#shes a bit scrappy but i love her regardless

[novaceresart]

butch outlaw assassin droid

yes she took an astromech helm and welded it to her head. what about it, an eye for an eye

[tubapun]

Watching Alien Invaders and I really love Fred's role as the Skeptic of the gang here, especially when viewed in concert with the other Mook films and Scooby canon writ large before that.

Fred was definitely kind of a skeptic in WAY, almost always the last one to believe a supernatural occurrence was actually happening, to the point that he had to be dragged away a few times cause he wanted to stay and investigate regardless of the real danger (fake or not that ghost wants to hurt you fred!!)

And I think that actually meshes really well with his appearance in A Pup Named, where he was this kid who ALWAYS thought the occurrence was supernatural (and/or red herring, but note the and. Dude thought his nemesis was a Martian on more than one occasion).

So of course when he matures a bit and has a couple dozen mysteries under his belt he's gonna realize that the supernatural is fake. But because he's so embarrassed by how long he believer in Mole Men, he's gone to the opposite extreme (this can tie into his autism btw, he had a special interest that got him in trouble and now he's trying to mask so very hard about it) where he just categorically denies that ghosts and ghouls can be real.

And then his friend group breaks up for a bit and he goes with Daphne because she was the closest at the end. It wasn't a bad break they just had different needs (and college plans) and they keep in touch and reminisce on the good ole days until they don't. Life just gets busy in your twenties.

And so he gets the gang back together the first chance he gets, cause Daphne believes and he wants to but the burden of proof is so high because the sample size of "monster that is fake" is enormous for him now. And so each Mook film he still is justified to be skeptical because like. Yeah Zombies were real, but that was a fluke, the witch ghost is fake. And then he's right and wrong on that at the same time so when Aliens come up he's like "look ive been tricked before but no more. I'll investigate but unless you've got hard proof I'll snark at you with my friends" and it rules.

And if you're wondering why Velma believes so immediately when Fred waits, the answer is that she, as a scientist, knows its better to work assuming the hypothesis can be true, rather than to deny it from the start. And she LOVES testing the hypothesis. Fred does too but he's seen enough that he's not gonna NOT snark and joke. And they're besties.

(This timeline ignores the scrappy era slightly, but it's also possible Daphne and Shaggy strike out on their own for a bit while Fred does college and then Daphne and Fred reconnect. This would account for why Daph is so convinced in the supernatural in ZI)

[invinciblerodent]

just a biiiiiit more Ionaposting for tonight and I'll shut up

i honestly loved just how different the ways she- and my boy Arvid handled Karlach's whole situation. because they were both rather close with her (she had a lot in common with Arvid, and she's pretty much Iona's best friend, they've been very consistently warm, friendly, and trustworthy presences for each other), but this willingness to die rather than to be stifled is... something that I think Iona just does not understand.

Or, well, she does, but right now, she also doesn't.

I think one of the things about Iona that I enjoy a lot is kind of her moral flexibility. She's done a lot of shitty things for survival, lied, cheated, the works- she's scrappy, she isn't afraid of getting her hands dirty (she is a slippery weasel-woman after all), and she's used to lying in wait and enduring low-grade crappiness for the sake of survival.

Karlach though, seems a bit more stiff in this regard. More idealistic, with some moral wiggle room, but not too much of it. She's firmly good, while Iona is more of a neutral-skewing-good aligned kind of a character.

And I think in this specific thing, due to the emotional component, Iona (though she knows that faced with the same choice of going back to her earlier situation versus death, she would fight until her last drop of blood too) kind of reverts back to thinking the way she did before the game's plot.

Where Arvid solemnly accepted Karlach's choice, prayed with her, and just promised to stay with her when the time comes (like a soldier and healer would accept a fatal injury or an incurable illness), Iona is kind of... almost pressuring her to return to Avernus. She's less a resigned healer and more a fox who'd chew off her leg to escape a fatal trap, and she doesn't seem to be able to accept that her friend made a choice (the choice deep down she knows she would have made herself)- she just keeps asking Karlach to reconsider.

Every time the prompt comes up, I feel like that's the dialogue that feels most natural. The why, why, why won't you just go back, just for a while, just until we figure this out, just a little longer. And she's frustrated too, because Avernus seems like such an obvious solution to the problem (if a temporary one), and it's not like there isn't a place for Karlach to go!!!

I really kind of like how they sort of clash on this, and something tells me that if Wyll wasn't the Blade of Avernus on this run too, I think (regardless of whether Astarion needs her or not) Iona might have offered to actually go with Karlach to the Hells. Offered herself up as a final bargaining chip.

It'd feel appropriate, to kind of almost exploit the very nice and heartfelt "I can face anything as long as you're there, even death" line Karlach gave her earlier- though, yeah, it would be manipulative as hell (true to form I guess), and yeah, it would yet again be Iona choosing to endure low-grade crappiness, at least this time it'd be for the sake of sparing herself the greater heartache of losing her friend for good.

fffffffffff their friendship was so good to explore, and man, every time I see this final Gortash confrontation, I'm just amazed at how Samantha Béart just went NUTS on that monologue. Such an incredible performance.

[quinn-of-aebradore]

Rewatched my recording of Rowen's epilogue party today for fun and promptly got knocked out with emotion by her conversation with Gale again, so I figured I might as well inflict that on y'all :3

Their conversation opened with a hug, which is in this post, it's very cute, and then Gale talks about teaching for a bit, prompting this:

Which is wonderful and lovely! Rowen's looking at him so fondly, which makes sense given that their little magic lesson was the first time anyone had ever "properly" taught her magic! She was a scrappy little thieves guild kid who taught herself, after all. So of course she tells him he's an excellent teacher.

Of course she does, given the above. And then-

This look, coupled with that line and the fact that Rowen imagined going on a romantic walk with him during that moment? And that very soon after, he told her about Mystra and she promptly pulled away and that was that? Heartbreaking.

And he follows it up by complimenting her! He knows very well by now that Rowen in that moment had never been formally educated in magic like he was and he's telling her she was already incredible from her own efforts! This man is still so smitten. And then he redirects, back to his students before asking-

Gods, how conflicted I (and Rowen) felt about answering this. Everyone she's talked to so far, when they've asked (and the option was there), she's mentioned Astarion and how happy they are. But with Gale, after they've just danced around the "what could've been" aspect of their relationship, it would feel like rubbing salt in a wound to not only do that, but call Astarion the love of her life, wouldn't it?

So, wizard-exclusive option four it was.

