#HOW WERE YOU SURPRISED HE WAS SO DEAD SET ON HELPING YOUR PARENTS ITS CALLUM

[writer-room]

Honestly the funniest thing about TDP to me is that Rayla for some reason always thinks Callum isn't 100% ride-or-die with her on any given situation. Seriously, she could decide she's jumping off a cliff and he'd do it too--oh wait.

I get that half of it is 'protecting' him but like. Girl he has been ready to die and kill for you since the first snake chain incident. It has not lightened up since. In fact its gotten worse. She's his special little guy and if anything happens to her he will kill everyone in the room and then himself. She physically cannot ever sacrifice herself for anyone because Callum WILL be following her straight into the afterlife in no less than a minute. I'm fully convinced he can and would go even further than Claudia and he'd barely have to think on it for five seconds before shrugging like "damn this sucks, can't believe I have to turn evil" "you literally don't have to--" "no I'm gonna"

And honestly I think that's peak teenagers first girlfriend behavior.

#tdp #the dragon prince #tdp rayla #tdp callum #text post #tdp season 5 #rayllum #talk #funny #its so funny to me girl he would KILL EVERYONE FOR YOU (except ez) #HOW WERE YOU SURPRISED HE WAS SO DEAD SET ON HELPING YOUR PARENTS ITS CALLUM #not only that bestie you could put the blade to his throat & he would let you. he wouldnt even fight he'd just let you #he would go so feral for you. release his chains. free him. #he wouldnt say 'please let me kill for you' but he would dramaticaly get on 1 knee & say 'rayla i would kill for you if it came down to it' #as if he wouldnt just do that if someone pushed him enough. i want someone to push his buttons enough. set him off it'll b funny #absence did make the heart grow fonder but i think he overdozed a bit. like just a smidge. theres like way too much fondness now #also its great bc MMMMM how do those callum & viren/claudia parallels FEEL BOYS #WILL DO ANYTHING FOR FAMILY SO TRUE. and also communication issues BUT MOSTLY THE SACRIFICE #hes the number 1 rayla defender. he supports her rights AND her wrongs

[fiddlepickdouglas]

To The Wick - Bobby’s Birthday

Disclaimer: I’m not usually a fic writer, I tend to stick to original stuff, but I just felt like I had to write this for Bobby today. I definitely wrote this in one go and did no proofreading, so I’m very sorry for that.

Summary: 2.3k wd. Bobby celebrates with Rose and Ray while still dealing with survivors guilt. Lots of fire imagery and comparisons.

WARNINGS: deals with death, symptoms similar to anxiety or PTSD, funeral mentions, survivor’s guilt

Staring at the flame, he fought every impulse to snuff it out with his fingers. For a moment, he contemplated on its gentle flickering, not unlike himself at this time. Every moment of its existence a fight against very strong currents, against all but one element surrounding it. All it knew was heat and the need to grow outward, but not being able to without the permission of exterior forces.

The words to the Beatles’ birthday song drummed on his ears, but his mind was in the back of the cavern where the music could only echo at a distance. Shaking his head and pulling his mind out of the depths of the cave, Bobby let a small smile loose for Rose and Ray and blew out the candle on the cupcake before him.

His friends cheered and they all bit into their own homemade cupcakes. Rose had been perfecting her recipe, and so far these were the best.

“You’re going to open a bakery,” Bobby told her through a mouthful. “And I’m going to be your most faithful customer.”

“But I get to do all the taste-testing, right amor?” Ray teased, earning a hand messing up his hair from Rose.

“Mi abuela didn’t pass this down and I didn’t tweak it so you could eat it for free all the time,” she said in a sassy tone, kissing his cheek.

Ray raised his eyebrows. “Noted,” he replied with a smirk.

Bobby finished his cupcake, entertained by the two lovebirds.

“So,” Rose started saying. “Now it’s time to open gifts!” She leaned away from her seat and grabbed an object from the counter a few feet away, then handed it to Bobby.

Tearing apart the purple wrapping and blue ribbon, he looked down at the small stack of CDs. Meditation Sunrise, The 7th Chakra, and Celtic Wind sat in his hands like rectangular dumbbells, each weighing heavier on his heart than he cared to admit. Suddenly, Ray was draping something over his head, and as he looked down he found himself wearing a necklace of prayer beads.

