flowersandskeletons526

[flowersandskeletons526]

the dragon has three heads

[flowersandskeletons526]

can't get enough

[flowersandskeletons526]

wasn't gonna post this but twitter convinced me

[flowersandskeletons526]

"How Else to Prove That I'm Devout" - KPDH polytrix fanfic (part 3)

Well this ended up being a bit longer than the other chapters but there was a lot happening. Enjoy!

Part 1 Part 2

Read on ao3

---------

Mira spent the next week with her phone glued to her hand. She opened and closed the same social media apps in a near continuous loop, trying to look like she was doing anything other than silently losing her mind. She kept it tilted towards her to hide it. She didn’t want the girls to see the broken screen and ask what happened. Their concern had only grown worse, tentatively commenting on the bags beneath her eyes and asking if she was getting enough sleep, reminding her over and over to keep her hand elevated and iced, casting anxious glances and strained smiles every time she walked into the room. 

Zoey refused to let go of her, whether it was linking their arms as they walked or draping herself across Mira every time she sat down. Rumi wasn’t nearly as bad, but it still startled Mira. Rumi got clingy so rarely, and even though she’d gotten better about flinching away from anything more than a hand on the shoulder, she wasn’t cuddling up to them every chance she got like Zoey. 

Instead, she would trail her hand across Mira’s lower back as she passed. Press their legs together on the couch. Once when Zoey was in the studio searching for a misplaced notebook, Rumi came up behind her and gently took her injured hand with a quiet, “Let me see,” brushing her fingers along the edge of the wrap. 

Mira pursed her lips, stifling both the ache that shot up her arm and the way her heart stuttered in her chest as Rumi looked up at her. “Does it hurt?” she asked.

“Not really,” Mira said with a shrug. “Just feels weird.”

“The doctor said to keep ice on it.”

“I can’t keep ice on it every second of the day, Rumi.” 

“You should be doing it more often, though.” She let go of Mira’s hand, her touch trailing up the entire length of her forearm. Mira swore the warmth of Rumi’s skin on hers erased the pain better than any pill she could take. “Are you sure it doesn’t hurt?” 

“I’m sure, Rumi.”

“Because it’s okay if it does. Wait, no, that’s not what I meant. It’s bad if it hurts, if it really hurts we need to go to the doctor again,” Rumi said. Mira smirked as she watched her fumble for the right words. “I mean, it’s okay to tell us if it does. You don’t need to hide it or pretend it doesn’t.”

Mira’s smirk faded. Rumi watched her expectantly, waiting for any kind of response. Mira couldn’t look her in the eye.

“I know,” she finally said. “Really, though, it doesn’t hurt.” Rumi narrowed her eyes, and Mira relented, “It aches a little if I’m doing something with it but otherwise I’m fine.”

Rumi was silent for a moment longer before sighing and nodding. “Okay. I believe you.” 

Hearing her say it shouldn’t have hurt as much as it did. 

“Come on,” Rumi continued, “we should help Zoey look for her notebook. I’m afraid she’s going to start breaking things if she can’t find it.”

“She only did that once,” Mira said as she followed.

“I’d rather not test that when she has my four million won guitar in reach.”

“Fair.”

Zoey started sleeping in Mira’s room more often than she used to. It got to the point where she just left a stuffed animal in there; not her favorite, but a close second. Her favorite had a special spot on her bed and was never moved. Mira learned that the first time she spent the night in Zoey’s room and accidentally knocked it out of place, and Zoey had kneed her in the stomach trying to catch it before it hit the floor.

Usually it helped her sleep, having Zoey curled up next to her with one leg hiked up over Mira’s and her arms wrapped possessively around her waist. Nothing helped now. Alone or accompanied, she stared at the ceiling for hours while her mind raced. On the nights were she was alone, she’d go to the dark living room and sit by the windows, watching the city lights far below so she would stop looking at Rumi’s door.

More than once, she ended up standing right outside it with her hand raised to knock but never able to force herself to do it. Every time, she saw that one frame of the Takedown video, saw Rumi staring at her with more fear in her eyes than Mira had ever seen on anyone. 

No. No, not her. The demon with her face. It wasn’t her. She’d never…

The photoshoot was a welcome distraction. Between the costume changes, the direction from the photographer, the lights, and the constant rambling talk of the staff, she physically could not focus on anything else. It was perfect. The outfits were a fall collection, so there were a lot of jackets and pants with deep pockets to hide her bandaged hand. Even without them, the right pose with the right angles and edits could fix any accidental glimpses of it. Everything was completely, totally, absolutely fucking fine.

Zoey had been in a writing frenzy for the past two days, and Mira never liked interrupting those unless they were legitimately affecting her health, so she assured her it was alright for her to stay home. She got easily bored at photoshoots, anyway. Bobby was running around talking to a dozen people at once about contracts, promos, release dates, and a multitude of other things Mira never could pay attention to. Rumi watched from the back of the room with an easy smile on her face.

Mira caught her eye as a team of makeup artists touched up her lipstick. Rumi gave her a thumbs-up and mouthed, “You’re doing great.”

Mira smiled. One of the makeup artists whispered, “I think we used too much blush.”

There was another flurry of photos, bright flashes that left colorful blotches in her vision, and another costume change. The photographer approached as they were adjusting a spiked leather jacket around her shoulders. 

“Mira, we’re so happy you came,” he gushed. “You’re the toughest idol out there, pushing through… What happened, again?”

“Choreography mishap,” Mira said. That was the agreed upon explanation Bobby came up with.

“Such a hard worker! Hey, everyone, let’s give a round of applause for our star!” He started clapping, quickly joined by the dozens of staff rushing around the studio. “That’s why you’re a superstar, Mira. That’s the dedication. Do you need any water? Anything at all? We’ll do a few more outfits and then we’ll tweak anything you want changed, you just stay gorgeous, stay stunning as always.”

As he went on with the rambling compliments, Mira glanced over his shoulder towards Rumi. She always found things like this funny. Her chest tightened when she saw her. 

Rumi had her back to the wall with a severely forced smile on her face. A man - one of the production assistants, Mira recalled - was standing too close to her, talking excitedly as he gestured to her patterns. Mira watched her pull her jacket tighter around herself, hand fluttering over the marks on her throat as she barely restrained herself from covering them completely. Mira’s veins flooded with fire as she lifted a hand towards the photographer. 

“Excuse me,” she said curtly.

“Of course, of course, take five, whatever you need. Take five, everyone!”

Mira was already across the room. She put an arm around Rumi’s shoulders and pulled her away with a quick, “Sorry, stealing her,” directed toward the PA. She brought Rumi to the corner of the room, away from the bustling activity of the shoot, and stood in front of her to shield her from view. She was keenly aware of their height difference as Rumi looked up at her with wide eyes. 

“Are you okay?” she asked softly, trying to keep the hard edge out of her voice. 

“Yeah, Mira, I’m fine.” She was still covering her patterns. 

“What did he say to you?”

“Nothing, nothing, he just… said he liked my tattoos. He wanted to know where I got them done so he could get similar ones.” 

Right. Mira often forgot that the public thought the shimmering, iridescent marks covering Rumi’s body were an elaborate tattoo design.

“I’m fine,” Rumi repeated. She avoided Mira’s eyes. “It caught me off guard, that’s all.”

Mira sighed and resisted the urge to turn and snarl at the PA. Instead, she gently took Rumi’s hand and lowered it from her neck, holding it tight between them.

“Don’t cover up,” she whispered.

You’re beautiful.

She couldn’t say the last part out loud. She prayed Rumi heard it anyway.