Look at this man's face! Oh my god. Granted I didn't manage to get the best screenshot of it, I was fighting the video player's progress bar a bit, but I swear. He is so fucking fond. I'm unwell about it.

And then!!! He goes from So Damn Fond to "I can't stop talking about you" "I've told my students all about you. You should come teach with me." He has it so bad, my heart hurts.

This is very much Rowen's Worry Incarnate face but let me tell you. When I heard that Gale becomes a professor in his non-god ending, I immediately headcanoned that he brings Rowen in as a guest lecturer, not knowing that he actually makes that offer. Because he knows her history, he knows how much something like that would mean to her. That even though she's grown so much from her state of feeling constantly inferior to everyone when they met, that having her skill as a wizard legitimized in that way is a dream come true. So that's not a look of worry on her face, really. That's "I am holding back tears".

And then below that, there's the layer of "I've missed you, here's a way we can spend time together that I know you won't decline". Not in a manipulative way, obviously, he knows she's happy and he wouldn't begrudge her of that in a million years. Regardless of their relationship being platonic or romantic or anything in between, Rowen's his closest friend who he can truly talk about magic with and it's the same for Rowen! And in the end, even with the heartache that is there, that's what their foundation is and that's what matters.

[pkducklett]

I’ve posted about Pancake a couple times, I thought for this time I should post about my headcanon other critter pets in the survivor camp. Know that the gender of each critter is purely speculation, my headcanon is that it’s the survivor who assigns a gender and it really doesn’t affect the critter at all. Anyway, I’m going to ramble under the cut about each pet and the relationship with their owner:

Pancake the Kittykit: -Owned by WX-78 -Trait: Playful -The fact that Pancake is as affable and well behaved as they are is a shock to the other survivors. WX seemed so certain to get a "minion of evil", but ended up with the most loving and playful of pets. Pancake favors WX, but is the critter that gets along best with the others as well. Pancake's favorite napping spot is WX's chest and they like riding on the robot's shoulders. -I've made a post already talking about how Pancake got their name.

Pupgang the Vargling: -Owned by Wolfgang -Trait: Scrappy -Pupgang is a true guard dog. Though he's lost his fair share of fights, he doesn't back down from a challenge. The vargling spends much of their time outside Wolfgang's tent and will bark if they sense danger or if anyone not welcome gets too close. -Pupgang's name comes from Wolfgang's examination quote for the Vargling: "I am call him Pupgang!"

Lune the Mothling: -Owned by Wes -Trait: Well-fed -How did Wes acquire one of the rarest critters as a pet? No one's quite figured it out either. Regardless, Lune is a princess in the highest standard and apparently expects to be treated as such. -Lune's name comes from the French word for moon.

Glomglom the Glomling: -Owned by Wickerbottom -Trait: Crafty -Glomglom's curiosity is a driving force that will either make them the smartest critter, or the first to die. They're favorite napping location is the top of the alchemy engine and they want to be apart of every prototyping process, whether their help was needed or not. -Glomglom is the name of the critter. I couldn't think of a better one. Glomglom is too perfect of a name.

Muninn the Giblet: -Owned by Wigfrid -Trait: Scrappy -Muninn would fight God if he was given the opportunity. This giblet doesn't know when to back down and Wigfrid certainly doesn't help much in that regard. At least he isn't hostile toward the others, they fear what power he could unleash if he did turn on them. -Wigfrid's quote for the Giblet references a wise raven: "Nöt a raven, but wise nönetheless." Looking into that, I learned of Huginn and Muninn, two ravens who worked with Odin in Norse myth by scouring the world for information. Muninn is believed to roughly translate to "mind" or "memory", and I felt that was appropriate for Wigfrid's character.

Lambchop the Ewelet: -Owned by Warly -Trait: Well-fed -Lambchop is always in the kitchen. She patiently waits for food to be prepped and adorably begs for any to be spared. Warly has a constant companion when he's preparing food and he can't say no to a face like that. -Lambchop's name comes from Warly's examination quote for the ewelet: "This is Lambchop, my little kitchen helper."

Ruby the Broodling: -Owned by Willow -Trait: Playful  -Ruby is a mischievous little brat, is what the others tell Willow. Willow has yet to see it. The broodling will play tricks and games that she has the advantage, and run back to her owner when the game has gone a bit too far. She has yet to discover how catching her fire is, but that doesn't seem to be a far off day when she sets a fire no one can control. -I have no explanation for Ruby's name other than I like it. I think it fits.

[luvbuggyyy]

hey there! I’m bug, she/they, 18+ and I’m knee-deep in steddie! I made this blog in case anyone wanted to screech at me about my fics, but also just to have a space dedicated to my current hyperfixation! I’ll update this lil pinned with my current works and my WIPs as they change :)

uhhh I don’t have a DNI or anything but just. Be kind to me and each other. That’s pretty much it.

Disclaimer (which is also posted on all of my fics lol): I haven’t actually seen a lick of stranger things (yet). I’m insane. Sometimes my writer brain and neurodivergence fuse and let me understand 70-85% of a character without even glancing at their source material. I just know actually watching the show will make me worse. I do intend to watch it, but I’m trying to get the hyperfixation to calm down a little before I even attempt it. Regardless, if you give my fics a chance, I hope you enjoy them! I have fun writing them. Check em out below! 

Last updated: 12/16/22

ao3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/users/luvbuggy/pseuds/luvbuggy

In Progress

girl, put your records on - currently two chapters, 11k+

“Off the Record,” Eddie groans, slapping his hand to his face. “If that’s not the cheesiest shit I’ve ever seen—“

“I know, but you’re gonna love the employee discount.” She pulls on his arm until he stumbles after her.

They peruse the store for a bit. They’ve got Wham playing on the overhead speakers and while Eddie does manage not to vomit, he doesn’t bother suppressing a giant eyeroll.

He’s gonna be a snob if he works here. He knows it. He’s right to be a snob. Music is for everyone in theory, but it’s supposed to have meaning and soul, not just a catchy chorus or synth or whatever the fuck. It’s supposed to have a message. People don’t get that anymore. What’s the point of music if it doesn’t rock you to your core? A good song changes the world. Music is the universal human connector.

But, here’s the thing. He has a heart. And Chrissy’s beaming at him with wide, sparkling eyes, an ABBA record in her hands, and his heart tells him to do whatever the fuck she wants. Even if it means choking back his snob-hood. Normal!AU where Eddie would follow his best friend anywhere, including into hell--AKA Starcourt.

in the dead of night (love bites, love bites) - 3/8 chapters, 29k+

Steve bolts upright as his breathing kicks into high gear. His hand finds his bat’s handle and within seconds he’s creeping further into the house. Everything is still dark and empty, just as he left it. He creaks down the stairs.

