersive as the first and feels like a cheap imitation. Minerva’s Den really feels like the saving grace of this game, and it’s story is much better, but it is unfortunately relegated to being DLC. People complain about Bioshock Infinite’s retcons, but this entire game feels like it doesn’t have actual canonical parity to the first game and wholly unnecessary. I understand that 2k gave devs a VERY limited amount of time (like maybe a year and a half) and they got screwed over and that contributes to a lot of the shortcomings, but I just don’t understand why people in the OG fandom love it. Levine sucks, but even him and that team got shafted by 2k and forced to streamline a lot of the content they had originally made for Infinite(I was obsessed with the development of Infinite, and they brought in Gears of War and Call of Duty managers to streamline everything for the mainstream gamers from what I remember) Knowing this...why should Levine or that team consider Bioshock 2 a canon entry to the world they created? Through this lens I almost understand why Levine and that development team basically broke that universe with Burial at Sea, quite possibly knowing that studio would be dissolved and knowing 2k(a horrendous company tbh) would want to continue using the brand name and world of Rapture for a thing that team worked on for so long. As far as the Bioshock Rapture novel itself and canon...the novel itself doesn’t take a lot of the canonical events in Bioshock 1 into consideration and a lot of the prose just feels flat :/

Well, as a fan of Bioshock 2, I guess I’ll shed some insight as to why it has such a devoted fan base and why people have really turned around on the game in recent years. The game isn’t everybody’s cup of tea, and Minerva’s Den is fantastic, but it holds a special place in my heart.

Bioshock 2 absolutely still has the best game play in the series. Compared to the original Bioshock, which does feel a bit clunky, and Infinite, which doesn’t even have a weapon wheel, Bioshock 2 takes the combat system introduced in the first game and significantly improves it. Dual wielding plasmids and weapons is a game changer, you’re able to efficiently swap between the two without the wait time of pulling out your weapon. There’s a reason why people want the new game to have 2’s style of combat. Compared to Infinite’s shooting gallery style game play, it still favors exploration like the first but also experimentation when it comes to using your plasmids.

2’s designs and color pallets can still be absolutely gorgeous. It’s been eight years since Bioshock, so things are going to be rusted and in terrible shape. The game also focuses on the poorest parts of Rapture compared to the original game, which has you go to the richest neighborhoods and entertainment centers. Pauper’s Drop isn’t going to be as pretty as Arcadia or Fort Frolic.

Compared to Infinite, which is just twist after twist to try to out do the iconic WYK twist in Bioshock, 2’s story is simple: you’re just a dad trying to save your daughter. However, it does what Infinite cannot and gives you freedom. You’re able to kill or walk away and it changes the story. The characters you meet are less way expository than the ones in Infinite, who just appear to shed some backstory on Booker or Elizabeth and then die. Sparing Slate doesn’t matter, but sparing Grace does.

Grace, for example, is able to recognize Delta’s humanity and turn away from Lamb’s cult because her love for Eleanor is stronger than her fear of Lamb. As you read her audio diaries, you find out she’s an incredibly tragic character who isn’t a bad person, the world has just hurt her. Showing compassion to Grace is something she’ll never forget, and while Stanley and Gil are never seen again, I think if the team had more time, they would have included their responses. It’s implied through the statues in Persephone, though, that Delta sparing Stanley gets him to finally get his shit together and Gil is able to fight back against Alex the Great. The biggest twist 2 comes from Sinclair not being your Judas like Atlas was, even though the game hints at this, but he selflessly sacrifices himself for you and Eleanor because he’s grown to care about you.

Lamb is a controversial villain, but I think she’s miles better than Comstock when it comes to writing. She’s a terrifying, powerful figure who doesn’t rely on sexualization to get what she wants. She’s very intelligent, she runs circles around Ryan and Fontaine. Her ideals aren’t exactly terrible and she started off wanting to do the right thing, but she emotionally manipulates and gaslights people around her to do what she wants. She takes advantage of others and at the end doesn’t care about her “family.” They’re a means to an end for her, the end being Eleanor becoming her “utopian.” She’s emotionally and physically abusive to Eleanor and doesn’t respect her autonomy.

I see Bioshock 2 as less of a criticism of leftism, but more of a criticism on cults and organized religions in general. Unlike the original Bioshock, which has references to Judaism because the majority of the characters are Jewish, 2 has a lot of references to Christianity. A lot of people have a hard time understanding what exactly Lamb believes, but if you put in perspective the similarities The Rapture Family has to the Catholic Church, than things make a lot more sense. Lamb and her followers commit cruel acts under their “religion,” Delta commits good acts because it’s the right thing to do.

2 doesn’t feel very connected to the other games, though it should really with Infinite given the glaring similarities between the two. It feels like it’s own story and that works with me. There are huge stakes with Lamb possibly destroying the world if she wins, but it also has the sweetest father-daughter relationship in gaming. You have Mark Meltzer, who goes through hell and back to find Cindy and gives up his life for her, and you have Delta and Eleanor. There’s no animosity, there’s no tension, they just love each other unconditionally. Delta’s love for Eleanor is so powerful that a whole city full of cultish splicers and Big Sisters just couldn’t stop him.

There’s definitely things in 2 that are problematic like the homophobic brute splicers, but it’s not just my favorite of the trilogy, it’s my favorite game of all time. I love Bioshock 2. I love Bioshock 2 because it doesn’t try to be more than what it is. You’re a dad who loves your daughter, and she loves you. When I first played Burial at Sea, I was so glum that I played Minerva’s Den and Bioshock 2 and I felt so much better with this being the chronological end of the series (for now). Also the Little Sisters are adorable and the highlight of the game, they have so much personality now.

It’d actually break my heart if 2K actually listened to Ken and made it not canon, it’s not his decision to make. Thankfully, though, it looks like we’re getting more 2 and Eleanor content which is awesome. I can’t wait to see an adult Eleanor on next gen graphics in her prime showing off why she’s the GOAT of the OG series.

#bioshock #bioshock 2 #augustus sinclair #subject delta #eleanor lamb #sofia lamb #this game definitely isn’t for everyone but I love it #but a lot of people who hated on it when infinite was released are coming around #it’s a legit good game just not as grandiose as 1 and infinite #but being so grandiose hurts those games massively #after Ryan died the plot for 1 nose dives and infinite’s ending is an absolute mess #2 stays consistently good same with Minerva’s den

[missmitchieg]

Saving Nick - Ch 1

Julie grinned as she put down the lip gloss she just applied to her lips, laughing as she looked back to see the guys hyper wrestling on the couch. “Guys, remember we’re on in, like, seven minutes.“ She reminded them, standing from her stool when the stage manager knocked, saying Flynn was there. “Come in!“ She said, bracing herself for the inevitable over-excited-Flynn-sprint-and-tackle-hug.

Julie and the guys looked up with matching smiles when Flynn strutted into their dressing room, looking fabulous as ever in her scarlet leather jacket, white crop top, black skinny jeans, scarlet ankle boots and dazzling smile, running to hug Julie.

“Julie, my girl!“ She said excitedly and giggled. “I just took a selfie with Jack and Alex from All Time Low! And they complimented my outfit!“ She said pointing to her jacket. “Jack said I’m super cool!“

“Good for you. I’ve been watching the guys hyper wrestle while getting ready for the show.“ Julie giggled, snorting when she saw Luke fall off the table, bringing Alex and Reggie down with him.

“And you look amazing!“ Flynn told her, and Julie smiled and twirled, showing off her iridescent purple dress and white knee high boots.

“Thanks, Flynn. The guys all said hi, by the way.“ Julie said after the guys stopped their wrestling and got up, stampeding toward the girls and saying excited “hi”’s to Flynn, Alex complimenting her outfit.

“Hey, guys!“ Flynn waved at them with a grin, flipping her hair back.

“Alex says he likes that jacket.“ Julie said for Alex. “I agree.“

“Thanks, Alex!“ Flynn smiled toward the direction of thin air Julie pointed at and struck a cute pose before noticing the bag of Flamin’ Hot Cheetos sitting on the table, taking it for herself. She sat down on the orange sofa, crossing her ankles as she watched Julie talk to the guys.

She looked up when the stage manager knocked and reminded her it was five minutes to stage and took a deep, nervous breath, smiling when Luke walked toward her, clad in a white sleeveless muscle tee with a black leather vest over it, black jeans and sneakers.

“What’cha looking so nervous for, superstar? You know you’re gonna kill it out there. You’re gonna slay.” He said with a smile and tucked a curl behind her ear, cupping her cheek in his hand.

Julie let out a little giggle at that and placed her hand over Luke’s, shy butterflies joining the anxious butterflies fluttering all around her stomach. “I just have this weird feeling in the pit of my stomach, like something’s wrong. I don’t know what it is. I can‘t explain it.“ She complained, placing her other hand over her stomach.

“You worry too much, Jules. You’re gonna stress yourself sick again.“ Flynn told her and shook her head fondly, biting into a cheeto. “You need to focus on the fact that you and the guys are about to rock the socks off your biggest crowd yet!“ She grinned.

“Yeah, what Flynn said. I’m sure everything is fine, Jules. It’s just nerves.” Reggie said, trying to reassure her. “It’ll go away once we’re on stage." He grinned, ever the happy-go-lucky, positive little puppy with an infectious smile and a sparkle in his eyes.

“Reggie’s right. I get the nerves really bad, too, no matter how many times we go out there and kill it.” Alex told her, walking up behind her to check his hair in the mirror. “I’m a nervous mess right now. That’s probably what’s messing with you.“ He suggested, giving her an apologetic smile.

It made sense, when Julie thought about it. She and the guys had seemed to develop a sort of emotional osmosis with each other in the time they had gotten to know and grown to love each other like family. If she was excited, the guys were excited and almost vibrating with energy. If Reggie was sad, she was upset until they all went to the studio to mess around on their instruments and just have a good time. If Alex was anxious, she was a mess, pacing a hole in the floor until Carlos complained that she was freaking him out. If Luke was angry, she was seething until the problem had been fixed or forgotten.

“Yeah. Yeah, it’s probably fine.“ Julie nodded and opened her water bottle to take a sip. “Don’t worry about it, Lexi. We’ll both get over it once we start playing.“ She said and fixed her curls, smiling at her reflection when Luke and Alex placed their heads on her shoulders. “I love you guys.“

“We love you, too.“ Reggie grinned, standing on Alex’s other side. “You know we do.“

“You ready to slay out there, Boss?“ Luke grinned when they were told it was time to go on stage, making Julie’s smile widen.

“Yeah. I’m ready, boys.” She nodded.

“Good. Now let’s go out there and rock that stage.“ Reggie grinned and pulled his best friends into a band circle and put a hand in.

Julie grinned and put her hand over his, Luke and Alex’s hands joining quickly.

“Legends!”

Julie grinned as the boys followed her and the stage manager to the stage, excited grins on their faces. She stepped toward her keyboard, as the guys watched her with matching grins. She shook away her nerves and turned her attention to the audience, giving a quick hello and a speech about staying yourself and standing tall.

She started to play the opening to Edge Of Great, singing the lyrics as a few fans sang along with her. She smiled and gave a slight nod at a girl in the crowd she knew from school, almost letting out a giggle when she saw the Julie And The Phantoms t shirt she was wearing. Definitely Flynn’s doing. She’d have to remember to get a picture and hug her later.

She turned her attention to the guys as they poofed in when she reached the chorus, trying not to let too much amusement show when the audience gasped in surprise and cheered as they saw the guys pop up in front of them. She grabbed a hold of her microphone and stood from the keyboard, dancing around the stage. She was careful not to bump into Luke or Reggie since they were corporeal, or at least they were to her, now, since they were still going with the hologram fib.

Julie grinned and twirled a curl around her finger, dancing with Reggie and grinning at Alex. She laughed fondly as Reggie stuck his tongue out at her like an annoying brother, turning to skip toward Luke for his solo. She smiled and mouthed along to his verse as he grinned cheekily at her, making her shake her head and laugh. She blushed as his smile turned more sincere and sang with him, scrunching her nose.

Luke scrunched his nose back at Julie and winked at her, keeping his eyes on her as they sang another chorus. He bounced a little excitedly as a fan threw a Pride flag on stage and Julie scurried to grab it, content to just watch her wave the flag around as she belted out lyrics they wrote together about letting your colors shine and being who you are. He glanced back at Alex with a grin, laughing softly at the elated look on his face. He smiled as he and Julie locked eyes again for the outro of the song, singing softly to each other as the fans erupted in applause.

Julie smiled as the crowd started to chant “Bright, Bright, Bright” loudly, putting her hands on her hips as she looked around at the guys from her spot at the keyboard, everyone nodding at the suggestion of playing Bright. She nodded and started to play the intro to Bright, smiling as she felt the guys’ eyes on her. She turned to smile at them as she sang about fighting through the dark to make it home, because in a way, the guys were her home and she knew they felt the same about her. They had told her as much recently, in the middle of a band cuddle when Julie felt like everyone could use a break from rehearsal to relax.

She grinned and giggled a little as she sang the chorus and gripped her microphone in her hand, walking toward Luke much like she did the first time they performed the song together. She pointed to Luke and herself as she sang ‘you and I‘, scrunching her nose fondly again when Luke blushed at the gesture. When she remembered they weren’t alone, she looked up and felt her smile falter as she spotted Nick in the front row of the crowd, just sort of standing there.

She frowned a little at the- Displeased? Bothered? Angry? Whatever the look was on his face, before getting through the rest of the song. She shook it off and sang through the rest of their set, hoping it wasn’t too obvious to the crowd that she was suddenly anxious. But she knew the guys could tell. She knew they’d worry about it and ask about it. She would just have to cross that bridge when she got to it. She met and took pictures with a few fans after the show, smiling and hugging everyone who expressed gratitude for her waving Pride flags and singing about acceptance and love. After many, many hugs and pictures, Julie and Carlos sat in the back of the car while Ray drove home, scream-singing their favorite songs all the way.

"Ok, ok. Drive's over. We're home." Ray announced as the car slowed to a stop. "I don't feel like cooking.” He said honestly and laughed. “Who's up for pizza?" Julie and Carlos both raised a hand immediately, making Ray chuckle and nod. "Pizza it is." Everyone piled out of the car, still buzzing with the excitement and high from performing and watching Julie perform.

"Hey, I'll be inside in a minute, papi. I just need to talk to the guys. I'll be really fast." She said and ran straight to the studio, yanking the doors open. "Guys. We have a problem." She said as she walked in to see the light switched on already. She twiddled her fingers as she watched Alex pace, her anxiety only growing as she watched Luke's knee bounce at a million miles an hour and Reggie stare into space with his arms crossed.

“Julie?“ Luke looked up and frowned, getting up from the couch. “What’s going on? Is everything ok? Are you ok?“ He asked in a slightly frantic voice as he walked toward her and the guys followed closely.

She tilted her head as she watched them and was a little torn between feeling bad for worrying them and feeling touched that they cared so much for her. She bit her lip and took a breath, nodding quickly. "I'm fine, but I think something’s wrong with Nick.“

#julie and the phantoms #julie molina #Flynn #luke patterson #alex molina #reggie molina #nick danforth evans #ray molina #jatp fanfic

[prettyboyroller]

The last shadow puppets for the band thing. If you feel like play of course 🥰

Yes of course I want to play lol! It’s nice to be included haha, sorry I didn’t respond sooner, life is currently folding me like clothes/ loren humphrey on the drums (sorry not sorry) but luckily I’m here now to answer lol.

TLSP

Am I a fan? OFC I love them soooo much lol

First song heard: definitely miracle aligner 

Favorite song: it’s difficult but I think I’ll be really basic and say eycte because I sang it for a school talent show, very dear to my heart lol, also my mistakes were made for you is forever ingrained into my skull

Least favorite song: On eycte, she does the woods is at the bottom. It’s a good song, just not the best? On age of the understatement it’s got to be two hearts in two weeks, sorry

Favorite Album: eycte (strictly because I feel like they’ve cultivated their ya know Milex-ness more and the music sounds more mature, age of the understatement still holds a place in my heart)

Favorite music video: unpopular opinion time lol, it has to be this is your life just because Loren looks absolutely god-like, and Alex’s dance moves are 10/10 (we can’t ignore the “my refrigerator after thanksgiving” set either)

Merch: I have a poster on my wall that I printed out from office depot and taped together, prized possession right there (it’s got alex and miles on it)

Seen them live?: nope (cries) I unfortunately found them after they split up, although I’m ecstatic to hear about the possibility of tlsp3 (they better bring loren back or hands will be thrown, I’m warning you miles kane)

Favorite Member: it’s pretty obvious Loren Humphrey is my favorite, BUT if your gonna say he isn’t really a member because he’s only a touring drummer...... Zach Dawes. 

Rate: 9.5/10 (nobody’s perfect but alex turner is pretty damn close)

#the band ask thing #band ask

[arse-crack-thistle]

a firstprince meet-cute

the heroes of olympus au

in which the roman son of apollo meets the greek son of themis

Henry—the quiet son of Apollo and Centurion of the 3rd cohort—leads a team of five demigods through the Long Island woods. Their task: spy on the Greeks and bring information back to Octavian. The golden-haired boy wishes he could’ve refused, but anyone who goes against the Pontifex Maximus gets severely punished and he will not let any harm come to his legionaries. Not again.

The group weaves through the trees, dodging the sight of any patrols. Henry has no idea how he’ll get close enough to hear anything, but he might be able to interpret some battle strategy from the Greek’s night preparations. As his fellow soldiers fan out beside him, Henry inches up the hill. He’d say a prayer to his father if he thought it would help, but he doesn’t. After many unanswered prayers about his sexuality, about his rather fucked up influential family, he doesn’t bother with Apollo anymore.

Henry gestures for his right-hand man—Pez, son of Mercury and the only one who actually knows he’s gay—to peer over the hill with him; the others stay back, keeping watch. The Centurion readies an arrow just in case, while Pez has his hand on the hilt of his blade, and they watch Greek demigods reinforce their buildings, sharpen their weapons, and prepare medical tents. None of them are practicing formations, which doesn’t help Henry or Octavian at all. He has to come back with something, so he puts the arrow away and crawls forward.

This could be really stupid, but he has to try—not for Octavian but for New Rome. It’s the only place that’s felt like home to him. Back in England, there’s his grandmother, the CEO of an underwhelming home goods empire. The stuff is cheap, but they’re still the number one seller back home. His mother and brother have a part in it. His sister ran off a few years back, and he has no idea where she is or if she’s even alive. His father—or rather ex-step-father—hasn’t wanted much to do with him since about three years ago when he found out Henry’s mother had an affair at a music festival fourteen years before.

They had a scandalous divorce, covered by every major news outlet, and Henry found out his true identity when a handsome demigod knocked on his door and told him he was in danger and had to be take to California. Several monsters, a few thousand miles, and a few months with a wolf goddess later, he found himself at Camp Jupiter. Everything that happened to him up until then—the blurry images of creatures at the corner of his eyes every time he turned a corner, the dyslexia that made his passion for writing frustrating, the way he never really fit in with his family—finally made sense. He was a demigod! And when the sign of Apollo appeared over his head after he made his first bullseye at the archery range, he truly felt like he found where he belonged.

Pez whispers for him to come back, but Henry lifts a hand in warning. Just then, someone—a dryad probably—screams an alert to his enemy, and all Underworld breaks loose. His legionaries get in formation behind him, readying themselves for the Greeks. They were taught never to run from a fight, but Henry can’t allow this to happen. He’s been in enough battles to know when he can win and when he can’t. Eventually, they’ll be outnumbered because Octavian won’t send him reinforcements if he can help it. He doesn’t know how violent the Greeks will be, but if they willingly fired on New Rome when their defenses were down, then he can’t take the risk. And he won’t repeat what happened in the Titan war.