Rumi smiled. She intertwined their fingers and let her other hand rest over Mira’s collarbone. Mira thought her heart might stop. It was a miracle she kept a straight face. God, what was wrong with her lately? “Go back to your shoot,” Rumi said sweetly. 

Mira did. She’d do anything Rumi asked if it meant making up for everything she’d already done.

She kept an arm around Rumi’s shoulders as they left the studio. She was on edge and distracted for the rest of the shoot, the poses coming more from muscle memory than anything. She kept looking over at Rumi to check on her and had to be redirected several times over the course of a single outfit change. Regardless, everyone was happy with her in the end. Rumi and Bobby included.

She watched the city stream by outside the car window. On the seat between them, she held Rumi’s hand lightly, with only their pinky fingers linked. She pretended not to notice the soft smiles Bobby kept casting their way.

Mira only looked up when Bobby’s phone rang. “Oh, it’s Zoey!” he said as he answered. “Hey, Zoey, you’re on speaker.”

“We’re heading home now,” Mira called.

Zoey did not care about that. “Look at your socials right now!” she shouted.

Mira and Rumi frowned. “Uh, why?” Mira asked. She was not pulling out her broken phone with Rumi so close to her.

“Just do it!”

“Okay, okay!” Rumi opened her phone. “Which platform?”

“Literally any. You’re going viral everywhere.”

“They’re what?” Bobby asked.

“Um…” Rumi was bright red from her neck to the tips of her ears. She angled her phone out so Mira and Bobby could see while she kept her stare trained on the floor. “I think she means this.”

On the screen were pictures of Rumi and Mira from the photoshoot, sneakily captured by what was obviously a shaky cellphone camera. They showed their hands locked and Mira’s injured hand by her side, Rumi’s smile as she touched Mira’s chest, and wow, Mira did not realize exactly how close they’d been: almost leaning on each other with their faces mere centimeters apart. The candids were undeniably… intimate. If Mira wasn’t the one in the picture, there was no way she’d believe there was anything platonic about it.

Rumi handed her the phone and hid her face behind her hands as Mira opened the comments. 

RUMIRA TRUTHERS RISE!!!!!

@ huntr/xfirstfan you owe me 14k won

Reply: dude I was rooting for them the whole time?

Not subtle at all. Everyone who shipped them with Saja is delusional.

So everyone is forgetting that Zoerumi already acts like this??

Reply: polytrix is a thing

“What the fuck is polytrix?” Mira asked.

Bobby laughed awkwardly. “It’s the ship name for all of Huntrix… together,” he explained. He sounded like a single dad trying to give his daughters the talk.

Mira’s face grew hot as she stared at him, her jaw clenching. She swallowed hard and looked at Rumi, who just groaned and slumped down in her seat.

“Half the internet is frothing at the mouth right now,” said Zoey, a little too happily. Mira had forgotten she was on the phone. “And the other half is crying because they think their ship just got destroyed.”

“Where are boats involved in this?” Rumi asked. Mira facepalmed. She couldn’t help it. 

“No, Rumi, shipping means, like, wanting two characters or people to be in a relationship. Or thinking they already are. It’s a fandom thing. And right now, everyone is shipping you two because you literally look like you’re about to kiss!”

“Zoey!”

Mira scrolled further down in the comments. 

I love Rumira as much as the next fan, but why is no one mentioning the cast on Mira’s hand? She didn’t have that at the meet and greet a couple weeks ago.

Reply: It’s not a cast, it’s a wrap. I’ve done martial arts for years and I had that put on when I broke my hand once. She hit something

Reply: Just because her hand is hurt doesn’t mean she hit something

Reply: Maybe she beat someone up protecting her girls!!

Reply: This isn’t fanfiction, get a grip

Okay, enough of that! Mira furiously scrolled away from that thread until her eyes locked on one comment near the bottom.

Does this mean they made up?

Mira tuned back in to the conversation around her as Rumi asked, “Who even took those?”

“I don’t know,” said Zoey. “The account that originally posted them is completely blank. No profile picture, auto-generated username, no other posts. There’s nothing but your pictures.”

“I’m getting these taken down,” Bobby fumed. “I’m calling that photographer and I will make him find out who on his staff decided to pull this stunt. Totally unprofessional invasion of privacy-”

“Wait!” Mira interrupted. Rumi and Bobby jumped and turned to her. She cleared her throat and looked everywhere but at them. “Maybe… we leave it alone. Let the fans run wild with it for a bit.”

Rumi and Bobby stared at her in shock, mouths agape. On the phone, Zoey exclaimed, “Did Mira just say that?!”

Mira growled and showed them the comment. “The whole point of the meet and greet was to make people shut up about the breakup rumors, right? Bobby?”

“Well-”

“I’m not saying we confirm it.” She had half a mind to jump out of the moving car at this point. “Just let them have this so people talk about something else.”

She mentally begged for someone else to start talking. She could feel Rumi staring at her. She’d be staring, too, if it were Rumi who just suggested they let the entire internet believe they were dating. What the fuck was she thinking!

“Let’s do it,” said Rumi hurriedly. “It’s not a bad idea.”

“It looks like it’s already working,” Zoey added. 

“I… okay,” Bobby relented. “Fake dating, it is.”

Rumi and Mira shouted, “Not what we said!” while Zoey cackled on the other end of the line.

She was waiting for them when they got home. She stood as they walked in, opening her mouth to speak only for them to rush past her towards their own rooms.

“I’m going to take my makeup off,” said Mira.

“I have work to do,” said Rumi.

Zoey frowned and turned to watch them leave. “So we’re not going to talk about this?”

“No!”

Mira avoided Rumi for the rest of the night. Every time she looked at her, she felt short of breath and her face got hot and she couldn’t stand to be embarrassed about this when she was the one who suggested entertaining the fan theories in the first place. She stared at her phone for hours, burying her head in her pillow as if that would erase the photos and the fan edits of them and #polytrix completely taking over her feed. She only put it down when edits of her and Zoey started popping up and she really couldn’t take it anymore.

Once the lights in the hall went out and she heard the girls’ doors shut, she made her way silently into the dark living room. She sat on the floor with her knees pulled to her chest, leaning her head on the window, staring at the city lights. Maybe she could blame this whole thing on a lack of sleep. That was it. She wasn’t in her right mind. That’s the only explanation she had for suggesting she and Rumi entertain dating rumors!

She stood with a heavy sigh and walked to the kitchen. Maybe tea would help? She would look up some sleep aids online, maybe ask Bobby to find her something, anything to-

A bloodcurdling scream pierced the night. Her stomach dropped.

“Rumi!”

She bolted. She hit Rumi’s door hard, trying the knob only to find it locked. Blinding panic swelled in her chest. She could hear Rumi behind the door, could hear gasps and terrified cries and it sounded like she couldn’t breathe and Mira had to get to her now!

She put her shoulder to the door and broke it down. It swung open on one hinge as she stumbled into the room, pain lancing through her shoulder, looking around frantically until she spotted Rumi.

There were no demons in sight, thankfully, because she hadn’t even thought to draw her weapon and would have to fight with only one working hand. Rumi was curled in a ball in the corner, covering her head as broken sobs wracked her body. Her patterns glowed a deep pink, pulsing wildly, and her hands had turned into vicious claws and were corpse-blue up to her shoulders. Mira could feel her terror through the honmoon as it settled deep in her soul.

She stepped closer slowly, carefully, crouching with her hands held out. “Rumi?” she ventured. Rumi jumped and whipped her head up to look at her. One eye glowed like molten gold. “Rumi, hey, it’s okay. You’re safe.”

Rumi’s voice came as a shaky, distorted whisper. “Mira?”