Thud. Thud.

The front door.

He gives the bat a quick spin, warming up his wrists. No way it’s Robin or any of the kids, they would’ve called or been yelling for him by now. There’s nothing outside but silence and the dull impacts, like something heavy’s relentlessly colliding with the door.

He tiptoes down the stairs. The door shakes in its frame. He gingerly undoes the latch, takes a few quick breaths, and throws the door open, raising his bat to swing.

Standing in the doorway is a creature that looks frighteningly like Eddie Munson.

WIPs/ideas bouncing in my brain like the windows screensaver

- future fruity four (ronance + steddie) where they get married to beard for each other. exploring what it means to build a home with and for the ones you love. normal au romcom vibes + background drumcheer - in progress

- first kill au (i’m insane for this one truly). not a one to one au but more the vibes of their universe. undercover legacy vamp eddie falls head over heels for monster hunter steve, sworn into the guild by adoptive dad and hunter Hopper. background ronance ft werewolf robin. modern au. - still cooking

- peter pan pirate au (sighs loudly). Prince Steven’s shitty little life turns upside down thanks to a mischievous, handsome Devil of a pirate and his band of scrappy thieves. ft ronance - in progress

[agentravensong]

Thoughts on Encanto's Bruno?

Ah, yes. Let’s talk about Bruno.

I don’t have any take on him that I don’t think tumblr as a whole has already come to. He’s awkward and a goofball and a sweetheart and tragic and good. I had some idea he’d be like that from the few bits of fanart I saw of him before the movie, but he really is great.

His design? Wonderful… though tbh he kind of doesn’t look old enough for someone who’s a) in his 40s-50s and b) has lived in the walls for the past ten years? Like, him and especially Pepa don’t look that much older than the teens and 20 year olds? Maybe that’s just me. But everything else about his look is an A+.

When he bops along in the background to the slanderous song his family is singing about him? Gold. The fact that Dolores knew he was there the whole time? Excellent fic fodder.

The fact that he loved his family too much to really leave them? The fact that he’s been fixing the cracks, literally holding the house together, behind the scenes? The fact that he was right on the other side of the wall for all the family meals? Ow.

His proper introduction being him running from Mirabel, like how he ran from his family, only for him to come back and save her (because of course he was going to), even though it puts him in danger (but then that danger isn’t as great as it appeared, because of course the house (his family) wouldn’t let that happen to him)? It sums up his character arc perfectly. I didn’t even realize how good it was until I started typing it out, but it’s so good, holy shit.

The thing that ultimately made him “leave” not just being how he was treated by everyone else, but realizing that the same or worse would happen to five-year-old Mirabel and him refusing to let that happen? And then when the house crumbles, he (after gathering his courage) runs after her and Abuela to fully take the blame, because they can’t hate him more meaningfully then they already do, and she doesn’t deserve that? Fuck, man.

I’m not sure I’d go as far as to say he’s my favorite character in the movie at this time (though the first thing my brother said after it ended was that Bruno had immediately become one of his top comfort characters). He’s definitely up there.

The thing about me and Bruno is that he hits a lot of sweet spots for characters I like. On the one hand, everything around his gift being future sight and how that ties into the role he’s expected to play in the family (a struggle everyone in this live has) and how his knowledge of the bad stuff to come leaves him isolated and disliked… that crosses over with the niche interest I’ve had more recently of characters who struggle with fate; the person they’re “destined” to be, and the part they’re “destined” to play. Not in the meta sense that usually gets my attention (see: deltarune), but still.

On the other hand, he kind of fits the same archetype as Héctor from Coco, a character who was big for me in the time after I first watched that movie. They’re both kind hearted, kind of scrappy/scraggly but mostly Just Dudes, who at the start of their stories have almost given up on full happiness. They’re estranged family men (estranged largely through no fault of their own) who remain dedicated to their families regardless and end up being big supports for the protagonist. Once I started noticing those similarities, I knew I was gonna love Bruno.

There are other characters I like who fit this bill, but the one that always come to mind is the protagonist of the movie Children of Men. Long story short, in a future where women around the world suddenly stopped giving birth, this one Just A Dude type guy gets roped into getting a pregnant teen girl to a safe location, and he starts out all gruff and not caring but inevitably gets attached to the girl. And then in the end, spoilers, he finally gets her on the boat to get to the safe place, but on the way over, she realizes he was shot while he was protecting her and is bleeding to death. But after everything, he’s okay with it, because he found a purpose in his life by helping this girl and her newborn daughter, and that means more to him than even having maybe saved the world. It’s not like this is one of my favorite movies or anything, but that moment has stuck with me.

EDIT: Remembered another character I love that mostly fits this: Paul Matthews from the Starkid Hatchetfield musical universe (The Guy Who Didn't Like Musicals specifically)! A somewhat awkward but otherwise painfully average dude with few people he's close to at the start and no grand ambitions, who a) turns out to be loyal and brave to an extraordinary, self-sacrificial extent, and b) has that one line in the show's best song (fight me): "I've never been happy... wouldn't that be nice?" (Plus, while it's not in canon, I'm really fond of the idea of him taking on a kind of mentor/parental role for Hannah Foster.)

So, yeah. Bruno condemning himself to solitude, to being dead in his family’s eyes, in order to save them, to save little Mirabel? It made me cry. There’s probably some psychoanalysis of me you could do based on all this (believe me, I’ve tried), but I’m choosing to ignore that for now and just say that Bruno is a Cool Dude.

[sezja]

Febuwhump Day 14: Can't Go Home Fandom: Final Fantasy XIV Characters/Ship: Jehantel Triggers/Content warnings: Suicidal thoughts

Step by step, the bard walks among the dead.

His dead.

They stretch on and on and on, rows of bodies covered in white sheets, rendering them safely anonymous. Here and there, a weapon: a lance, a bow, laid beside the fallen as though they may have need of it once more, should the scouts on watch alert them to a coming threat...

He slows, he slows, he stops. I should be among the dead. I should...

But he lacks even the courage to take his own wretched, undeserved life; in the aftermath of the battle - the massacre - he'd tried. He'd tried. His nerves betrayed him; weak to the last. Would that the Ixal had turned their steel on him! But they were already withdrawing by the time he reached the bloody battlefield, and the remnants of the Gridanian forces... and his own unit, the first to fall. The first to die. The first to feel the sting of his betrayal.