Henry orders his soldiers back, telling Pez to take temporary control of the cohort and share the minimal information they gathered with the Pontifex. If they’re to be any casualties tonight, it will only be Henry and the Greeks he can take down with him.

•••

The last thing Alex—the wise-ass son of Themis—wants to do in the middle of the night is go to a counsel meeting at the Big House. He wipes the sleep from his eyes as he walks up the creaky steps. Inside, Chiron and the other counsellors gather around a table. It’s times like this he wishes it was a year ago when the children of minor gods were left out of meetings and decision-making. But as soon as he slaps himself awake, he regains his undying need to get involved and raise hell—fair and just hell, of course.

He sits down next to Nora, the temporary head counsellor of the Athena cabin. She’s bouncing in her seat—no doubt high on caffeine and nectar and ready to get back to developing war strategy. She gives him a wink and taps her fingers like she’s back home typing on a computer. Chiron clears his throat and tells the demigods of a Roman scout team that was spotted an hour ago. Unfortunately, most of the soldiers got away, but they did manage to capture one. He’s being held in one of the Big House’s guest rooms.

Now it’s Alex’s turn to bounce. He’s been waiting for an opportunity like this. A prisoner of war means they’ll need to get information. There will need to be a lawyer present—or a lawyer in training that is. He can preside over the questioning, be the voice of justice, and maybe even get the Roman to see the right side is his. He can picture it now: Camp Half-Blood safe from the Romans and that dude reformed in his ways, joining them to stop Gaia. Yes, this is his chance to step out of his sister’s shadow.

He volunteers to mediate for whoever is charged with the interview. Alex ignores Chiron’s obvious hesitation; just because he can get a little heated—thank gods Leo isn’t here cracking a dumb pun joke at that, which would inevitably leave them both laughing on the floor—doesn’t mean he can’t be objective. So he hates the Romans’ guts and thinks they should go back to their stuck-up little camp, so what? Once he’s in the real world, going to college, running for congress like his father, he’ll have to deal with a shit-ton of people he doesn’t like. Looking at you, Bitch McConnell.

Just as Chiron decides he, Nora, Will Solace, and reluctantly Alex will talk to the Roman boy, a camper from the Aphrodite cabin bursts through the door and tells him one of the Hephaestus girls accidentally blew up a boy from the Ares cabin. Apparently, armor strapped with projectile explosives wasn’t the best idea. So Chiron declares they will talk to their guest in the morning, and in the meantime, they’ll take shifts in pairs guarding him. Alex raises his hand to get the first watch, but Chiron appoints Drew Tanaka and Connor Stoll. They both roll their eyes at the idea of being stuck together for the next few hours. Alex’s chest deflates.

Ever since his sister left—he and June are some of the rare demigods that have the same mortal and immortal parentage without being twins—the responsibility of the Themis cabin has fallen on his shoulders. He wanted it, of course, but his siblings also elected him to the head counsellor position, thinking he’d follow in June’s footsteps: ruling with truth, justice, and wisdom. Just like their mother.

Back in his cabin, Alex stares at the marble statue of her that presides over her children. Her iconic image—blindfolded, holding a sword in one hand and balancing a scale in the other—reminds him he’s definitely no June.

She was a leader of quests; Alex has never been on one. June was the voice of reason at counsel meetings; he struggles just to sit still, let alone calm a room with one enlightening sentence. When the children of minor gods were finally given their own cabins, there was no question who should run theirs. Now, he hears his siblings whisper whether they should hold another election. Gods, you call out your conservative brothers one time—it was way more than once—and suddenly, you’re imposing your opinion on everyone.

That’s not it though. Alex has never been given a chance to step up. No matter how many times he tries to convince the counsel they should establish a court system at camp—nothing settles an argument like a nice, fair trial—he always gets shot down.

Not anymore. He’s not going to sit back this time. Not when the threat to camp is this great. He’ll get what he needs from that Roman. If June were here, she would’ve been trusted to go ahead without Chiron, so Alex will do the same.

•••

Henry wakes up to angry whispers outside of his door. The twelve Greeks overtook him easily, but he did put up a good fight. At least, he did until he was knocked unconscious. On the table beside his bed, a note sits atop a plate of food.

Eat well. Hydrate. Rest. We’ll speak with you soon. -Chiron

A glass of juice spiked with nectar sits next to the plate. Why would those imbecilic Greeks give him what’s essentially strengthening serum? He intakes his surroundings: a bed, a table, a dresser, and a chair. Window to the left. Only door out to the right. There’s a clean set of clothes at the end of the bed, but Henry would rather go to Tartarus and back than put on another camp’s shirt.

He jimmies the window, but it’s locked and to hard to break. He lightly tries the doorknob, but it’s locked as well. By the sounds of it, three maybe four people argue outside his door. Romans never had this much trouble changing guard shifts. Henry fiddles about the room, looking for anything to 1. unlock the door and 2. use as a weapon. He can handle four Greeks, and he’ll do everything in his power to get back to his cohort.

Henry hears the click of the door unlocking. Gods, they’re thick, aren’t they? He grabs the wooden chair, and as the door swings open, he thwacks the person walking in with it. Just as he suspected, the chair breaks, and he uses one piece to press against the throat of the careless demigod he’s pinned to the floor.

The boy beneath him groans. He’s got light brown skin and dark curly hair, and if Henry weren’t about to kill him, he’d think he was quite cute.

“Gods, can you Greeks do anything with finesse? Even your hero, Percy Jackson, as talented as he may be, flies by the seed of his trousers.” Henry grits his teeth.

“Ha!” the boy coughs out. “Jumping to conclusions, are we? I thought you guys were supposed to be strictly trained soldiers. You miscalculated.”

He points behind him, and when Henry looks up, a girl stands battle-ready with a sword in her hand. The distraction is enough for the boy below to wrap his legs around Henry and flip them. The Greek holds a dagger to his neck.

“Listen here, pretty boy, are we going to talk or am I going to go all American Revolution on your British-ass?” He presses the dagger, and Henry yelps.

The boy’s brown eyes peer into Henry’s, and some strange part of him likes it. The Greek looks about his age and, while clearly not as capable as he, definitely has some fight in him.

“I’d like to see you try, graecus. But be forewarned, if you send me to the Underworld, I’ll drag you and your camp down with me.” He keeps his face plain and uncaring, though he can feel the heat in his cheeks. Apollo help him.

The girl interrupts them to remind her partner what they’re here to do. She sheaths her sword and closes the door.

He’s called Alex. Henry swallows. And they need information.

Alex releases him. The two get up off the ground. No one moves to sit or get more comfortable. The boys just stare at each other, long and cold.

Henry can tell this guy is a complete and total arse, and yet he can’t shake the swirling feeling in his stomach. A memory from a quest eighteen months ago flashes in his mind. In Vegas, a priest of Venus dressed like Elvis told him great tragedy would befall his love life, but with the goddess’s blessing, he’d find happiness again.

He already lost someone. The demigod who found him, Daniel, son of Ceres, his sponsor when he joined the camp, his Centurion. Everything was quiet between them—few words needed for mutual understanding. Daniel brought him fresh lavender; Henry played him a tune on the lute. But then the Titan war came. And Daniel disobeyed the Praetors’ orders to save the boy he loved. Henry barely had time to grieve before he took control of the 3rd cohort and lost four other demigods in the process. Not a day goes by when he doesn’t think of the five who died because of him. Because of love.

No. This feeling he has is the desire to beat the Greeks, nothing more. He doesn’t give a damn about happiness in love or this obnoxiously hot demigod before him. Like even as Alex breaks eye contact first, puts his sheathed dagger in his boot, ruffles his hair, puts his hands on his hips, and sighs, Henry feels nothing. Elvis can go fuck himself.

“So,” Alex says, “what do you have planned, and how can we convince you to stop? We’d really like to prevent another demigod civil war.”

Henry laughs, and even though nothing would make him happier than to stop fighting, to rest as Chiron suggested, he tells Alex, “You’re really a dickhead if you think I’m giving you anything.”

•••

“It was an accident!”

“You expect me to believe with our two camps in a centuries-long feud that the one time we let down our defenses, your lot just attacked us on accident? Right, and I suppose Pluto is actually a sweet guy once you get to know him, too?”

“My buddy Leo was being controlled by Gaia!”

“Your mate Leo should come up with a better lie.”

“You’re impossible!” Gods, Alex really hates this guy. “Nora, can���t we just—”

She shakes her head before he can finish. He’s not really sure what he was going to say. Have Drew come back and charmspeak him? Feed him to the harpies? Pin him down again? Wait—what?

“Listen, dude. We’re really on the same side here. Right now, both Greeks and Romans demigods—our friends—are fighting against a greater threat than the world has seen since the beginning of time. That’s got to count for something,” he says.

The Roman is quiet. Alex hates how he looks like a goddamn prince even after a fight. But maybe he got through to him. After all, it is true. For all the shit he talks about Romans, he knows they’re not bad, just different. They actually have more in common than they’d like to acknowledge. Jason Grace taught him that. If there was ever a Roman WASP he could get behind, it’s Jason.

So Alex tries a different approach. He gestures to the bed. “You want to?” The blond boy stiffens, and Alex clarifies, “Sit?”

“How about we start over?” He sits. Nora takes the opportunity to march to the other side and bellyflops onto the bed. “I’m Alex, son of Themis, the goddess of justice. And you are?”

He watches the Roman look from the undefended door to Alex and back again.

“You could run,” Alex says. “But then we’d have no chance to broker peace. Hera thought she could do it by trading heroes, but I think you and I both know it takes more than one person to heal two armies.”

Power swells in his chest. Alex can’t know for sure, but maybe his mother is looking out for him. This is how he can bring the demigods justice for Gaia’s destruction. June would be the better choice, but Alex is here and he has to try.

“Let’s work together. Or at least, get along long enough for the prophesized seven to come back home,” he says.

The Roman hesitates. Alex can see in his light blue eyes the number of strategies racing through his mind. But ultimately, he decides to sit. Nora snores next to them. Five a.m. and a caffeine/nectar crash will do that to you.

“So your name?” Alex asks. “It’s only fair.” Dumb pun but he winks.

The boy coughs, but then he looks into Alex’s eyes. “I’m—er—Henry, son of Apollo, Centurion of the 3rd cohort.”

so this is a little late but we’re just going to ignore that...

i just finished reading toa a couple of weeks ago, and i can’t stop thinking about it!! so when i saw the meet-cute prompt, i couldn’t resist a percy jackson-ish fic! i hope you enjoyed this little short piece. <3

rwrb romance week | @rwrb-fests

#rwrb #alex claremont diaz #henry fox mountchristen windsor #firstprince #rwrb fanfic #fanfic #rwrbromanceweek #rwrb fest #my writing #percy jackson #pjo #heroes of olympus #hoo #trials of apollo #toa #bi disaster #gay as a maypole #june claremont diaz #nora holleran #pez okonjo #red white and royal blue #casey mcquiston #meet cute #demigod #half blood #camp half blood #camp jupiter #annabeth chase #jason grace #leo valdez

[girlboss-molina]

Be Who You Are (No Compromise)

A Julie and the Phantoms Modern Royalty AU

Chapter 2: A Tale of Punches and Pancakes

AO3 Link

Words: 9389

-----

Alex POV

...

The jet ride was nice from a glance, but insufferable for Alex. His wish to leave his anxieties in Tambor? Yeah, he knew that was bullshit. As the miles passed, his stomach bubbled and knotted more and more until he had no room for the small wrapped chocolates in the dish at the back of the plane. The fluffy clouds seemed to taunt him with their serenity, making him feel out of place with his disgust, anxiety, and anger. 

Why, why, did he have to be put in an arranged goddamn marriage when he was nineteen? The gods hated him, for sure. 

He was back to considering options in his fake-your-death-to-get-out-of-it plan when Luke finally broke the silence.

“Dude, you okay?”

“Have a guess.” The sarcasm in his voice was tangible. 

“Yes?”

“Have another guess.” Alex barely smiled at Luke’s laugh. “I just… I hate this. Julie’s awesome, dude, she’s one of my best friends. But I don’t want to marry her.”

“I feel you,” Luke responded. “I really, really want to get you out of it.”

“Thanks.” Alex went back to staring at the clouds.

…

As the plane touched down, the rumbling shook up the nerves in Alex’s stomach, and he had to shut his eyes and focus on his breathing and the feeling of Luke’s hand on his. He did his best not to crease his vest as he leaned over, holding on tight. 

When he felt the motion in his ears stop, he carefully opened his eyes, relieved when he wasn’t nauseous. Of course, he couldn’t get rid of the anxiety. 

They’d landed in the runway behind the Dahlia palace, and thankfully, the small amount of vision he had out his plane window only showed the back of the palace and, on the other side, the tall, forested mountains in which he and Julie had run around in many times when they were younger. The scene was calming, and settled his nerves. 

As the doors opened, sending a crisp blast of cold Dahlian air in his face, the familiar smell of petrichor and honey reminded him of when he and Julie would run for hours, climbing trees as high as they could, despite Ray’s constant warnings and pleas for them to be careful. How simple it would be, really, to run out the plane door and across the runway until he was back, surrounded by the branches. It would be a nightmare, of course; he barely knew how to make a fire, which was definitely a skill he would need if he were to survive on his own in the cool Dahlian climate. Surely he could figure it out, though. It couldn’t be that hard. And the motivation of not having to act straight for the rest of his life would certainly help. He wondered just how fast he could run-

He was jolted back to reality by Luke excitedly hitting his shoulder. 

“Your highness, as your Royal Best Dude™ I am legally required to get you up and moving so that you don’t start spiraling. Plus, I’m hungry.” Alex rolled his eyes and laughed despite himself. 

He wasn’t going through this alone.  

…

He should’ve expected the cameras, really. But the bright flashes startled him as soon as he stepped out of the plane, and he had to quickly struggle to compose himself. He gave small smiles and respectful waves, walking across the long runway to the limousine waiting for him. He would be making a round past the palace gates before formally entering the palace from the front. So he climbed into the lush leather seats, with Erik and Luke right behind him, and sat down, squeezing his hands into fists and then running his fingertips over the indents from his nails. 

He leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees, hands clasped together as he tapped his foot. He wouldn’t admit it, but the feeling of Luke’s and Erik’s hands on his shoulders helped. A lot. Tension melted away from him, and while he was still nervous, he somehow managed to stand and steadily walk out of the limo, a smile breaking out on his face as he saw Julie. 

Alex wasn’t sure why he was surprised at how beautiful Julie was, there really was no paralleling her beauty. And yet, his heart swelled with pride at seeing her elegant violet dress, embroidered with dahlias. 

“Alex, why the hell do you walk so fast?” asked Luke, breathing heavily and trying to keep up. 

“I’m gay. Next question.” 

“That’s fair.” 

As he ran to Julie, Alex was so caught up in the euphoria of seeing his friend in person that, for a moment, he lived in a world where the paparazzi wasn’t a thing. But he didn’t care. Julie saw him and ran through the gardens, a huge grin visible from hundreds of feet away. She ran to him, her gown flowing in the breeze, and as soon as they were within a few feet of each other, Julie jumped and Alex let out an “oof” as he caught her in a hug, spinning around and laughing.

“It’s so good to see you!” she exclaimed, and Alex nodded.

“Yeah, you too! Even though we, you know, FaceTimed last night.”

“Eh, details. Besides, the press wants a happy reunion.”

“Fair.”

“How was the plane ride?” 

“Amazing,” Alex said. “Nothing better than being on the edge of a panic attack while you’re thousands of feet in the air.”

“I’ll fight your anxiety,” Julie decided. “Tell it to meet me behind the Denny’s tonight.” Alex snorted. 

“I’d rather you didn’t punch my brain. I kinda need it.”

“Do you?” Alex gasped in mock offense.

“Okay, rudeness aside, I think this is the part where we walk around the garden and pretend we don’t know there are photojournalists hiding behind the bushes.” Julie nodded and took his arm.

As they strolled around the gardens, the aroma of flowers settled some of Alex’s nerves. He never turned around to make sure Luke was there, but he somehow knew. It was the Royal Best Dude™ telepathy, probably. And Erik was probably bringing his suitcase up to wherever he would be staying. So, Alex did his best to relax and hang out with his friend.

“Ava’s going to be ascending soon,” he noted. “She’s pumped. Though I’m not sure how good of an idea it is to let a twenty-three year old run a country.” Julie laughed.

“I’m happy for her! And I’m sure she’ll be fine. She knows how to party, for sure, but she’s also responsible. I’m sure you have nothing to worry about.”

“Yeah, I’ll let my anxiety know.” Julie burst out laughing, and Alex soon followed. 

“Her Royal Majesty, Queen Ava Mercer of Tambor,” Julie said. “It has a nice ring to it.” Alex nodded. 

“Yeah. I’m excited for her, too. All jokes aside, I think she’ll make a great queen.”

“Definitely.”

A few moments passed, including Julie gently picking a rose from the garden, one with a pale pink coloring, and sticking it behind Alex’s ear. When it wouldn’t stay, she scrunched her nose and carefully tucked it into the breast pocket of his vest. 

“You look absolutely dashing, your highness,” she said with a fake, posh accent. Alex giggled and rolled his eyes. 

“You’re a dork.”

“I know.” 

…

His room was really something. 

After he and Julie had finished their walk around the gardens, they’d given each other cordial bows (of course tied with a friendly wink, because they were just Like That), and Erik had shown him up to his quarters. Luke followed, and Alex noticed his cheeks were considerably red. 

It was chillier in Dahlia than it was in Tambor, though, and Luke had never been Plus, a breeze had flown in during the last ten minutes of their walk, on which Luke was shadowing. He was probably flushed from the cold air. 

He was down the hall from Julie’s room, in one of the guest rooms he’d used when playing hide-and-seek with Julie when they were kids. But it had been completely refurbished, since he would be staying there for a few months.

The soft carpet was a creamy tan, and the large, full-length mirrors let in sunlight that cast gentle shadows from the posters on the giant bed, which was adorned with blue sheets and pillows, with gold and pink accents. The dark, forest green walls gave the room a soothing effect, and the twinkling fairy lights were like fireflies in a meadow. A crystal chandelier hung in the middle of the ceiling, glittering with diamonds and gold. A mahogany record player sat on a media table, along with wireless chargers for his phone and laptop, next to the sliding door that led to a huge bathroom. The tiles were light tan and grey, peppered with flecks of quartz that shimmered in the light. A giant tub sat near a tinted window, as well as a vanity with a majestic painted mirror. The shower could’ve fit his entire bed.

Even though he wasn’t keen on marrying Julie, he wouldn’t dislike his stay here. 

“Dude,” Luke whispered. “Your room is awesome.” 

“I know, right? Definitely nicer than my room in Tambor.” 

As Alex went to his giant suitcase full of neatly folded clothes, beginning to tuck them into drawers and onto hangers, Luke helped out. 

“So,” Alex began, breaking the silence. “How are you liking Dahlia so far?”

“It’s great! Kinda cold, but I’ll get used to it. And… Julie seems really nice.”

Alex definitely didn’t miss Luke’s blush when he mentioned the princess, and his lips raised into a smirk.

“Yeah, she is. You should get to know her at dinner tonight.” Luke cleared his throat.