“You guys!” he chuckled, trying to sound genuine. It was his birthday, he was supposed to enjoy all of this. The gifts were actually great, too. “Thanks, this is awesome. You’ll both have to join me in a session, you know.”

“We were thinking we could do it with you today, if you wanted to,” Rose told him.

Bobby sat back in surprise.

“O-okay,” he stammered. He caught the look in her eyes that was hoping this wasn’t too much, to which he gave her a small smile of assurance. It was impossible to blame them for anything he felt today, especially when she and Ray were putting in so much effort to make it full of the joy and happiness it was meant for. It didn’t mean he hadn’t subconsciously stuck his hand in his pocket to where he kept a lighter. Just to feel that it was there, of course.

“Is it okay if we do it later tonight?” he asked. “I just have a quick meeting with my producer and a couple other things afterward to do. And I can pick up some incense while I’m out.”

“Great plan!” Ray exclaimed. He didn’t elaborate, but Bobby could guess that all the eye contact with Rose meant something he needed no part in. He got up from the table and grabbed another cupcake for the road.

“Say we meet back at, like, eight or nine?” he asked, grabbing his leather jacket and keys.

Rose looked up from being halfway embraced with Ray, barely paying attention. “Sounds perfect!”

********

“So, after talking with Jedd we decided we wanna cut out the second repeat of the chorus in Long Weekend. It makes it easier to put into radio time.”

Bobby stared at Callum, his producer, in disbelief.

“But we can just do a radio edit, then, why cut it off the album track?”

Callum blinked condescendingly.

“You think you’re just going to get radio edits out like that before you have an album out, kid?”

“Have you listened to it?” Bobby challenged. “That album is gonna shoot through the charts and I know you know that.”

“Tch,” Callum acted like he’d been shot by a Nerf gun. “That’s a bold statement from a guy who didn’t write these songs.”

A fireball seemed to form inside his chest, and Bobby wished he could open his mouth and shoot it toward the man. He clenched his teeth.

“You signed the deal, you recorded these songs, and you are getting this opportunity from us. We - need I say this - are professionals. Trust me, I’ve dealt with music written by dead people before. You’ll thank me in a few years.”

He was trembling to keep the fireball from burning down the entire room, and clenched his fists. Focusing on a stupid paisley design on the carpet, he avoided eye contact with Callum. There was no way he was letting Luke’s songs go any different than what they had played together for so many years. He had read the contract well enough, hadn’t he? It was hard enough not crediting the rest of them, but it was honor Luke with letting his music connect to people or honor Luke by letting him keep his songs to the few who heard them from the source. Not to mention Alex and Reggie being equal parts in that equation.

“Fine,” he forced out. “Make the cut. See how it does. I’ll bet you that when I make a remaster in twenty years with greater freedoms because I’m a respected artist, fans will ask why you cut it to begin with. I’ve got better people to see than you right now.”

He only saw Callum shaking his head out of the corner of his eye as he pushed through the door of the studio, flipping the bird behind him. It would’ve been nice to simply say over my dead body, but he was already bulldozing over his three best friends and it wasn’t fair.

It wasn’t fair that he could walk along the street, get into his car, and drive off in a huff. Not fair that he could go to the abandoned grocery store parking lot and yell until his lungs were sore. It was absolutely inadequate that he remained on this earth, soul inside his body, light in his eyes, breath and blood and bones and all. He screamed in that parking lot until he was dizzy.

Bobby laid in his seat, exhausted, until twilight approached, and then started the engine again. The route was so well-known now that he knew exactly when the lights turned so he never had to make a stop. He came to the right stop and parked on the shoulder, looking wistfully out the window.

So far, he hadn’t managed to set foot on the grounds again after the funerals had passed. Still, he came and made sure his line of sight at the closest angle to get a proper look at them. They were all in a row, even though only two stood vertically. Reggie’s parents had cremated him and only gotten a stone plaque that acted as a placeholder while they kept his urn with them at home. It was nice of them to at least contribute to keep the three together.