Sing for us, Jehantel!

He stirs, forcing himself to move once more.

Others move among the corpses, identifying the bodies, retrieving personal effects for loved ones. They watch him pass, and their pity cuts him deeper than any blade. "It was my fault," he had tried to tell them, the Gridanian reinforcements, too late to salvage the defeat. "It was my fault."

He could not make them understand: he was not a guilt-ridden survivor, not a defeated Captain bearing the weight of his unit's defeat.

He was a traitor, a glory-seeker who had deserted his post. And for what? For what?

For what?

Glory. Victory.

He finds them at last, the furthest row back. The first of the dead. Hidden beneath their shrouds, he knows them still - his comrades, his friends, his loyal men. He would know Faezmoen anywhere: bigger by half than most of the shrouds surrounding him, the Sea Wolf had always stood out. He had traveled to Gridania from the sea, seeking to take up the lance. 'Twas he who taught Jehantel sea shanties, singing in his deep, booming voice of sirens and sea witches and pretty maids left behind on shore...

Sing for us, Jehantel! So often it was Faezmoen who cheered for the bard to sing around the campfire, and when it wasn't him, it was Otelin, his Highlander brother-in-arms. Jehantel had scarcely gotten a chance to know the lad, only that he was gregarious and fierce: caught too quickly to reach for his lance, Otelin had been found with Ixal blood under his nails nonetheless.

Beside him lies Leausseaux the Unbroken, broken at last. How long has their rivalry lasted! More than two decades, Jehantel realizes - they had been scarcely more than children when they'd begun their respective disciplines, and never had Leausseaux forgiven him for achieving fame and glory long before he could. But the years had soothed the rift between them into something warmer, something companionable; of late, Leausseaux had begun treating him with something closer to genuine respect.

Did you die cursing my name? Did you die knowing I was every bit the wretched wastrel you always knew me to be?

And there at the end: two smaller bodies, side by side.

Jehantel had claimed his squad needed no second archer, but the Quiver had given him one regardless: young Hewrey, serious yet earnest, eager to learn alongside the Godsbow. His stiff formality had at last begun to ease, revealing beneath the brittle shell a bright and inquisitive personality, and Jehantel had wondered if the lad might not have a knack for song alongside his skill with the bow. He'd meant to ask after the battle. He'd meant to ask a number of things... like whether the lad's lingering, shy glances at young Sunah over their campfires meant anything.

Sunah.

Sunah.

He doesn't want to look at the last of the bodies, but he must. He must. He owes it to her.

He'd met her years ago, when she was scarcely more than a girl: scrawny and scrappy, tripping over her own tail. Little Sunah, bold and brash, too clever to be tied down - she'd taken up the bow, the lance, the hatchet! How often had they sat together in the sunshine, Jehantel singing while little Sunah rested from her training routines? He'd watched her grow from a scrappy youth to a capable soldier, watched her join the Wailers despite his misgivings: not a dutiful miss, quick to shirk any duties she found beneath her.

But over the years, he'd begun to see the bravado of her youth maturing into genuine competence, genuine confidence. He'd taken her into his unit as soon as he could, the better to keep an eye on her.

The better to keep her safe.

Little Sunah, the daughter of his heart.

He draws back the shroud. Her eyes are closed now, mercifully: no longer staring open and accusing at him. Why, Jehantel? Where were you?

No, no, she would have died fearing for him, wondering why he hadn't alerted them. Why he wasn't there to aid them. Why he wasn't there to save them. To save her. To save Hewrey, the man she did not love yet, but someday might.

And now never will.

Her cut throat still gapes at him. He'd cradled her in his arms one last time, begging the Twelve to spare her from his idiocy. The gods did not listen; the gods had chosen their punishment.

And Gridania will not punish him, he realizes, drawing the shroud back over Sunah's too-pale face (she was never so still in life; now, only now, can he believe she is dead) and standing. Not while they refuse to accept the truth of his guilt, not while he remains too much of a coward to make them accept it.

No.

He must leave. He must leave, and never return... until he finds a way, some way, to atone for his failure.

[cometcrystal]

daphne blake character moments

because nobody knows what the hell to do with her

sdway thru tsds - chrissy chlapecka vibes. so clumsy she trips on air. very curious and nosy. severely underrated and spunky. also very karen from mean girls. she’s a bimbo ok and she DOES NOT GET KIDNAPPED AS MUCH AS YOU PEOPLE LIKE TO ACT LIKE SHE DOES

scrappy era - complete badass. would fistfight god if provoked. proud mother of one (1) scrappy. jack of all trades but in a chill way. one of the most confident daphnes by far, second only to:

pup - diva. her butler is an accessory. knows exactly how to insult you to make you cry in 7 seconds or less. would kick fred in the shins for 1 corn chip

ZI quartet - #girlboss. ryan bergara. very goal-driven and reminiscent of scrappy era daphne, but more aggressive now. a good choice for favorite daphne, but not my own pick

gunnverse - feminism 101 take on daphne but it’s okay because it’s sarah michelle gellar. martial arts is introduced here. stannable. the go-to for daphne fancams and the first daphne many people think of.

what’s new era - also kinda feminism 101 but more laid back. imo the most bland daphne. “my makeup is my battle armor” kinda daphne but she’s really sweet so its ok and i love her regardless.

get a clue - the only daphne that actually forreal has no personality (and it’s due to having 5 minutes of mostly silent screentime in this show)

sdmi - boy crazy/hopeless romantic. could have been handled much much better (so many missed chances w her family trauma) but she was my first daphne so i still love her.

CN live actions - theater kid/actress which was a weird choice? & return of diva daphne. also underrated and underrloved. tweets “i need to be loved” at least once a week

2010s DTVs - a little bit mean but mostly just tired of everyone’s shit (and rightfully so). has fangirl moments often. very vain but in a chill way

be cool - throwing spaghetti at the wall to see if it sticks (literally). has no identity due to growing up in a stifled rich household so is now doing literally everything. very annoying (affectionate). jack of all trades but in a manic way

daphne and velma - very peppy. spoiled but isn’t mean because she doesn’t know any better. grew up using only lisa frank stationery. might have my favorite sense of fashion out of all the daphnes

guess who - kind of reminiscent of her retro self but more bland. she’s still goofy and sweet tho just less so. the gang doesn’t do much in this series overall it’s ok i love them all still

scoob - the empath. which is kinda weird to me? shes been the heart of the group before but never the most empathetic and angelic. thatd be either fred or shaggy, depending. still a wonderful daphne all things considered but the arc feels shoehorned bc shes the "pretty" girl

most modern movies - 60% be cool daphne, 5% every other daphne. ultimate form. these movies are peak daphne. i love her so much she is so powerful and funny and a goofball and sweet and just the best. my fav daphne. YES maybe i’m biased!!!