“Uh, yeah. Definitely.”

“You good?”

“Totally,” he insisted, though his voice rose an octave and Alex couldn’t suppress his laugh. 

“Sure.”

…

The dinner was incredible. Platters of roast beef sat next to giant bowls of mashed potatoes, and the bread appetizers were soft and delicious. And, even though he was legally allowed to have alcohol based on Dahlian laws, he thought better of it, instead filling his glass with water. He noticed that Julie did the same. 

“Not a fan of wine?” he asked. 

“Nah, not really. It always gives me a stomachache.” 

“Same.”

Alex went back to his food, before noticing a man around his age eyeing him. He had dark hair and was dressed in a red vest and dark grey shirt. He seemed quite kind, if the small smile on his face had any say.

“That’s your brother, Reggie, right? I think I’ve only met him once.”

Julie followed Alex’s gaze. “Oh yeah! You would get along great, I think.”

“Cool.”

…

Before dessert was brought up, everyone in the grand hall got to mingle for about twenty minutes and let their food settle. Alex let Julie introduce him to Reggie, with whom he immediately hit it off. 

“No way, you play the drums?” Reggie asked. “I’ve always wanted to learn, but I’m no good.”

“Yeah, I do! You said you play bass?”

“Yep!”

“That’s awesome, dude.”

Their conversation lasted a bit longer, and Alex felt confident that he and Reggie would be good friends, especially because of his lighthearted demeanor, and their bro-hug before Alex was pulled away to talk to another nobleman. 

He was bounced around like a ping-pong ball, being chatted up by guest after guest. Soon, though, he needed some air, so he searched to room for King Ray.

“Your majesty?” he asked, jogging over. Ray turned to him and gave a warm smile, shaking his hand.

“Hello, Alex. You can call me Ray. Are you alright?”

“Yeah, thanks. I was just wondering if I could sneak out the back for a moment? I need some air.” Ray laughed.

“Of course, son. I told them to give you some space,” he noted, guestering to the nobles, “but I doubt they were able to contain their excitement.” Alex nodded, grateful for Ray’s chill vibes. “Try to be back in ten minutes?”

“Of course.”

Ray nodded and patted his shoulder, and Alex stepped through the back door of the grand hall, grateful when he didn’t see anyone. He took a deep breath, fiddling with the hem of his vest. 

A voice caught his ear. 

“-yeah, don’t worry, Alyssa. The mousse is in the refrigerator-” 

Alex whirled around, searching for whoever had spoken, but before he could…

WHAM. 

A cold rush of air blew from behind him as a door opened, and someone ran into him.

Hard.

Alex stumbled forward, trying to catch himself but to no avail. His momentum swung him forward, leaving him on the ground. 

“Whoa!” he started, looking at the person who’d ran him over, and…

Oh fuck, he thought. He’s hot. 

“Agh, sorry, I really need to watch where I’m-” the man cut off, his cheeks flushing. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry, your highness.” He scrambled into a bow, and Alex blushed. 

“No, you’re good, bro.” 

Alex got a good look at him, and felt his cheeks flush. He had long, silky brown hair that fell over his shoulders in waves, and smooth brown skin that had darkened in a blush. His dark eyes were kind and playful, adorned with long eyelashes. 

Alex inhaled slowly, trying to ignore the rising gay panic. 

“Are you okay?” the man asked. 

“I’m fine, yeah. Thanks. Just trying to clear my head. Until you, you know, tried to crack it open.” To Alex’s surprise, the man giggled, and holy fuck, if he wasn’t already adorable, that would’ve been the tipping point. Creases folded at the corners of his eyes, and his perfect smile turned lopsided as he laughed. 

“I did pancake you, huh?” Alex tried to laugh, and the man cleared his throat. “Sorry. Oh, uh, I’m Willie. It’s nice to meet you.”

Alex reached for his hand. “Alex,” he greeted, still hoping his face wasn’t as red as it felt. 

“Well, I’d better make sure we’re clear to bring up dessert. But I’ll see you around, your royal pancakeness,” Willie said with a grin, spinning on his heel and going back to the kitchens. Alex nodded, even though he was already gone. 

-----

Julie POV

...

As soon as Alex’s plane touched down, Julie couldn’t hide her excitement. She rushed through her photos, and as soon as she could see him, she took off running, a huge grin on her face. The silky fabric of her dress flapped against her shins, and she sprinted even faster, ignoring the goosebumps on her arms. 

As soon as she reached him, she jumped into the hug, laughing as he spun her around. They might have FaceTimed the day before, but it just wasn’t the same as seeing him in person. He was one of her best friends, and the fact that they hadn’t seen each other in so long was frankly biphobic. 

But as she spun around, finally opening her eyes, Julie caught sight of Alex’s guard. She’d never formally met him, and she’d always thought he was cute, but wow. 

He had deep hazel eyes and pale skin, cheeks flushed from the cold, his wavy brown hair neatly styled, with a touch of personal flair. His chiseled jawline cast a shadow on his neck, and his biceps were visible through his dark jacket. Julie tried to look away and focus on her friend, because now was the literal worst time to develop a crush on someone she barely knew. 

Not that she had a crush on him, or anything. 

Julie forced those thoughts out of her head, and scolded her stupid heart for fluttering when she caught his gaze. She turned back to Alex, laughing when he insinuated that photojournalists would be hiding behind the bushes. 

“Ava’s going to be ascending soon,” Alex told her. “She’s pumped. Though I’m not sure how good of an idea it is to let a twenty-three year old run a country.” Julie laughed, silently agreeing.

“I’m happy for her! And I’m sure she’ll be fine. She knows how to party, for sure, but she’s also responsible. I’m sure you have nothing to worry about.”

“Yeah, I’ll let my anxiety know.” Julie burst out laughing, soon followed by Alex.

“Her Royal Majesty, Queen Ava Mercer of Tambor,” she said, letting the words flow off her tongue. “It has a nice ring to it.” 

“Yeah. I’m excited for her, too. All jokes aside, I think she’ll make a great queen.”

“Definitely.” There wasn’t a doubt in her voice, either. 

Julie had met Ava when she was eight. Ava had been thirteen, and was the coolest thirteen-year-old ever, in little Julie’s opinion. She vaguely remembered hanging out in her room with her, and thinking she was just the coolest ever. Then again, she was an eight year old. To an eight year old, all thirteen-year-olds are cool (or gross, but we don’t talk about that).

Julie walked with Alex, chatting about random things, including plans to get out of the arranged marriage, each more complicated than the next. Julie couldn’t stop herself from laughing when Alex brought up his temptation to just run into the woods with no supplies or survival skills, and just be a gay forest cryptid. She was quite fond of it, to be honest. 

Unfortunately, they didn’t have any plans that didn’t involve either faking their deaths, or something treasonous, neither of which would be good. At least, not in anyone else’s opinions. 

…

After Alex went up to his room, Julie did the same, and immediately flopped on her bed, finally allowing herself to process her thoughts about, well, everything.

God, she wanted out of this marriage. She knew Alex did as well. They’d talked about it endlessly over FaceTime, texting, and just now, in person. But neither of them could come up with an actual plan or a good enough reason to halt it. Because, you know, the people actually getting married never get a say. 

Plus, it did not help that Alex’s guard, who she’d learned was named Luke, was really cute. She furrowed her brow. She’d never even had a real conversation with the guy. Not that it mattered, of course. She remembered when she was fifteen and had already decided that Nick Danforth-Evans was a sweetheart, even though she’d only had one real conversation with him. 

But this felt different somehow. She couldn’t help but feel like Luke was actually really nice. She just got those vibes from him. She cursed her stupid heart for making her feel things. No, Molina. There’s no such thing as liking a cute guard. 

It didn’t work. 

She stared at her ceiling, watching flecks of dust float around the air, and jumped when Flynn and Carrie walked into her room without knocking. It wasn’t like she actually expected them to knock, but she’d zoned out and the sudden sound took her by surprise. 

“I know that look,” Flynn said matter-of-factly. “What’s the crisis about?”

“What isn’t it about?”

“Uh uh, don’t try to deflect by answering my question with another question,” Flynn scolded, and Carrie bit back a laugh. 

“I just…” she searched for an excuse. “I love that Alex is here, but I don’t want to marry him,” she said, remembering that the best lies were based on the truth. “And he’s gay, so I know for a fact he doesn’t want to marry me. Plus, you know. We’ve expressed that multiple times. And I know there’s really nothing I can do about it, because it’s all arranged, and bitching about it does nothing to help, but honestly? I’m just feeling bitchy.” 

“As you should,” Carrie agreed, to Julie’s surprise. “If anyone deserves to be a little bitchy, it’s you. I mean, come on. You’re a teenage girl who never actually got a normal life because you’re frickin’ Princess Julie Molina, heiress to the throne of Dahlia. And you’re stuck in an arranged marriage with one of your best friends, and neither of you want it, but you can’t actually change it. I’d be bitchy too.”

“Thank you for summing that up,” Julie deadpanned. “But… it helps. Thanks.”

“That’s what I’m here for.”

“She’s right, Jules,” Flynn agreed. “Be the bitchy bisexual you deserve to be.” That elicited a laugh, and Julie couldn’t help but leave the smile resting on her face. 

“Alright,” she decided. “We have self-defense in half an hour, so we should get ready.” Flynn nodded and pulled Julie off of her bed, leading her to the giant walk-in closet, searching the hundreds of options, but steering clear from the gowns. 

Flynn and Carrie must’ve known she needed cheering up, because they sarcastically suggested the biggest, poofiest gowns Julie owned, tied with a tight shawl and the wobbliest heels imaginable. Julie laughed despite herself, especially since she could barely walk in the shoes they’d picked. She was also taller than six feet, which was a plus, but she would pick stability over height any day, especially when she was going to practice kicking people’s asses. 

Eventually, she settled on flexible black leggings with a purple stripe going down the outside of each leg, and a simple white tunic that starkly contrasted her dark skin. It was fitted but she could move easily in it, stretching into a backbend to make sure. 

She sighed and allowed Flynn and Carrie to take either arm and lead her downstairs to the training arena. 

…

The training arena was a huge room, the floors completely covered in mats, aside from the giant gymnastic trampolines at the far corner and the running track that traversed the perimeter. On the far side opposite the trampolines were sets of weights and treadmills, as well as other equipment like bars and benches. Punching bags were hung sporadically around the martial arts area, which was also used for tumbling and floor routines. 

Lady Athena gave a smile as they walked in, soon followed by Reggie and Mira. Lady Athena was a tall, muscular woman with silky black hair that was always in a high ponytail. Her bronze skin glittered with sweat, and her two-piece athleisure outfit left her chiseled abs on display. 

“Alright,” she said, clapping her hands. “Reggie, since you’re bigger, you’re with me. You four, pair up and practice your hand-to-hand skills. Remember the blocks we learned last week.” Julie nodded and paired with Flynn, immediately getting into position.

“Head’s up,” she warned with a smirk, before lunging with a punch that would’ve hit Flynn square in the chest if not for her catlike reflexes. She knocked Julie’s hand out of the way, and Julie had to twist to avoid Flynn’s counterattack, letting herself lean backwards. But when she almost fell, she used it to her advantage, hopping backwards onto one hand and spinning, tripping Flynn by kicking her feet out from under her. Before Flynn could recover, Julie pounced over her, grabbing her shirt collar and pulling her fist back, ready to attack. She didn’t follow through, obviously, but she knew she had good form. 

“Well done, your highness,” praised Lady Athena. Julie blushed.

“Thanks.”

“Whatever,” Flynn grumbled, and Julie laughed. “Rematch?”

“You’re on.”

…

Julie had defeated Flynn four times to two, and was feeling very confident. It must’ve helped, exercising, because her worries about Alex and Luke were far away as she battled Carrie and then Mira. Or, they were until a certain brunette guard walked in the room in a sleeveless shirt and shorts that showed off his muscles. 

She shouldn’t have let herself get distracted, though, because in her haze, Mira managed to throw her off balance and win their round. 

“Hah! That’s two each!” She outstretched her hand, which Julie gratefully accepted, pulling her up. 

“Good job,” she said, still distracted but keeping her eyes far away from Luke. 

“Hi, is this the self-defense lesson?” Luke asked, and Julie could no longer ignore him. 

“It is,” Lady Athena confirmed. “You’re Prince Alexander’s guard, correct?”

“And certified Royal Best Dude™,” he added with a grin that was so adorable it made Julie flush. By some miracle, nobody noticed. 

“Alright, why don’t you train with Reggie? He can show you what we’re working on. I need to go make sure nobody’s going to throw out their back at the weights.” With that, Lady Athena stalked off, her ponytail swaying behind her. 

Luke walked over to Reggie, and Julie did her best not to stare as Reggie guided Luke, and they began sparring. Luke was surprisingly agile, but he was too enthusiastic, reaching for every possible blow, not realizing where he left himself vulnerable. But his puppy eyes when Reggie defeated him were too cute. 

Julie cleared her throat and turned away. 

“Tiebreaker?” Mira nodded, and they went to sparring. Julie ducked and dodged every hit of Mira’s, even getting in a few herself, but she was thrown off when she heard Luke laugh, a musical, joyful sound, and Mira took advantage of her momentary slip, finally beating her. 

“Yes!” Mira jumped and pumped her fist, then helped Julie up. 

“Nice job!” Julie grinned with the words, high-fiving Mira. 

“Alright, break time.”

Julie walked to the edge of the wall where she’d left her water bottle and towel, almost choking on her water when she heard Luke’s voice behind her. 

“Your highness?” he asked shyly. “I don’t believe we’ve formally met.” Julie smiled and outstretched her hand, shaking Luke’s. “I’m Alex’s guard, Luke.”

“Hi! You can call me Julie,” she said with a smile, hoping her cheeks weren’t as red as they felt. “Nice to meet you.”

“Yeah, you too! Oh, by the way, great job during your fights. I saw your takedown on the other girl, the one with the braids.”

“Oh, that’s Flynn.”

“Cool. But yeah, I saw your fight, and that was really impressive. I doubt I could spin on one hand like you did.” 

Well.

If Julie hadn’t been blushing before, she certainly was now. At least Luke’s cheeks were only red because of the intense workouts. 

“It took me forever to get that move right,” she admitted. “I only just got it down, if I’m being honest. I still slip up sometimes, too.”

“Could’ve fooled me,” he complimented. And oh, his smile really was a beautiful thing. 

“Alright, break time’s over,” called Lady Athena. “No more flirting.” Julie’s stomach dropped, and she inhaled, a denial already on her tongue, before she realized that her coach was looking at Flynn and Carrie, who were chatting animatedly, both blushing. 

She practiced a bit more with Carrie, doing her best to ignore the boy next to her. When the class finally ended, she hurriedly thanked Lady Athena before rushing up to shower.

Letting the hot water wash over her, she pondered how the hell Luke had wiggled his way into her heart so quickly within one conversation. 

Was she being brainwashed into liking a guy she barely knew?

Was this some elaborate trick that whatever higher being existed had orchestrated as a ploy to get her out of the arranged marriage?

… And more importantly, would it work? 

The thought made her laugh. Not that she didn’t slightly believe this was all some sort of elaborate trick to get her to commit treason and fall in love with someone she wasn’t supposed to, but it was funny nonetheless.

…

After she’d done her best to set the record for hottest, soapiest shower possible, Julie wrapped herself in a towel, massaging peach lotion into her skin, the scent matching her shampoo. As she rubbed it into her hands, she imagined what it would feel like holding Luke’s hand, before quickly banishing the thought away to the depths of simpy hell.

This was worse than she thought. 

She changed into her evening gown for the dinner, allowing Mira to lace up the back. It was all navy blue, a long strapless dress that reached her ankles, with a see-through tulle layer over top that went up to a sleeveless halter neckline, leaving the rest of the tulle layer to flow down neatly over the rest of the silky dress, which tightened at the waist. Tiny diamonds had been sewn into the tulle at her waist, high in concentration before gently tapering off the lower in the skirt they went.

“Okay,” Carrie said, walking in with Flynn beside her. “I think I speak for everyone when I say, damn. That dress is fine.” Flynn nodded enthusiastically. 

“I know, right?” Mira said excitedly. “I actually helped tailor this one! It was one of my favorites to make.”

“And for a good reason,” Julie agreed. “Mira, you’ve outdone yourself.”

“Not quite,” she said, turning Julie towards the vanity. “I’m thinking we do something simple but elegant for your hair?”

“I vote for that,” Flynn interjected. 

“Sure!”

Mira set to work, combing through Julie’s hair with her fingers. Julie closed her eyes. She’d always loved the feeling of people playing with her hair, and as Mira wove her dark locks into two thick braids that soon joined together, letting the rest of her hair poof at the base of her neck, Julie was transported back to her mother’s room when she was five. She remembered the feeling of her mother braiding her hair like it was yesterday, the gentle tugs and nimble fingers on her scalp. It wasn’t the same with Mira, of course, but it was refreshing and comforting at the same time. 

“Hey, Jules?” Flynn called from her closet.

“Mm?”

“Mind if I steal that asymmetrical dress for tonight? The jade one,” she clarified. 

“Feel free!”

The dress in mind was a slim-fitting jade green dress that reached her knees, but the hem was cut asymmetrically, leaving one side longer than the other. It had golden ribbon-like threads spun around it with no particular rhyme or reason, and a built-in sash made of pale, spring green tulle roses. The thin straps showed off her shoulders, and when Flynn walked out with it on, Julie noticed Carrie blush.

“Dude, you look awesome,” Julie complimented. Flynn twirled, letting the light play off of the shimmery fabric.

“Thanks!”

Mira finished doing Julie’s hair, and held up a mirror for her to see. Julie admired the thick, smooth braids that gently rejoined at the base of her neck, letting the rest of her dark curls loose in an elegant fashion.

“It’s amazing, Mira! Thank you so much.”

“Of course! And thank you for letting me do it,” she said with a giggle. “Your hair is so fun to style.” Julie blushed. 

…

The dinner was rather uneventful, thankfully. Julie wasn’t sure if she would’ve had the energy to constantly be answering questions. Instead, though, she got to introduce people to each other, and relax and eat, and try to keep her eyes away from a certain hazel-eyed guard.

She was grateful for the relatively simple task.

-----

Luke POV

...

Luke had heard about the self-defense classes in the training arena, and he was itching to get moving, so he changed into workout clothes and headed down there. 

The spiral staircase was wide and glittered with colored glass, the silver banisters gleaming in the light. He trailed his hand down it as he made his way down.

When he reached the training arena, he closed the door behind him and went to set down his water bottle and towel- but not before noticing Julie.

At the self-defense class.

Thankfully, she didn’t see him. He hung back for a moment, watching as she sparred with another girl with long braids. The way she moved was incredible, like water flowing in a current, unpredictable and smooth. Of course, if anyone asked, he was most certainly not admiring it. He could silently appreciate her skills, though.

As she dodged hit after hit, throwing her own blocks and blows, it looked like the girl with braids had gotten the better of her, but as Julie leaned backwards, she hopped and - holy fuck - caught herself on one hand, spinning around in the air like some sort of ethereal breakdancer, and knocking the other girl’s feet out from under her, before pouncing, grabbing her shirt collar, and pulling back her fist, before freezing and laughing. 

Whoa. 

So not only was she a wicked beauty, Luke realized, she was a human wrecking ball, too. 