Today still wasn’t the day he was going to venture closer to them. Bobby wasn’t going to handle it well after the conversation he’d just left. He pulled the lighter out of his pocket and flicked it off and on. It hadn’t really been a habit he had before, but there was something weirdly comforting about it. For something that couldn’t think, it really understood him. He didn’t want to use it on anything, he just wanted to watch it exist before disappearing. The fire was them. But he could control it.

Taking in a deep breath, he went to get some incense.

********

Mats were spread in the backyard with tiki torches and a camping lantern in the center, more paper lanterns hanging from the tree above. Bobby had gotten a nice incense burner a few weeks back and was excited to put it on display. Ray was in his swim shorts, already seated with his legs crossed and repeatedly going “oommmm” and breaking it with giggles when Rose swatted at him playfully.

“We’re not doing that kind, tontoroso,” she teased.

“Pero me quiero - ah!” Ray cried as she accidentally thumped him with the boombox she’d been carrying out.

“Oh, lo siento mi amor, me desculpes!” she cried, setting it down to address the minor bump now forming on his head.

Bobby sat patiently as they babbled for a moment ensuring that Ray wasn’t harmed too much, smirking a little. He didn’t really mind being the third wheel on his own birthday - it helped take away from some of the guilt.

“Okay!” Rose said finally, standing and adjusting the bottom of her tank top. “I think we should try the Meditation Sunrise, so it will guide us through every motion and we don’t have to think.”

“Agreed,” Bobby nodded, with Ray doing the same. “The less thinking the better.”

Rose pressed play on the first track as all three of them sat in their assumed meditative positions with their eyes shut. Calm, synthesized music floated out of the speakers of the boombox, with light chimes twinkling here and there.

“Welcome to Meditation Sunrise. This first exercise is to help you free yourself from resentments and embrace forgiveness. Listen to my words. Focus on my voice and soon you will be free of anything that stirs up anger. This can be anger toward another person, anger toward a higher being, or even anger toward yourself…”

Bobby felt his heartbeat increasing and strained to keep his eyes closed. He tried to sit up straighter so that he could breathe in even deeper. He could hear Ray and Rose exhaling, sounding so calm and relaxed, and let out his own breath hoping it came out the same way.

“Forgive faults. Resentment comes from Latin, meaning ‘to feel again’. We all have these feelings, and they all visit us from time to time. Sometimes we hold onto things in the past that have caused harm. These things were painful. Letting these feelings continually visit us repeats that pain. In this exercise we are here to let it go…”

Taking a careful peek through his eyelashes, Bobby checked to see what Rose and Ray looked like. They sat close together, holding hands with the remaining ones shaped in circles. Rose had her head tilted back, so free and open to the sky, so light from the weight that wasn’t sitting on her chest. The flames from the tiki torches flickered and Bobby squeezed his eyes shut so he wouldn’t focus on them instead.

“Now we are going to envision that we have a shovel in our hands. We’re going to dig. Get that shovel deep into the rich soil and lift it up. Set the soil to the side. Smell the fresh, upturned earth. If you want to, you can kneel down and take some into your hands. Let the soft, rich earth be cool to the touch. Let it calm you.

“Imagine you are digging in a garden and planting a seed. It’s a seed of happiness. It’s small right now, but will grow as we continue through our meditation. We just need to go a little deeper into the ground…”

Bobby’s mind was transported back to the cemetery he’d visited earlier. It travelled all the way to the funerals - open ground, lowering cheap wooden boxes. His hand filled with a small amount of dirt.

“Stop,” he muttered, eyes remaining closed. Rose and Ray were still entranced.

“Stop, stop, turn it off, I can’t -” He felt his breathing get uneven, and Rose was already in front of him, cradling his face and wiping away tears that he didn’t realize had escaped. He jerked away from her touch. Ray rushed to stop the playback on the CD.

All he felt was heat rising everywhere. In his veins, all over his skin, the fireball growing like a small sun in his chest, and apparently tears could be hot, too. There was too much rage building up inside. Bobby let out a frustrated cry and kicked over the incense burner, the camping lantern doing down with it. Turning, he almost hit a paper lantern and he whacked it off the tree as he headed back inside the house.

Rose caught up to him and frantically tried to block his path.