“Yeah, it’s me. I won’t hurt you. You’re okay.”

The fact that she had to say it, that it wasn’t a given anymore, fucking killed her. 

“Mira!”

Rumi launched herself into Mira’s arms. She caught herself with her good hand, fortunately, the force of the hug almost knocking her over. Rumi clung to her with every bit of strength she had, like she would die if she let go, like the world would implode around them and the stars would all go dark, burying her face against Mira’s chest as she broke down in her arms. Mira stifled a pained hiss as Rumi’s claws dug into her side.

“It’s okay, you’re okay, baby, I’m right here,” she cooed, rocking Rumi back and forth. “Breathe for me, Rumi. Easy. You’re okay. It was just a nightmare, that’s all.”

Rumi’s gasping sobs began to calm. Mira held her close as her hands returned to normal and the strange purplish color receded from her skin. Her patterns changed from bright pink fire to a gentle glow the color of the honmoon. Mira smiled, cupping the back of her head as she let go of a shuddering exhale and turned her face against Mira’s neck. 

Just when she seemed ready to speak, the already busted door slammed open. Zoey ran in, panic on her face and shin-kal in her hands.

“Are you guys okay?! I heard screaming and then the door and-”

Rumi’s patterns flashed purple. A strangled noise escaped her as she stared at the weapons in Zoey’s hands. Zoey realized just as Rumi began to push Mira back.

“Woah, Rumi, it’s okay!” Mira assured her, trying to keep her from running but not restraining her. Tears sprang to Zoey’s eyes as her weapons disappeared. “Zo, hang on, don’t cry. Girls, we’re okay. Everything’s fine!” 

She didn’t know how to do this. Calming the other two down had always been Zoey’s role in their trio. Mira was the one who needed calming, not the one who did it!

Rumi finally settled as Zoey stepped towards them. “I’m sorry,” Zoey croaked. “Rumi, I’m so sorry.” Rumi just shook her head and grabbed Zoey’s collar, pulling her into the embrace, leaning in as Zoey buried her face against her shoulder. Mira reached over and tangled her fingers in Zoey’s hair, caressing gently behind her ear with her thumb the way she liked. 

Mira held her girls like that for an eternity. She kept her breathing steady, trying to calm Zoey’s racing pulse beneath her fingers, pretending her heart didn’t break with every little hiccup from Rumi. She grounded herself on the ache in her broken hand pressed against Rumi’s back and the stinging scratches in her side. She didn’t dare move, staying still as stone, lest she dislodge one of them from their places against her and introduce the horrible idea that she was pushing them away. If she didn’t move, she wouldn’t hurt them. Just like she always promised.

Just like she failed to do. 

Zoey touched her cheek. She looked up. Zoey’s eyes were glassy with tears as she nodded towards Rumi, now fast asleep between them. “She’s exhausted,” she whispered. 

“Give her to me.” 

Zoey cautiously let go and climbed to her feet. Mira put Rumi’s arms around her neck, pausing to make sure the movement didn’t wake her, and picked her up. Her legs were numb from kneeling for so long but she managed not to stumble as she carried Rumi to bed, laying her down as Zoey climbed in on her other side. Rumi whined and immediately turned over to latch onto Zoey. As Mira put one leg on the bed, Zoey reached over and laid a hand on her hip.

She stared wide eyed at Mira’s side. “Mira?”

Mira glanced down to find four small tears in her shirt. She pressed her fingers through them to find spots of coagulating blood sticking to her skin. “Dammit,” she mumbled. “Do you have her?”

“Mira-”

“It’s fine. I’ll be right back, just… just keep her calm if she wakes up again.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m sure.”

“Okay.” Zoey pulled Rumi closer and laid her head down. “I love you.”

“Love you, too.”

Mira locked herself in her bathroom. Hunched over with both hands braced on the edge of the sink, she stared at herself for a long, long time before finally stripping out of her shirt. She ran her fingers along the marks from Rumi’s claws and gritted her teeth. She grabbed the first aid kit she kept in the vanity and bandaged them as lightly as she could while still covering them, ensuring Rumi wouldn’t see any evidence of it. Even though it was an accident, the last thing Rumi needed was knowing she hurt one of them when her demon half made an appearance. 

The last thing Mira needed was seeing Rumi hate herself again.

[flowersandskeletons526]

YES I know Rumi and Mira’s height difference is only a few inches but I don't CARE, in my mind Mira towers over BOTH them and I will NOT change that!!!!

[flowersandskeletons526]

a little potted plant

[kpdh, polytrix, domestic fluff, just a good time] AO3

"I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry!" Zoey wails, splayed out on the floor. "We thought it was dying." "We did." Mira nods solemnly. "And you were away for work! And I didn't really know what to do! And I didn't want to ask Celine! So I did the next best thing and I asked the internet!" [OR: Rumi brings home a wilted houseplant, Zoey and Mira love it back to life.]

Rumi brings her home on a rainy Thursday afternoon.

Zoey hears the door click and sees Rumi shoulder it open. Both of her hands are occupied with holding something close as she starts walking around the living room, eyes flitting to the window, then to the table nearest to it, then to a distant shelf by the television set.

Zoey sits up from where she's lying on the couch to follow Rumi’s pacing with her eyes. "Whatcha got there?"

"A new friend," Rumi says sweetly.

Zoey finally sees it: a frail little houseplant with round leaves that taper to a point, spattered with yellow dots along the edges. It's in a chipped terracotta pot about eight inches in diameter, and it droops mournfully low. Zoey smiles. She imagines Rumi seeing it tucked away in a sad corner in the studio she just came from, how Rumi probably looked for the nearest point of authority to ask if she could take it home. Zoey wonders, was she timid this time? Or firm with authority? Rumi would always swing between both—it was fascinating.

---

The plant is apparently a pothos.

They all watch as Derpy—splayed out on the living room floor next to Rumi and Mira, with Zoey on his back—gently paws at the pot. Rumi thought it would be cute to 'introduce' them. After a few tentative attempts, he manages to touch the plant without knocking it over.

Mira's never going to tell anyone how proud she feels. "Looks like Rumi's adopting strays again."

"Again?" Rumi leans back.

Mira just stares at her—and then at Sussy, perched on Rumi's shoulder, mimicking her expression so accurately that Zoey leans over in laughter—then at Derpy, her (secret) pride and joy.

Rumi gives in. "Okay—fine, maybe we've had a few additions to the penthouse in the past year."

Zoey reaches out to poke Rumi at the side. "You're running out of space on your balcony because you keep rescuing plants." 

"But they look so pitiful when they wither away."

"That's fine," Mira mumbles, catching the pot just in time after Derpy's subsequent (less careful) attempt. "You can use my balcony."

Rumi and Zoey stare at her.

"Um," Mira looks at them defensively. "What?"

"Nothing," Rumi leans her head onto Mira's shoulder. Mira can't see her face like this—but she can hear her smile. "You're sweet."

---

A day or two later, their little friend begins to lift her leaves up.

They find out first thing in the morning by way of Zoey's shrill scream.

Rumi thinks it's an emergency at first and barrels out of her bedroom with her weapon halfway out of the Honmoon's threads. She sees that Mira's just a step ahead of her, already doing the same, and when they get to the living room—gok-do raised, sain-geom drawn—they stare at Zoey.

She's hunched over the coffee table that the plant now calls home.

Zoey stares back. "I probably shouldn't have screamed like that huh?"

Rumi's shoulders sag. "Oh, you almost gave me a heartattack."

"My bad," she grins.

Mira brings her palm up to her face, but Rumi knows that Mira can't resist the sheepish smile and wide, brown eyes any more than she can.