He cleared his throat, tearing his eyes away from the beautiful badass in front of him, tuning out Lady Athena’s praise in favor of clearing his head before approaching to join. Not that it worked. He couldn’t keep his eyes off of Julie. The other three girls (and the guy, if he was being honest) were all stunningly fit and agile, but there was something about Julie that enchanted him. The way she was always smiling even in the middle of a training fight, how, even when she was defeated, she brushed it off with a laugh, how she was light on her feet like a cat as she dodged and spun, how she was needlessly extravagant with her self-defense and yet somehow always made it work. Maybe that’s just what princesses were like; even when defending themselves against possible attackers, they had to be as beautiful as ever. 

Of course, right now, Luke knew she didn’t look how she normally would, in her silky gowns and expertly styled hair. Now, she wore matching athletic clothes and had her hair pulled back into a ponytail, with some strands coming out in a sweaty frizz. And yet, that somehow just made her even more breathtaking. Even when she was sweaty and working out, she managed to look like an angel.

An angel who could easily kick his ass, he remembered as she pulled the upside-down-one-handed-breakdancer move again, this time on a redheaded girl he didn’t recognize. 

Before he could stop himself, he approached Lady Athena. 

“Hi, is this the self-defense lesson?” He asked the woman.  

“It is,” Lady Athena confirmed, and he nodded.. “You’re Prince Alexander’s guard, correct?”

“And certified Royal Best Dude™,” he added with a grin. He would never let go of that title.

“Alright, why don’t you train with Reggie? He can show you what we’re working on. I need to go make sure nobody’s going to throw out their back at the weights.” Luke nodded again as Lady Athena walked away.

He walked over to Reggie, shaking his hand.

“Hey, I’m Luke,” he introduced with a smile. Reggie shot one back.

“Reggie!”

“Nice to meet you! So, do we just… fight? I’m not sure how this is run here compared to in Tambor.” Reggie laughed. 

“Yeah, pretty much. You good at hand-to-hand?”

“I’m not bad,” he admitted. “But I’m no expert.” He couldn’t help looking at Julie. “Is she always that much of a badass?” Reggie followed his eyes to Julie. 

“Pretty much,” he said with a laugh, and Luke dearly hoped he wasn’t blushing.

“Good to know. In that case, if I introduce myself to her, how scared should I be?” He asked it with a smile and a joking tone, but he was actually a bit nervous. But, you know, just because he now knew that she could kick his ass seven ways to Sunday.

No other reason.

“Oh, don’t worry!” Reggie assured him. “She’s actually really nice. I’ve known her since she was eight,��� he explained. Luke nodded, grateful for the reassurance.

“Alrighty then,” he said, hopping into a fighting stance. “Let’s get cracking.” 

…

By “let’s get cracking,” he was hoping he wouldn’t be cracking his ego, but he was sorely mistaken. Reggie didn’t seem like it, but he was really strong, and really good at fighting. Luke was more agile than him, and strength-wise he could compare, but the Dahlian style of fighting was so different from the Tamborian style. They were similar in many ways, of course; they had the same moves and strategies. But the ways they moved were so different, the ways they executed their moves had an uncanny grace and deadliness.

He did his best, reaching for every blow he could, trying to get the upper hand. And, to his credit, he won a few rounds. But he accidentally left himself vulnerable most of the time, leaving perfect opportunities for his opponent to strike, because Of Course He Did. 

When they called for a break, Luke wiped his forehead with a towel, grabbing a drink of water. Then, he swallowed the lump in his throat and approached Julie.

“Your highness?” he asked shyly. “I don’t believe we’ve formally met.” Luke tried not to blush when she smiled and shook his hand. “I’m Alex’s guard, Luke.”

“Hi! You can call me Julie,” she said with a gorgeous grin, and Luke knew he was a goner. “Nice to meet you.”

“Yeah, you too! Oh, by the way, great job during your fights. I saw your takedown on the other girl, the one with the braids.” The words were out of his mouth before he could stop them, and he mentally kicked himself. Not smooth, Patterson. What if she thought he was creepy? 

Thankfully, though, she smiled.

“Oh, that’s Flynn!”

“Cool,” he said, relieved. Nice and smooth, Patterson. “But yeah, I saw your fight, and that was really impressive. I doubt I could spin on one hand like you did.” He reached up and scratched the back of his neck nervously, and he couldn’t help but feel accomplished when Julie’s cheeks flushed. Of course, his were probably just as red, but hopefully he could blame it on the workout.

“It took me forever to get that move right,” she admitted. “I only just got it down, if I’m being honest. I still slip up sometimes, too.”

“Could’ve fooled me,” he complimented with a smile. And it wasn’t a lie, either. 

“Alright, break time’s over,” called Lady Athena. “No more flirting.” Luke cleared his throat, getting ready to insist that he wasn’t flirting, before he realized that Lady Athen was looking at Flynn and another redheaded girl, who were chatting animatedly, both blushing. He sighed in relief. 

As he went back to sparring with Reggie, zoned out but fighting just as well as he was before, maybe even better, he pondered Julie’s abilities. How did she manage to be so beautiful, so graceful, and yet so kind and badass? It shouldn’t have been possible for any one human to do that all, much less a teenage girl who was already juggling the responsibilities of being a princess. 

Julie was, Luke realized, even more incredible than he’d ever thought possible.

…

All throughout the dinner, he was trying not to stare at Julie. Her dress was absolutely gorgeous, and the way she flitted around the room like a butterfly was absolutely ethereal. Tie that with the diamonds sewn into her navy blue dress that looked like fading stars and twinkled in the light, and she looked like she was wrapped in starlight. He knew it was appropriate for that star of a woman, but still, he thought it should’ve been illegal for anyone to have that effect on him. 

His cheeks were red, and he stared at his plate, inhaling the scent of roast beef and mashed potatoes, along with the aroma of warm bread from his appetizer. 

Even with the cool air of Dahlia and his thin shirt and suit vest, he was still sweating. He was absolutely gone for a girl he’d only had one conversation with, a girl he’d only known for a maximum of five hours. 

A girl who his best friend was being forced to marry. 

That was the worst part of all of this. His best friend, who would never be in love with Julie no matter how good of friends they were, had to marry her because of goddamn international relations, and there was nothing he could do about it. And, a selfish part of him thought, it means you never had a chance. He shoved the thoughts out of his head, hating the lingering ache they left in his heart. 

Not that he would’ve ever had a chance anyway. She was a beautiful, badass princess, and he was just a guard she didn’t even know. 

-----

Reggie POV

...

As soon as the plane landed on the runway behind the palace, Reggie smiled at Julie, letting go of her hand as she readied herself.

He understood her worry. No matter how close you are with someone, being set to marry them - especially when you didn’t want to - was daunting. Of course, he’d never been through the same thing, but he was always an empathetic person, and he could practically feel his own sister’s worry and ache.

He saw Prince Alexander walking to the gardens, and smiled when Julie broke into a grin, running to him. He twirled rose petals between his fingers, letting out a small laugh when she jumped into Alex’s arms. He didn’t want to seem like a helicopter brother, though, so he went back inside, leaving Jules with Prince Alexander. 

When he stepped inside, he nearly ran into Ray.

“Whoa, sorry!” Ray laughed. 

“You’re perfectly fine, mijo. Everything okay?” Reggie sighed.

“I’m just worried for Julie. I’ve never really gotten to know Prince Alexander, and-”

“I’ll stop you there,” Ray said. “Believe me, I know what you mean, and if I could stop it without huge consequences, I would. But Alex isn’t someone you need to worry about. That boy is one of the sweetest, kindest people I’ve ever met,” he assured him. “And while I know neither of them want to get married, I know that they’re both mature, and good friends.”

“Thanks,” Reggie sighed. “I just wish I could get her out of it, you know? I mean, that’s my little sister.”

“I understand,” the king agreed. “But unfortunately, there isn’t anything to be done other than let Alex settle in.” Reggie nodded glumly. “Hey, wasn’t there a progression you wanted to show me? On your bass?” Ray clarified. Reggie immediately lit up. 

“Yeah! Julie and I have been working on a song called Icarus, and she’s got a killer piano melody worked out. I went off of some of her chords and found a super cool progression on my bass that adds a really nice line underneath hers, and it sounds-” he did the chef’s kiss thing with his hand- “divine.”

“Alright, well now I’ve gotta see it!” Reggie’s grin lit up even more and he ran to his room, followed by Ray, who was jogging behind him. 

Reggie’s room was huge, the walls painted dark blue. He’d always found the color soothing. He snatched his red and white bass guitar from its stand, spinning on his heel as he ducked under the strap, letting it settle by his waist. 

When Ray met him there, Reggie grinned, plucking the strings animatedly until he remembered the notes. He didn’t bother grabbing his phone to try and find them from wherever he’d written them down in the endless scrolling of his notes app. Soon, though, his chaotic ADHD brain remembered, and he began excitedly plucking specific notes in a rhythmic pattern, his fingers stretching to reach each fret as he hopped from the E string to A, then G back to E and D. He smiled even brighter when he saw Ray grinning and tapping his foot to the beat.

“So, it kinda just goes like that, until we get to the chorus. Then, I come in with a little…” he slid his finger down the string, letting the note slide down before he hopped back into the rhythm, the same notes as before, but ordered differently, giving a new feel to the music. 

He hopped around, spinning as he played his bass, humming the lyrics under his breath.

“That sounds super cool, mijo!” Ray exclaimed, one eyebrow furrowed, as was custom for him whenever he was excited. Reggie hopped up and down happily, fixing the cuff of one of his sleeves. 

“Thanks! Julie and I are gonna try to record it. I’m trying to learn how to play the drums, to add a steady beat, but I can’t seem to figure it out.”

“I’m sure you’ll get it soon.” Reggie beamed. “I’m so sorry, mijo, I have to go. I’d love to hear more later or tomorrow, though!”

“Okay,” Reggie said. “Bye!” He continued playing marking down cool progressions he found, and just hopping around to get out his wiggles. 

…

At the self-defense class, he sparred with Lady Athena. Sometimes he would spar with Julie or Flynn, but even though she was no doubt better at fighting, he was also bigger, and she was paired with Flynn. 

Lady Athena was amazing at fighting, and Reggie got his ass kicked most of the time, but he was able to win a couple rounds, which he was quite proud of. Lady Athena complimented his form, and he had no doubt that he would be gathering serotonin from that compliment for weeks. Even then, though, he got plenty from seeing his badass little sister master her insane breakdance-style move, with which she completely demolished Flynn in a few seconds. His chest swelled with pride when she won.

Soon, though, a man named Luke entered the studio, and Reggie definitely didn’t miss Julie’s blush when she looked at him. She might’ve been supposed to marry Alex, but it wasn’t like either of them wanted it. Plus, he was always down for a little treason, especially if it was with Julie. 

Lady Athena paired Luke with Reggie, perfect timing for her to go check on some of the other people in the arena. 

“Hey, I’m Luke,” the man introduced with a smile. Reggie gave his trademark grin.

“Reggie!” He outstretched his hand, and Luke shook it. 

“Nice to meet you! So, do we just… fight?” Luke asked. “I’m not sure how this is run here compared to in Tambor.” Reggie laughed. He’d never sparred with anyone from Tambor before, so this would be fun.

“Yeah, pretty much.” He ran a hand through his hair. “You good at hand-to-hand?”

“I’m not bad, but I’m no expert.” Reggie followed his gaze as it shifted over to Julie. “Is she always that much of a badass?” He asked, clearly in awe.

“Pretty much,” Reggie replied with a laugh, grinning at Luke’s blush.

Simp.

“Good to know. In that case, if I introduce myself to her, how scared should I be?” Luke was fiddling with the hem of his shirt by that point. 

“Oh, don’t worry!” Reggie assured him. “She’s actually really nice. I’ve known her since she was eight,” he explained.

“Alrighty then,” he said, hopping into a fighting stance. “Let’s get cracking.” Reggie grinned and reciprocated, taking the first strike. 

The first thing he learned was that Luke was very opportunistic in his fighting style. He went for nearly every possible blow, even if it meant leaving himself vulnerable. Reggie, of course, took advantage of this. He had to make sure his new friend (and sister’s possible future treasonous boyfriend) knew he could protect people. 

Luke pouted, and Reggie couldn’t help but admit that he had adorable puppy eyes. 

He helped him up, laughing. A few more sparring rounds passed, and Luke turned out to be quite adaptable. He found ways to get past Reggie’s blocks, and even put some up himself. Soon, they were evenly matched, and Reggie was impressed. Although, he soon found that he could get in another blow by telling a horrible joke, then striking when Luke laughed.

He thought it was pretty genius.

…

The dinner was rather uneventful. He did, however, get to meet Prince Alexander, which he was very happy about - even more so now that he was confident in Ray’s assurance that he was a good person. They’d chatted about politics and whatnot, before both admitting that they were bored. Somehow, the conversation strayed to music.

“No way, you play the drums?” Reggie asked excitedly. “I’ve always wanted to learn, but I’m no good.”

“Yeah, I do! You said you play bass?”

“Yep!” He beamed, making a mental note to ask if he wanted to see, sometime later.

“That’s awesome, dude.”

“Thanks!” 

They talked for a little while longer, before Alex was pulled away to talk to some other Dahlian nobleman whose name Reggie kept forgetting. Plus, Alex seemed tired; unsurprising, given the long day he must’ve had. 

Reggie eventually settled down and ran through his thoughts.

He knew he couldn’t protect Julie, not like he wanted to. Plus, she didn’t need protecting, he’d come to realize after Luke’s “badass” comment at the training arena. Julie Molina wasn’t just a badass in self-defense, she was also a badass in every other sense of the word. She was a teenage girl, the heiress to the Dahlian throne, juggling her academic lessons and royal lessons, along with making time for her friends, free time, and she managed to (usually) get enough sleep. She was a complete badass who didn’t need protecting. 

She needed support, instead. That was something Reggie could do. He could be by her side every step of the way, no matter how hard it got. He was her brother, and he loved her more than life itself, loved every crooked smile, every curl of hair, every eye roll after one of his famously bad jokes. She didn’t deserve any of this, but by God, he’d do his best to make it bearable for her. 

-----

Willie POV

...

After lunch, the burn on Willie’s hand had calmed. Rather than the angry red mark it was earlier, it had shrunk into an annoyed red streak. Still a nuisance, but he didn’t really care.

As Willie whipped the mousse, his mind strayed to Prince Alexander. 

What was he like? Was he as cute in person as he was in photos? Probably, Willie decided. Photos never fully captured someone’s beauty unless they knew what they were looking for, and that was always more of an emotion. Photojournalists aimed for lighting and composition. There were always emotion in the photos, yes, but they never actually got to see the people in the photo. 

He wondered if he would get to meet him. Would it go well? Would he like the bread he’d so carefully baked? Would he enjoy the mousse cake he was whipping up right now? All of these questions whirled around in Willie’s brain as he whipped the mousse, letting it become airy and fluffy. Sprinkles of cocoa powder dusted the counter next to his mixing bowl, but it was fine. It would all get wiped up later. 

He grabbed a tub of fine cinnamon, sprinkling in a pinch for a little bit of kick. It was barely noticeable, but it gave the mousse an extra depth that it normally would’ve lacked. He’d never told anyone his secret, despite prying from Lilian. 

Sprinkling in a tiny bit more to account for the large batch, his thoughts wandered again.

How was Princess Julie dealing with all of this? Willie had never had a real conversation with her, but she seemed to be very well put-together. She managed everything so well, at least from the outside. Though he knew better than anyone that, no matter how organized someone may seem, there’s always a storm underneath. 

Willie finished up, putting plastic wrap over the mousse and sticking it in the giant refrigerator, before taking off his apron, washing his hands, and heading for the door.

“Willie?” Called Alyssa from behind him. He turned around, walking backwards. 

“Yeah? I’m just going on break.”

“Did you finish making the mousse?”

“Yeah, don’t worry, Alyssa,” he said, walking out the door. The mousse is in the refrigerator-” 

WHAM. 

Willie let out a slight “oof” as he ran into the person in the hallway.

He stumbled, catching himself before he fell, though not as gracefully as he would’ve liked. He’d fared better than the other person, though. 

“Whoa!” The man said.

“Agh, sorry, I really need to watch where I’m-” Willie cut himself off, his cheeks flushing as he realized he’d just ran into Prince Alexander.

Well, so much for making a good impression.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry, your highness.” He scrambled into a bow, and blushed. 

“No, you’re good, bro.” Willie was taken aback by the casual response, but he wasn’t complaining. 

Willie finally got a good look at him, and wasn’t at all surprised when he found that he was even more stunning in person.Of course, it made it a whole lot harder to hide his gay panic.

He had blonde hair that was expertly styled, and a crisp, blue suit vest with minimalistic gold embroidery that brought out flecks of blue in his eyes and highlights in his hair. His muscles were defined and visible through the sleeves of his white dress shirt, and even when he was frazzled after just having been knocked over, he still looked as handsome as ever.

“Are you okay?” Willie asked, concerned. 

“I’m fine, yeah. Thanks. Just trying to clear my head. Until you, you know, tried to crack it open.” Willie couldn’t help himself from laughing, and dearly hoped it wasn’t the wrong move. But the prince had a small smile on his face and pink dusting his cheeks, so he had a feeling it was okay.

“I did pancake you, huh?” He tried to laugh, and Willie nervously cleared his throat. “Sorry. Oh, uh, I’m Willie. It’s nice to meet you.”

Willie outstretched his hand, delighted when the other man shook it. “Alex,” he greeted, still blushing a little bit, which could be chalked up to the embarrassment of being plowed over. Willie was worried things would get awkward soon, so he searched for an excuse, hating that he had to leave.

“Well, I’d better make sure we’re clear to bring up dessert,” he said. “But I’ll see you around, your royal pancakeness,” Willie added with a grin, spinning on his heel and going back to the kitchens, hoping Alex hadn’t noticed his internal gay panic.

…

“Well, that was a quick break,” Alyssa pointed out.

“Yeah, I guess it was,” Willie agreed, not fully listening. 

He’d fucking pancaked the prince. Prince Alexander Mercer of Tambor. And Willie, despite his constant hoping for a good impression, ran him over because he wasn’t even watching where he was going. 

How the hell was he such a mess? And even more, how would he ever be accepted by literal royalty who was way too cute to even exist? 

Willie shook his head, letting his hair fall over his shoulders, ignoring the feeling of Alyssa’s eyes on him as he walked into the giant refrigerated room, grabbing the huge bowl of chocolate mousse and scooping it into a piping bag, grabbing some of the chilled cakes.

His hands were steady and meticulous as he gently piped the mousse onto the cakes, making a thick layer on top of each, then lifting into a swirl that peaked in the center, adorning each cake with a bit of wafer and chocolate. He set each one on a tray, waiting for Alyssa to pick it up. Plating was her specialty, because according to Lilian, any time Willie did plating, it ended up “chaotic” and “messy” and “unorthodox.” Personally, he thought it was cool. But, not everyone could have taste, he supposed. 

…

Later that night, as he wandered into his small room in the chefs’ quarters, laying down on the soft bed, his mind wandered to Alex. Despite constantly being on the news, he was a mystery, an enigma, a puzzle Willie had the urge to solve. What were his interests? His desires? His hopes, his dreams? 

Of course, he would never be able to act on his feelings about the prince, how adorably awkward he was, how gorgeous he was in any outfit, no matter the style, how even in one simple conversation, Willie had become so enamoured that he wanted to know everything about him. Not in a creepy way, of course, but in the way one wishes to know someone they’ve just met, who intrigues them to no end. 

That night, his dreams were haunted by a familiar face, a shy smile, and a piercing set of bluish eyes.