“Bobby, I sincerely apologize, I did not know it was going to be like that,” she placated. He paused as she stood before him, pleading. “If you need me to, I can get you a different present, I just wanted to do this because you had seemed interested and thought we would have a fun night together - Bobby, I am so sorry!”

Looking back at her, he sighed heavily and placed a hand on her shoulder.

“You don’t need to get me anything else,” he told her solemnly.

Ray had joined them and put an arm around each of them. A twinge of reminder came to Bobby as he recalled Luke doing the same thing for him. But coming from Ray, it still had the warmth and love connected to it that he needed. He looked between the two of them.

“That was a bust,” he said. They all chuckled a little, albeit with heavy hearts. “But having you guys still made it a good birthday.”

His friends both muttered an “aw” and they came together in a group hug. Bobby sighed as they both squeezed him so tightly before breaking away.

“So what do we wanna do, then?” he asked.

“We could watch Wayne’s World,” Ray suggested.

“Baby,” Rose objected, giving him a look.

“What?” he lifted his hands defensively. “I could make a dip, we could grab some tortilla chips, you know I love dips.”

“But Bob -”

“No, I like that idea,” Bobby interrupted. “Ray makes some good dip, I’ll give him that. I think we can hold off on the meditation for now. Wayne’s World it is.”

#julie and the phantoms #jatp #bobby #bobby wilson #fanfic #happy birthday bobby #birthday celebration #tw: death #tw: anxiety #tw: ptsd #tw: funeral #tw: survivor's guilt

[bicon-korra]

this feeling that binds us

[Rayllum, 2,097 words, allies to friends to...something more?? Note: italics not on tunglr version bc I’m lazy]

Rayllum Week 2019 - Day 4: Moonlight @rayllum-week

Summary: After a long day of travel, Rayla takes night watch while Callum and Ezran sleep. Rayla, an assassin bound by duty to Xadia, never lets her guard down—that is, until she met Callum.

[READ IT ON AO3]

---

“Rayla? Are you still awake?”

Callum is searching for Rayla just outside their campsite, stumbling through thickets lit only by the pale moonlight. They’d made camp for the night after a long day of sailing. Rayla had volunteered to keep watch while Ezran and Callum slept, despite Callum’s protests. He could see how tired she looked—her face pale and gaunt—and insisted on taking her place. Rayla refused: I appreciate your concern, Callum, but these woods are dangerous, and you need to rest.

Callum knew nothing he said could change her mind. That’s one thing he learned about her during their long voyage to Xadia. Rayla felt a strong sense of duty to return the dragon egg to its home, and with duty came the responsibility to make big decisions during their journey. Most of these decisions, Callum felt, involved bossing him and Ezran around. It’s for your own good, she said one day. Growing up in a castle won’t help you survive the wilderness! I will. So follow me, and I’ll make sure you don’t get eaten alive by wolves.

As thick-skinned as she was, though, Callum began to see cracks in her armor. Earlier during their boat ride, she looked sickly and in pain; her bruised hand—the one with the mysterious binding—hung limply over her lap while she gripped the side of the boat with her other hand to steady herself. She cringed each time a strong wave threatened to flip the boat over, her eyes shut tight and mouth set in a hard grimace. Callum hated seeing her like that. He tried playing a game to distract her—one where he’d ask her simple questions about her life, with the hope of getting to know her better. That didn’t go over well. He learned that she lost both her parents. How, he didn’t know, but it didn’t felt like the right time to ask. Callum could somewhat relate; he lost his mother, and sometimes it still hurt to talk about it. But at least he still had his father. He decided to tread lightly next time he asked her about personal matters.

After getting poked and prodded by several branches, Callum finally reaches a clearing. He sees Rayla lying down at the foot of a large tree, her arms limp and chin tilted toward her shoulder. Callum panics for a second, heat rising in his throat, and rushes over to her side to make sure she’s okay. There was no way she fell asleep—he couldn’t imagine her abandoning her post and settling for a nap instead. Something terrible must have happened. He kneels beside her and breathes a sigh of relief when he hears her faint snoring. Her eyes are closed, mouth slightly open as a trail of saliva runs down her chin. She’s asleep, that’s all. Callum smiles. He’s never seen her look so peaceful. He had a theory that she didn’t sleep, that Moonshadow elves didn’t physically have to. Clearly there was a lot he didn’t know about his newfound ally.

