#and i’m supposed to be cheering for this??

[strawberrychampayne]

you can't be this oblivious

bradley bradshaw x fem!reader

warnings: none except like one swear word lol.

word count: 1026

summary: oblivious!bradley x affectionate!reader!! reader is super affectionate to everyone but it is different with bradley. She’s sweet to everyone but she isn’t sitting at a table for 30 mins and letting just anyone rant about their day, unless they are rooster.

Y/N Y/L/N, aka Magnet was just that. A Magnet. 

“And then they had me doing pushups because I made a snarky comment according to them.”

Bradley Bradshaw better known as Rooster was someone you would consider a best friend. Though Phoenix would argue he’d be more than that if he wasn’t so oblivious. 

“I mean what did you expect Roo? I would’ve had you doing the same thing.” she giggled into her glass. 

They had been at the Hard Deck for around two hours now, coming right after they got off. It felt like a ritual at this point. Work, Hard Deck, go home and then repeat. There were a million other things they could all do and yet they always came here. Maybe it was the atmosphere that cheered them up after a long day. Or the beer.

What she hadn’t expected was sitting at a table for the last 30 minutes with Rooster ranting about the trouble he’d gotten in earlier, she didn’t mind that though. She could listen to him talk forever. There were very few times that Rooster felt comfortable enough to share things so anytime he did, she took it seriously. 

“You wouldn’t even think to punish me Mag, we both know that.” Rooster replied with a smirk playing on his lips. 

She often thought of what it would be like to kiss him. Would his lips be soft and plushy or more rough like he pretended to be. She liked to believe it would be the first option. She’d never get to really know though as it seemed he never reciprocated the feelings she was putting out. 

“You don’t know what I would do, Rooster. I could make you do 20 pushups right now.” she said

“And I would do them.” he said, a twinkle in his eye or maybe it was the lighting. 

She gasped quietly hoping he didn’t hear. Flirty Rooster only came out after a couple of drinks. She had heard the phrase that drunk words are sober thoughts. Never really believing it though, he never had so much to drink he couldn’t remember saying something so eye raising to his supposed best friend. 

“The worst thing about all this extra work is I feel like I have no time to eat something good. It’s always some fries from here and a couple beers” he continued, brushing past his previous statement. 

Coming back to her senses she spoke quickly, “We could go out together. I mean all I do is drink a couple of beers here.”

She felt him tense up. Preparing for the worst she thought of a way to recover.

“You are truly my best friend. I mean nobody else would’ve offered to do something like that.” Rooster spoke up before she could backtrack. 

Her heart cracked slightly. Best Friend. Who knew two words could hurt so much. Glancing to her right she could see Hangman and Phoenix cringing at the sight. Warmth flooded her body as she began to stand up. 

“Hey where are you going?” he questioned following her up. 

“Yeah um, my head is starting to hurt so I think I’m just going to head home. I’ll see you tomorrow Bradley.” she said as she turned to walk away.

Bradley? She only called him by his first name when she was upset or poking fun at him. 

“Well at least let me take you home? I mean I brought you here.” he rushed out.

“No. It’s fine I’ll call an uber.” she pushed past a few people and walked out the door. 

Shoulders slumping Rooster glanced out the window at the woman. Phone in hand she was true to her word in calling an uber. He felt a pang in his heart watching her. Had he done something wrong? 

A hand clapped against his shoulder. He could smell the cologne and know who it was before even turning his head. 

“Well that was a shit show. I mean come on, Rooster, you can’t be this oblivious.” Hangman said with a cocky smile. 

Shrugging his hand off Rooster turned his head; the muscles in his jaw contracting, “What do you mean, Hangman? Oblivious to what?”

Hangman laughed at him, “You’re meaning to tell me that you haven’t realized that Magnet has been flirting with you ever since she met you? I mean she practically asked you on a date a few minutes ago.” 

Was that a ringing in his ears? Y/N flirting with him? Bradley felt like his head was going to combust where he stood. 

“And there's the look of realization. You really must’ve been oblivious.” Hangman added. 

“I think you’ve gotten this all mixed up. I mean Y/N is close and affectionate with everyone. She leans her head on your shoulder, gossips with Phoenix, and is constantly fixing Bob's glasses. And with me she just leans up against me, compliments me and listens to me rant and she-” Rooster took a pause. “Oh.”

“Yeah, oh. I mean Rooster, Y/N is an affectionate person for sure. But she has never once listened to one of my rants and she’s the only one who'll listen to yours.” Hangman said, an almost serious look on his face. 

“I just watched my future wife walk out that door after asking me on a date.” Bradley said.

“Well hold on nobody said she was-” Hangman started before Rooster talked over him.

“No Hangman, trust me I know. That is going to be my wife. As long as I haven’t ruined everything.” Rooster said, confidence in his voice. 

“Well then I guess you should go get your wife to be.” Hangman said, a small smile on his lips. 

“Yeah I’ve got to go.” Rooster took off out of the bar and to his car. 

“I cannot believe it took him that long to realize that.” Phoenix said, walking up besides Hangman. 

“He’s a little oblivious but we got there. Hope he has a gorgeous ring to propose with. Claims that’s his wife to be” Hangman replied. 

“I don’t doubt that.” Phoenix remarked quietly, watching Rooster peel out of the parking lot.

let me know if anyone wants a part 2!

!!!please don't repost my work anywhere, translate, or bind my works anywhere without permission!!!

[rippleclan]

RippleClan: Moon 67

Oilstripe and Halibutdusk have recovered from birth and greencough, respectively. Meanwhile, Paleseed gets whitecough.

[Image ID: Waspdawn says to Paleseed, ““I know fighting whitecough can be awful, so I wanted to give you this tail weave I  made with Rabbitjoy to cheer you up.” Paleseed now has red feathers in her tail. Under her, it says + CONDITION: WHITECOUGH, + ACCESSORY: RED FEATHERS.]

(Waspdawn: 33, male, codekeeper, strict, learner of lore, clue finder)

(Paleseed: 33, female, mediator, insecure, incredible runner, steady paws)

Rapidleaf talks with Honeybuzz about what it’s like to be a cleric.

[Image ID: Honeybuzz says to Rapidleaf, “It isn’t worth the pain.”]

---

Honeybuzz adjusted the long hunt pelt covering Tempestshade’s back. The black cat was asleep, one of their few peaceful naps as their leg deteriorated more and more. The thick snowfall outside sent cold air stirring between the wooden walls. Mosspounce and Carnationspeckle tirelessly tended to the fire outside the medicine den, making sure their fellow caretaker would not suffer anymore than they already did. Honeybuzz doubted it would do much, though. Whatever damage the silver jaw caused to Tempestshade’s leg, Honeybuzz and Troutpool only delayed its endgame. 

Honeybuzz groomed Tempestshade’s neck as his patient groaned softly. He muttered a soft prayer and turned to his pots and baskets of medicine. As he checked on the Clan’s supply of painkillers, paws trudged through the clumpy snow outside. Rattlepelt made her way inside, snow gathering in balls on her fox pelt. She slipped it off, seemingly unphased by the storm.

“Are you busy, Honeybuzz?” Rattlepelt asked. Honeybuzz glanced at Tempestshade.

“Not really,” Honeybuzz muttered. He peeked under the wraps on Tempestshade’s leg and sighed. “Are you staying warm, Rattlepelt?”