#bwya tag

[recommendedlisten]

A couple years back, Recommended Listen introduced an appendex to its annual Best of albums list with a focus on all of the darker, heavier music it wanted to recommend from over the course of the year, because let's face it: Between the polarities of indie rock and poptimism, sometimes the loudest sounds don't get a fair shake on year-end coverage. It took last year off to focus on rounding up the decade's best albums instead, but it's back in 2020 to highlight the best albums in the realms of hardcore, punk, metal, experimental noise, even hip-hop, and beyond. Given the year it has been, the context of what constitutes a heavy listen has very much taken on a totally different meaning, but at the same time, has made these sounds all the more wild. Here's to the albums of Heavy '20...

Backxwash - God Has Nothing to Do With This Leave Him Out of It [Self-released]

God Has Nothing to Do With This Leave Him Out of It challenges the notion that hip-hop -- especially the kind that is executed as masterfully in its artform and intentionally as that created from the caverns of Backxwash’s lost soul -- can’t be heavy music, too. The breakthrough album from the self-made, self-produced Montreal-by-way-of-Zambia artist is raw in texture and a carnal mean-mugging in its energy just like the unapologetic eye of its creator. The listen does not repent on the brooding weight of Backxwash’s confessional rhymes and the beat soundscape -- a playground built from pieces of the goth, trap, and industrial underworlds -- she sets them along is a 22-minute thriller through damnation.

clearbody - One More Day [Smartpunk Records]

One More Day, the debut album from shoegazing emo-punks clearbody, bears down on you from above from its very opening moments. Much like scene luminaries Superheaven and Cloakroom, the Charlotte trio’s grizzled, reverb-soaked rock aspires to fill the whole sky, yet with its melodic density in tow, much of that is consumed into our own claustophobic insularity. Thus, brings the hearth from the trio’s vacuous sound into our own desolate realm of darkness wholly, and lets it burn within. It makes for a blurring firestorm of palatable gloom that at least offers you comfort in spite of each daily struggle.

Code Orange - UNDERNEATH [Roadrunner Records]

As most of the world remained stuck inside throughout 2020 and unsure of what it will look like when we actually do see that light at the end of the tunnel, the corrosion of the self through our addicted virtual identities has come back karmically to torture us on UNDERNEATH. Code Orange’s latest transformation is a series of shock therapy treatment and defiant self-immolation tailored for their largest stage to date as well. The Pittsburg band’s sound continues to thrive off pure hybrid chaos that reflects pitch black nihilism with frayed wired nü-metal connections, dramatic, brutalist metalcore maximalsm, and towering new power that shakes the fault lines. A collective machine built from not only their own individual might, UNDERNEATH hears the ills of humanity sink deep into Code Orange’s skin and again change their DNA.

Deftones - Ohms [Warner Records]

Ohms, the ninth studio effort from Deftones, is a masterful display of the sheer sonic velocity which the metal-gazing hydra-heads still have the power to conduct through the atmosphere, even 25 years after they broke new ground with their definitive album White Pony. It could be, in parts, due to the fact that Ohms reunites the Chino Moreno’s atmosphere-defying vocals and guitarist Stephen Carpenter’s monochromatic electricity with classic era producer Terry Date, but there’s a newfound wisdom on balance (”balance, balance, balance!…”) heard in their alternative rock innovations that turns Ohms into an infinite current every future heavy artist will be keen to draw from.

DRAIN - California Cursed [Revolution Records]

Santa Cruz thrashers DRAIN have been seething to make their official first move in the hardcore scene since amassing a cult following within its DIY circles and becoming fest highlights over the last few years. Their debut full-length for venerable hardcore label Revolution Records does no hold back on that feeding frenzy. Rattling influence of NYC hardcore as well as a high voltage metallic intensity, California Cursed is a filthy homage to their home state that chomps with disgust and reckoning for its polluted air and water. Frontperson Sam Ciaramitaro’s sneering performance ups the confrontation with a tidal wave of chaos backs up his audacity. Washed ashore at its end, you won’t know what hit you.

ENTRY - Detriment [Southern Lord]

It only takes 15-minutes of ENTRY’s Detriment to turn your body’s nervous system inside-out. Formed in Los Angeles between PA punk scene veteran Sara Gregory, Touché Amoré guitarist Clayton Stevens, Sean Sakamoto of the indie-pop band Sheer on bass, and drummer Chris Dwyer, the band’s arrival spills all of the very heaviest-hitting emotions being burdened within our bodies in a terrifying year into an onslaught of scathing screams and brutalist hardcore. Their exorcism might wreck everything, including you. Burn it down. Start over. ENTRY’s means justify its ends.

Gulch - Impenetrable Cerebral Fortress [Closed Casket Recordings]

You will experience instantaneous confrontation when pressing play on Gulch’s Impenetrable Cerebral Fortress. The Santa Crus five-piece’s debut full-length is a scourge of corrosive electricity and piston drums played at excess speed with an ugly, nihilist end destination. All this is placated with album art that projects Gulch’s binary of strange, carnal beauty and a grotesque allegory of life gnarled through reckless hardcore merrymaking, making the whole of the 15-minute listen resonate much deeper than its temporal intentions. Paired with the production of Jack Shirley (Deafheaven, Loma Prieta), Gulch are able to see their vision through the flames fanned on their 2018 EP Burning Desire to Draw Last Breath, and incinerate you from a stereo’s distance.

HEALTH - DISCO4 :: PART I [Loma Vista Recordings]

Normally, HEALTH’s DISCO series involve remixes of their own work, but its latest installment is a very, very different, more abrasive monster. Instead of reimagining existing work, the Los Angeles industrial trio set out to create new music with an esoteric cast of abrasive misfits and other sonic outliers, including the likes of Soccer Mommy, Xiu Xiu, 100gecs, FULL OF HELL, and Youth Code. The culmination of those efforts on DISCO4 :: PART I is a fascinating experiment in new possibilities, as each of the artists are able to explore new layers within existence’s darkness (and their own) by merging their creative identities into HEALTH’s futuristic noise.

Higher Power - 27 Miles Underwater [Roadrunner Records]

Built with just the right amount of progressive hardcore groove and big anthem gloss, Higher Power’s 27 Miles Underwater has the ability to command pits digging up the underground as well as those soaring above the masses. The super power distinguishing the UK bunch from the growl of their peers is the vocally amorphous presence of frontman Jimmy Wizard as it polarizes itself over sawing riffs and cosmic spaces with both raw and aerodynamic plasticity. His existential primal screams compliment the overarching soundscape guitarists Louis Hardy and Max Harper, drummer Alex Wizard and bassist Ethan Wilkinson create as it zig-zags from melodramatic hardcore into ambiguous psychedelic wavelengths being resonated through the depths of the universe.

Hum - Inlet [Earth Analog Records]

In the 22 years that Hum have gravitated away from our orbit, their mark on rock music has at least been apparent from down here on Earth. There is however, a greater reach from Hum’s orbit down to our terrain here on their return Inlet. No longer glossed with the major label studio sheen that gave them alternative FM dial hits, the Champaign space-rock quartet sound at home reconvening in a more ornate, dynamic form through their second life. For 55 minutes, it feels like every detail on Hum’s International Space Station is visible from the ground as it makes passage right outside your window, humanizing their future sound as something tangible with a touch of fragility.

METZ - Atlas Vending [Sub Pop]

METZ have never ceased to take artistry into account in the loud volume of their noisemaking, where as many of their peers have fallen by the wayside for relying too, er, heavily on their ability to make the room shake and bowl over listeners. Atlas Vending, the Toronto trio’s third full-length effort, is what noise-rock sounds like when all of its moving parts work in unison as one well-oiled machine. Guitarist and vocalist Alex Edkins, bassist Chris Slorach and drummer Hayden Menzies have not only refined their decibel-crushing sound by pushing it even further into the sky, but they do so by delivering their hookiest material yet without disregarding their innate ability to rattle through any surface, be it in the flesh or through the speakers.

Moor Mother - Circuit City [Don Giovanni Records]

Camea Awaya’s work as Moor Mother feels endless and interconnected, even when she veers off course into cosmic experimentalism or joins forces with creative forces outside her own body. The sounds which the avant-noise artist has already assembled especially move differently when she reconnects with them, as is the case Circuit City, a production originally staged in front of a festival audience and now given a proper recording which brings a different source of energy into the composition. Awaya fills every second with its own purpose, struck by calamity in an avant-jazz fusion of brass and percussive confusion mirroring her own. Her words and the fury of sound battle with the darkest of American injustices – All of the shattered wishes, dreams, and right. Constantly surrounded by a war for her own being, Circuit City connects the outside world’s noise with an anxiety that has becomes too daunting to ignore.

Narrow Head - 12th House Rock [Run for Cover Records]

The second 12th House Rock lifts off with “Yer’ Song”, Narrow Head have left our atmosphere. With the Houston rockers’ sophomore effort and first for Run for Cover Records, the five-piece take homage with the mightiest of the ‘90s alternative’s big riffed work heard in the currents of everything from Hum, the Deftones, My Bloody Valentine, and Brit pop fully amped. With a little rewiring of their electric diagrams, Narrow Head rips through huge hooks and dizzying spins of their own gravity. In these times, 12th House Rock’s energy is the kind of escapist album direly needed in 2020 when you need to put something on loud to drown out the rest of the world.

Nothing - The Great Dismal [Relapse Records]

There is probably never going to be a moment in time where Nothing change their tune on the inevitable collision between our lives and oblivion, and The Great Dismal is the period on that statement that makes it reverberatingly loud that won’t be happening any time soon, if ever at all. The Philly shoegazing punk band’s fourth full-length effort piles on heavier dark matter and churns up the velocity as they plummet into the big black hole sucking us all in more by the day. The songs on this album are also beautiful sinks into the void as well, containing the four-piece’s most accessible work to date. Their sound – muscled in hook-laden feedback, adorned by touches in oddity from Alex G and Mary Lattimore, and confident in boldness – can hold its own even in zero gravity.

Record Setter - I Owe You Nothing [Topshelf Records]

Despite having clashed with their sound in the past through grungy post-hardcore and atmospheric math-rock, Record Setter’s I Owe You Nothing is arguably the first obvious moment of clarity for the Denton, TX four-piece even if their sound veers off into varying gravities of screamo, post-hardcore, and cavernous emo rock. The emotional weight anchored behind each track is what grounds the listen onto the same landing space regardless. A catharsis in identity and by Judy Mitchell’s living truth, approaching their art with this intention has emancipated the band’s second-guessing. Be it the chaos in motion, melodic turnstiles, or vulnerabilities impressed close to the surface, Record Setter attach a heaviness to their sound created not by decibel or amplification (although, the use of added weight in their crushed guitars and crash cymbals adds the album’s turbulence…,) but by human forces bleeding themselves into it.

Shamir - Cataclysm [Self-released]

On Cataclysm, the darker side of two very different albums from Shamir this year, the genre ambiguous artist embraces death through distortion, and that it renders both an anomaly in his catalog by way of stylistic consistency as well as some of his most hook-driven rockers to date makes this turn toward sonic violence stick. In listening to tracks like the static-drenched menacing bop of “Hell”, the desolate post punk atmosphere of “Scream”, or a queer take on Nada Surf popularity in “Feminine Guy”, you can hear how these songs exist to hex listeners into Shamir’s heathenry as he channels an unconventional lightness in his vocals through beefed up muscularity in guitar electricity. If the butterfly must die, then it will never be in vain, for this incarnation of Shamir creates something remarkably outside this world when baring all of its weight.

SOUL GLO - Songs to Yeet At The Sun [Secret Voice]

Even in its rapid fire 12-minute length, Songs to Yeet At The Sun, the latest EP from SOUL GLO, is one of the most vital pieces of heavy music this year. Chomping from the fringe as artists mutating the look and sound of the modern punk community in both its vantage point and a forward-thinking clash of style, the Philly four-piece’s latest offering slams like a poetry of Pierce Jordan’s own Black American experience through a rapid scene-changing stream of conscious, as the five-track listen surges in with adrenaline junky hardcore before recoiling into noisy raptures, then back into bulldozing mode before. What’s left behind is a sludgy pile of bones and guts that will surely be used to reshape the scene from here on out.

Sparta - Trust the River [Dine Alone Records]

Between the band’s 2006 effort Threes and their return in Trust the River, Sparta’s Jim Ward has ventured off the beaten path with his songwriting by delving into folk and indie rock with his other projects under his own name and the band Sleepercar, respectively. Some of those homegrown hints have seeped into Sparta’s water on their first album in 14 years on what is a fitting return to ground-level after gravitating far above the horizon for so long in the band’s early catalog. Trust the River communicates with these times’ political landscape as well as the complexities of our own personal relationships in that way where Sparta’s roughened melancholia can feel like a faded picture. This time, it’s easier to see the faces from down here on Earth, and they’re wearing heavy emotion.

SPICE - SPICE [DAIS Records]

There are five members in the pan-Californian band SPICE who’ve contributions lay equally on the surface of their eponymous debut album’s crackling, rocky complexion. At its epicenter of those fault line is most notably that of vocalist, CEREMONY frontman Ross Farrar alongside fellow CEREMONY drummer Jake Casarotti, bassist Cody Sullivan (No Sir, Sabertooth Zombie), guitarist Ian Simpson (Creative Adult,) and violinist Victoria Skudlarek. The collective’s “deliberate isolation of pain” through a fascia of hardcore and indie rock channel themselves through in non-stop urgency that makes for one of the year’s most rewardingly thrill rides in anxiety-riddled head charges and whirring melodies. Pop-induced, billowing in the air, and heavy like a pile of bricks at once, and when all of these elements atomize onto one slab, we hear how pain even in isolated form comes in many forms.

Sprain - As Lost Through Collision [The Flenser]

Sprain’s As Lost Through Collision is an album that will test your patience. Across seven tracks in super-length spans, the listen lingers, reawakens, and stretches out time to defy the space is consumes. Alex Kent and April Gerloff, who early on the band’s catalog sought to realign elements of slowcore and post-hardcore in a meditative sense, now have piled on a heavier rig of louder influences pulling from the Flenser universe of black metal and post-rock, with the addition of second guitarist guitarist Alex Simmons and drummer Max Pretzer assisting in the moving of concrete walls and steel beams in their sound. Whatever they are building, they eventually redesign or break down, leaving your bereft in its glum.

Touché Amoré - Lament [Epitaph Records]

Touché Amoré’s fifth studio effort Lament is a duality in natural evolutions for the Los Angeles post-hardcore band. In one respect, it deals with the fallout of grief laid bare on the band’s 2016 album Stage Four and in learning to coexist with those emotions, for better or for worse. In another, the listen marks another seismic shift in pushing the boundaries of their progressive hardcore sound into bigger, more ambitious territories with the help of veteran rock producer Ross Robinson, who has guided genre classics by everyone from Korn and Slipknot to the Blood Brothers and At the Drive-In. In giving themselves a larger arena to shout into, there still is no ceiling too high in sight for how far Touché Amoré can climb out of life’s murk.

Thou & Emma Ruth Rundle - May Our Chambers Be Full [Sacred Bones Records]

Emma Ruth Rundle’s manifestation of doom unfurls naturally through knots of haunted folkwork and sludgy feedback, while the heavy experimental metallic atmosphere of Thou has proven to have a way of melding itself around whatever surroundings its thicker air seeks out. On May Our Chambers Be Full, a collaborative effort between the two forces in metal, the two build a monument for the human experience’s polarities in its joyous desperation and immense sorrow through a sound formed in grungy pits and sky-scaling alternative anthemry. If this one feels like it’s tearing every emotion straight from the chest, it’s only because Emma Ruth Rundle and Thou have a natural sense as to where they beat most heavily.

Truth Cult - Off Fire [Pop Wig Records]

Truth Cult is breaking out of the Baltimore hardcore scene with their debut full-length Off Fire, released fittingly on local scene label Pop Wig Records (the label ran by members of Turnstile and Angel Du$t.) Its membership is familiar with spaces that form pits, as it collects members of Give, Pure Disgust, and Red Death, and their sound touches on the gruff post-hardcore rumblings of its surrounding environment. For context, they’ve opened for Lifetime, and have a very Dan Yemin-like energy to their sound that deadlifts a weight similar to what Paint It Black and Open City are throwing down. Off Fire is similarly politicized and swings hard, but that takes nothing away from the melodic gravity of the LP in a way that hears Truth Cult’s sound living up to the elements of its title.

Uniform - Shame [Sacred Bones Records]

Shame, the third studio effort from combustible Brooklyn industry noise torchers Uniform, sets out to rid the self of that which destroys us from the inside out. What’s different about this beastial incantation from the trio’s past releases is how it much raw the internal wounds look on the surface, as the album unburdens itself of conditioned self-hate and constructs a effigy for all that pain to set into flames. It’s a self-immolation of the soul in which frontperson Michael Berdan screams through the smoke, his voice often engulfed and dissipated in a razor burn of guitars and fuel-doused drums. To free themselves it all, Uniform sees no other way out beyond setting themselves on fire -- and burn gloriously, at that.

War On Women - Wonderful Hell [Bridge Nine Records]

Wonderful Hell was released days ahead of this year’s critical presidential election, and War On Women had a concentrated reason as to why: The rallying cries and calls for action hurled into the masses by Shawna Potter made for one last push of resistance against these last four years. Now that we’ve overcome the first hurdle, the Baltimore punk band’s third album serves as a reminder as to how much more work there is to be done. Their agenda hasn’t changed all that much since 2017′s breakout Capture the Flag – defeat fascism, fight for equality for both women and the marginalized, make misogyny and any form hate extinct – and they’ve sharpened the edges of their razor-backed melodic punk anthems here to make their ultimate end-game clear.

#best of 2020 #backxwash #clearbody #code orange #deftones #drain #entry #gulch #health #higher power #hum #metz #nothing #moor mother #narrow head #record setter #shamir #soul glo #sparta #spice #sprain #touche amore #thou #emma ruth rundle #truth cult #uniform #war on women

[aro-of-artemis]

no grave can hold my body down (i'll crawl home to her)

A jukebox soulmate au where your missing stuff finds its way to your soulmate.

ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29147940

They say that there's someone who makes up the rest of your soul. That they're your perfect match and once you meet them, once you touch them, your wandering souls will be fused back together, whole and unbroken.

 Luke's not sure who they are. But honestly, he just wishes his shit would stop going permanently missing. You lose something and it's sucked through some kind of hole in space-time to be found by your soulmate. Luke would really like to have a conversation with whoever came up with this system cause it sucks.

 Cause he's a forgetful guy. His brain is always going a million miles an hour, with at least three different trains of thought chugging away and sometimes the tracks cross and there's a collision and all the passengers have to bail out and it's just a mess, okay? Keeping track of his stuff tends to fall by the wayside a little bit.

 It's how he lost his favourite beanie. And don't get him started on the number of individual socks that have just poofed themselves out of existence. He always has to have a box of new guitar picks handy because as soon as it's not in his hand or clamped between his teeth, it's as if it never existed. He just hopes his soulmate appreciates them.

 But it's a give and take. He'll reach into his pocket to find scrunchies, hair clips, endless bobby pins. Just generic stuff that tells him very little about who his soulmate is except that they probably have long hair. (Once, he found one long, dark hair curling around the folds of a scrunchie. He keeps it tucked between the pages of a notebook, stashed away on his bookshelf.)

 (And yeah: they. He's spent a lot of time thinking about this. He's had crushes on all sorts of people and their gender never really made a difference, but his introspection also leads to a solid black ring resting on the middle finger of his right hand.)