"But look—look!" Zoey holds out her hand. Rumi walks closer until she's next to her. Their fingers brush and Zoey hooks them together, pulling Rumi downwards to crouch next to her. Rumi fiddles with their hands until her fingers are threaded and snug against Zoey's. "It's not drooping anymore—I guess any more than it should? I kind of went on a pothos rabbit hole on the internet and I get that they're kinda viney, but like, this little fella was wilted when it first got here and, and—this node went up a little over three quarters of an inch—"

Mira laughs. "Anything but centimeter, huh?"

Zoey sticks her tongue out at her, and Rumi can't help but giggle. She bumps Zoey on the shoulder.

"You've been keeping track?"

"Maybe a little," she replies with a slight flush on her ears.

Rumi can see a ruler slotted into Zoey's notebook laying on the table. She pictures Zoey with her ruler and her pencil taking silly little notes about this plant at odd hours of the day. It's strange how it brings a pleasant pressure in her chest—warm and soothing like a weighted blanket.

"Like maybe every two hours," Zoey rambles on.

"That's too often!" Rumi laughs incredulously. "Don't tell me you get up at night?"

"Nah, just during most of the day!"

"But you've had to do shoots this week!"

"I make Mira do it."

Mira just crosses her arms, shrugs, and looks away. "It's not hard?"

And that warmth in Rumi's chest starts to bloom two-fold, enough to burst upwards in a fit of delighted laughter.

---

The little plant grows into their life.

They water, and watch, and measure, and sit on the floor to eat dinner together around it.

They teach Derpy how to handle it until he reaches a relatively acceptable pass/fail ratio (Zoey keeps tabs on her notebook).

They curl up around each other while Zoey argues with someone on r/indoorplants until Mira needs to take away her phone, and Rumi needs to kiss her softly on the temple to cool her down.

(They promise they're not laughing at her. How dare he give their pothos a 'solid 6' on the scale of 1-10?)

---

It's a quiet Sunday morning, and Rumi wakes up to the sound of an angel.

It's drifting through the crack of her bedroom door. Rumi follows the sound quietly, afraid that any noise might take it away, and she stops where their hallway opens up into the living room and finds Mira sitting cross-legged on the floor. She has a cup of tea in her hand, and from behind her, soft rays of sunrise spill into the room.

She's singing to their pothos.

She's so beautiful.

Rumi wants to bottle up the feeling in her chest and save it for a rainy day.

---

Zoey likes to fuss over it.

Rumi noticed it early on—she'd check for bugs, count the leaves, turn the pot so that the other side got sunlight. Sometimes she'd touch it just to feel it between her finger tips, and she'd smile like it made her happy just know it was doing okay. And it made Rumi smile too, every time. Mira wasn't quite as direct—she'd water it, look around to make sure Derpy hadn't knocked it over, and if they were lucky, they'd catch her singing to it now and again.

But then one night, while Zoey and Mira sat cross legged by the table, and Rumi lay nearby on the couch, Zoey says: "You're not going to hurt her, you know?"

It makes Rumi stop, turn, and listen.

"What do you mean?" MIra blinks.

Zoey reaches for Mira's hand and holds it between both of hers. She presses on the tips of her fingers, runs her thumb along Mira's palm. It makes Mira flush—and it warms Rumi's heart.

"You're not gonna hurt her if you hold her. You're gentle."

Mira's hand curls into itself, Zoey—firmly, softly—keeps it open.

"Maybe a little rough," she works along the callouses. "But gentle. Caring. Very loving, if I do say so myself."

She brings Mira's hands over to the wide, thriving leaves of their plant, and Rumi watches as Mira softly runs her fingers along the edges and stems.

Mira pulls her hand back, and Zoey takes it into hers and lifts it up so she can kiss along her knuckle.

Zoey smiles up at Mira. "See?"

---

Rumi, weary from a full day of filming, opens the door to their penthouse and wishes the first thing she has to say wasn't: "Why is my houseplant trending on the internet?"

"Because it started drooping," Mira’s sitting on the couch. "And Zoey freaked the fuck out."

"I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry!" Zoey wails, splayed out on the floor. "We thought it was dying."

"We did." Mira nods solemnly.

"And you were away for work! And I didn't really know what to do! And I didn't want to ask Celine! So I did the next best thing and I asked the internet!"

Mira sips on her coffee. She honest to god looks stressed. It’s seven in the evening. "She went live on our Instagram, pointed the camera at the pothos and asked the internet what was wrong with her."

"And then everyone started fighting! And suddenly everyone was a plant biologist in the replies! "

"Someone was actually a plant biologist though," Mira interjects.

Rumi laughs. "You know people can just say that even if it isn't true?"

"No he's for real, he has a doctorate in molecular plant biology or some shit and linked his articles and his whole LinkedIn profile—"

Mira shakes her head. "People do crazy shit to prove a point on the internet. And also his article was paywalled but I figured it was good enough to convince me so we decided to follow his advice."

Rumi glances between the two of them. "Which was?"

Zoey slumps. "He told us to leave it alone and it'll be fine."

Mira takes a sip of her coffee. "Yeah, apparently overwatering or overcaring for it or whatever can also stress it out."

"Rumi, it's just like you for real."

"Zoey!"

"Needs attention but also not too much—"

"Mira!"

"Oh! Oh!" Zoey giggles. "Wilts dramatically at the smallest inconvenience!"

Rumi crosses her arms—but she doesn't feel any bite or malice. Just warm banter from two people who know her.

And love her anyway.

Mira chuckles. "Likes it when we sing to her."

"You know what? That's enough," Rumi drops her bags and marches towards them.

Zoey's looking at her phone, laughing. "They're calling you a—a plauntie! Or plantita! Or plantia?"

"Are they now?"

Zoey yelps when she realizes Rumi is right above her and tries to get up from the floor, but it's too late—Rumi's too fast when she picks her up, and Mira doesn't even make an attempt at dodging when Rumi gently throws Zoey onto her—and then Rumi comes next, piling up on top of them both, laughing and smiling.

And loving.

---

They wake up a little sore the next morning, having fallen asleep on the couch in the most inconvenient positions.

Mira sees it first. She leans forward abruptly—Zoey groans, Rumi yelps—and then she gasps, small and quiet.

It takes a minute for the other two to catch up, between the yawns and stretches and rubbing of their eyes, but then they finally follow Mira's gaze and see it too.

It was covered up in the past day while the plant was drooping—but sometime between yesterday and today, a new leaf had opened and unraveled. It was the first one: small, frail, and hopeful.

"Is that…?" Rumi whispers in wonder.

"I think so," Mira feels the both of them close in beside her. "Yeah."

"It's so dainty." Zoey sounds awestruck. "And small."

And then—much to her surprise—Mira feels herself sniffle.

"Don't." Rumi bites her lip. "Mira I swear to god, don't—"

It's too late. Her lip wobbles a bit and she's powerless to stop it—and like clockwork, Rumi's lip wobbles too—and, and Zoey's already watering up in the eyes and—

"Mira!" Zoey's the first one to break, wrapping herself around Mira's arm and pressing into her shoulder. "Look what you've done!"

"Me?" Mira wipes at her watery eyes. "I didn't do anything."

But it's Rumi who cuts off their banter—Rumi, with her soft, quiet sobs mixed with laughter. She gently reaches forward and brushes its leaves with the back of her hand, careful not to jostle the one that's just newly grown.

"It was so—small. And broken." She whispered. "But it made it. It's growing. It's living."

She holds them tight. It feels a bit too close to home.

Because of you both.