“As warm as I can be,” Rattlepelt sighed. She strolled by the shelves of medicine sitting along the sand and wood. “I’m hoping to find something for my mood. Something calming. Lavender, maybe?”

“Ah yes, lavender in the middle of winter,” Honeybuzz scoffed, mustering a pathetic laugh. His sarcasm soured at Rattlepelt’s sharp expression. Honeybuzz cleared his throat, further tucked Tempestshade under their pelt, and said, “There are a lot of herbs for mood. What exactly are you experiencing?”

“What am I not experiencing lately?” Rattlepelt sighed, undoing a leather lid from a pot and glancing inside. “You’re the cleric, I would think you’d notice.” Honeybuzz refrained from telling her actually I’ve been quite busy trying to save Tempestshade’s life, interpret a prophecy, and deal with the identity of my mother’s killer, but yes Rattlepelt, I’ve absolutely been studying your mood.

“Mood swings?” Honeybuzz guessed. “Anxiety?” Honeybuzz took the leather lid back from Rattlepelt and sealed the pot.

“The first thing, I suppose,” Rattlepelt huffed. “According to my mate and mothers, I’ve been acting… out of character lately. Not quite as lively as I used to be. You must have something that can bring me back to normal.”

“It might not be herbs you need,” Honeybuzz suggested. “Have you talked with Spikecrash or Paleseed?”

“I don’t need a mediator,” Rattlepelt grunted with a thrash of her tail. 

“You talked with Paleseed all the time when your mother was held hostage,” Honeybuzz pointed out. “Why the refusal?”

“It’s different!” Rattlepelt snapped. She shoved past Honeybuzz and studied the herbs on the other side of the den. “I don’t want others talking about my business. I’d rather deal with it on my own time. You really can’t spare a pot of something? I just need to chew on something so I don’t chew on someone’s head.” Rattlepelt stuck her face into a basket.

“I don’t want to waste herbs on an issue a mediator could resolve,” Honeybuzz said. “Can you please stop looting through our supplies? We need them for Tempestshade.”

“Oh, so you’ll give medicine to an omen but not to one of your Clan’s only artisans?” The curl in Rattlepelt’s lip was like an angry warrior scaring a trespasser from the border. She flung a paw toward Tempestshade’s weak form. Honeybuzz stood his ground; he was not his mentor. Only StarClan could order him around. Defiant blue pierced through angry copper. Rattlepelt’s eyes widened. She groaned, recoiling back to the shelves. “This is what I’m talking about! Can you please just give me something?”

“Rattlepelt,” Honeybuzz said, stressing every word, “I am not giving you a lick of medicine until you speak with a mediator.” Rattlepelt deflated, veiny ears falling. Her claws unsheathed for a moment, stabbing the packed sand floor. She quickly covered them with her tail. She marched to her discarded fox pelt.

“I’d better leave before I do something else I’ll regret,” Rattlepelt grumbled, sliding the wet pelt onto her back. “Good luck with Tempestshade, Honeybuzz.” Rattlepelt stared at the thick falling snow outside the den. She slunk into the gray light with nary a shiver, the fire outside bouncing off her red leather pelt. Just when Honeybuzz began to process the new problem lumped onto his back, Rapidleaf scurried inside. Really? Now, of all moments?

“StarClan, that’s cold!” Rapidleaf yelped, shivering violently. Snow tumbled off her back as she shook.

“I thought you were assisting Troutpool with a ritual,” Honeybuzz sighed, turning to his shelves and pretending to check the herbs in an empty pot. 

“We just got back,” Rapidleaf panted. “I… wanted to talk to you before Troutpool joined you again.” Honeybuzz sighed deeply, gathering his strength. He couldn’t put this conversation off forever. “I’ve been waiting for you to say something to the Clan. Why haven’t you?” Ugggghhhhh why did Rapidleaf have to do this to him?

“You said it was an accident, right?” he huffed, finally facing Scrubmask’s killer. “You didn’t even remember what happened until later. So I’m staying quiet. It isn’t worth the pain.”

“But I killed her,” Rapidleaf said, soft and slow.

“And we moved on!” Honeybuzz groaned, throwing his head back. StarClan, this was like talking to a kit. “Mom took a new mate. My brothers and I graduated. Everyone thinks a Witch Hunter did it. Why would I hurt them all over again with this?”

“Because I killed her,” Rapidleaf said again, emphasizing each word, sinking in Honeybuzz’s strong presence.

“If you want to be punished so badly, confess to a codekeeper!” Honeybuzz snapped. “I am a cleric. I help my Clan. This, what you’ve done? Knowing that now will help no one. Don’t pretend to care about the right thing when you’re just a coward.” Rapidleaf bowed her head low. The bright fire outside turned her fur dark red like dried blood.

“If that’s what you think is right,” Rapidleaf muttered.

“Do your job and we won’t have any problems,” Honeybuzz growled, his golden face burning like the sun in the fire glow. He turned back to his empty pots and said, “Get warmed up. I don’t want to have to treat you for shivers.” He kept his ears perked as Rapidleaf’s paws crunched through the snow. He only looked back when he was certain she was gone. 

Honeybuzz groaned loudly, trudging to his nest and flopping into it. If he had to take this secret to StarClan, he was more than happy to do so. It was just easier. Now he only had three problems to deal with.

Well, that wasn’t true, even if he didn’t realize it yet. He had two problems.

Because Tempestshade had stopped breathing.

(Honeybuzz: 15, male, cleric, daring, constantly fiddling with tools)

(Tempestshade: 28, nonbinary (they/them), caretaker, childish, incredible cook)

(Rattlepelt: 50, female, artisan, bloodthirsty, leather artist)

(Rapidleaf: 85, female, warrior, lonesome, prophecy interpreter)

Tempestshade dies from their mangled leg. Mosspounce tells fond stories of his littermate while Trumpetspore mourns and Scaleripple tries to push his feelings aside.

[Image ID: Scaleripple watches Trumpetspore and Mosspounce leave. Under him, it says + CONDITION: SENSORY OVERLOAD.]

---

James quietly loaded Tempestshade’s body onto his back as dawn glimmered through the snowfall. Troutpool gave up an old vole pelt from her nest so Tempestshade’s crusted, wounded leg could be covered during the funeral. The leather wrapped around their leg and concealed their deadly injuries. Dried herbs poked out from under the leather, hiding the decaying smell. 

Scaleripple could still smell it, though. He smelled every decomposing muscle and faded blood-scent that clung to Tempestshade’s pelt. He could smell Trumpetspore and Mosspounce’s sorrow, still strong after a night at vigil. He could smell the concoctions and ointments the clerics used at first to stop Tempestshade’s deterioration, then to soften the end. He could smell death clinging to the snow that drifted over camp.

“Tempestshade would probably say something silly now about how we should just talk to Oilstripe if we miss them,” Mosspounce scoffed, swallowing hard. Trumpetspore laughed softly, leaning hard into Mosspounce. The laugh was like claws tearing at Scaleripple’s ears.

“Do you three have something to mark their grave?” James asked, shifting awkwardly with the added weight.

“I do, I do,” Mosspounce sighed. He stood, groaning and stretching his back. “One of our bowls broke a few days ago. With how much Tempestshade cooked, I want to use that as their marker. What do you think, Scaleripple?”

“Fine,” Scaleripple said. He stared at the spot where Tempestshade’s body had laid all night. The snow formed a hole in their vague shape.