 One day, he opens his school bag to find a homework page that does not belong to him. He looks at it, front and back, scouring for a name, a hint, a clue, feeling a thing with feathers rise behind his ribs, reducing his lung capacity and making him draw in shallower breaths. But nothing. Just the slightly messy handwriting of someone who thinks faster than they can write. He sighs and stuffs it back in his bag, reluctantly retrieving his maths book. His frustrated sigh must have been audible because Reggie leans over from his own desk.

 "Hey, you all right, man?' His eyebrows are drawn up together, lines of concern creasing his face.

 "Yeah, yeah. Just soulmate stuff junking up my bag."

 It's not always junk, though. A bracelet turns up on his bedside table. He starts wearing it every day. He refuses to take it off, even to sleep. Sheet music to an unfamiliar song is found wedged between his records. This particular item makes his heart beat faster, his chest tingling and warm. Because they're a musician too. It makes sense, of course. No way his soulmate could not like music. It's basically Luke's entire soul (or half soul, he guesses). But the confirmation makes him feel both calmer and more anxious. He wants to meet this person.

 His favourite item to ever turn up is a photo. A woman and a little kid sit in a field, turned towards each other, faces pointed away from the camera. But he can see their smiles. He sleeps with it next to his face on the pillow the night he finds it because he doesn't want to look away. In the morning, he tucks it into the back of his song-writing journal where he keeps the rest of his heart.

 At 17, he and his best friends are on the precipice of being legends. As he pulls his guitar from the case, a long, striped scarf flutters to the ground, the kind someone might tie in their hair or loop around their wrist. He ties it around his bicep for good luck. It makes him feel like his soulmate is there, by his side, cheering him on.

 They meet a girl - Rose - who looks so familiar. Something about her smile. But he just can't quite put a finger on it. All he knows is that her presence is reassuring. Safe. He doesn't know her but he feels a tug in his chest that says family. The same tug he feels when he looks at Alex and Reggie and Bobby. (He's changed his mind, his half of his shared soul is made up of these three dorks and the music they make together.)

 And then he dies. As darkness closes in around him, he thinks I'm sorry, boys and I'll never get to meet them.

  ---

 "Flynn!" Julie whines. "I can't find my homework anywhere!"

 Flynn rolls her eyes. "Did you check your school bag?"

 "Yes," Julie bites out, not actually mad at Flynn, just at the situation.

 "Your desk?" A nod. "Your dad's car? Under your bed? Your locker?"

 Julie has to stop her. She knows from experience that Flynn'll just keep going. "Yes, it's not anywhere."

 Flynn shrugs nonchalantly, a smirk pulling the corner of her mouth. "Well, guess it's gone to your soulmate then."

 Julie groans loudly in frustration. She pulls her beanie (their beanie) down over her eyes and slumps back against her locker, trying desperately to not look like she's pouting but definitely pouting. Flynn just gives her an unimpressed look.

 Julie breathes out harshly through her nose and resigns herself to retrieving the schoolwork she does have from her locker.

 "Ugh, gross!" she exclaims, fishing a pair of boxers out from where they had appeared in the dark recesses of her locker.

 Flynn's snort turns into a full belly laugh as Julie holds them away from her body, arm extended as if she were holding hazardous waste.

 She chucks them back in and slams the door shut. "Come on, let's get to class."

 Flynn follows, tripping over herself as she continues to laugh her way down the hall.

 ---

 Julie isn't sure who her soulmate is or whether she knows them already. Of course, it's pretty rare to meet them in high school, but a girl can dream. Unfortunately, it seems that her soulmate is terrible at doing laundry because she'll often find individual socks lying on her bedroom floor and undies crumpled in the corner of her bathroom. The beanie that turns up is quickly added into regular rotation and if it isn't on her head, it's tucked into her bedside table. The muscle tank threw an interesting spanner in the works as it set her mind to imagining the kind of person who might wear something like that. (She might, maybe become a person who wears something like that. Occasionally. When the desire strikes her.)

 She's fairly certain that they're a musician. She's constantly finding half-written lyrics strewn around her room in the most atrocious handwriting seen outside of a doctor's office. The lyrics - those that are legible - are beautiful. Occasionally they'll be lyrics to a Trevor Wilson song, though, which is a bit weird but she assumes they must just be a big fan. She appreciates their good taste.

 Another hint is the guitar picks. She finds them everywhere: in her sock draw, between the pages of her school books, next to her toothbrush. One memorable time, she found a pick snarled in her hair. And all of them, every last one, are covered in tooth marks. As if her soulmate has a habit of chewing on their guitar picks. It's kinda gross. Even so, she collects them in a jar on her desk with the date she'd found them written on the back.

 ---

 The boys turn up and her life is turned right-side up. She tells them to stay out of her room. Constantly. Boundaries, she reminds them. Alex and Reggie get it, they can respect her personal space. But, Luke. She knows he goes in there because he keeps leaving his stuff everywhere.

 On this day she finds his flannel just draped across her bed, as if he's trying to irritate her. She snatches it up and storms down to the studio.

 "Luke!" she shouts as she enters the studio, ready to tear him a new one. "What have I told you about going in my roo-"

 She stops short because all three boys are ripping the place apart, looking for something. When he turns around to face her, she sees tears wetting his face that he quickly tries to swipe away. Her heart leaps into her throat.

 "Luke, what's wrong?" she tries to ask but is interrupted.

 "You found it!" His voice is a little watery but exuberant.

 "I -- what?" she shoots him a quizzical look.

 "My flannel. Well - my dad's flannel, but -" he cuts himself off, scrubbing his fist over his eyes.

 Julie scoffs a little, gently. "Yeah, dude. You left it in my room."

 His eyebrows furrow in that way of his.

 "No, I didn't."

 "Uh, yeah. You did."

 "I haven't been in your room."

 "Well, clearly you have," she says, shaking the flannel a little and holding it out to him.

 "Thanks," he says softly as he grabs it, still looking at it with a bewildered expression. But he shrugs it on and uses the sleeve to wipe away what remains of his tears.

 When Julie looks over at Reggie and Alex, they're exchanging a meaningful look that Julie can't quite read. When they notice her gaze, they both glance away, once again fascinated with the chairs on the ceiling.

 Huh.

 ---

  "Julie! Stop leaving your homework in my song-writing journal!"

 "I didn't put it there!"

 "Well who did, then?"

 The patented Reggie and Alex LookTM makes an appearance.

 ---

 "Hey! I used to have a beanie like that!"

 "Uhuh."

 "I did! It was my favourite until I lost it."

 Julie nods but doesn't look up from her homework.

 ---

 "Ew, gross, Luke! Why do guitarists chew on their picks?"

 He shrugs a little sheepishly. "It just helps me think. Besides, if I put it down it just kind of … disappears into the void." He gestures vaguely at the aforementioned void.

 "That's true," Reggie pipes up. "He's always got a back-up supply!"

 Alex scoffs a little. "Yeah, but he's the only guitarist I know who chews on his picks."

 "Well my soulmate chews on theirs," Julie puts in, "So Luke's not the only one."

 She hears the implement in question clatter to the piano. When she looks at Luke his eyes are wide and a little sad. None of them had really talked about soulmates. She's not sure about the implications that being dead has on finding a soulmate. None of them had found theirs before they died.

 Alex, however. He'd managed to literally run into his soulmate in ghost form, so who knows. She's not sure if there are any rules. Whether both parties have to be dead or if one can be alive.

 (If she's honest with herself, she's spent a fair amount of time thinking about this. Thinking about Luke. She pushes the thought away when it pops up cause it's not possible but it always creeps back in. But they can't even touch so it’s a moot point. That longed-for skin-to-skin contact that bridges the gap between souls remains elusive. The silly daydream of a love-struck girl.)

 ---

 "Julie," Flynn says worriedly as they sidle up to their lockers, "Where's your ring?"

 "My rin-" she lifts her right hand to her face and studies her empty middle finger with distraught consternation. The space where delicate twists of black metal usually sit is bare. "My ring! I - I'm sure I put it on this morning."

 "Yeah, I saw you wearing it," Flynn confirms, her eyebrows furrowing.

 Julie can feel a tide rising in her throat, swelling up behind her eyes, each crash of the sea battering against her ribcage in a heartbeat tattoo.

 A poof to her right interrupts her rising panic. She looks at Luke, eyes wide and watering.

 "Julie! I came to bri- What's wrong?" he cuts himself off when he notices her distress.

 "My ring is gone!" Her voice is tight, as if trapped in her throat.

 Flynn had cottoned on Luke's presence and had begun to move around to where he stands to prevent their peers from thinking Julie's well and truly gone off the deep end. (Julie thinks distantly how grateful she is for such a wonderful friend.)

 Bafflingly, a bright smile splits Luke's face. "This ring?" And pinched between his pointer finger and thumb is Julie's ring.

 Julie's entire body visibly relaxes and it's as if her spine contracts a couple inches, muscles no longer held taut by emotion, the tide pulls out.

 "Where did you find that?" Her voice is practically a whisper now, adrenaline having sapped all energy.

 Luke shrugs nonchalantly. "It was in my pick container for some reason."

 Creases form on Julie's face but she gratefully receives the piece of jewellery. She slips it into its rightful place and when she looks up she realises Luke's eyes have gone wide. Her eyebrows pull up into a question.

 "You -- no, sorry, nevermind." He shakes his head and takes a step back. Julie moves forward a step. Flynn glances around to make sure no one is watching.

 "No, Luke, it's okay. What's wrong?"

 He shakes his head again, eyebrows drawing together and the hint of a smile on his lips. Instead of answering, he reaches his right palm out to touch hers, letting their rings knock together.

 "Oh," Julie breathes. She's not sure how she'd missed it before. Maybe just that it had blended in with all his other rings.

 "Yeah," he says, bashful, "Oh."

 Julie smiles at him and he smiles right back.

 ---

 The Orpheum happens. And the boys are clinging to the last shreds of themselves and she's crying out Go, save yourselves.

 But No music is worth making, Julie, if we're not making it with you.

 And she hugs him. And she can feel him. The places their skin meet spark with some cosmic electricity but there's no time to dwell on it because she has to save Alex and Reggie too.

 It isn't until later, when Reggie exclaims, "Hey, what's that on your back?"

 She twists around, glimpsing the shape of a hand darkening the skin of her lower back. Her head whips around to look at Luke and she notices. "Luke, your shoulder!"

 One hand flies up to his left shoulder, tracing over the darkened patch where Julie's palm had first rested against his skin. Their eyes lock.

 "You're-"

 "We're-"

 She's not sure who's making which language-adjacent sound.

 Alex is looking back and forth between them, a grin pulling across his face while Reggie's mouth hangs open in realisation. But they stay quiet. The see, told you so's will be saved for later.

 Julie starts moving, crossing the room towards Luke. Luke seems to shake out of a stupor, surging towards her as well. They meet in the middle, her arms once again wrapping around his neck in a replay of their earlier embrace. His hands find their spot on her back.

 "It's you, it's really you - " she's babbling. She continues to babble. Luke moves a hand up to smooth back her hair and gently places his lips against her forehead, finally causing her tongue to cease. The touch is so painfully tender it feels like a branding iron against her skin. They stay there for a century or so, just rocking to an inaudible beat, clinging to one another.

 Finally, Luke tucks his chin so that he can rest their foreheads together, breathing the same air.

 "You're amazing, Julie Molina. I would die a thousand times to find you."

 She nods, unable to form words cause, yeah, so would she.

 They pull back and her eyes slide over left arm, landing on the scarf tied there. "My scarf!" She tugs on it a little.

 Luke chuckles, sliding his palm along her jaw. Realisation crosses his face. "Oh, that is my beanie."

 His head whips up and around when loud guffaws break past stifling hands. Alex and Reggie have dissolved into borderline hysterics. He looks back at Julie whose eyes fill with shared mirth. A laugh bubbles up in his own chest, spilling over and out of his mouth.

 And finally, surrounded by Alex and Reggie and Julie, his soul is complete.

#jatp #julie and the phantoms #juke #jukebox #fic #my fic #jatp fic

[feverinfeveroutfic]

chapter eighteen: narcissus staring at his reflection

Another few weeks and another few weeks worth of having her ears blown out by the sheer amount of shows that took place before her, and Sam truly felt herself to be part of the music world as well as the art world. Every night, all the way until the final date in San Antonio, about a week before they had to prepare for the flight up to Oulu, in Finland, Charlie asked her to make a little sketch for him before he went up to the stage as sort of a good luck charm. He lent her a little blank notepad which he had found from the glove box in Anthrax's van, and he always made it specific, as well: they had to be in a sketchy style with strictly a black ink pen.

“Why exactly that?” she asked him one evening while the Cherry Suicides were setting up for their opening gig, and he gestured for her to move in closer to him.

“A little bird told me that Louie got one before I did,” he replied in a low voice.

“Zelda!” she hissed.

“Nah, not Zelda,” he assured her. “I did see it in the front window of Testament's van, though.”

“Oh, I see. Propped it up within their sight so everyone could see it.”

“Exactly! I'll get you more paper, too.”

“Yeah, I'm kind of starting to run low on this notebook paper, if I'm honest.”

But nevertheless, she sprung right to it: a little scratchy drawing of Charlie upon the lined paper, complete with the black curls all around his head. Sometimes, she drew a little drum kit before him to make it look as though it was in fact Charlie there: this was one of those times. Within a few minutes flat, she finished it and signed her initials at the bottom of the page, and then she handed it to him for good luck.

“You ought to compile all of those together in a collection of sorts,” she suggested.

“Like a little book!” He then snapped his fingers; from underneath his bangs, Sam made out the twinkle in his dark eyes. “There's an idea for you.”

“An art book?”

“Yeah! Something to do some day when you're out of school and you've made it big at some point.” He flicked his bangs back and he flashed her a little wink.

“Not soon? While you guys are over in Scandinavia with the girls and with Metal Church?”

“Nah, it'll take too much of your time, if I'm honest. Even I can tell you that. By the way—you heard this from me—” He glanced around him before he returned to her. “—we're gonna be with Ozzy, too.”

“No way!” Her face lit up at the sound of that.

“Yes way! But—” He leaned in closer to her again and he lowered his voice a bit. “—please don't tell Zelda, though. Scott and I want it to be a surprise for her. We got her and Minerva both into Ozzy and Randy Rhoads shortly after the announcement was made that we would be going to Finland. As far as the two of them know, it's just gonna be us with them and Metal Church.”

“Okay—” Sam was cut off by Frank and Dan skirting past her with their guitars in hand. She then glanced down at the notepad in her hands: two pages left, and of course not nearly enough to tithe her over until they left for England at the end of August.

“Also, Zelda wants to talk to you,” Charlie picked up again, that time with a slight clearing of his throat.

“About what?” she asked him.

He shook his head. “Dunno,” he confessed. “She just told me earlier over breakfast that she wanted to talk to you about something.”

“Well, where is she?” Sam wondered about that especially since she had bunked with the Cherry Suicides every night on this stint of the tour. She could have easily spoken to her about it at some point during one of those nights.

“She and Morgan are both signing autographs right now, believe it or not. I guess those girls are getting quite the fan base now. You know it's only a matter of time before they go Testament's route and start their own fan club. Morgan and I were talking about that just this morning over breakfast and I was like 'yes! You totally should at some point. Eric'll probably help you out with that, too, because he's the driving force behind that.'”

“What they get for thrashing all around,” Sam chuckled.

“Right! In fact, I've been seeing a lot more women in our crowds now because of them. Definitely more of the punky type of women given their music—lots of dyed mohawks and black leather and studs, but women nonetheless. From a mile away, I can tell they're all women. Not only do I have to owe it to the four of them, but I want to hand it to you and—” He cleared his throat. “—Marla and Belinda especially. Our first real big female fans.” Without a moment's hesitation, he put his arms around her and Sam returned the favor.

She then tucked the notepad into her pocket and before she could step away, Charlie spoke again.

“Did—Marla move into her new place by chance? I know it's been a while. I'm just—you know, just kinda curious.”

“I think she did?” Sam recalled: every night seemed to melt into itself, despite the new surroundings each and every time. “I'll have to ask her when I see her tonight, because I'm not too sure if I'm honest. I called her from the room last night and she told me that she's waiting for a direct deposit from me. And I promised her I'll get it once you guys run off to Finland, 'cause that's when I get the money from Jon.”

“I see. You know, I, um—” He cleared his throat again. “I still think about her from time to time.”

Sam squinted her eyes at him, and she flashed back on the night in which Marla came with her and Joey to her parents' house.

“She told me—you guys broke up because you have feelings about someone else.”

“And I do,” he answered, frank.

“Do you mind me asking?” She lowered her voice enough to where only he could hear her over the commotion around them. He nibbled on his bottom lip and he gazed off to the side.

“I won't tell anyone,” she vowed. “I promise. I'm not like Belinda—I'll keep a secret.”

He chuckled at that, but then his expression turned serious once again.

“Rosita,” he replied through gritted teeth.

“Really?”

“Yeah.” He nodded at her. “She's just—she's a babe. She rocks, too. Just the way she plays bass, man, it just—it kind of reminds me of the way Frankie plays bass and the way Cliff used to play bass, too.”

Her heart skpped a few beats at the sound of Cliff's name.

“Real friendly and just—” He shook his head again. “I've tried to ask her out but I just never got the courage to do so yet.”

“You ought to,” Sam told him. “Cliff did and we just clicked from that point on. For all you know, she might be the one for you.”

Charlie sighed through his nose and he nibbled on his bottom lip again.

“It's a long flight up to Helsinki from here,” he said. “That's a long time to think of the right words. I just don't really like being put on the spot like that. When I asked Marla out, she and I were all alone. It's just—finding that solitary moment, you know?”

“Yeah. 'Cause we're surrounded by people constantly.”

“Right. Exactly, yeah! I can always pull her aside—like when people are getting off of the plane. I'll ask her right there.”

“You should.”

“I don't wanna make any promises, though, 'cause something always come up. Things always come up, especially while on tour.”

“Right...”

“But I'll give it a shot, though,” he told her. “That's the only promise I can genuinely make is that.” He sighed through his nose and he glanced down to his hands. “And thank you for this, by the way.” He flashed the little sketch to her.

“Just—an artist to another artist.”

“Exactly!” Charlie peered over his shoulder to the other side of the room to the front doors and he knitted his eyebrows together. “Time is it?”

“I think it's almost noon?”

“I think Zelda might be on break. Why don't you go talk to her?”

Sam then nodded her head and once she tucked the notepad into her purse, she ambled over to the stairs at the edge of the stage; she padded across the narrow strip of carpet before the stage and then she made her way up one of the two aisles that split the rows of seats into neat thirds. She reached the double doors at the top there and she pushed open the one on the right: indeed, right in the front lobby of the theater was Zelda and Morgan seated at a low white table with felt tip pens in hand. The former had combed her back into a slick pompadour upon her head while the latter had on a bright red cowgirl hat and red lace gloves on her hands, complete with a red and black lace brassiere under a red lace bolero.

Zelda then turned her head and her face lit up at the sight of Sam.

“Hey, there she is!” she declared. “We were just discussing special outfits for tonight's show, given we're in Texas and whatnot.”

“Kinda makes me wish I had my black hat with me,” Sam confessed with a pat of her own head.

“We could be dead cowgirls,” Morgan said with a smirk on her face. “With nooses around our necks and splatters all over our hats.”

“Dead punk cowgirls,” Zelda corrected her with a nod. She then returned to Sam. “So what's up?”