“Rayla?” he whispers.

Rayla startles at the sound, eyes popping open. She sits up while her hand swiftly grabs one of her swords in defense.

“Whoa! Relax, it’s just me!”

Rayla’s grip goes slack, and she drops her weapon. She blinks rapidly to make out Callum hovering above her, worry in his eyes.

“Callum, what is it? Is something wrong?” She stands up quickly and turns her head to scan the perimeter for any signs of danger.

“No, I’m okay. I actually thought you’d be awake. You said you’d be on guard duty tonight.”

Rayla’s face colors in embarrassment. That’s right. She was supposed to be keeping watch tonight, but fatigue got the better of her. Her limbs felt like jelly from hanging on for dear life on that cursed boat.

“I’m so sorry,” she stammers. “I don’t know how I fell asleep.” She clenches her fist at her side, angry at herself for keeping her guard down. There was too much at stake to lose focus now.

“No, it’s fine,” Callum reassures her. “I actually came to switch places with you. You clearly need to rest—”

“Nuh-uh. I’ll keep watch. You were rowing that boat all day today. Your human arms are probably close to falling off.”

Callum glowers in mild embarrassment. His arms were sore, but he would never admit it to her. Callum never really cared about his physical strength—that was more of Soren’s thing. His new thing—better thing—was magic, and he didn’t need to swing a sword to do magic. Plus, he was content following Rayla, who was definitely the strongest person he’s ever met. She could outrun any adversary that pursued them, cut down branches like they were parchment paper. But recently, he felt like he wanted to look tough for her, rowing the boat without a single complaint even though his muscles screamed in protest. It was a confusing feeling but one he couldn’t shake.

He stands up a little taller, chest out, and waves her away. “Nah, I feel fine. I just need a few hours to relax, then I’ll be ready to hit the water again.”

Rayla groans in exasperation, plopping herself on the ground. “The water…” She shivers, recalling the feeling of being stuck in what she basically considered a moving coffin. “I hate boats,” she grumbles. His bubbly laugh that follows makes her crack a small grin. She likes the way it sounds.

“Yeah, you’ve made that pretty clear.” He smiles. His eyes flit to the tight band on her wrist—her skin bruised and swollen around the edges—and his eyebrows knit in concern.

“How’s your hand?” he asks.

Rayla glances at the binding: a dark promise she made to kill the young prince of Katolis. Prince Ezran, the sweetest, most caring boy she’s ever met, someone who would travel across the world to do what was best for his people. And Rayla’s. Someone she now considered a friend. Guilt threads its way tight around her heart, more painful than the binding that threatens to cut off her circulation. So much has changed since she made that promise. She couldn’t possibly keep it now. She quickly covers the band with her other hand, hoping to change the subject and quell Callum’s worry.

“It’s getting worse, isn’t it?” Callum’s voice is somber, a rare occurrence. He usually approaches conflict with a somewhat naïve sense of optimism, making jokes and elaborate plans with a penchant for the dramatic—I do my spell, you swish your swords, and kersplat! The monster’s dead. But Rayla sees a different side of him when he’s concerned about his friends. He’s quieter, a lot more reserved. Someone who has seen loss, carries pain for the people he cares about. She doesn’t want to hear that voice. She doesn’t deserve his pity—not for this.

“It’s nothing, Callum. Just Moonshadow elf stuff…”

“If it keeps getting tighter, what will happ—”

“It’s fine, Callum,” she snaps. Callum winces slightly, and Rayla feels a pang of guilt. She can’t help but try to shut him up. She doesn’t like anyone worrying about her when she’s the one supposed to be protecting them.

“Okay, okay, I’ll drop it,” he says, holding his hands up in surrender.

Rayla sighs and holds out her hand. “This binding,” she begins, “is a promise I made before our mission. I have to return the Dragon Prince to its home. Then, the spell will be broken, and I’ll be free. Simple as that.” What would he do if he knew?

“Oh. Well, that’s pretty inconvenient. How are you supposed to do cool tricks with your blade with that thing squeezing you?”

“I’m aware of how hard it is to move,” she groans. “I can still fight just as well with one hand.”