“Scaleripple?” Trumpetspore peeked around her brother. “I know we don’t talk much, but… thank you for being there for Tempestshade. Mosspounce and I can’t say enough how much that… I’m sorry, I can’t.” It took all Trumpetspore’s effort to get even those few words out. Mosspounce groomed his sister, purring through the pain.

“It’ll be a long walk with this snow,” James sighed. “Let’s get on our way.” Trumpetspore and Mosspounce followed James, but when Scaleripple stayed seated, Mosspounce stopped and glanced back.

“You two bury them,” Scaleripple said. “Be alone with them.” No one had any energy to argue; Mosspounce nodded after a moment and rejoined Trumpetspore on their slow procession to the graveyard. Scaleripple stayed trapped in the scent of death. It clung to his fur like salt. Scaleripple closed his eyes.

“Scale?” Weedfoot shuffled across the thick snow, catching fat snowflakes in her fur. The new scar she sported around her ankle made Scaleripple’s paws burn just from its look. Her whole body sagged like a dying weed as she slipped beside her son. “Do you need me today?”

“I’m alright, Mom,” Scaleripple said. Weedfoot’s pelt was a whisker’s length from Scaleripple’s, but it felt like she was laying on top of him. 

Scaleripple needed that.

“I would have thought you’d go with the others to the graveyard,” Weedfoot noted. 

“I didn’t want to,” Scaleripple said. His gaze was drawn back to the hole.

“Well, I won’t be sending you on any patrols for the next day or two,” Weedfoot explained softly (StarClan bless her, finally a soft voice for Scaleripple’s strained mind). “I know your sister has whitecough, but if you need someone to talk to, Paleseed can listen.” 

“I’d rather go on patrol,” Scaleripple said. His expression remained unchanged, neutral and stuck on the hole.

“I don’t think you’re truly alright, Scaleripple,” Weedfoot mumbled. She got between Scaleripple and the place Tempestshade once laid. Scaleripple blinked wildly, trying to focus on his mother’s form as his vision blurred. He knew what was coming as soon as his ears began to ring.

“Do you want the truth?” Scaleripple asked. The tensions in his shoulders made his muscles burn.

“Isn’t that obvious?” Weedfoot hummed softly.

“No, it isn’t,” Scaleripple said. There was no intended malice, yet his tone still struck at Weedfoot like a rat bite. The ringing in Scaleripple’s ears grew louder. “There’s a lot I don’t understand that others do. I understood Tempestshade, though. They understood me. Now no one understands me.” 

Scaleripple’s eyes could not focus, even with Weedfoot standing right in front of him. Color and shadow melted together like beeswax in a pot. His skin burned. Weedfoot said something, but her words were just like the camp; melted, dissolved, burning. No one understands. No one understands. No one understands No one understands No one understands No one understands NO ONE UNDERSTANDS.

Some part of Scaleripple’s mind heard his Clan gather around him, wondering just what he was muttering. He could see worried faces peering into his huge blue eyes, even if he had no way to react to them. Despite all that, all he could do was stare at nothing, pressure building in his chest, sinking deeper and deeper into himself. The caring words of his Clan blurred together, yet each phrase was clear as air, layering over the next in a bloodbath of screeching bird song.

“Scale, come on now, what are you saying?”

“We should get him out of camp.”

“StarClan, does everyone have to stare at him?”

“Scaleripple, it will all be okay.”

“I understand you, Scaleripple!”

“Leave him alone, this doesn’t concern you.”

“How would you feel if we swarmed you after a vigil?”

“We may not understand you, Scaleripple, but we love you.”

If only Scaleripple could thank the soft, careful voices that slipped through the noise. Perhaps later. There was nothing he could say now. Only collapse into the spiral of his own, odd mind.

(James: 143, male, elder, charismatic, den builder, formidable fighter)

(Tempestshade: 28, nonbinary (they/them), caretaker, childish, incredible cook)

(Scaleripple: 20, male, warrior, lonesome, formidable fighter)

(Trumpetspore: 28, female, warrior, nervous, excellent potter

(Mosspounce: 28, male, caretaker, adventurous, talented fire-starter)

(Weedfoot: 116, female, deputy, charismatic, steady paws, formidable fighter)

Weevilkit and Yarrowkit make snow lumps at the entrance to camp.

[Image ID: Weevilkit and Yarrowkit build a snow cat as Wolfkit approaches. Yarrowkit says, “It looks a bit like a cat!” Under her, it says + PERMANENT CONDITION: ONE BAD EYE. Under Wolfkit, it says + CONDITION: BRUISES.]

---

Weevilkit couldn’t feel her nose, but she didn’t care. She rolled snowballs across the camp clearing toward Yarrowkit, who studied the large snow lump she and Weevilkit had cobbled together. The many, many kits of RippleClan had woken up from their sunhigh nap and now ruled the camp, running and screaming through the snow, entertaining one another. Yarrowkit protected the snow lump from her rampaging littermates, leaving light paw prints in its sides. Four snowballs sat along the corners of the lump like fat, lazy paws. 

“Is this big enough?” Weevilkit groaned. She shoved her giant snowball at Yarrowkit with one last mighty push. Yarrowkit trotted around the snowball, gauging just how big it truly was.

“Perfect!” Yarrowkit chirped. “Help me lift it on!” Yarrowkit and Weevilkit stood on either side of the snowball. They tucked their heads under their mound, snow crumbling into their eyes. Necks straining and muzzles aching, they lifted the snowball off the ground and threw it onto the mound. The bottom chunk of the snowball plopped off, making Yarrowkit and Weevilkit shriek.

“Pack it in!” Weevilkit cried. She and Yarrowkit scooped up snow and shoved it under their lump’s new head. Eventually, the lump no longer threatened to fall off. When Weevilkit was certain the structure was stable, she made two smaller snowballs and stuck them on the lump’s head. She bounced off the lump and admired it from the back.

“It looks a bit like a cat!” Yarrowkit chirped.

“Snow cat!” Weevilkit cheered, rearing onto her back legs like a horse.

It was at that moment that something strange occurred, something Weevilkit would not fully understand until she was older. In fact, in the moment, it felt more like a daydream than anything else, something that had come to her in the night and performed for her once more under the light of day. Yet the way she would describe it matched no daydream or typical trick of the mind.

On the other side of camp, Wolfkit eyed a snow pile a few tail-lengths behind Weevilkit. Harvest helped Robinkit and Currentkit build a mountain to scale and dig into like moles. As Weevilkit watched her sister, the gray kit’s form flickered. She stayed where she was, staring hungrily at the mountain, but another Wolfkit charged forward, slipping out of her body like a ghost. There was a fogginess to this second Wolfkit, a transparent and shiny nature that seemed like Oilstripe’s tales of StarClan cats. The real, solid Wolfkit did not react to this secondary form running out of her chest, unseeing.

But Weevilkit saw it all.

This ghostly Wolfkit darted past Yarrowkit. A misty version of Yarrowkit overlapped her living form, fur spiking and lips curling. Two cats existed in the same space, one in the other, making Weevilkit’s head hurt. Weevilkit watched as the other Wolfkit left deep pawprints behind her, even though the snow was no more disturbed than it had been. The other Wolfkit threw herself at the snow mountain. Harvest, Currentkit, and Robinkit gained their own foggy forms, stepping away from the ghost of the mountain. The nonexistent Wolfkit slammed into the mountain, but rather than the mountain collapsing into light and fluffy clumps, her head made a hole in the stiff snow. Wolfkit’s ghost collapsed at the base of the mountain. Weevilkit blinked, and the ghosts were gone.