---

The pothos thrives.

Rumi later learns that they don't exactly grow upwards—they grow out, long and gracefully, extending as long as space allowed it. They eventually had to re-pot it into something sturdier and relatively Derpy-proof, and they've re-arranged a bit of their living room furniture to give it a more permanent spot in their home.

"You and I," Rumi speaks to it gently. "We subsist off of the same kind of love, don't we?"

It's getting overgrown and needs a little bit of a trim. She knows that it's good for her—but Rumi still feels bad every time. She pulls at the few wilting leaves here and there, trimming off the ends that start to graze the floor.

She's proud of what it's become: a sturdy, beautiful thing—nourished by love, and joy, and kindness, and understanding.

On a whim, she trims off two freshly-growing sprouts.

(Pieces of her very heart.)

She'll give one to Mira.

She'll give the other to Zoey.

She knows, with absolute certainty, that they'll know how to take care of it.

--

fin

--

A/N:

Gift to @nosiidam - I love you and all your plants! Thank you @saltypyrotato, the ever amazing and reliable, for beta-reading! Additional disclaimer: i actually don't know anything about plants sorry to all the plant people of the world

This fic was also inspired by this Tumblr post about Rumi being a plant mom which is absolutely amazing: #HerKadupul

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this concept art makes me want to jump off a fucking bridge

MIRA LITERALLY HOLDING HER ARM IN FRONT OF ZOEY, "PROTECTING" HER FROM RUMI

Y'ALL-

[flowersandskeletons526]

"How Else to Prove That I'm Devout" - KPDH polytrix fanfic (part 2)

Mira I hate to inform you but the blender is on its lowest setting and it's only going to get worse from here. Enjoy!

Part 1

Read on Ao3

-------

Mira wasn’t sure how Bobby managed to get her completely past triage and snuck in through a back door at an urgent care clinic. To be fair, she wasn’t sure how he made a lot of things happen. She supposed that was a hallmark of a good manager (and maybe, sort of, kind of a good father figure but she would take that thought to her grave.) She had vehemently opposed going to an emergency room. That would be too busy, too public, leading to too many video essays on the internet speculating as to how Huntrix’s choreographer ended up with bloody knuckles and a possibly broken hand. 

So now she sat in the sterile examination room, vaguely reminded of Healer Han’s office, with her hand on ice and her hat pulled low over her eyes. Zoey sat in a chair in the corner of the room while Rumi hovered by Mira’s shoulder, tightlipped and cold. Bobby - poor Bobby - paced the room looking more frazzled than Mira had ever seen him. And that was saying a lot.

“A broken hand. A broken hand!” he exclaimed, a borderline hysterical laugh creeping into his voice. “Are you in pain? How much pain are you in? I’m going to go find a doctor to get you some painkillers, it’s been hours!” 

“Bobby,” Mira deadpanned, “I feel fine.” She did not feel fine, it actually hurt like hell. “They did the X-ray thirty minutes ago.”

“How long does it take to look at a picture?”

“Typically one to two hours, sometimes more if the radiologist is busy,” Zoey piped up. They all turned to stare at her. She showed them her phone screen. “I looked it up.”

Bobby looked like he might faint. 

There was a knock on the door. “Ms. Mira? May I come in?”

“Yes! Yes, please!” Bobby practically shouted, red in the face, prompting Zoey to stand up and make him sit before he actually passed out. 

The doctor came into the room sporting a cheery smile. Mira caught the flash of recognition in her eyes, the slight raise of her eyebrows, but she did a remarkably professional job of hiding it. Mira was once again reminded of Healer Han and cringed a little internally. They really should have just taken Rumi to a doctor.

“I have your X-rays here,” said the doctor. “The good news is there are no complex fractures.” 

“Oh, thank goodness,” Bobby gasped. 

Rumi sighed quietly in relief and rested a hand between Mira’s shoulder blades. Mira resisted the urge to lean back into it. 

“There is a small hairline fracture along the fifth metacarpal,” the doctor continued, “but that will be an easy heal. We’re going to do a soft wrap around your palm and wrist and buddy tape your ring and pinkie finger together. Use an ice pack, keep it elevated as much as you can, and take some over the counter painkillers for the swelling and discomfort. It should be healed in no time.”

“How long is ‘no time?’” asked Zoey. 

“She has a photo shoot in ten days,” Bobby added.

Shit. Mira had forgotten about that.

“It should take anywhere from three to six weeks. If her hand has to be in a photo, you might want to reschedule. Now, let’s get that wrapped.”

Mira managed to keep a straight face as her hand was tightly wrapped in stretchy pink bandages and her last two fingers were taped securely together. Her good hand was behind her back, keeping a death grip on Rumi’s hand that made the other woman cringe in pain. She’d refused any painkillers; she had those at home and could down them in private. She wasn’t sure what exactly she was trying to prove right now, didn’t know if she wanted to be strong or tough or just didn’t want to seem like her crash out was actually as stupid as she felt. So she kept her hand in Rumi’s, kept her eyes on the doctor, and kept her mouth shut. 

The ride back to the penthouse was silent. Bobby texted furiously on his phone, no doubt trying to explain the situation in a way that didn’t make it sound like Mira was having a total mental breakdown, trying to reschedule a high profile fashion shoot that had been planned weeks prior. At one point, he asked to take a picture of her hand, and whatever response he got to that text only made him panic worse. 

Zoey sat glued to her side, touching from shoulder to ankle in a way that made it clear she’d rather be in Mira’s lap if the confines of the back seat allowed. And Rumi…

Mira couldn’t tell if Rumi wanted to hug or smack her. Probably a little of both. Mira was an expert at reading people, always had been, but there were times where Rumi had the ability to completely close herself off and plaster on a poker face Mira was jealous of. After the Idol Awards and all the events leading up, Mira thought she’d gotten better at seeing through the mask, but maybe she was wrong.

Bobby’s face finally relaxed in the elevator as they neared the top floor. “Okay,” he said, reading off his phone, “I talked to the organizers and it’s looking like they can reschedule the shoot.” The elevator doors opened, and he continued talking as they walked into the apartment. “Which, thank god, by the way, because we really can’t afford to not show up after…”

His voice trailed off as they all spun to look at him, the end of the thought hanging in the air like a sword over their heads. He swallowed hard. “Sorry. Moving on.”

“Um, Bobby, hey,” Zoey said hesitantly, trying her best to not sound rude. “I think we maybe need to talk? The three of us?”

“Oh, right! Right, of course. I’ll take care of everything, don’t worry at all, I have everything under control. You just rest for the day. Love you girls!”

“Bye, Bobby!”

Mira tried to sneak away. She almost succeeded, until she practically heard the girls whipping their heads around to look at her.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Rumi demanded. “Sit down.”

“I’m not a dog,” Mira grumbled as she flopped onto the couch. Rumi and Zoey stood over her, Rumi with her arms folded over her chest and Zoey glancing nervously between the two of them. Mira raised an eyebrow. “Seriously?”

“Yes, seriously!” said Rumi. “You just broke your hand going after a practice dummy like you wanted to kill it! What were you even trying to do?”

“Obviously trying to break something.”

“Mira!”

“Mira, really,” Zoey said gently. “It’s just… with the stuff about your brother yesterday, and you rushing right to your room when we got home-”

“I got carried away. That’s it,” Mira interrupted.

“If something’s bothering you, you can tell us.”

“We want you to tell us,” Rumi added, her voice softening. “Please.”

“Guys, nothing is bothering me, honestly,” Mira lied. “We haven’t been training like we used to and I had more steam to blow off than I thought. That’s all.”