[malachi-walker]

Happy birthday, Mal! I love your fics, they evoke so much emotion in me and have made me cry many a time. I don't often reread fics, but i've reread multiple chapters of Rhythm and Blues because they're stuck with me so much. You capture the emotional pain of their trauma and the catharsis that comes with their growth so beautifully. You also write some brilliant meta and just consistently post some fantastic thoughts. Also your love for swords is very appreciated. <3 have a lovely day!

First of all, my apologies for not replying sooner. I was making my mind up about something that would definitely require the use of a read more and thus necessitate dragging myself to desktop (which I hate because my laptop predates the dinosaurs.)

But seriously. Thank you so much. This is honestly one of the sweetest comments I've ever gotten and definitely made my already pretty sweet bday even better.

So about that read more. In honor of you, @metalesbo, my friends @n7punk and @jem-jarrett and everyone else who sent me well wishes or just really loves my work... Here's the opening section of the next chapter of R&B. Enjoy. It's a long one.

Adora Eternia is about two months shy of her fourteenth birthday when she first realizes she's in love with her best friend.

Though--if asked--she would hasten to explain that it wasn't when she fell in love. But trying to pinpoint the exact moment is an exercise in catching mist: the more she tries to grasp it in her hands the more it spreads out and covers everything. It just is: pure and simple and very, very complicated.

It's the beginning of December and the whole town is covered in a thick blanket of snow. Winterfest will be here in a few weeks, so to help out the kids who want to get gifts for their friends the Right Zone administration has shuffled around the groups that usually take their monthly trips on the third and fourth Sundays of the month to double up with the other two. As part of group three, she and Catra got the first week (the other three members of their crew are week two folks anyway and thus outside the reorganization.)

It's still kinda weird to think that: their crew. For so long, it was just Catra and Adora. Adora and Catra. One unit bound together, just them against the world. But there's also something nice about being part of a small cluster, their "scrappy little lone wolf pack" as Catra had once put it with a wry grin before Lonnie shoved her over with an, "Excuse you, I'm a great people person when I'm not busy making sure you idiots haven't set yourselves on fire!"

They all got a good laugh out of that one.

But regardless, the holidays are coming up and this is the first year that any of their group has felt like actually doing anything for it, aside from wrangling together a sleepover and seeing if they can convince the kitchen staff to slip them some leftover eggnog.

They made each other promise not to go too extravagant and keep each person's gift to ten dollars or lower. Even though their quarterly stipend has increased from three hundred to four hundred to match with inflation over the past eight years, it still isn't a whole lot for three month's worth of expenses, especially when they also have to budget regularly for clothes to keep up with the seemingly endless growth spurts.

There's also the usual budgetary concern of keeping her and Catra's first aid kit well supplied...

Adora shakes her head to dislodge the intrusive thought and continues marching onward through the snow. This trip is a good thing. She won't let all the awful realities of their life taint it.

With so many kids running around and wanting to shop on their own to surprise their giftees, Right Zone had to negotiate with both the local police and whatever other civic authorities they could get ahold of to come out en masse and keep an eye on them all. The kids had still come with their usual teachers, of course, but doubling the load and also splitting up was a logistical nightmare. Which is just a convoluted way to say the town is positively crawling with uniformed officers, off duty members of the fire brigade, emergency personnel, and other such authority figures quietly keeping watch and making sure no one tries anything.

Adora knows that somewhere in the press of bodies, Grizzlor's busy wrangling two new "brats" (seven and nine, respectively, and definitely not friends.) Somewhere, a certain Magicat is probably grumbling over the indignity of being forced to wear shoes and kicking every snowpile she can, like she can send a direct message to whatever cosmic force is responsible for her current frustration.

On an ordinary month she and Catra--being old enough to be allowed a bit more freedom to do what they want--would buddy up to watch each other's backs while they did their shopping. But this isn't an ordinary month, so once they'd each gotten gifts for the other three they'd split up on opposite ends of Main Street with an agreement to move clockwise to avoid running into each other. Afterwards, the entire group would rendezvous at the small clock tower in the park a block over before heading back to Right Zone.

Ten dollars wasn't a lot to work with, but Adora had done her best: a new stress ball for Kyle, some moisturizing oil for Rogelio since the early winter shed had wiped out his supply and he'd been too busy to pick up some more, a twelve pound kettle weight for Lonnie now that their shared exercise routine was getting a bit too easy for her... Utilitarian choices, to be sure, but she's been paying attention and that has to count for something.

Catra's the difficult one, of course. Partly because Adora doesn't want to just get her something practical, but also because they share nearly everything between them already. About the only thing that is definitively off limits is Catra's guitar, and she's told Adora enough about her time with Tao over the years that Adora wouldn't even ask. Beyond that... Well, there's a reason why most of Adora's day off hoodies have small strands of orange fur stuck to them.

Still. I want to get her something that's hers. Something she'll like. Something she doesn't have to share with anyone, not even me.

In the end, she nearly walks past it. In one of the artisanal shops that dot small towns like liver spots, she finds a display of hand stamped necklace pendants, with a design sheet beside it. There are a lot of the usual nature designs and such, but the one that catches her eye is a treble clef with the five staff lines bleeding out from it. They ring the edge of the pendant in a half circle, and scattered haphazardly along the lines are the other music notes.

The lack of proper order would drive Adora insane. She understands that it's just meant to look pretty, not be an accurate representation of musical notation, but still... She knows her own (broken) brain well enough to know that.

It suits Catra, though.

"Hey," Mismatched eyes looked down at Adora as her head draped backwards over the back of their desk chair, the throbbing behind her left eye threatening to escalate into a migraine. "Guess I don't have to ask how the composing's going."

"It sucks," Adora groused back, sitting up and gesturing Catra over. She jabbed at two particular spots with the half chewed off eraser end of her pencil, two hard jabs each, like she was filing a complaint. "Most of it is just what I'm going for, but these two places here... They aren't sounding right. I've been going back and forth over structure all afternoon, but nothing I do helps."