And then it happened again.

Wolfkit darted past Yarrowkit. The brown and white kit jumped, fur spiking and lips curling. Harvest, Currentkit, and Robinkit hurried back as Wolfkit threw herself full-speed at the snow mountain. She face-planted into the unyielding snow and stumbled back with a loud groan. Weevilkit blinked again, this time shaking out her snow-dusted pelt.

A smart kit would have questioned that strange sight. However (and with no disrespect intended), Weevilkit was not smart.

“Are you okay?” Harvest asked, trying to force back her laughter at the face-shaped imprint in the snow.

“My face hurts,” Wolfkit grumbled, pulling herself out of the snow.

“That’s what happens when you run into a mountain,” Robinkit said matter-of-factly.

“It’s okay,” Currentkit promised. He slipped beside Wolfkit as the gray molly whimpered softly and rubbed her sore face.

“Wolfkit!” Yarrowkit snapped. “Don’t run past me like that! That’s my bad side!”

“Your bad side?” Weevilkit scoffed. “What does that mean?”

“You know!” Yarrowkit whined, smoothing out her fur. “Your bad side! Your dead eye! How would you like it if I scared you like that?” Weevilkit cocked her head so far to the side, her neck hurt.

“I don’t have a dead eye,” Weevilkit said. “How can an eye be dead?” While Robinkit and Currentkit teased Wolfkit, Harvest appeared behind Weevilkit.

“Mom, can you tell her about your dead eye?” Yarrowkit huffed. “Which one is it?”

“Yarrowkit, I don’t know what you’re saying,” Harvest said softly, getting to her daughter’s level. “Is something wrong with your eyes?” Weevilkit peered closer at Yarrowkit’s face. There was a droopiness to her right eye. Her pupil was huge compared to her other eye. A green haze covered the eye, depriving it of its usual sharpness. Harvest leaned in as well, staring intently at the right eye.

“Wait,” Yarrowkit gulped, “is your other eye supposed to do something?” Harvest sat up, swallowing hard. She buried her twitching tail under her flank.

“Yarrowkit,” Harvest said, “can you come with me? I want you to talk to Troutpool and Honeybuzz.”

“But I’m playing,” Yarrowkit huffed, placing a paw on the snow cat.

“You can go back to your game afterward, I promise,” Harvest stammered. “Now come along. You need to tell the clerics just what you’ve told me.” Yarrowkit deflated as Harvest looped around her and nudged her toward the medicine den. She glanced at Weevilkit as she passed, turning her head far to see her with her one good eye. 

Now, truth be told, while she would have to train around it, Yarrowkit would get along just fine with a bad eye. That was not what Weevilkit should have been concerned about.

(Weevilkit: 2, female, kit, bullying, curious about StarClan)

(Yarrowkit: 2, female, kit, noisy, stares at fire)

(Wolfkit: 2, female, kit, polite, curious about StarClan, confident with words)

(Harvest: 55, female, queen, nervous, good fighter)

(Robinkit: 2, male, kit, unruly, avid play-fighter)

(Currentkit: 2, male, kit, polite, constantly climbing)

Anchovykit wakes up with a splitting headache and can’t get out of his nest.

[Image ID: Anchovykit says to Tempestshade, now a ghost, “Do you need help?” Under him, it says + CONDITION: SEVERE HEADACHE.]

---

It wasn’t fair. All the other kits were playing in the snow, screaming and cheering at their winter fun, kept warm by the fire crackling between the elder’s den and the warrior’s den. Anchovykit should have been out there. He had to go out there and play! He was missing out on all the joys of the day!

When Anchovykit stood at the edge of the nursery, looking out over camp, his eyes burned. His head smacked him about like an enemy warrior. The snow intensified the pain. He squeezed his eyes as tight as he could, trying to fight off the headache. Honeybuzz had told him to just rest, but how could he rest when everyone else was having fun?

But then again, with a headache like his, Anchovykit couldn’t play. Especially since it made him see things.

The headache added an odd sheen to the camp. A soft sparkle danced around the medicine den like stars in the day. Weevilkit and Wolfkit, laughing over their snowbound antics, shared in this sparkle. Oilstripe, who told her kits stories by the Shiprock, had a glow to her eyes that made Anchovykit’s pelt itch. Even though the shine clawed at his eyes, Anchovykit found it hard not to look at the odd ways his head toyed with him.

Still, the soft awe of the camp was nothing compared to the sheer horror of looking at Rattlepelt. The furless artisan watched the Clan from the corner of camp, using her fox pelt as warm flooring against the snow. Her single white ear twitched casually as she watched Weedfoot return from patrol with Lavendertwist, Waspdawn, and Puddlewhisper. Her claws poked through the snow as Weedfoot laughed at one of Lavendertwist’s jokes. She groaned softly, forcing herself to look away from the family. 

It wasn’t her gray skin or odd behavior that made Anchovykit nauseous, however. Slime covered Rattlepelt’s smooth skin, slick yet dull like mud. Her legs grew black the farther down they went. Slushy pools of black gunk collected at her paws. She had become a river of dark mud, her body as its source. And then there were her eyes. Gone was the warm and cheeky copper shine everyone found so familiar in Rattlepelt. Instead, bright yellow eyes burned with unhidden, unquenchable hatred, a hatred that threatened to seep into every wrinkle and fold of Rattlepelt’s bony body.

Anchovykit ran back into the quiet shadows of the nursery. Headaches were terrifying! He crawled into his empty nest with a whine. He shoved his muzzle into the moss and leather. The sooner he took a nap, the sooner this headache would go away, and the camp would look normal again. He breathed in the leftover scent of his mother and littermates. He was always safe with them. They would protect him from the horrors of his headache.

“You’re a funny little kit, aren’t you?”

“Clammask, go away,” Anchovykit whined through the moss.

“I sound like Clammask? Huh. Isn’t that funny!” 

Anchovykit wasn’t in his nest anymore. He opened his eyes to blackness below. It was not pure darkness, though; tiny stars glimmered far, far away. The floor matched the ceiling. All around Anchovykit, Silverpelt shone in small white specks. There was no ground for Anchovykit to stand on, but regardless, he stood. He could feel something warm and soft under his paws, but when he lifted them, there was nothing but Silverpelt underneath. His mother had told him that on some nights, Silverpelt glowed with a myriad of colors, but all he saw now was black and white. The sunless land was shockingly warm, warm in the way Anchovykit imagined summer to be, that beautiful season he had yet to see. The clawing, tearing pain in his head was now a small worm, wiggling about behind his eye. Anchovykit stated at his pelt. There was no source of light, but his body was not covered in shadow. There was a dullness to him, something in between light and darkness, the pure essence of his colors untainted by the sun.

“Weird dream,” he muttered.

“I don’t like involving a kitten like this, but they shouldn’t have to suffer for long.” Anchovykit turned around. A blue-gray molly stood behind him. Dark, swirling stripes like water criss-crossed her starry pelt. A moth’s wing hung delicately behind her ear in an impossible fashion, as though the moth had perched itself just on the stranger’s head. 

“You look like Weedfoot,” Anchovykit gasped.

“I should,” the stranger laughed. “I’m her daughter! My name is Ripplefern. I’m a member of StarClan, and I need your help.” Anchovykit’s eyes widened. His mother had grown up with second-paw tales of StarClan’s power, while Anchovykit and his littermates got to hear of their glory straight from the mouth of RippleClan. Now Anchovykit was one of those blessed souls that got visited by the ancestors in his sleep, even if he wasn’t a cleric! He kneaded the invisible ground, purring.