Rumi and Zoey shared a look. There was a spark of something in their expressions, Rumi’s especially, a flash of hurt at being shut out like they could tell they were. Mira knew it well. It was the same thing she’d felt that night she confronted Rumi in her bedroom, that nagging frustration of not being let in, knowing something was wrong with one of the people she loved most in the world but not being able to help. She’d seen what happened the last time one of them tried to deal with their pain entirely on their own. Did she really want to make the same mistake again?

She was just about to stand, to go to her girls and try to assure them that everything was alright when Rumi’s phone rang.

“Wait, it’s Bobby,” she mumbled. “Hi, Bobby.”

“They can’t reschedule!” Bobby screamed on the other end. 

Rumi winced and held the phone away from her ear. She pointed at Mira and said, “Stay,” before stepping away to calm their manager down. 

Mira stood and made a beeline for her room the moment Rumi’s back was turned. Zoey spluttered her name, but she was already shutting the door behind her.

Leaning back on the door, she dropped her head into her hands with a groan, only to flinch in pain at the sudden jolt to her bad hand. She hated this already. She couldn’t bend the two taped fingers and her thumb felt weird with the bandages so tight around the base of it. She’d been injured in demon attacks before, had minor mishaps during dance rehearsals or testing new choreography, but this was plain stupid. The inconvenience of it was almost worse than the pain.

There was a knock at the door. “Mira?” came a quiet voice from the other side. “It’s Zoey.”

Mira opened the door to see her standing there with an ice pack and a bottle of painkillers in hand. She flashed that little smile she always used when she was trying to diffuse a fight or calm one of them down, gentle and sweet and genuine. Mira ground her teeth. She was powerless against that look and Zoey knew it. She rolled her eyes and went to sit on the bed. 

Zoey sat beside her without a word. She hid her flinch as Zoey took her hand and placed the ice pack on top of it. She rested her head on Mira’s shoulder. 

“Your brother’s a fucking prick,” Zoey said abruptly. It got a laugh from her. Zoey put an arm around her waist, her thumb brushing along the bare skin beneath the hem of her crop top. “I mean it. He doesn’t know what he’s talking about. He doesn’t know you. We do.” 

Mira smirked and leaned her head atop Zoey’s. “He is a prick.” 

“He has a stupid face.”

“You should see it in person.” 

“I don’t want to. I think I’d hit him.” She paused. “Rumi would definitely hit him.”

Mira grimaced. “Rumi’s pissed at me.”

“She’s worried.” 

“Same thing.” 

“No! It’s not!” Zoey pulled back and jostled Mira with her elbow. “I’m being serious. You’re not… Okay, you’re a little bit of a crash out-”

“Zoey, I still don’t know what that means.” 

“-but this? This is weird for you. We called your name three times before you heard us and you didn’t even stop throwing punches, you just turned around. You’re focused in fights, yeah, but I’ve never seen you blinded like that. Especially not while fighting a sparring dummy.” 

Mira leaned back on one hand and raised her eyebrow, looking Zoey up and down until she looked away, pursing her lips as a light blush dusted her cheeks. Mira smirked. Zoey wasn’t the only one who could play that game.

She tried to keep her tone light. “What do I have to do to make you guys believe me?”

Zoey hummed, thinking hard. Mira didn’t realize she was faking until she made a quick strike at her elbow, causing her to fall back on the bed so Zoey could jump on her. She straddled Mira’s waist and pinned her down with both hands on her chest.

They’d run this routine before. It would take no effort for Mira to twist her hips and toss Zoey off of her, to tackle her into the mattress and keep her there, while Zoey giggled and tried to wriggle free. It used to happen… Well, not exactly often, but more than it had since Rumi’s behavior changed leading up to the whole Saja Boys saga. And maybe Mira held Zoey’s stare a little too intensely sometimes, and maybe Zoey ended up a little more flushed and breathless than this level of physical effort warranted, but Mira never let herself dwell on it. 

She didn’t try that now. An uncharacteristic hardness in Zoey’s eyes told her this was not a game.

“Tell me what’s really wrong,” Zoey demanded.

“It’s funny when you try to be a dom-”

“Mira!”

She groaned and let her head loll to the side; anything so she didn’t have to look at Zoey’s intense expression. “Did you… Ugh, this is so stupid. Let me up.”

“Did I what?”

“Did you know there was a video of Takedown?”

Zoey sighed and sat back, leaving her hands on Mira’s chest but no longer pressing down on her. “Yeah,” she whispered. “I saw some posts about it.”

“Have you watched it?”

“No, and I don’t want to. I-” Her voice cracked. Mira rested a comforting hand on her thigh. Fuck, she should stop this conversation where it was, she hated seeing Zoey cry. “I can only imagine what Rumi went through, even with how little she told us. And then coming back, finding the real us, what we did…” She squeezed Mira’s hand and met her eyes, more serious than she’d ever seen her. “I can’t bring myself to see that. I’ve tried to block any mention of it on my socials, and you should, too. What is watching it going to help?”

Mira couldn’t argue with that, even though some cold, dark part of her tried to. It wouldn’t help anything. She should just stop thinking about it.

But she didn’t know if she could.

She needed out of this conversation. “Zo, you’re sitting on my liver.” 

Zoey’s mood flipped in an instant. “That’s not where your liver is. It’s right here.”

She grinned and dug two fingers into Mira’s side. Mira yelped and jolted upright, nearly throwing Zoey onto the floor in the process, catching her at the last second with an arm around her waist. Zoey cackled as Mira glared at her, unamused.

“First of all, ow,” she huffed. “Second, you’re going to hurt yourself. You almost made me drop you.”

“I knew you wouldn’t,” Zoey giggled. She took Mira’s face in her hands and kissed her. 

Almost.

It was light, barely a brush on the very corner of her lips, never quite landing where she often wished it would when she lay awake at night. It was nothing new, not by a long shot. She wasn’t sure when it started, but she remembered how. She remembered sitting with Zoey on the couch, both more than a little drunk, with Rumi having gone to bed early after getting drunk off one shot. She was teasing Zoey about one thing or another, going back and forth in a ragebaiting contest that Zoey was absolutely losing, until she grabbed Mira’s collar and planted a hard kiss in that same spot. Mira lost all ability to form a coherent comeback with that one trick. Zoey declared herself the winner and never stopped using it. Never in front of Rumi, though.

It was different now. Zoey moved slower. Her touch lingered on Mira’s skin. She wore a soft smile instead of the usual mischievous grin that accompanied it. It was different, and Mira liked that it was different, wanted it to be different, but she would never admit how. Life was too complicated already. 

Zoey leaned back with her hands on Mira’s shoulders. “I’m gonna go start lunch. Come help me?”

“I will in a minute. Don’t let Rumi touch the stove.”

“Oh, she knows she’s banned.” Zoey gave her a quick hug before climbing off her lap and heading for the door. She stopped with her hand hovering over the knob. “Do you… Would you feel… Would it help to sleep in my room tonight?”

“Zoey, you can barely sleep in your room,” Mira pointed out. “You have a gajillion stuffed animals on your bed.”

Zoey shrugged one shoulder and smirked. “Stop buying them for me, then.”

“Stop asking.”

“Stop offering!”

“Rumi enables you too much.”

“Oh, yeah? Rumi does? Really?”

Mira rolled her eyes. “Was this your way of asking to sleep in my bed tonight?”

Zoey beamed. “Can I bring my turtle plushie?”

“You always do.”

“Yes! Love you, Mira!”

The door closed with a whisper. Mira spoke into the empty room. 

“I love you, too.”

Both of you.