"Hmmm..." Catra stroked her chin and nudged Adora over so she could sit on the arm of the chair (they'd never gotten around to requesting a second, mostly because Adora didn't want to risk Shadow Weaver suspecting they were getting too chummy.) "Got any scratch paper?"

Adora pointed to the pile of half crumpled notebook paper she used when making adjustments and Catra snorted. "Ok, dumb question. Just let me see here..."

Grabbing a pen, she quickly inked a fresh set of staff lines and copied the notes Adora had already put down, making sure to leave space to work. Glancing between the two, she drummed her fingers on the desk, playing along in her head.

"Hmm..." Catra murmured, worrying at her lower lip with a fang in a manner that was... Oddly distracting. "Ok, how 'bout this?"

Adora jolted, tearing her gaze from Catra's face to look at the sequence of notes scribbled onto the scratch paper. She paused, brow furrowing as she played them over in her mind's eye. It was a little unorthodox, veering away from the path she had carefully laid out... But also blending well with the next part. Almost like the notes took a quick detour and then lead the listener back to where she wanted them.

"Yeah..." Adora replied thoughtfully, the tension all over her body starting to smooth out. "Yeah, that could work."

"Awesome. Let's take a look at the next part."

They ultimately ended up spending several hours going over the entire piece, sussing out every place where Adora was having even the slightest niggle of unease. She didn't accept all of Catra's changes and Catra didn't push the matter, but the ones she did...

They felt right. More right than they had ever felt when it was just Adora running circles around herself.

When they finally finished up she looked over at Catra, tail waving sedately in that way it got when she was simultaneously engaged but relaxed, and asked, "Umm... Do you want to learn with me? I like doing this."

'I like making music with you.'

Catra paused, looking over at Adora searchingly, almost like she couldn't believe the question had come up. No matter how many years had passed between them, that look never really went away, and every time she saw it Adora's chest ached in a way that was hard for her to process.

"I'd like that."

Catra's composing style is very different from Adora's. More wild, more willing to bend and break the rules if it means maintaining audience engagement, but there's always an underlying order to the chaos. To her surprise and pleasure, Adora found herself learning just as much from Catra as Catra was learning from her. Their styles brought out the best in each other.

The jingle of a bell kicks her out of the memory. Mind made up even though it's nearly double her budget, Adora scans the stand of necklaces for the one with the treble clef pattern.

It isn't there. Adora swallows down the disappointment, though she can't help the sigh. Of course. The town was well aware of the large population of music students a short drive away and catered to them accordingly. But there are also dozens of kids out on the street tonight. It isn't that big of a surprise that the design sold out.

Not surprising, but disheartening nonetheless.

She's just begun to turn away when a voice calls from the back. "Hang on a sec there, little miss."

Adora jumps, but remains where she is as a large Taurian man with a massive snow white beard trundles out from a door behind the counter, wiping his hands on his apron. "Was there a particular design you were interested in?"

Adora points at the treble clef, hope rising. "This one. But it looks like it's already sold out."

"Hmm..." The man scratchs at his chin. "Well with Winterfest coming up, I'm out of blank pendants-"

Adora's shoulders slump.

"-But," The man continues with a smile. "I can double stamp it onto the back of another. Ordinarily I'd charge extra for that, but it's my fault for not ordering enough blanks. Rookie move. Besides, it's the holidays. Now would that be all right by you?"

Nodding frantically in case he changes his mind, Adora scans the other designs, quickly alighting on one in particular. "That one!"

"The claw marks? Bit of an odd combination, but the customer is always right," The old man winked as he reached out to take the necklace from her. "My jig and press is in the corner over here if you wanna watch."

Adora was glad he specified, because as nice as the man seemed there was no way in hell she was going into a back room with a stranger. But she stood next to the window beside a display of miscellaneous knick knacks and puzzles, watching him carefully place the pendant in a cushioned stand to avoid damaging the already printed side and tighten it into place before moving beside the machine.

"You're gonna want to cover your ears," He tells her, patting the machine with one massive hand. "Had to switch to a steam press when the arthritis caught up to me. Used to do it all by hammer. This boy's okay, but he gets loud."

Adora nods, glad for the warning when he bellows "Clear!" and the machine's hammer comes down once, twice, three times with a sound like the ringing of an enormous bell. Once the machine is stopped and carefully turned off, the old man removes the pendant from the press and hands it over to Adora for inspection. "What do you think? Does it pass muster?"

Adora runs her fingertips over the impressions in the metal, memorizing the feel of it, the leftover warmth of the impact. "Perfect."

"Good. Now let's get you rung up."

Counting the five dollars she attempted to surreptitiously slip into the tip jar (the old man winked as he turned back around, so stealth fail) Adora went very over budget, but the others would have to put a gun to her head for her to admit it.

Besides, it's Catra. They already know she's the sole exception to all of Adora's carefully maintained rules.

With everything finished, she continues trudging through the snow toward the park, breathing a sign of relief as she moves away from the shopping district and the people thin out; no one wanting to go to the park in the middle of such bleak weather. Angling around a clustered group of bare trees, she spots the small clock tower in the distance, as well as the figure already standing beside it. Grinning, Adora picks up the pace a bit until she can see Catra clearly and--

Her breath catches.

Since her only experience with this kind of thing has been through books, Adora always expected this moment would be more dramatic. Like back to back in the middle of a fight, or eyes locking from up on stage. Something spectacular, like fireworks, lime explosions, like the feeling of playing a song without a single mistake for the first time. It's always seemed like such a big deal in the stories, and in a way, it is.

Because there's Catra, lost in her own world as she gazes up at the streetlight that's just come on, her left hand extended to let the snowflakes fall into her palm and the light catches the orange of her fur just right to make a blaze of color against the black of her coat. She looks so small, standing in that space all alone on a cold winter's night, but Adora knows deep down that she could never be that small, not when she's Catra, not when she means so much...

Pretty much everything about the past hour--about her entire life since they met if she's being honest--snaps into crystal clear focus.

Oh. I get it now. I'm in love with you.

It's a bad idea. Adora knows that. Shadow Weaver is enough of a menace while believing Catra is simply her roommate, her sometime tool--and Catra had ended up being all too right about the torture not stopping, even after years of Adora trying to direct Weaver's attentions away from her. If the evil old bitch figures out Adora's feelings run deeper, so much deeper...

Her heart beats double time. This whole thing is an unmitigated disaster.

But it's still the best worst thing that's ever happened to her.