“Am I important?” Anchovykit purred, eagerly running up to Ripplefern.

“More than I can explain now,” Ripplefern sighed. “I have a friend who will spend a long time alone if you don’t help them. Do you think you can help my friend?”

“I’ll try,” Anchovykit promised. Ripplefern purred, her blue eyes growing soft as down.

“Follow me.” Ripplefern turned gracefully and wandered deeper into Silverpelt. Anchovykit stayed at her side, eyes scanning the strange land around him. If this was StarClan, it was really empty!

“Where are all the other StarClan warriors?” Anchovykit asked.

“They wouldn’t be here,” Ripplefern explained. “Sometimes, when a warrior dies, they don’t go straight to StarClan. Sometimes they need to wait a while as we sort through some problems. This is where they go to wait.” Ripplefern looked up into the endless speckled black. “My friend was born with a problem. When they died, the problem sent them here, and they can’t leave until we fix it. But it’s not a problem StarClan can fix alone. My friend could be here for moons if we got help the normal way. But we’re lucky. You’re here.”

“What’s the normal way?”

“Rituals, visions, other calls for assistance from the living clerics. Being alive makes you special.” Anchovykit walked a little taller. He was special.

A figure appeared in the distance. It was hard for Anchovykit to see them with their black fur. Anchovykit’s paws grew heavy when he saw black mud clinging to the figure’s legs. He only managed to recognize them when he saw their dark green eyes.

“Tempestshade!” Anchovykit gasped, leaving Ripplefern behind. “Do you need help?” Tempestshade gawked at the kit. They still looked alive; a little hazy, perhaps, but alive. Anchovykit had only known them with their leg bandaged, but now it was strong and free of scars. They could stand and look down on Anchovykit, just as confused as he was. 

“Do I know you?” Tempestshade asked.

“He was born while you were fighting your death wounds,” Ripplefern explained. Tempestshade only just noticed Ripplefern. They grew as still as they had been when their body laid in camp for vigil. 

“You look better than when I saw you last,” they managed to gulp.

“Anchovykit is here to help you,” Ripplefern said. “Do you see all that black ichor, Anchovykit? I need you to rip it off, like when you tear into a fish.” Anchovykit sneered at the ooze on Tempestshade’s legs. He was supposed to touch that? With his mouth? What could he even hold onto? It was mud!

“Why?” Anchovykit groaned.

“You’re the only one who can,” Ripplefern said. Hmm. Well, if StarClan asked it of him…

Anchovykit peered at the ooze. Maybe if he just bit the whole paw…. He shut his tiny jaws around Tempestshade’s front leg. Tempestshade hissed and smacked Anchovykit.

“Alright, not like that,” Ripplefern laughed. “Just… pretend you’re removing the lid off a pot. Peel the ichor off like you peel off the leather.” Oh, that made much more sense! 

Anchovykit spat out the gunk that stuck to his teeth. He took a big breath and dug his fangs into the black ichor. He pulled at the ooze with a violent, suctioning sound. It was like a paw trying to rip itself from the mud. There was no ground to gain a foothold on, but Anchovykit dug himself in regardless. The ichor stuck to Tempestshade like some many-legged monster of the deep. Anchovykit dug deeper into the ooze and pulled harder. As it stretched farther and farther from Tempestshade’s leg, it began to take a new form. Feline ears poked out of the black. A slender form took shape, its scruff in Anchovykit’s grasp. 

It was a cat, utterly soaked in the gut-heaving black ichor, no bone or pelt to speak of. It wasn’t much smaller than Anchovykit himself. Anchovykit dropped the mewling creature and gagged.

“What is that?” Anchovykit groaned. The creature squirmed and twitched like a newborn, making the worm in Anchovykit’s skull spasm once more in a headache.

“The power of the Dark Forest made manifest,” Ripplefern said, her tone low and serious in a way Anchovykit had never heard anyone speak in his short life. “This is Tempestshade’s curse in physical form, the evil energy that struck out against those who got too close. Your special sight shows you their influence, and the influence of the stars. You are the one who can pull them from idea and ethereal being to something tangible.”

“Huh?” Anchovykit said.

“Strike it along its neck,” Ripplefern sighed, waving her paw at the creature. “Now that you’ve pulled the curse off Tempestshade, you can fight it.” Ripplefern needed to get better at explaining things. Anchovykit may have been young, but he understood what it meant to fight like a warrior.

Anchovykit jumped onto the creature with a yowl more suited to a play fight than true battle. The pathetic thing was no match for a harsh wind, let alone Anchovykit’s tiny fangs. He shoved the creature onto its back and bit into its neck. The creature stopped squirming at once. As Anchovykit tightened his jaw, the monster’s ichor dripped through the invisible floor. It tumbled through the starry abyss below, everfalling, never landing. Piece by piece the creature melted away until Anchovykit’s teeth smacked together with nothing left to hold.

“I just fought a Dark Forest cat,” he gasped softly. His flank wiggled as he cheered, “I fought the Dark Forest!”

“In a sense,” Ripplefern chuckled.

“I guess I shouldn’t be surprised I didn’t go to StarClan,” Tempestshade said with an awkward scoff. “Can’t really let in an omen, I suppose.”

“It’s not your fault the Dark Forest latched onto you,” Ripplefern said. She slowly approached the black tabby. Anchovykit stepped back before he even thought to give them room. “You did well with what you had to bear. But now you don’t have to wait here anymore. You can come with me.” 

Ripplefern’s nose touched Tempestshade’s forehead. A spark danced where skin met fur. Stardust shimmered over Tempestshade’s head. A glittering wave coursed over their pelt. Brilliant stars danced along the stripes in their fur. The gunk that clogged their paws was now a shimmery, sparkling mist. Tempestshade gawked at their new form, lifting each paw to study the shine.

“Oh,” Tempestshade muttered.

“StarClan is excited to taste some of your food,” Ripplefern purred, bunting Tempestshade’s shoulder. “There’s a lot I want to talk to you about.”

“I just want to know how Moss and Trumpet and Scale are doing without me,” Tempestshade sighed, touching noses with Ripplefern. They paused for a moment, then stepped back. “Actually, no, that isn’t the only thing I want to know. What’s his story?” Tempestshade looked at Anchovykit.

“I’ll tell you in private,” Ripplefern promised. She set her tail on Tempestshade’s back.

“Aren’t you going to tell me?” Anchovykit asked, marching up to Ripplefern. “I don’t know my story either!”

“I’ve shown you what you can do,” Ripplefern sighed, shaking her head, “but you’ll have to work some things through yourself. I’m afraid StarClan can’t do everything for you. Just remember what I taught you, Anchovykit. Be good to your mother.” Ripplefern touched her nose to Anchovykit’s head. It was as cold as the winter chill blowing off the ocean.

When Anchovykit woke up, he still had a raging headache, but that was nothing compared to the complete and utter confusion that made his vision spin.

(Anchovykit: 2, male, kit, charming, curious about StarClan)

(Rattlepelt: 50, female, artisan, bloodthirsty, leather artist)

(Ripplefern: 18, female, historian, charismatic, talented swimmer, good fighter)

(Tempestshade: 28, nonbinary (they/them), caretaker, childish, incredible cook)

Billowkit can’t stop sneezing.