“That’s so cool,” he says with unabashed admiration, and Rayla can’t help the blush that colors her cheeks, thankful that it’s too dark for Callum to notice.

“I’ll be fine. As long as I can still hold my sword, it’s nothing.”

Callum nods, sensing that she’s minimizing the pain. Then, his face lights up with an idea. “One sec.”

He quickly trods toward the campsite, and Rayla looks curiously after him. Several minutes pass, and she begins to feel anxious. She’s just about to get up and see what’s wrong when she sees him walk toward her with a small pot they use to cook their game. There’s water inside, and the sight of it makes Rayla cringe.

“Oh, so now you’re bringing the water to me. Woooow, how thoughtful,” she bites.

Callum shakes his head and settles down next to her. “I just scooped some from the river bed. It’s pretty icy, so I thought it might numb the pain a little bit.”

Rayla raises her eyebrows in surprise, touched by his small act of kindness. She didn’t tell him just how much her hand hurt, but he must’ve been paying close attention.

“Oh. Thank you,” she says, awkwardly fidgeting with the band on her wrist.

He sets the basin on the ground between them. “Here.” He reaches for her hand, and she gently places it in his. Something flutters in her stomach as he guides it into the water.

The cold water shocks her nerves at first and then she feels a tingling, numbing sensation that makes her breathe a deep sigh of relief. She beams at Callum, happy that it worked.

“Better?” he asks with a warm smile.

“So much better. Thank you.” She looks into his eyes and is overcome by a wave of sentimentality. Here he was, holding the hand that was raised to kill his kind. So blissfully unaware. So…human. And yet, there was a wisdom to him that she’d underestimated. Just like his game of questions on the boat, his gentle touch was his subtle way of showing her that he cares. They may not always see eye to eye—Rayla’s stubbornness saw to that—but still, he cares. In his own small, human way.

“Thank you for helping us get this far. It’s the least I could do.”

Rayla can’t stop thinking about her hand in his. “Yeah, well, I’m not the one rowing the boat,” she offers with a shy smile.

Callum notices he’s still holding her hand and quickly withdraws his. He clears his throat, drying his hand on his pants, and hopes she doesn’t see him blushing. Rayla’s face grows hot, and the fluttering sensation spreads from her stomach to her chest. Callum gives a wry smile when he sees her frazzled expression. For once, she looks like a normal girl…er, elf girl, he thinks.

“Let’s travel on foot tomorrow,” Callum says. “My arms really are about to fall off.”

“Thank you,” Rayla sighs in gratitude. “I can show you how to hunt game, if you’d like. That way we can split up and cover more ground.”

“I like that idea. My dad would like it too. He always wants me to go hunting with him.”

Rayla averts his gaze, her chest weighing even heavier with guilt. His father, the king. Gone. She can’t bear to tell Callum as he wistfully talks about making him proud.

Callum notices she’s gone quiet. “Rayla, are you okay?”

Rayla nods, swallowing the lump in her throat. “Yeah. The water’s getting warm. I should go back to night watch. I slept way too long, and who knows what’s lurking out here.”

“Please, let me. You look wiped out. You were even drooling in your sleep,” he teases.

“Ugh! Moonshadow elves don’t drool in their sleep. It’s unbecoming.”

“Right,” he smirks. “Well then, I better get back to check on Ez. And our egg...friend.”

“I’ll stay up, Callum. Go to sleep,” she instructs.

“I will. ‘Night, Rayla.”

“Good night, Callum.”

Callum walks away, smiling to himself as he thinks about the look she gave him when he retracted his hand. Almost as awkward and embarrassed as he felt. His newfound ally—No. Friend.

Rayla quickly scales a nearby tree with low-hanging branches, getting a birds-eye view of their campsite. She watches him walk away, hugging himself to stay warm in the cold night air. She looks at her bruised hand again, tries to conjure up the feeling of his warm touch. It’s a feeling she’s not quite comfortable with, one almost as alien as her new human friend. But also a feeling she doesn’t want to forget, and some part deep inside her hopes she’ll never have to.

#writing #rayllum #rayllumweek2019 #tdp #the dragon prince #rayla #callum #short fic #rayllum week #day 4 #blah blah