“You wanted to talk to me about something?”

She hesitated and then she gasped and raised an eyebrow.

“Oh, that!” Her expression then turned serious. “Been meaning to tell you this for a couple of days now, and it just keeps slipping from memory. Just because I have other, important things to worry about and remember.”

Sam lingered next to her, and the edge of the table.

“Another reason to be nicer to Alex the next time you see him,” Zelda started again as she held the pen in between two fingers.

“What's that?” Sam asked her, and she hesitated once more.

“Do you ever notice how bullies tend to travel in packs,” she pointed out, and Sam stopped right in her tracks.

“What do you mean?”

“They travel in packs and the ones getting picked on are usually solitary.” She turned to Morgan. “Wouldn't you agree, Mo? That bullies travel in packs and their prey often stands alone?”

“Oh, yeah. And it's always a sign of vulnerability, too. They won't admit it, though. But why do you think—cowgirls—punks—metalheads—all travel in packs? Same mindset. Bullies have a similar mindset, but they refuse to admit it.”

Sam frowned at that as Zelda returned her attention to her.

“They travel in packs because they know they're weak on their own. So—my suggestion, Sam.” Zelda twirled the pen in between her fingers. “The next time you see him, like when we're out in California when we get home from Finland—talk to him. And really talk to him, too. That boy deserves it. He just looks—lonely to me. I don't really know his full story, other than what Louie, Zetro, and Greg have all told me about him, but I feel like he's an easy target. So—the little blow up you guys had makes me wonder if he sees you in a shitty light, and I know you're not like that at all. But he needs to know that. He needs to know that you're of good stature. I know it's gonna be hard, given he's so hard himself but—he's still just a young buck, though. We've met a few teenagers signing autographs in here—and it's just so cool to see. These young girls—a lot of boys, too—”

“The girls come for the music, the boys come for something else,” Morgan joked.

“Right!” Zelda burst out laughing, and then she straightened herself out. “But—we've been seeing these kids coming through here in Texas—and there were those kids in Portland, too. And I think it was that bunch—in Tacoma and also in Portland, that got me thinking about Alex again, because he's still just a kid and we haven't seen him in a few weeks 'cause they're with Overkill right now. And I just think—he's legally an adult, but he's still just a boy, though. So—try to talk to him if you can. Let him know that he belongs with the whole gang and everything.”

“It's a little bit hard for us,” Morgan filled in, “because we're punks. We're a punk band. A punk band opening for a metal band, so it just feels a little weird with us and whatnot.”

“But we think that,” Zelda continued, “—since you and him actually have a little bit of history with Cliff especially—you could do it better with him than any of us can.”

“Why us, though? Don't you think one of the guys from Testament could try and talk with him?”

“Because they're dudes,” Zelda replied with a flutter of her eyelashes, “they're not good with feelings like us. I actually tried doing that with Louie once and he was struggling with it, I could tell. One of the things that drove me nuts about him was how it almost felt like I couldn't talk to him about anything on an emotional level.”

Sam thought about that night in Boston, where Louie confessed that Zelda was his affair, and she tightened her lips at the very thought of that. Yet another secret to keep under wraps.

“Anyways—if you could do that, he could probably be a little more—present, I'd say? I was actually talking to Louie just last night and I guess they've been struggling lately.”

“Why's that?” Sam asked her.

“I guess they've been kicking serious ass with the music lately but—they're sorta lacking with the presence. Alex moves around a little bit but he's like stilted, though.”

“They're getting accused of being too much like Metallica, too,” Morgan added.

“Yeah, that's another thing! Chuck apparently sounds way too much like James which is horse shit to me. There's a little parallel there given they're all from the San Francisco Bay Area, but I don't really see it to be honest.”

A knock on the glass door to up the lobby from them caught their attention. Sam recognized that head of fiery red hair in the midday sun outside as she peered in through the smoked glass pane. Fiery dyed red hair coupled with large brown sunglasses, a white camisole over a matching long skirt, and a big shabby hand bag.

“Hey, it's Marla!” Sam called out; she padded over to the doors but before she reached Marla there, she returned to Zelda and wagged a finger at her.

“I'll remember that,” she vowed, and Zelda nodded her head at her. Sam then opened the door and she was greeted by a blast of hot humid air in stark contrast to the air conditioner around her.

“Hey, you!” Marla greeted her and she stepped inside the lobby and shut the door behind her.

“I was wondering when you'd get here,” Sam replied and they embraced one another.

“So Bel and Aurora helped me move my things into the new place in Hell's Kitchen,” Marla started again as she took off her sunglasses, “I just need the other side of the first month's rent and the deposit, too.”

“Well, this is the last date of the tour before they—” Sam gestured back to Zelda and Morgan at the table. “—head up to Helsinki next week. That's when I get paid.”

“Okay, good!” Marla then reached into her hand bag for something and she took out her big Polaroid camera.

“Hey, I remember that.”

“Oh, yeah, we got together at L'Amour—many moons ago, and you made that drawing of me and Charlie. And you used that Polaroid, too. I decided, eh, why not have it again?”

She turned back to Sam again.

“You wanna get something to drink? I'm like dying of thirst right now.”

“I'd love to.”

“You ladies wanna join us?” Marla called to Zelda and Morgan.

“We're shooting the rock star bullshit and signing autographs,” Zelda replied. “We should be seeing more people coming through here in about ten minutes.”

“Yeah, I saw a bunch of people standing out in the shade around the corner here. I thought maybe they showed up early for will call.”

“Nah, it's for them,” Sam told her. “They're actually starting to make serious headway in the music world now.”

“Right on! Anyways, there's a juice bar right up the street here. We can sit in the shade, too, and I just heard that we're not too far from the River Walk and the Alamo, either.”

“So you can literally call me Sam Houston now!”

Zelda and Morgan laughed out loud at that.

“Right!” Marla chuckled. “But anyways, it's actually not bad out—it's just the sun is hotter than holy fuck is all.”

“Sounds like a plan.” Sam returned to Zelda and Morgan. “I'll see you girls later—”

The two of them stepped outside to the sun as it hung high in the clear blue sky over their heads. Indeed, it wasn't that hot out, but the contrast of the air conditioner and the sunlight on their heads and the sidewalk around them made Sam wish for one of those large oak trees to cover their heads all the way up the block to the corner.

“So we've got a nice view of the water,” Marla told her.

“And it's close to school, too, I remember you telling me that.”

“Yeah, it is! No more taking the stinkin' subways so much. And by the way, Bel told me to tell you that, yes—we will help you. We kinda have to help you.”

“I moved cross country,” Sam recalled, “with the help of my parents, and almost by sheer luck, I met Frankie and Joey, but yeah—I could definitely use a little help.”

They reached the juice bar in question and Sam took to the table right before the front door, right underneath an oak tree and a pair of short stubby palmetto trees, and she set her purse down before her. Marla offered to buy up for her given she hadn't a lot of money on her at the moment.

“I'm just gonna use the bathroom real quick, though,” she told her as she set her purse down on the table before her. Sam nodded her head as she watched Marla head inside of there: that cherry red hair as bright as the very sun itself. Sam gave her hair a toss back and a light breeze came up from behind her. Still not enough to beat the intense summer sun, and she reached into her purse for a ponytail holder.

Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed something by the corner to her left. As she tied up her hair, she looked over and spotted Joey at the corner of the building. He was looking at something, but she couldn't tell as to what he looked at there.

She set her hands down on her lap and she watched him. He stood before the glass and he leaned back a bit. He was looking at his own reflection.

She had an idea.

That in and of itself could act as her newest painting, and she would put more thought into it this time around. She knew he would move at some point. He turned his back to her right then. She had nothing with her but the little notepad and the ink pen in her purse.

But then again, Marla's camera stood right there on the table next to her. Without a second thought, she picked up the camera and she pointed it in Joey's direction. All the times she thought of making a stained glass window about his likeness.

Slim and delicate, almost elegant in fact. The black curls sprawled down his back towards his thin waist. The white shirt he wore only accentuated the thinness of his body and the richness of his curls.

She took out the camera and she took the cover off of the lens. She peered in through the aperture and there he was, right within her line of sight.

“C'mon, Joey, turn to the side again,” she muttered to herself; she rested her finger on the bottom on top. For a second, she felt like a genuine photographer. “The other side. C'mon, Marla's gonna be back soon.”

Like magic, he turned to the right side. She pressed the button and the flash dissipated with the midday sun so he couldn't see it. The camera spat out the Polaroid and she took it before anyone could see it for themselves. She waved it about so the ink would settle in on the paper.

His slim body was as flat as a washboard, and his curls sprawled down towards his waist like tentacles. He had slightly bent his legs at the knees all the while, but she knew she had the perfect subject to work with no one was looking. The decision now was between acrylic paints on canvas once again, or to go forth with the stained glass idea. If she carried out the latter, she would have to take a better shot of him, or he would have to sit still for her again, and she had no idea as to when he would do that again for her.

But she chuckled to herself as she looked on at the photograph in hand. She glanced up and she recognized Marla's head of cherry red hair on the other side of the glass, thus she quickly slipped the camera back into Marla's hand bag and she stashed the Polaroid into her own. Joey then strode away from the glass reflection and towards the front door of the juice bar for himself.

Some day, she would carry out that stained glass idea with him. It was a matter of when and how. Add to this, as she peered into her purse once again, she spotted that little plastic bag at the bottom there. A little more inspiration was all she needed, courtesy of Joey himself. But she had no lighter to do that just yet.

She took another glimpse up to the front door of the bar, and Joey had made his way inside; Marla then doubled back outside, right past him and towards the table once again. She squinted her eyes against the hot summer sun.

“So they've got all manner of smoothies and good stuff for us.”

“I'll take blueberry if they have it,” Sam told her.

“The special for today is blueberry pomegranate.”

“I'll have that then!”

Marla opened her bag for her wallet and frowned at what she saw before her.

“What happened here?” she wondered aloud.

“What do you mean?”

She picked up her camera and she delved about the bottom of the hand bag for something.

“The cover came off of the lens.” And Sam shook her head at that given she merely tossed the lid in there. Marla stuck the cover back on and then she returned for her wallet.

“It is getting kind of long in tooth, though. I've had it a long time... anyways, I'll be right back. And Joey's in there, by the way!”

“Oh, boy!” Sam felt her face grow warm at the sound of that, and Marla returned to the front door once again. The sight of Marla putting the cover back onto the lens made her think of Zelda's words to her. She could keep a secret, and yet she needed to heed by that promise as well. She reached into her purse again, and that time for the notepad and the pen.

The last night of the North American stint for the time being and she could fill in the next two pages there with some other things. She lifted the penultimate page and then she set the pad down on the table before her.

“'Talk to Alex,'” she muttered to herself as she wrote the words down on that final page of the notepad. Now she had something else to live to, especially since Marla knew nothing about what had happened that morning in her own city.

#fanfic #fanfiction #anthrax fanfic #anthrax #charlie benante #joey belladonna #chapter 18 #fever in fever out #fever in fever out fanfic #book three #a skeleton in the closet #artistry #also on wattpad #also on ao3 #writing #text

[spaceskam]

another part of me could be you

for @capmanes (i meant to have this done literally an entire week ago but i have no concept of time management)❤️️

ao3

warning: blood & guns; this also turned into something a little spiteful if you squint

Michael didn’t exactly hate Forrest, hate was a very strong word, but that didn’t mean he didn’t get unreasonably irritated every time he saw him do something stupid like breathe. The guy was clingy and stuck to Alex’s side more often than not which made it extremely hard to get information from him, but Alex never even seemed to mind. It was like he was using Forrest as an excuse to get away from all of their alien bullshit and refused to admit it. It made Forrest even more annoying.

Yet, when Forrest showed up outside the airstream, alone and panicking, Michael couldn’t turn him away.

“Whoa, dude, breathe,” Michael instructed, guiding him to go sit in one of the chairs around the fire pit. He went, bowing his head in his hands as he tried to steady his breath. Michael stayed crouched in front of him, making sure he was going to be okay. As much as he didn’t like him, Alex liked him, and that meant that it was now Michael’s responsibility to make sure he didn’t get a scratch on him. “What happened?”

Forrest grabbed fistfuls of his own hair, taking a sharp and shaky breath.

“Alex,” he said, voice breaking, “Someone took Alex and he just told me to go to you and, and we need to find him. We need to go find him.”

Michael’s chest clenched and he tried not to get too angry at the thought of Alex just being taken. What the hell did that even mean, taken? Who took him? Where? Why? What?

But Forrest was crying and Michael knew from experience that, when one person was losing it, the other had to stay strong. So, for once, for Alex, he had to just stay strong.

“Do you know who took him?” he asked, keeping his voice as controlled as possible. It was hard to breathe and his skin was on fire, desperate to go find where Alex was and steal him back. Maybe even kill the person who took him, who knows, he was feeling a bit unpredictable these days.

“No,” Forrest said, shaking his head. He lifted his head to make eye contact with Michael, not a single trace of shame as he cried and sniffled. “No, they just jumped us. I-I thought at first it was... But they grabbed Alex and literally started dragging him into a van like some shitty mob movie and he tried to fight back, but he was, like, really outnumbered and I-I couldn’t help, one of ‘em had a gun pointed at me and I just froze. God, I’m a piece of shit, I just froze.”

“No, that was a scary situation, it makes sense,” Michael–who definitely deserved a medal after this–said, “Then what happened?”

“They just threw him in and he just yelled to go to you before slamming the door closed and driving off,” Forrest explained, voice turning a little whiny as a new wave of tears threatened his eyes, “I feel so bad.”

“Hey, look, we’re gonna find him. Can you tell me anything about the van or what the guys looked like? Look, follow me and let me see if they were stupid enough to let Alex keep his phone.”

Forrest nodded and managed to stand up, both of them heading into the airstream. Michael pulled out his laptop that was a little bit shotty but he’d rigged it up pretty nice. Then, when he and Alex were still on good terms, he’d tweaked it a little bit more to make it even better. He instantly started trying to track Alex’s phone even though he knew it would be hard since Alex wasn’t really a fan of being traceable.

“The van was just all black, tinted windows. There wasn’t anything on it to make it stand out from any other all black vans with tinted windows. The guys all had masks.”

“Anything identifiable? Did you catch any license plate numbers or anything?”

“No, I mean–Wait, it was a government license plate,” Forrest said. Michael looked over his shoulder at him.

“You’re sure?”

“I’m, like, 99% sure. It didn’t have as many numbers or anything as regular license plates.”

“Good,” Michael breathed, turning back to the laptop, “So let’s find some military places and see if there’s any in the vicinity of where Alex’s phone is. If I can find it.”

“I just don’t get it. Who would want to take him?” Forrest asked. Michael sighed, realizing that, as much as he wanted to keep their secret to the small group they had, it looked like that might not be possible. Even if he kept it away, Forrest would be curious and he would ask questions.

“How much do you know?” he said. Forrest was quiet for a minute, clearly not understanding the question. Which meant Alex hadn’t really told him anything. But then again, he shouldn’t have been surprised. Alex was loyal. “Right. How much do you know about Alex’s father?”

“Um, that he’s a dick?” Forrest filled in, “I know... I know about what happened when you guys were young.” Michael froze for a moment, taking a grounding breath before putting his focus back onto the screen. “Alex said he’s done bad things, but didn’t elaborate past that.”

“Yeah, well, Alex’s whole family is affiliated with a pretty sketchy government organization,” Michael said, trying to keep his mind focused, “Alex has been trying to dismantle it.”

“What?”

The computer finished loading in that second, showing that Alex’s phone had received a text ten minutes prior and it’d pinged off a cell tower that had about a twenty square mile range. Michael grinned to himself, feeling prideful as he began searching for places in that area that he might be. His first instinct was to show Alex, show what he learned from watching him, but that wasn’t an option. Not right now, at least.

“Can I trust you?” Michael asked, writing down a few different addresses that might be it. He turned to face him, seeing that he was really fucking confused but he nodded. “No, seriously. If I start talking, you need to be aware that if you share anything I say to you with anyone outside of Alex, that you’re going to be in danger.” He didn’t really mean it as a threat. Or, maybe he did. “But you need to know if you’re going to help me get Alex.”

Forrest swallowed and nodded, drying his face entirely.

“Tell me what I need to know.”

-

“So. Aliens.”

“Aliens.”

“And you’re one?”

“Yep.”

“And Alex probably got taken because he protects you guys?”

“Probably.”

“And I was absolutely wrong about the Nazis?”

“Yeah,” Michael said, “Also, you should probably dial back the Nazi obsession when you’re literally related to modern day Nazis. It’s not a good look.”

“Yeah, well, clearly I need to get a job on Ancient Aliens after this, so,” Forrest huffed. Michael managed a smile, but it quickly faded as he spotted a black van in the lot of an abandoned building. “Coincidence?”

“Nothing’s a coincidence around here.”

Michael stopped his truck and turned it off, leaving it in plain sight on the property. There wasn’t much sneaking they could do anyway and, besides, he was feeling pretty powerful in the moment.

“So, what’s the plan?” Forrest asked.

“We go in, I throw guards at the wall, we get Alex, and we fucking flee to the bunker.”

“What bunker?”

“Either Alex’s or mine.”

“Wait, you both have a bunker?”

“Technically, Alex has two, but–“

“Who are you people?”

“Right, so basically just watch my back and I’ll watch yours. Alex said you’re ex-military, so you’ve got some skills, right?” Michael said. He shrugged slightly. “Good enough. Here, use this.”

Michael leaned over to the glove compartment and moved the acetone to pull out the gun, handing it to Forrest. He eyed him skeptically, but took it anyway. 

“You think he’s gonna be okay?” Forrest asked. They made eye contact for a second and Michael nodded. Him not being okay wasn’t an option. Alex needed to be okay or Michael wouldn’t be okay. Simple as that.

“Let’s go get him.”

-

It was easier than it should’ve been to slip into the building. There were no snipers, no guards, no nothing. It had them both on high alert, just waiting to be caught off guard.

Michael kept his power bubbling under the surface, focusing on his anger that someone had taken Alex and making sure that he would be a force to be reckoned with the moment he needed to be. Forrest kept the small gun held up, finger off the trigger like he knew exactly what he was doing.

“I’ll have you know, I’m very against guns,” he’d said when they climbed out of the truck despite the fact that he cocked it easily and checked it over. Michael had rolled his eyes, but felt a bit safer knowing he wasn’t gun crazy. Less of a chance he’d actually shoot Alex.

“This is weird,” Michael whispered, slowly making his way down the hall, “Something’s wrong.”

“Yeah, something’s wrong, they took Alex,” Forrest pointed out. Michael shook his head.

“No, I mean...”

He trailed off as they took a corner and saw a guard laying in a pool of his own blood right outside a door. They both froze. It didn’t make any sense. Where were the other guards? Who did that to him? Anxiety pooled in his stomach and he looked over to Forrest. 

“What now?” Forrest asked. Michael took a deep breath and nodded his head to the door.

“We go in.”

“And if Alex is hurt too?”

“Then I kill the person who hurt him,” Michael said easily. Forrest didn’t respond.

They both moved closer to the door and Michael used his mind to throw it open quickly, giving them the element of surprise to whoever was inside. But the only conscious one on the inside was Alex.

He was on the floor, prosthetic nowhere to be seen as he clutched his side. Three bodies laid out around them and Michael wasn’t sure if they were alive or not, but he knew for sure that Alex had taken them out. And Alex, wounded and struggling to breath, gave them a bloody little smile.