[Image ID: Billowkit asks Troutpool, “So I’ll be sneezing forever?” Under him, it says + PERMANENT CONDITION: ALLERGIES. In the back, Currentkit calls, “Let’s see what makes you sneeze!” Under him, it says + NEW SKILL: HAS LOTS OF IDEAS.]

(Troutpool: 28, female, cleric, insecure, ghost sense)

(Billowkit: 2, male, kit, bossy, active imagination)

(Currentkit: 2, male, kit, polite, constantly climbing, has lots of ideas)

[warnadudenexttime]

Ok here’s my personal rewrite on “the sides have a nice day” video

DISCLAIMER: if you infact like that video, that’s so real, so valid, good for you, I’m just here to change it a lil into something I think makes more sense/fits the characters better-

I think the premise is fine, but the execution is ehhhh- like look, I’ll keep the original spirit of the video and keep the big 3 inside it cause I know thomas likes them. So I’ll keep logicality then prinxiety then demus. Thumbs up? HWJAJSJ

I think the part of the video that probably needs the smallest tweaking is the first portion with Logan and Patton. It’s fine enough, Patton wanting to do something nice for Logan? Makes perfect sense, dude loves Logan. But the explanation as to why Patton is accidentally ruining Logan’s like- fun day experience? Is like, bro you’re SHJSJSS really running with innocent stupid doe eye’d Patton characterization rn huh?

Consider this instead, so instead of Patton was stupid “oh I didn’t realize the videos were just edited together! That’s why they went super fast!” Just say he was really excited to see Logan enjoying things, he got caught up in his excitement/feelings. Like to just say, oh he’s dumb and didn’t notice at all lol hurts- cause we know Patton is really emotionally intelligent and he would be able to notice at least after a while. So have Logan stop him, and Patton apologize and realize he just let his emotions cloud his goal of giving Logan a nice day. Ok good.

Next one. So, Virgil is giving Roman a good day, I get why- you know. You wanna push that new Roman and Virgil hating Janus friendship. But this whole section makes Virgil look like the biggest a**hole HEJAJSJ- like he’s making Roman uncomfortable or scared throughout it all and he doesn’t notice until the end where Roman basically self projects and is really sad HEJAJSJ I understand you wanted this to be an opportunity for Roman to feel better- or the comedy that is Roman reacting to Virgil sucking at being… a good friend- but consider this!

Roman sees that Patton gave Logan a good day and Roman’s like, he needs something to cheer him up, get his mind off being a downer of a prince. So he’s gonna one up Patton and give virgil a good day! Virgil! The dude who’s like doom and gloom! But if you still wanna have that comedy of something going wrong. Instead of it to where virgil is giving Roman choices he thinks he may likes but then turns out it’s just stuff virgil enjoys- have it be Roman giving stuff he enjoys and thinking “well if I like it, it’s great, so virgil will like it too!” But instead it twists into something virgil likes!

Follow me here, for example. Roman gives Virgil the option of sharing adventure stories, something he enjoys. But Virgil ends up telling Roman a spooky story which freaks Roman out and Roman’s like well that failed! It didn’t go according to my plan! And he keeps offering choices he would like, but virgil twists it into something he would enjoy or it just ends up like that.

And by the end Roman feels awful, he thinks it must have sucked and wants to apologize to Virgil. But Virgil’s like no dude I had an absolutely great day you’re a really good friend, you knew exactly what I like! So that way you get the sweet moment at the end but also the comedy of Roman reacting to things going poorly inbetween. I think it as well just makes more sense for Roman to do that initiative and go for something like this.

Ok so, this last one… it still hurts me so badly to hear Janus say “I’ve convinced Thomas to lean into his intrusive thoughts today” GOD IT HURTS SO BADLYYYY like not only is that such a misrepresentation of what intrusive thoughts are supposed to be, they’re not silly tik tok impulsive thoughts I’m gonna- ok I’m getting off topic.

I’m gonna be real this section is going to be very biased because I don’t like Janus and Remus being close besties, I’m admitting that here so you already know what we are getting into. I just don’t think self preservation, someone trying to keep Thomas at the top and in good health would be like HELL YEAH THOMAS DANGLE YOUR PHONE OFF A BRIDGE GO BANG UP A CAR GO TO JAIL FOR ALL I CARE! But anyways.

The whole joke at the end is, wow Patton and Virgil kinda suck at doing this but I Janus can give that little freak a good day so easily!

Here’s my pitch, have Remus at the end pop up to say, this video has gotten too mushy and feelingy and all that sh-t I’m gonna give Janus a bad day because why not! Seeing him in misery is fun!

And then just have short sections of Janus outsmarting Remus everytime he tries to give him a bad choice, Janus ends up flipping it somehow to something he would enjoy. Kinda like WTIT where Remus is like OH NO YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO OPEN THE DOOR! Then he gets stabbed because he’s stupid. I think this just personally makes more sense to me, then like- yes Janus would probably wanna show up the others but I can’t see him leaning into intrusive thoughts. But as I said, I’m biased.

So yeah there’s my rewrite of that video this was long but yeah :3 if you didn’t like this rewrite and/or prefer the original you’re so valid! Anything here is just my opinion and obviously isn’t the actual best approach.

[cakerybakery]

“This sucks and I hate you.” Adam grumbled from his seat at the meeting table.

“Well, we have that in common.” Lucifer chirped as he bounced in place. He had been sitting for too long and needed some time to move.

Adam smirked behind his mask, “what you hate yourself?”

“Yes!”

“God, you’re pathetic.” Adam rubbed his back and groaned, “I don’t know how bitches do this all day.” He put a hand on the bulge under his robe and used the arm of his chair to try and help himself up. He didn’t go far and Lucifer sprung over to help him up.

“She’s getting pretty big.” Lucifer patted the bulge. “Not long until she hatches now.”

“He, and no. Sera said another week and he’ll hatch.” He nodded his thanks for the hand up. “I can’t wait to stop carrying him around. This egg is getting heavy. I’d kill for you to have drawn the short straw.”

Lucifer pretended to gasp. “But she needs her mommy!”

“Call me that again and I’ll deck you.” Adam groaned again and rubbed more at his back. “I can’t wait to put her down. This nearly constantly needing to be touching me thing is getting old. I even have to sleep with her strapped to me.”

“HA! Made you say her!” Lucifer cheered and nudged Adam’s angelic side. “You’ve admitted we’re having a girl. I’ve been telling you for months. It’s going to be a girl.”

Adam did deck him that time, but most of the oof was taken out of the throw by being off center.

Lucifer laughed again. “Okay. Okay. I’ll stop. Here, let daddy rub your back.”

Now, Adam was going to protest but Lucifer’s hands were on him and as Lucifer rubbed at the sore muscles Adam groaned in relief. He let Lucifer rub his back and his shoulders until the bell for the break ended.

“I suppose,” Lucifer drawled looking at his stiff chair. “We should get back to it.”

“Or,” Adam ventured, “instead of talking for the millionth time about our kid’s dominion over purgatory and the laws around it, you could keep rubbing my back.”

“Why I do believe you might be enjoying my company for once.” Lucifer teased as he guided Adam to a chair and started rubbing again.

Adam didn’t want to dignify that with a response, but shutting the fuck up was not on of his virtues. “I’m enjoying the relief from the pain carrying around your bastard child.”

“Well, you could always marry me.”