She reached for her phone without thinking. She opened the search engine. Clicked on the most recent search. She knew Zoey was right, this wasn’t going to help anything, but she still played the first video that showed up. 

It only took one frame of herself, a wicked grin on her face and her hand on a terrified Rumi’s shoulder, to make her hurl her phone across the room. The video kept fucking playing. She was on her feet in an instant, grabbing the discarded device and frantically trying to close out of it with her eyes closed. She only opened them when the sound stopped. She looked down at the screen, which now had three massive cracks splitting the face. 

She looked at the damaged device. She looked at her damaged hand. She let the phone slip through her fingers and fall unceremoniously to the floor. 

Highly aggressive.

No wonder the demon was so convincing.

----------

@observerblock23 I promised I'd tag you in part 2 so here it is!!!!

[flowersandskeletons526]

Rumi and her girls!

[flowersandskeletons526]

apple trend but with them

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practice mishaps

[flowersandskeletons526]

i love them !! :,)

[flowersandskeletons526]

so glad the warriors musical fandom is still so small bc I see so many posts talking (accurately) about what happens to fictional women and people of color in fandom and I just think. yeah. so glad none of us are fucking racist women haters bc. that would suck.

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I forgot to post this

Anyone see the polytrix sneak

[flowersandskeletons526]

"What is your problem?!"

"I told you, the song-"

"I'm not talking about the song, I'm talking about YOU!"

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

[flowersandskeletons526]

"How Else to Prove That I'm Devout" - KPDH polytrix fic (part one)

Brain rot go brr. Angst be upon ye. Also known as putting Mira in the guilt blender. Enjoy!

Part 2

Read on Ao3

------

Mira liked meet and greets. Usually.

Most of the fans that came to the events were amazing, always so ecstatic to see the band and talk to their idols even if only for a few seconds. Sometimes they got the ones who tried to reach across the table, got a little too touchy during pictures or asked personal questions edging towards the more severe side of parasocial relationships, even one fan that had to be whisked away by security after making some off-color comments to Zoey early on in Huntrix’s rise to fame. But that was more or less a workplace hazard when you had your face plastered across half the world. They were all aware of it and they had people and procedures to handle those situations as they arose. 

The little happy moments outweighed all the bad for her. Young girls with streaks of pink in their hair gushing over how cool her costumes were and how badass she was, whispering the swear word to hide it from their parents standing off to the side. The boy with shaky hands held close to his chest telling her that he just got accepted into dance school and her choreography was his inspiration. The quiet teenager with hardened eyes like hers who confessed cutting contact with a less-than-loving family, because if she could come from the same situation and find strength outside of it, then so could they. 

That last instance was just after their first nationwide tour. She would never admit how hard she cried about it the second she was alone.

Mira didn’t mind the press. Usually.

It was another workplace hazard. Things got misconstrued or taken out of context. Her past was occasionally pried into a little deeper than she liked. Luckily the interviewers and reporters she interacted with were mostly respectful, and Bobby and the girls were always there to shut down any that weren’t. It was better than the horrific tabloid culture Zoey described from the United States. 

However, it wasn’t always inescapable. 

It was their first real public appearance after the hell that was the Idol Awards, after about a month and a half of dodging speculations and invasive inquiries and trying to keep Bobby from having a stroke due to the stress. He set it up to be easy for them, to Mira’s eternal gratitude: a couple hours signing autographs and talking to fans, taking a few pictures, releasing new merch and teasing at upcoming concerts. Not that there were real solid plans for a performance any time soon.

No one would admit it, but a major reason for it was so Mira, Rumi, and Zoey could show their faces as a united front. They could only quell the breakup rumors for so long without actually showing proof that they were false. The girls knew that they were closer than ever, and so did Bobby, to an extent, but half their fanbase couldn’t look past the Takedown performance and still feared they were broken beyond repair.

Currently, Mira’s only fear was that someone would call her out for running a little too fast to the car. She smiled and waved to the mob of fans and reporters and photographers following them, did everything she could to look normal and not let on exactly how fucking exhausted she was. She was the last to get there as always, staying behind Rumi and Zoey to create a barrier, a shield between them and anyone in the crowd who might have ill intentions. That was her place: protecting them from the very beginning of their story.

But it meant there was nothing creating a barrier for her, and Bobby was occupied talking to another person on the PR team, and a small event meant a small security presence, and all of that compounded made it disturbingly easy for a sleazy looking man with a selfie stick and a live stream to come running up to her. 

“Welcome back, my fellow detectives!” he was saying into his phone camera. “I’m Investigator Scotty from Idol Investigators, covering Huntrix’s first public appearance after the Idol awards! I’m here with Mira, lead visual and choreographer! Mira, how are you feeling seeing all these fans still showing up after your last performance?”

She barely remembered to fix her face in time, plastering on her camera-ready smile that Celine had drilled into the three of them a lifetime ago. She was allowed to be a badass, but she was not allowed to be an asshole. 

“It’s amazing to see everyone,” she gushed. “We’re always so happy to get a chance to talk to our fans.”

She didn’t like the emphasis he’d put on the word still. It made her plant herself squarely between him and the open door of the car.

“And we are all, of course, very happy to see you,” the streamer said with an over-exaggerated smile as he panned across the crowd. 

Someone touched her back, and she wasn’t sure if it was Rumi or Zoey but she felt all their concern and confusion radiating from the simple pressure of a hand planted over her spine. She made eye contact with a pair of security guards near the venue doors. They nodded once and started making their way through the crowd as the streamer continued talking.

“So, my subscribers want to know-” Ugh. “-if you have any response to your brother’s recent comments.”

Her brother?

Mira’s heart stopped in her chest. Her blood ran cold. The world went silent, save a high pitched ringing in her ears and her own hammering pulse. She heard herself chuckle but she wasn’t sure if she was in control of her own mouth anymore. 

“Excuse me? My brother’s comments?” she repeated, a biting edge infecting the words. 

“We obtained an exclusive interview with your brother after footage of the Takedown performance was released-”

There was footage of that night?

Before the questioning could go any further, the security guards grabbed the streamer under his arms and swiftly carried him away. Just as he began spouting off about freedom of the press, Bobby came around to usher Mira into the car and climb in after her, shutting and locking the door behind them. The driver sped off without having to be told. 

Rumi and Zoey were on her in a heartbeat with an arm around her shoulders and a hand on her knee. 

“Are you okay?” Zoey asked almost frantically. “Who was that guy?”

“Mira, what did he say to you?” asked Rumi. 

She didn’t answer. Instead, she stared straight ahead at Bobby sitting across from them, furiously typing on his phone.

“Bobby.”

“I’m looking, I’m looking!” he promised. “What show did he say? Idol Investigators, right? Where have I heard that before?”

“Wait,” said Zoey, “isn’t he that guy who has cease-and-desist orders from, like, three different bands?”

“Yes! That’s him!” He clicked on something and began scrolling. “Well, he’s popular in the United States.”

“He would be popular in the United States,” Mira grumbled.

“Mira!” Rumi hissed with a pointed glance towards Zoey.

Zoey made an uncertain noise in the back of her throat. “No, she’s right. Celebrity news is very sensationalized over there, it’s actually a really big problem.”

Bobby frowned at his phone. “Mira, I think he was just trying to get a rise out of you. I don’t see any…” His face paled. “Ah. Okay, um… Oh, jeez.”

Mira stuck her hand out. “Let me see.”

“Mira,” Rumi began warningly.

“Give me the phone.”

“Bobby, do not give her the phone!”

“Bobby!”