“Hey, Prince Charming,” he said, not really specifying which one of them he meant, “Just in time.”

Forrest immediately put the gun away and went to his side. Michael watched like an intruder as Forrest kissed his cheek as a small form of comfort and apologized. Alex smiled tiredly at him before pursing his lips for an actual kiss, something he got despite the fact his lips were covered in blood.

“Great reunion and all, but you’re hurt,” Michael said, pushing away that gut-wrenching feeling that came with not being the one Alex wanted when he was in pain, “Let me see it.”

Alex didn’t move his hand as he gave him his attention, still breathing raggedly. Whatever it was, it wasn’t good. Michael moved closer and watched him keep on pressing. He was going to bleed out.

“I’m fine,” Alex said, smiling up at him with those eyes that would’ve been totally swoon worthy if he wasn’t denying his pain, “Just a scratch.”

“Alright, Mercutio, move your hand,” he said, crouching in front of him. 

Alex breathed a laugh and his head fell back against the wall, still smiling at him and refusing to move his hand. 

“You remember that scene in Romeo and Juliet?” he breathed, closing his eyes slowly and opening then just as slow, “Remember we-we had to act it out freshman year together? You were Romeo, you-you had to hold me as I died. You-you suck at acting. Still Romeo, though, still. Now. That’s kinda funny. The-the cinematic parallel no one predicted.”

“Okay, we’re not about to reminisce or make jokes, that’s what you do when you’re about to die and you’re not fucking dying,” Michael said, keeping his voice steady despite the fact that he was getting more and more worried. He looked at Forrest who seemed way in over his head, but he still held Alex and pushed his hair off his sweaty forehead to comfort him. Michael had never been so grateful for someone he didn’t even like. “You’re gonna be okay, Alex.”

“Yeah?” Alex laughed, “These violent delights have violent ends. You know that one, right, Forrest?”

“Is he delirious?” Forrest asked Michael, turning to him for guidance. Michael licked his lips.

“You trust me?” he asked him. Forrest looked at Alex who seemed to be fading out of it more and more by the second as he bled, continuing to murmur Shakespeare under his breath. Which, Michael had to admit, was kind of funny. But he could laugh about it when Alex was healthy.

“Yeah,” Forrest said, nodding, “I trust you.”

Michael took a deep breath and nodded, closing his eyes as he mentally pictured his powers rising and strengthening specifically for Alex. Always for Alex.

“Lay him on the floor,” Michael instructed, “I’m gonna heal him, but I don’t know if I’ll be able to do it completely. More than likely, I’ll just be able to do enough to get him to Kyle, but I’ll be fucked up too. So you’re gonna need to drive and call Kyle as soon as I stop, okay? Then you’re gonna need to call Max so he and Liz can come out here and deal with the body and DNA situation, okay? Can you do that?”

“Absolutely,” Forrest agreed. They both helped as they laid him on the floor.

“Don’t touch him. It’s a lot of electrical power and I don’t wanna accidentally fuck you up,” Michael warned. Forrest nodded and moved just a little, giving them just enough space. Michael carefully peeled off Alex’s hand, seeing the nasty wound on his stomach still gushing blood. It was so bad, Michael couldn’t even tell what caused it.

Still, he layered his hands over it, feeling Alex’s heart pumping hard as it tried to save him.

“Thus, with a kiss, I die,” Alex said, huffing a little laugh as he took a strangled breath.

“Not that kinda kiss, babe,” Michael replied, “And you’re not dying.”

Then Michael focused all of his power on him, thinking of nothing but Alex and everything that he was. His pretty smile, his undying loyalty, his protective nature, his unmatched kindness despite all the cruelty he endured, his eyes, his mouth, his heart. Everything that was Alex Manes was incredible and it was way too soon for him to go away. Michael wasn’t done showing him he was good. Hell, he hadn’t even started.

He was starting now.

Things were blurry when his body decided it’d reached it’s peak and he had to turn to throw up. If a good amount got on one of the guy’s that kidnapped Alex, well, that was someone else’s problem.

“Michael,” Forrest said, his hand reaching for Michael’s shoulder and squeezing. It grounded him more than he’d ever admit. “Michael, you good?”

“Yeah,” he breathed, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand and turning back to them. Alex was breathing well, eyes wide as he sat up on his own and stared at Michael in something akin to shock. They both knew he’d have a hand print on him and that was a bridge that would absolutely not be fun to cross. But it didn’t matter. He was breathing. “Yeah, I’m good. Sick, but good.”

“Alex, are you good?” Forrest wondered, his hand still on Michael as his other one went to Alex’s cheek. It was strange to see someone so unabashedly caring. For both of them.

“Yeah,” Alex said, nodding, “Still bleeding, but not as bad. Thing you just mended an artery and a, a kidney, maybe? I don’t know.”

“Good,” Michael breathed, laughing slightly, “Good.”

“Let’s get the fuck out of here,” Forrest urged.

Alex stood between them as they helped him get to the truck, letting him use them both of a crutches. Michael was weak and dizzy, but he could feel Alex’s gratitude and that pushed him. Besides, he had acetone in the truck.

They squeezed in the bench of Michael’s truck, Forrest in the driver’s seat and Alex in the middle. Forrest pulled out his phone and immediately started making calls as he put the truck and drive and got them the fuck out of there. Michael went for the acetone stash in his glove box. He downed it quickly and tried not to react when Alex leaned against him. 

When he glanced at him, he had his eyes closed and he was taking extremely controlled breaths as he pressed his hand to the wound. Michael watched him for a moment as he drank and, once he was done, he carefully grabbed a t-shirt that was stuffed behind the seat. He smelled it, making sure it wasn’t gross, before moving Alex’s hand and pressing it over the wound.

“You need anything from me?” Michael asked softly so as not to disturb Forrest as he got directions to the cabin from Kyle, “Like, are you grounded or are you just lucid enough to be thrown into a panic attack over being kidnapped and having to take out four guys by hand?”

Alex huffed a laugh and tilted his head back to look up at him, eyes fond. Michael loved that look.

“I’ll be okay,” he promised, nodding, “Thank you for saving me.”

“Thank Forrest, he made sure we made it in time and handled the alien information like a champ,” Michael said.

“Thanks Forrest,” Alex hummed. Forrest glanced over at them both, flashing a smile. He held the phone to his ear with his shoulder, reaching out to squeeze Alex’s thigh gently. 

“Yeah, Kyle, thanks. I’ll call Max and I’ll tell him where to go,” Forrest said, letting go of Alex to grab the phone and end the call, “You two still doing good? No one’s gonna die on me?”

“No,” Michael assured, “Not gonna let that happen.”

Forrest made momentary eye contact with him, going back and forth from the road to his eyes. 

“I know. Thank you.”

“No worries.”

Forrest got Max on the phone and Michael settled into holding Alex. Everything was going to be okay.

-

“So, he’s gonna be okay?”

Kyle nodded and looked between Michael and Forrest. He’d stitched up Alex and left him on the old bed of the pullout couch, pain killers in his system. Michael knew, logically, that he had to leave soon and just let Alex be with his boyfriend while he healed. But, fuck, he didn’t want to go.

“Yeah,” Kyle confirmed.

“Thank God,” Forrest breathed, visibly relaxed at the confirmation. Kyle smiled and looked at Michael as if waiting for him to ask for a ride. He cleared his throat and decided he didn’t really have a choice.

“I can, uh, leave my truck here for you guys whenever Alex is feeling okay if, uh, you wanna give me a ride back into town,” Michael said. Forrest looked to him like he’d lost it.

“No, what if they come back? We need you here,” Forrest said. Michael didn’t know how to feel about that, didn’t know how to handle being needed.

“Stay,” Alex called sleepily. Michael looked back at Alex and then at Forrest, both of whom seemed eager for him to stay. He took a grounding breath. He didn’t want to go.

So he looked back to Kyle.

“Um, I guess I gotta hold down the fort,” Michael said. Kyle eyed him before slowly nodding. 

“Take care of him, call me if anything goes wrong,” he said, “Bye, Alex, stay safe.”

“Bye,” Alex hummed.

Michael followed him to the door, quickly locking it behind him. He watched until Kyle was gone and then watched a little longer, making sure no one followed them there. After that, he closed his eyes and did a mental sweep of all the locks on the doors and windows in the cabin and made sure they were secure. Until they knew for sure who took Alex and why and if there was anyone else, he needed to be on high alert.

“Hey, Romeo,” Alex called. Michael turned his gaze to the pullout couch, seeing Alex in the middle and Forrest laying beside him. He figured before today he would’ve wanted to throw up at the sight. But, right now, he was grateful. 

Really fucking grateful. 

“C’mere,” Alex added, patting the bed beside him.

Like always, that magnetic pull tugged at Michael’s heart and he slowly stepped out of his boots and walked towards the bed. He looked at Forrest, making sure he was cool with it, and then laid down when he got a nod of confirmation. Alex grabbed his hand and held it over the stitches where the hand print was slowly but surely making itself known. He felt a rush of just pure fucking love and had no idea how to handle it.

So he moved closer, still checking with both of them that it was alright with glances. Forrest was already pressed to Alex’s side with his hand in his hair and he didn’t seem to have any issues as Michael pressed in just as close on Alex’s other side with his hand on his bare stomach. He could hear his heart thumping in his chest, his head still feeling a little off from healing Alex and acetone. Maybe he misunderstood.

“I-Is this okay?” he asked carefully. Forrest nodded solemnly.

“That was scary, it’s still scary, we don’t know if they’re coming back,” he said softly, “No one should be alone.”

“You’re being way too nice to me,” Michael huffed, swallowing harshly. His hands were shaking and he didn’t really know why. He couldn’t understand why this guy was being so nice to him, so open to him, and yet didn’t want anything from him. That didn’t compute.

“Not everyone has an agenda,” Alex murmured, eyes closed as he relaxed to the feeling of both men at his side. Michael could feel through the mark just how safe he felt with them, both of them. He could’ve cried.

“You take care of Alex, I take care of you, simple as that,” Forrest added, staring at him over Alex’s head. Michael nodded curtly as he finally understood a little bit better. Forrest was taking care of one of his own.

And Michael fell under that umbrella.

Simple as that.

#malex #malex fic #forlex #forlex fic #michael guerin #alex manes #forrest long #roswell new mexico #my fic #peep that delicious spite #hope you like itttt

[pretendingboyfriends]

I Promise - Pt. I

A/N: since i have a lot of time on my hands, i’ve decided to start this little fic! this is the first of many parts and i’m super excited to see what y’all think so shoot me an ask when you finish reading! also, my inbox is open for suggestions at all times, so do not hesitate to send them!! <3

Word Count: 2,019

Warnings: angst and lots of tears (smut in the future)

Alex and my older brother, Thomas, were basically inseparable for most of their lives. Living hardly a 30-second walk from each other, it was inevitable that they would become friends at a young age. Then I came along, weaseling my way into all of their activities and forcing them to include me. They learned to accept the fact that if they were going to be doing something together, I would be tagging along; but I don’t think either of them minded as much as they led on and because of the tight bond the three of us held, he honestly became a part of the family. Mother loved him (mostly because he loved anything she cooked) and even when Thomas had moved out and gotten engaged, Alex still sauntered around my kitchen without a care in the world, making himself feel truly at home.

His own mother had passed years ago and his father left when he was a baby, so we were his only family. He took it so hard when his mother died, she’d been ill for months and only seemed to get worse and worse, but Alex never once broke down while she was still alive. He stayed strong for her when she wasn’t able to. But after she died, Alex wasn’t able to hold it together anymore. Almost a week after her death he came to me, sobbing, and asked me if I would just hold him, so I did. I held him for hours. That was also the day I realized my true feelings for him. I loved him. I loved him as more than just my best friend. I loved him as more than the son he’d become to my family. He was the only one for me and there was nothing I wouldn’t do for him.

*

The war happened so suddenly. Nothing was the same after it began. Alex and Thomas were both drafted and had strict orders to report within three days. Three days for him to say goodbye.

The day before Alex left, he took me out for a picnic. Our usual picnic spot was a large, grassy hill. On one side, the hill spilled out into a forest that stretched for miles, and on the other was our small town, the one we had both grown up in our entire lives. I began to set up, unfolding the large quilt (made by mother, of course) and spread it out across the damp grass. Alex stood a few feet away, hands in the pockets of his slacks, his broad shoulders facing my direction. He wore neat, brown slacks and a baby blue sweater that he’d tugged over a crisp, white button up. His chocolate curls were combed back onto his head, one small curl escaping the rest and falling carefully onto his forehead. If I didn’t know him and saw him on the street I’d probably swoon and giggle over him like every other girl in our town. He was the definition of dreamy, but he never took any interest in any girls. I always found it strange, though, considering his age. Most men his age had already found themselves engaged or married, but he never so much as glanced at any girl.

I felt him watching me as I placed things onto the blanket and situated myself onto it. I plucked a large strawberry from one of the containers and took a bit out of it as I leaned back on my elbows. Alex made his way over to the blanket, plopping himself right across from me.

“Haven’t been out here in ages,” I chuckled, attempting to break the tension.

He hummed and nodded in agreement.

“Think it’s been well over 3 months since we’ve had one of these picnics,”

I nodded, silently agreeing with him as I turned to busy myself with the basket of food my mother had prepared for us.

“Mind passing me a strawberry, darling?” he asked, holding his hand out.

I took another large one from the container and placed it into his waiting hand with a small smile. The conversation died down into silence, the only thing that could be heard was the rustling of trees in the wind and the shrill chirping of a bird nearby. To me, the silence was deafening. All I could think about was the fact that he was leaving me and he might not ever return. For the first time in years--possibly my lifetime--Alex wouldn’t be a constant part of my life and the thought of that made my heart ache.

“I’m gonna miss you so much,” I mumbled, a single tear escaping my eye.

He looked up from his sandwich, swallowing quickly and moving things out of the way so that he could pull me into his arms.

“Hey, hey, none of that. It’s gonna be jus’ fine,”

He pulled me into his lap, tugging my arms around his neck and bringing his own around my waist to hold onto me tightly. I sobbed into his shoulder, slightly embarrassed that he was seeing me like this. I had promised myself that I wouldn’t cry until he’d left, but there I was. I felt him choke on a sob and quickly moved to look at him. His face was red and puffy just like mine, tears staining his skin. I took his face into my hands and wiped away the moisture from both of his cheeks. Neither of us said anything, just stared into each other’s eyes. His eyes flickered to my lips for just a moment and then returned back to my eyes.

“Alex…” I whispered, stroking my thumb along his cheekbone slowly.

He closed his eyes, squeezing them together in an attempt to hold back his tears.

“Alex, look at me please.”

He opened his eyes, his arms tightening around me. Our faces were mere centimeters apart and I could feel his shaky breath fanning over my face. He gently took my hands from his face, pressing his lips to my knuckles.

“I need to confess something,” He whispered, still holding my hands in his larger ones.

I nodded slightly, waiting for him to continue.

“You are the most important person in my life. If it weren’t for you and your family, I probably wouldn’t be as well off as I am right now. You have never failed to put a smile on my face at all times and- and I know all we’ve ever been is friends and I know- I know you probably see me as just another brother, but… I’m in love with you. I’m so fucking in love with you that it hurts. You’re the only person for me. That’s why I’ve never even tried to seek out anyone else. You are the only one I want. And I know this isn’t the best time to tell you with me leavin’ tomorrow and all tha’, but I might not be comin’ back and- and I need you to know how I feel. And I need to know if you feel the same way.”

Tears threatened to spill from my eyes as he finished. My heart pounded in my chest as I took his face into my hands once again. Without saying a word, I closed the space between us, pressing my lips to his timidly. He kissed back passionately, catching my lips before I could pull away.

“I love you so much.” I whispered in between kisses. He kissed me harder, holding me like I could slip away at any moment.

“Say it again,” He whispered, pulling away.

I giggled a little, pressing my forehead against his. “I love you.”

*

There was a gentle knock at my door that could only be characterized as Alex. I smiled, turning in my vanity chair,

“Come in!” I sang before turning back to my mirror to finish combing through my hair. The door opened and Alex walked in, carefully closing it behind him. I looked at him through the mirror and my face fell. He was wearing his uniform.

“What’s that face for?” He questioned, frowning as he walked towards me.

I stood from my vanity, my lips forming into a pout.

“You’re really leaving,”

He took my hand, pulling me against his body without a word. He wrapped one arm around my waist and placed his other hand underneath my chin.

“I am,”

My lip began to quiver, Alex taking notice and quickly covering my lips with his own. I whimpered and pushed up onto my toes to deepen the kiss as he towered over me. My arms hooked around his neck and I felt him walk me towards the wall, pressing me against it. He wedged his thigh between my legs, my skirt bunching up slightly. Small moans left my lips in between kisses, my fingers threading themselves into his gelled hair. He pulled away, kissing down my jaw and neck slowly.

“Wanted to give you a proper kiss before we leave for the station,” He breathed, kissing back up my neck to my lips and resting his forehead against mine.

“I’ll wait for you,” I whispered, nudging my nose against his.

There was a moment of silence before he spoke, “No, darling, don’t make a promise you can’t keep,”

I moved to look at him. “Alex, w-what do you mean?” “I mean, you can’t sit around waiting for me when I might not return! This is a war, Y/N, I’m not just going on a fucking trip!” He took a few steps back, running his fingers through his hair in frustration, “I want you to live your life just as you would. I want you to promise me that you won’t be sad forever if I don’t return. You mourn me and then you move on and fall in love with some bloke that’ll treat you right. Have a family, become whatever you want to be and continue to be the fucking ray of sunshine you always have been.” He was crying, tears pouring from his eyes. “Promise me,” He whispered, reaching for my hands but keeping his eyes to the floor. I sniffled, blinking away the tears that threatened to spill,

“Alex…” I breathed, shaking my head a little.

“Please, Y/N…”

I pulled my hands away from his and took his face into my hands, forcing him to make eye contact with me.

“I promise.”

*

It was a chill, overcast day, the wind picking up to higher speeds than usual, a hint of rain was in the air. My family stood at the train station to bid adieu to Alex and Thomas. Thomas went around hugging everyone first, expressing his love for all of us before he turned to his fiancé, taking her into his arms as she sobbed. Then, it was Alex’s turn. My father shook his hand firmly, patting his back; mother sobbed hysterically into a hug. Then he turned to me. I had already begun to cry and tried in vain to hold back my sobs as he held me, whispering a soft “I love you” into my ear. He pulled away, rubbing his eye with the palm of his hand to quickly rid his face of any moisture.

“Come back to me in one piece, you hear me?” I whispered, brushing off the lapels of his uniform.

“I’ll try my best.” He responded, taking one of my hands and pressing his soft lips to my knuckles like he had done the day before. I craved to feel his lips against mine one last time, but my whole family watching us, it wouldn’t be appropriate.

Finally, they were both boarding the train. Alex glanced back at me as he boarded, giving me a subtle wink. They both found their seats and poked their heads through the small windows, waving down at us. The train began to move and I stood waving back to Alex, tears running down my face. He blew me a kiss and mouthed “I love you” before the train picked up speed and I could no longer make out his face.

- 

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thank u to my beta readers @goldenfeelin , @youflower-youfeast , @queeniebish , @m-ram21 , @chazelles , @goldencherryharry , this would be absolute shit without them

#harry styles fanfiction #harry styles #alex dunkirk #dunkirk fanfiction #harry styles smut #one direction fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #harry styles writing #harry writing #dunkirk #dunkirk fanfic #my writing