Laughing hard, Adam had to open his mask and wipe away a tear. “Oh that would kill in Heaven. ‘God has decreed that Purgatory needed a ruler and thus Adam, the first man and first soul in heaven is to produce a child with the fallen angel, Lucifer to create a ruler of both realms, heaven and hell, of angel and human and now the the ritual has been completed and a divine egg created by combining their powers, they’re getting married y’all.’ Oh fuck. I would be excommunicated so fast.”

“Worth it to see the look on Sera’s face.” Lucifer hummed.

“… maybe.”

[ladylooch]

Surprises in Seattle - [Liv X Luca]

A/N: The way this took me forever to come up with an idea for... and then I wrote it in an hour and it was suddenly over 2k words... Writing is wild man. WILD! Thank you 🇧🇷 anon for the request. Sorry for how long this took.......... yikes!

Original Request: I would love for a small thing of Liv and Father in law Kev interacting, I think there's has to be funny moments between those two that will leave him laughing wildly and she getting soooo embarrassed!!!! 😂😂😂 - 🇧🇷

Word Count: 2.2k

Have fun tonight, baby. I’m so proud of you 😘

Liv reads off the text quickly while she finishes out the last curl of her hair. Once it’s set, she rips the plug out of the wall and hastily rushes out of the bathroom to grab her purse and jacket.

I wish you were here, babe. Good luck tonight! And be safe

Liv responds as she walks out of her hotel room. She double checks she has what she needs- key, purse, jacket, phone- then let’s the door close softly behind her. 

Tonight is a long anticipated night for Liv. It’s the first day of her second book tour. She’s doing a book signing at the cute, local bookshop across the street. This book tour is so much more chaotic for her because she self-published her second book. After all the issues she had with her previous team not seeing the same vision for the book, Liv quietly walked away from them. Truthfully, they let her go easily, not seeing much of a reason to fight her wishes. Fine with her. She knows what she is capable of. Never again is a board room full of people going to tell her what to do with her art.

She has Ryder to thank for that. Without his fierce belief in her years ago, she wouldn’t be where she is now. She’s thankful now that the past is in the past and they’ve all been able to move forward, especially with Ryder’s recent trade to the Kings. 

Liv’s black heels clack against the tile of the hotel lobby. She makes her way out the door, then falters slightly when she sees the line outside the bookstore. She bites her lip then quickly takes a picture to send to her fiancé. 

Baby, you’re so popular 😏,  he immediately texts back

You better not be texting and driving.

Oops. Love you! 

Liv rolls her eyes at her man’s worst habit. Then with confidence in her step, she crosses the street to the bookstore hosting her event. The crowd sees her step onto the sidewalk and they begin to clap for her. Liv gives them a huge smile, dimples out and proud, along with an enthusiastic wave.

“Thank you all for coming! I can’t wait to meet you!” She calls back to them, then slides into the bookstore. The owner, Lillianne, ushers her to a makeshift curtain room where she can sit in privacy until the event begins.

“Are you still okay with doing the Q&A before the signing?”

“Of course!” Liv confirms. She hopes there aren’t any awkward silences with fans not having anything to ask her. Otherwise, this long anticipated night is going to end quickly.

In another few minutes, the crowd is allowed into the store, bring noise into the normally quiet space. Liv does a few breathing exercises to settle the nervous butterflies fluttering in her stomach. As a writer, she knows this is part of the job, but she still worried that her fans won’t like her. She would never want someone to come away from an interaction with her and be disappointed. 

From behind the curtain, Liv watches as people being to filter into the seating area. She wishes she had someone in the crowd for her today, but this is the only stop on her tour where she won’t be able to meet someone after. She has five more stops after this. Savannah is meeting her in Atlanta, her parents in NYC, Luca in L.A., Mack in Chicago, and Luca’s little sister, Lena, in Phoenix.

But tonight in Seattle, it’s only supposed to be her. 

Yet, when she steps onto the stage, the first person her eyes land on is Kevin Fiala in the front row. Her steps almost falter, but then she waves and continues forward. He cheers excitedly for her appearance and Liv can’t help but grin wider. 

Kevin’s presence helps ground her in confidence as she beings the Q&A. The thoughtfulness of their questions has Liv buzzing with excitement. They wonder about the main characters, her writing style, how this process was different from her first book. There are also questions about what it is like to date a professional athlete, how her and Luca have found a balance with their successful careers and of course, what is in the future.

“I think our biggest focus right now is this book tour for me. Then it’s back to hockeyland before we get married this coming summer.”

“Will you change your name!?” Someone shouts out without the microphone.

“Yeah, I think Livia Fiala has a great ring to it.” She grins. “But I’m not sure if I will change my pen name yet. It’s an ongoing discussion.” 

With that, the Q&A is finished and Liv begins to head off to the signing table, but not before a quick, rushed hug to Kevin.

“You’re here?!” She greets him.

“Wouldn’t miss it.” He smiles. Liv gives him a grateful smile, then heads back behind the table. The next interaction she has with him is cheeky and adorable.

He proudly displays her cover to her in both hands, then taps her name at the bottom.

“Fiala will look much better than this.”

“I’ll be sure to tell my fiancé that. He will appreciate the support.” She chuckles. Kevin slides the book across the table to her. Liv blushes at how sweet it is of him to be here to support her AND buy a book he could easily get for free. “Should I make this out to anyone?”

“Yes, my son, Luca. L-U-C-A.” He jokingly spells out as Liv chomps down on her bottom lip to stop from laughing. She concentrates on the letters of her fiancé’s name. “He’s a huge fan of your work.” Liv’s mind immediately goes to how appreciative of her work Luca was before he took her to the airport this morning. Her giggle escapes and she looks back at Kevin brightly.

“Anything in particular you want me to say to him?”

“Please write: Your dad was my favorite Swiss hockey player growing up.”

“No.” Liv laughs immediately. “My dad would be crushed! And probably my uncle too…”

“Okay, okay.” Kevin concedes. “Hm, what would you want it to say?” He asks, quieter, more reflective. Liv contemplates then tilts down to write: 

I can’t wait to get home to you. I love you! XOXO Livy.

Liv finishes off with a heart after her name, then gently closes the book. She hands it to Kevin.

“He will love that.” He murmurs. “

“I think so.”

“Can I take you to dinner to celebrate?”

“I would really love that. Thank you.” Liv smiles at her future father-in-law. “I think your son would probably love a picture.”

“He would. Otherwise he is gonna think his mom signed this for him.” Liv belly laughs. She stands up next to Kevin, pointing and looking surprised for their selfie as Kevin grins next to her.

“Nice to meet you Ms. Fiala- Uh Meier.” He stutters. “Sorry, Fiala just sounds so natural for you.” Then he saunters away, leaving Liv giggling in his wake. 

Liv continues signing and engaging with fans. From the corner of her eye, she can see people divert to Kevin for a picture or autograph. He tentatively comes over to interrupt and asks if it is okay with her before he signs anything.

“Yes! Go for it!” She assures, but is truly touched that he wants to be sure the attention stays on her. 

Although he engages in some hockey talk, Liv can hear Kevin bring the conversation away from him and back to her work time and time again. He enthusiastically talks about her new book and characters, even speaking about his favorite scene towards the end. Liv is touched that he read it, and also a little embarrassed considering there is a smutty hot tub scene in the middle chapters. Her neck flushes as she thinks about the real life scenario with his son that inspired that. 

It is after 8pm by the time all the fans have been greeted and books signed. Liv reunites with Kevin for dinner. She requests they go to a bar to find the Kings game, knowing it’s a nationally televised game. 