She must make a noise, because Catra's ear twitches in her direction, snapping her out of that distant contemplation. She turns her head and looks at Adora, lips curling in a lopsided grin. "Hey, Adora. Wow, you look like you've seen a ghost."

Adora blinks, coming back to herself and mumbling the first excuse that springs to mind. "... Just cold."

"Well no shit. C'mere."

When she closes the distance Catra glances around warily, making sure they're the only ones around, before reaching up and retying the scarf around Adora's neck, patting it once when she's done. "There. I know I make it look good, but you don't have the advantage of fur like me."

Adora looks down at the thin AC/DC t-shirt that Catra's wearing beneath her half open coat, the line of her collarbones and neck, and makes a snap decision. "Is it okay if I give you your present now?"

Catra blinks, a little thrown by the non sequitur. "I mean... Sure? Do you want me to give you yours?"

"I'm good with either," Adora shrugs, trying to ignore how fast her heart is beating, how much she wants to do this before this moment slips away. "I just want to."

There's a long moment of silence as they each examine the other, equally searching. What Catra's looking for, Adora doesn't know. She isn't sure she wants to know.

"Okay."

Breathing deep, Adora reaches into her pocket and pulls out the necklace on its leather cord. Careful to keep the pendant hidden in her hand, she passes it over, fingertips sparking as it's taken. Catra brings it close to her face, running her fingers over the four parallel slashes on the side facing her.

"Why the claw marks?"

Adora laughs, nervous butterflies positively rioting in her stomach. "Because you're a badass. Duh."

"True," Catra smirks, flipping it over and squinting at the other side. "And this?"

"Badass, loves music with all your heart. Not mutually exclusive concepts," Adora says, trying not to give away how much she thinks about this, how much she wants to take that hand in hers. She settles for a playful shoulder bump instead. "Plus we all know you're secretly a big softie."

"Excuse you, I am all sharp edges," Catra giggles, lightly elbowing her before transitioning into a soft little smile. "... Just not with everyone."

Oh God oh God oh God. That smile will absolutely be the death of her.

Swallowing past her horrible awareness of that softness, Adora asks, "So you like it?"

"I love it. Good luck ever getting me to take it off," Catra laughs, then frowns, flexing her fingers. "Hands have gone a little numb, though. Help me put it on?"

Adora.exe promptly crashes to desktop. But she still somehow manages to move, helping Catra hold back her mane so she can slip the leather cord over her head and tuck it beneath her hair. If she hesitates a moment too long in letting go, at least Catra only shoots her an amused glance. "How's it look?"

"Great," Adora manages to croak out, trying to swallow past the sudden dryness in her throat. "You look great. Umm... Happy early Winterfest, I guess?"

"Well, I'm gonna hold onto yours a little longer," Catra laughs, playfully sticking out her tongue before reaching out. "C'mere, you big dork."

Adora shuffles closer, mind and heart both screaming as Catra draws her into a hug, nuzzling her head against the side of her neck. A little whisper. "Thank you."

Adora swallows again, even harder. "You're welcome."

Between them, the necklace rests, the music side pressed right up against Catra's heart.

----------

Fun fact: the shopkeep is based off a cool old dude selling machine pressed necklaces I ran into at a Scottish festival when I was 13, and he made such an impression I never forgot him. Anyway, happy Valentine's! Have a Big Gay Realization!

[nirikeehan]

Hi Nirikeehan! Welcome to DADWC! 2. The Unrequited: How do you feel when you love someone who does not love you back? for blackwall?

Hi! Thanks for the prompt. Happy Holidays and enjoy some angsty pining, which has apparently been my jam lately.

@dadrunkwriting

The One That Got Away

CW/Spoilers: brief mention of suicidal ideation, reference to Inquisition main game end and resolution of Blackwall's personal storyline

Pairing: Blackwall/Thalia Trevelyan, background Cullen/Thalia

Word Count: 1273

All throughout the Main Hall he watched her stride with the regal poise he had long admired. Lady Thalia Trevelyan was a woman of singular grace. He had seen her potential since he first laid eyes on her in the Hinterlands, then a scrappy mage in traveling leathers. He could not help but want to ferry her to greatness. In the tales even the mightiest of princesses was guarded by a noble knight. He decided he would fulfill that role. It might be his one last gesture of honor, a final act of penance.

Yet somehow, they had survived. All of them.

She had changed her hair for the victory celebration. Red locks fell about her shoulders; tiny braids woven back from her temples held them into place. They gleamed in the light from the hearths as she flitted around the packed hall, greeting their guests and catching up with old friends. He wanted to put his face in her hair and breathe her in, run his fingers through the waves to the soft nape of her neck, and down, and down.

He stayed still, back to the fireplace, arms crossed against his broad chest. No one paid him any mind. To most of them, he was a pariah, not worth the dirt he walked on. That suited him fine. He wasn’t here to talk.

By the banquet table, Dorian leaned in and whispered into Thalia’s ear. Her face lit up with laughter. He studied the wrinkle of her nose, the mischievous look in her eyes, burning a bright blue even through the dim smoky hall. It brought him a emotion between pain and longing. He’d had a stab wound once that felt similar.

While floating by after chatting with a Fereldan bann, she locked eyes with him. She slowed to a halt, the gaiety seeping out of her. She stared at him. Her mouth wore a painted-on smile.

“Blackwall,” she said to him, as he’d asked.

Her pale face was flush with triumph and wine. She held a grape in between her thumb and forefinger, poised to eat. A bit of hair had fallen into her face, across the tattoo ringing her right eye, a lasting reminder of the Mage Circle she had escaped. He longed to reach out and brush away the stray lock, to take her in his arms and kiss the tattoo, her eyelids, her neck — in front of the entire Inquisition, the suspicious-eyed nobles and the Maker himself, all of them be damned.

He didn’t smile. “You look well, my lady.”

He could see the thoughts behind her furrowed brow: That’s all? That’s all you can say? When we fought beside each other through the end of the world and beyond?

“Thanks. So do you.” She placed the grape in her mouth. Chewed slowly, to buy them time. “Any big plans now that Corypheus is gone?”

He’d thought about traveling to Weisshaupt to ask for one last chance; or, barring that, learning now to tie a noose. He shrugged. “Nothing special.”

“Oh. I suppose that’s to be expected.” Her voice hooked and lagged. “I never thought we’d get this far, either.”

He watched her struggle with the words left unspoken, heard them regardless in his mind. It’s not too late. Say the word, and we can still…

Still what?