Part of her felt bad watching the poor man glance between them, torn between Mira wanting to deal with her own family drama and Rumi death-glaring the both of them to leave alone whatever ridiculous comments were made. In the end, Bobby closed his eyes and just stuck the phone out towards them. Mira got to it first, opening the chosen video with one hand and holding Rumi back with the other, ignoring her leader’s protests of “You’re only going to get upset” and “Whatever they have to say isn’t worth it!”

Her brother’s face filled the screen. Just the very sight of him sent so much anger and pain coursing through her veins that she almost crushed the device in her hand. 

It opened in the middle of the stupid streamer speaking behind the camera. “-and I am here with Huntrix choreographer Mira’s brother-”

“Do not mention my name,” her brother snapped in that dumb fake uppity accent he’d spoken with since they were children. 

“Here with Mira’s brother. So, sir, you’ve seen the video of the infamous Idol Awards performance?”

“Have I seen it?” He chuckled smugly. Mira wanted to smash his face in. “No. No, I have not watched the footage, but I’ve heard more than enough about it. And I am only speaking on it now so you paparazzi types will stop harassing my parents for a statement.”

Of course, he was. Anything to make her look worse while retaining his distinction of the perfect dutiful son.

“I’m an investigative journalist,” the streamer corrected. “And what is your statement?”

Mira gritted her teeth as her brother rolled his eyes. “If my sister is involved, an extremely public fight like that does not surprise me. I am, however, obligated to commend her manager. The way he spun this as an elaborate stunt is a public relations miracle. That is all I am willing to say on the matter. Now please, kindly, leave my family out of this mess.” 

“Okay, that’s enough.” Rumi snatched the phone away and closed out of the video before handing it back to Bobby. 

Mira stared at the floor. If she was involved, a public fight wasn’t surprising? What the hell did that even mean? And the way he said public, like it would’ve been fine if the whole thing had just happened behind closed doors instead. That’s what always made him so much better than her, wasn’t it? She refused to uphold their family image, refused to tone it down, refused to be anything but authentically herself every single second of her life. 

Something hateful and dark blossomed in her chest. What right did he have to say anything about this? He didn’t even know what happened!

But then again, neither did she. Not really. Rumi had told her and Zoey the very basics: Takedown started playing and there were demon copies of the two of them and that’s why everyone thought there was a fight. She didn’t give any more details, and the look in her eyes when she told them, the way her voice cracked, how she’d unconsciously covered her patterns… Mira knew not to push further. But now there was this footage of it…

“Mira.” Zoey’s voice brought her back to reality. She looked up into wide, anxious black eyes. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” Mira said, her voice steady and blunt. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

Rumi and Zoey shared a look. “The things he said-”

“Fuck him. I don’t care what he thinks.”

She could see all over their faces that they didn’t believe her, but they didn’t pursue it. Bobby, to his credit, also took the hint and quickly changed the subject to the more positive success of the event. Mira tuned out the moment he said the word “trending.”

Rumi kept a hand on her knee the entire ride home.

When they reached the penthouse and said goodbye to Bobby, Mira headed straight for her room. She heard Zoey start to call after her, only for Rumi to quietly shut her down. Mira almost wished she hadn’t.

She stripped out of her clothes and tossed them unceremoniously in the corner of the room before changing into her pajamas. It didn’t matter that there were still several hours of daylight left. Sitting on the edge of her bed, she grabbed her phone and opened a search engine. She typed Huntrix into the search bar.

The first suggested search was “Huntrix Takedown live.”

Mira closed out of the app, powered her phone all the way down, and stashed it away in the very back of her dresser drawer for good measure. She didn’t sleep that night.

The next morning, she was up and moving with the sunrise. It was strange, being the only one awake in the penthouse. Usually Rumi was the first one up, making coffee or tea for the three of them or workshopping a song in her room, quietly singing or strumming her guitar as Mira passed her door. All she heard now was the soft patter of her own footsteps.

She didn’t bother with coffee or breakfast. She’d get that later, and Zoey liked it when they ate meals together, anyway. Instead, she changed into workout clothes and headed straight for their home gym a few floors down in the building. Past all the machines and free weights was a small section of punching bags and sparring dummies and racks of various weapons. Bobby gave them a weird look when they requested that be put in, but Mira gave some bullshit explanation of martial arts being conducive to better dancing and Celine - fuck her - had backed her up at the time, so he accepted it, albeit still a bit suspiciously.

She picked a wooden staff off a rack and stepped into the center of a mat. At first, she simply moved with it, spinning it in long, smooth motions like she had when she was first learning to use her weapon. It didn’t have the same weight or balance, of course, but she just needed something to move with in the moment. It was calming. Just her in the quiet, the low swish of the staff cutting through the air, falling into her body, distracting herself from-

With my sister involved, a public fight doesn’t surprise me.

Her staff struck a sparring dummy square in the neck. Every muscle in her body tensed. He didn’t know what he was talking about. He wasn’t there.

She struck a body blow.

They hadn’t spoken in years. He had no idea who she was. He never did.

Strike the head, the ribs, jab to the solar plexus.

It wasn’t her on that stage. Whatever it was that Rumi faced, it wasn’t her. It wasn’t her! He wasn’t there!

Flinging the staff aside, Mira roared in frustration and tackled the dummy off the mat and onto the concrete floor. She started punching over and over with all her strength, imagining it was her brother beneath her fists instead of foam and plastic. It was a hit for every disapproving stare, every lecture on maintaining the family’s reputation, protecting their societal standing by erasing everything that made Mira Mira, until they erased her from their lives completely. A hit for every time her brother should have supported her but didn’t, every time he basked in their parents’ praise while she was slowly but surely forced out. 

And now he had the nerve to do this? To go on some stupid invasive paparazzi channel and fuck with the family she made for herself? He didn’t have any right!

Mira closed her eyes and hit harder and harder until she couldn’t feel anything, could only hear her pounding heartbeat and the thud of the punches, could only hear-

“Mira! Mira, stop!”

Rumi’s voice rattled her for only a split second, just long enough for her to misjudge a punch. She slammed her fist at full force into solid concrete. 

Mira fell back clutching her wrist, her hand already starting to bruise, gritting her teeth to make a growl out of a scream. The fallen sparring dummy was stained red with the blood dripping from her split knuckles. She bit down on a curse as Rumi and Zoey, still in their pajamas, fell to their knees on either side of her. 

“What the hell, Mira!” Rumi asked in exasperation, more worried than angry. “What were you doing?”

She refused to answer. She didn’t know how. How could she possibly explain, “I was imagining killing my brother because he brought up the worst day of our lives,” without sounding insane? She just kept her head down and her eyes off Rumi’s expectant stare as Zoey gingerly took her wrist.

She inhaled sharply through her teeth. Zoey loosened her grip. “Sorry,” she mumbled. She turned Mira’s hand over and looked up at Rumi. “It looks broken.”

Rumi rubbed her temple and sighed heavily. “I’m calling Bobby.”

“Do not call Bobby!” Mira hollered, but Rumi was already on her phone across the room, speaking quietly so Mira wouldn’t overhear. 

Despite not having it on speaker phone, Mira heard the scream from the other end of the line clear as day.

“Mira did what?!”

[flowersandskeletons526]

Listen listen LISTEN

When Zoey and Mira find out Rumi’s a demon and they see her from offstage, the fucking way that Mira's breathing speeds up is KILLING ME

THIS SHIT RIGHT HERE

Like Zoey's breathing hard too but with Mira it's so much more pronounced in the movement of her chest and shoulders, and she's not showing as much emotion in her face as Zoey but it's the immediate panic setting in in her body language. Like it's not just from running she is fucking HYPERVENTILATING

This shit hurts me SO MUCH