“Luca scored the first goal.” Kevin fills in for her as she squints at the score. The Kings are up on the Flyers 2-1.

“Nice!” Liv murmurs, then drops her eyes to the menu. They both order and watch the game in relative silence, outside a comment or so about the game. It’s comfortable and appreciated after Liv just did so much conversing. Her energy is zapped.

“Did Luca put you up to this?” Liv finally asks after they have finished dinner. 

“No. He doesn’t know I’m here.” Kevin tells her. “But we were talking to him earlier this week and he did mention you were nervous about being here alone.” He takes a sip of water. “Your our daughter, Livy. If any of our kids were worried about something like this, Sam and I would be there to support them. So here I am. If Sam wasn’t sick, she would be here too.” Liv knows that. She bites her lip for a moment, feeling overcome with the emotions of the whole day. 

“Thank you. I’m really lucky.” She murmurs. 

“You also look very tired.”

“Yeah.” She starts to laugh.

Kevin grabs the bill from the waiter and pays it before Liv can get her hands on it.

“No kid of mine pays for dinner either.” He insists when she balks. 

“A lot of rules to being your kid. Somehow more than Timo Meier…” Liv teases. Kevin laughs. 

“You are lucky Emma is your mom. The Hischier in her balances everything out.” Liv nods. This is true.

“Are you leaving early tomorrow?” Liv asks as they step back out onto the street.

“I am here until noon.” 

“Great, then I’ll take you to breakfast before the airport.”

“Sure, but you’re not paying.” Kevin points a scolding finger at her, lowering his eyebrows.

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” Liv affirms. 

As she snuggles into her hotel bed for the night, she sends a text to Luca seeing if he is home yet. His response is a FaceTime call.

“Hellooooo!” Luca cheers. “Oh! She’s in bed!” He grins. “Is this a sexy FaceTime?”

“No.” She says through a yawn. “I just called to say goodnight. I’m dead. And I have to meet your dad for breakfast tomorrow.”

“My dad?” He questions.

“Yeah, he showed up tonight. Bought a book and everything. Let me send you the picture.” She hears the ding and adores the instant smile when he looks it over on his screen.

“Wow, he’s so cool. I wanna be like him when I grow up.” Luca laughs as he takes something out of the microwave. “Pasta.” He shows her the bowl, then spoons a huge, steaming forkful into his mouth. “Hawt.” He huffs out. Liv can only shake her head. “That’s awesome that he came tho. I didn’t expect that. Was mom with him?”

“No, she is sick.” 

“Oh, damn. I bet that killed her not being able to come. Still cool that dad came alone though.” 

“Your dad called me his kid like all night. This one sweet older man came up to him and complimented him on raising me.” 

“I hope he corrected that.” Luca gives her a knowing look.

“He made sure to tell the man that he was the dad I always deserved but didn’t have growing up.” Luca barks out a laugh.

“You know he is going to text your dad that later.”

“Oh I’m sure he already has.” Liv chuckles. “But yeah, it was really nice. The night.. hearing that… having him show up for me. I feel really lucky to share your family with you.”

“My family loves you, baby. But nowhere near as much as I do.” He says softly. “I’m glad you had a good night. You deserve this success.” Liv lets his words soak into her skin. Before, she would have blushed and brushed that off, but Luca is right. She does deserve this. She’s worked and fought her ass off to get here. 

“Thank you. I miss you though. I wish there weren’t so many days before we see each other again.” She huffs. While Liv is going back to L.A. for the weekend, Luca will be heading out of town on a road trip. 

“I know, baby. I miss you too.” He murmurs, pushing his empty bowl across the counter. They stare at each other and as he always does, Luca knows her thoughts before she can fully think them. “We are okay.” He fills the silent worry she has that distance will stretch them too far again. “Two weeks is nothing for us.” He reminds her. She nods in assurance. 

He is right. Liv bites her bottom lip, then looks up at him with dewy eyes. Luca perks up from his slouch.

“This is a sexy FaceTime!!!!” He yells as he runs out of the kitchen, heading towards their bedroom. 

Liv smirks. 

He’s been so good to her, supportive and unwavering, he deserves a little bedtime show.

[thecapturedafrique]

No I won’t be getting over this actually.

[fakeoutbf]

five stages of grief but it’s five stages of social anxiety

[laniidae-passerine]

but genuinely you can’t be doing the whole ‘oooooh two divorcees looking for emotional connection after heartbreak!’ and ‘I believe in romcommunism’ and ‘is it Ted that Rebecca is texting on banter???’ and ‘watch as they grow independence and self love but constantly with the feeling they’re intertwined in some lovely, chosen way’ just to go ‘actually they never get to together and Ted fucks off back home to the place that is now shaped by not great memories’. The fuck??? I’m bisexual, I was so there for the deeply unlikely TedTrent but I always thought TedBecca would happen because it makes more narrative sense. For two whole seasons they orbited around each other with this impending sense of collision, this hope they could find love in the strangest of conditions, in a stranger they’d never have chosen, only for that to be completely ignored??? This isn’t about ooooh heterosexual couple didn’t kiss (I will die on the bi4bi or at least Bi Ted hill fuck you) it’s about the fact that now, tons of moments are stupid as fuck! You played that with a hint of romance! You played that like something was going to happen! You wouldn’t shut up about Rebecca’s love life and Ted’s need to let go and have somebody else handle it all for him, they seemed made for each other from the start and you went ‘nah fuck it’????? WHAT IS THIS????

[foegoal]

i’m still fully frothed from last night like the oat milk im gonna put in my coffee.

i literally hate playoffs so bad… there’s not a single rational hockey fan to be found right now and i want to shake everyone by their heads and yell

[buckycap]

being an astarion romancer and someone who genuinely believes that he’s got one of the best stories/romances in bg3 means having to sit and smile politely while people hate him and dog on him simply bc of his popularity bc if you try to say anything in defense of him they’ll just throw the fact that he’s larian’s golden child in your face

[flowercrowngods]

god they’re all. snorting lines. i think i deserve a treat for staying clean and sober at this point

[mabelsguidetolife]

I need to stop worrying about not being liked and start living life like it’s worth living but i don’t have much emotional support in my life and i hate bothering others with my emotional issues for some reason so it’s really hard sometimes

[secretsappyabode]

mannn im glad that the gf and ford tags are booming with good art however there are: The Horrors™️

“it’s canon!!! they fucked it’s canon omg ex lovers!!!!!!”

im sorry yall but i still don’t interpret fords feelings for bill as romantic. one sided from bill? yes. ford def had an obsession with him but I see it as like a worshipping thing yknow

[whenthegoldrays]

my mom: [sends me a cheesy little Instagram reel with “I love you daughter”]

me:

[modern-inheritance]

*Narrator Attenborough voice*

And now, having eaten and drunk it’s full, this little Modern Inheritance Writer is completing its day, as any FanGremlin would be proud to do: shoving all the incomplete projects to the least occupied corner of their nesting space, wrapping themselves in a Pokémon themed comforter, and using their four legged companion as a temporary pillow for some much needed rest.

Although most FanGremlins would push to continue the grind, this little Writer has had, an epiphany. When you must wake at the ungodly hour of 4:50 AM, it is entirely acceptable, to retire to bed, at 8 PM.

[nekomacheercaptain]

The good thing about migraines - it makes my writing motivation skyrocket for some reason

The bad thing about migraines - the writing makes my head worse 🙄