The answer was nothing, of course. They could do nothing. Theirs was a transitory moment. It had been irresponsible of him, to become attached to someone so young and full of life. A bout of madness, in truth. He had, at first, thought a little flirtation would be harmless. It had been so long — so long — since he had sought the attention of a woman. He had not accounted for the loneliness that had dogged him during his years of exile and isolation. Then one deception had compounded upon another, and she had responded with a vigor that surprised him. Even standing in the pouring rain, trying to tell her the truth, he had seen the adoration etched on her beautiful face: the blossoming love she felt for Gordon Blackwall, the man whose bones upon which they tread.

Once again, he chose the coward’s way out.

By the time he understood his mistake, the obsession had already taken hold. There had been fear in her eyes the night he appeared in her chambers. He was a mysterious, older man with unclear intentions; she was a daughter of nobility, freshly freed from the yolk of the Circle. Of course that would frighten her. Yet he hadn’t cared as he trespassed upon her and kissed her hard, hating himself every second.

He had begged her to turn him down, to cut out the rot before it could devour them both. The coward’s way out.

Why had it stunned him so when she did as he asked?

Over her shoulder, he saw the Inquisition’s advisors gathering on the dias in front of the throne. Josephine looked radiant, carrying a champagne flute and awaiting the right moment to begin a toast. On one side of her stood Sister Leliana, as calm and enigmatic as always; on the other stood Commander Cullen, his awkward stance betraying a disdain for the attention heaped upon him. Cullen’s gaze searched the far reaches of the hall; Blackwall knew for whom.

“You should go,” he said coolly. “You’re missing the party.”

Thalia refused to tear her eyes away, even when he nodded toward the dias.

“It’s where you belong, after all,” he said, the spite bleeding into his tone. “Basking in your glory with those worthy of you.”

Thalia’s mouth twitched. “Have you truly thought me so terrible this entire time?” she asked, throat raw.

He hadn’t known that her refusal of him would only make his feelings fester. That watching her slowly fall for the Commander in his stead would awaken an old ugliness he thought he had killed inside of him. That in the end, she wouldn’t even let him fix his own mistakes, twisting her growing power in grotesque ways to save a lowly criminal, a callous murderer. That this wheel would only keep turning, unless he broke it.

He leaned in low, so that only she would hear.

“Don’t flatter yourself, my lady,” he sneered. “I don’t think about you much at all.”

Anger flashed across her face. He thought she might strike him. How the Orlesians would snicker: the Inquisitor grown short with her traitorous pet, seeing him for the vile snake he truly was. He would let her, too. Let her punch and kick and scream, pound her fists against his chest until he seized her. He would put his lips on the soft inside of her wrist, kissing up her forearm, making her still and shiver. The things he could do, to make her beg. She would know the real Thom Rainier then.

But Thalia was made of stronger stuff. Her features hardened into a mask, her shoulders going ramrod straight. “I thank you for your service to the Inquisition, ser,” she said, with only the slightest quiver in her voice. “Now, if you’ll excuse me.”

She swept away from him, toward her advisors and her rightful place in the world. He watched her ascend to Cullen’s side, and wrenched himself away when the Commander slipped his hand in hers.

Then he was storming out the front doors, past whispering nobles in dead-eyed masks — Is that him? To think he’d dare show his face here — into the frigid night. He stood, watching his ragged breaths take shape in the air. Every inhale hurt, but otherwise he felt inured to the cold.

Notes: I honestly don’t remember the actual conversation with Blackwall at the final celebration scene. I was too busy running up to him multiple times and screaming at my screen, “DON’T YOU HAVE ANYTHING ELSE YOU WANT TO SAY TO ME?” I doubt it was scripted that way intentionally, but it felt like he was giving me the worst cold shoulder in the history of the world.

The fic title comes from the Civil Wars song of the same name. I read in an interview somewhere that the writer for Blackwall listened to them a bunch while writing him, and I find that song perfectly indicative of the sorry state of Thalia’s relationship with him.

[rainbow-hammock]

I’ve had this headworld that I’ve been poking at on and off for a few years now, I think. The past few weeks, though, I’ve really dedicated a lot of headspace to it and fleshed it out quite a bit. I’d love to do a comic someday, but I don’t think I’m quite ready for that...however, I’ve done enough that I’m just bursting to share it!!

I’m (tentatively) calling it “Jaca’s Haven”. Descriptions under the cut

#1: The main character, Jaca (”Jay-kuh”), a young female weasel. She was born completely deaf, and she’s a ward of a local Abbey. This particular Abbey is quite involved with its local tree rat tribe, and the tribe’s chief and one of the Abbey’s tree rat wards taught her sign language, though the creatures of the Abbey taught her to read lips. Anyway, she ends up wrapped up in this smuggling operation of sorts and on the run. She was originally strongly inspired by the Flitchaye tribes of Redwall (is anyone at all surprised?? No, I didn’t think so). 

#2: Jaca and Yaspar. Yaspar the ferret is the captain of a small merchant ship, but he ends up marooned on an island and runs into Jaca there. After accidentally scaring her and getting a nosebleed and then a twisted ankle for his troubles, Jaca decides to help him, but they keep losing each other in the forest. Eventually, Jaca ends up using her belt as an improvised leash and leads him through.

#3-5; Samson, one of Jaca’s closest friends. I’ve been focusing a lot on this particular character recently, but I never actually found a name for him until tonight!! Samson isn’t the name he was born with, but when he was taken in by the Abbey as a small child, it’s the name he was given, and that’s all he knows himself as now.

Samson is...well, quite honestly, he’s kind of the personification of that “they ask you how you are, and you just have to say you’re fine when you’re not really fine” meme. He’s just never felt like he truly belonged anywhere, and nearly everyone finds him to be stiff and aloof. There’s only a few creatures who have managed to get past his hard shell, Jaca being one of them. Samson takes her safety very seriously, but unintentionally ends up being the one who gets Jaca involved in the search for the elusive “Gullhaven”.

Samson grows up to become a lackey to the story’s main antagonist, Ryer (”RYE-er”, the cat in pic #4).  I haven’t figured out his exact motives or role yet, but regardless Ryer holds a lot of power in the town, and though he’s not a member of the Abbey’s order, he’s one of the main reasons why the Abbey has gotten so much in the local tribe’s business. He leads an elite group of creatures who help him to “keep order”, including Euan (”YEW-un”) the squirrel. Euan and Samson have quite the rivalry between them--they both ended up with notable facial scars during Samson’s tryouts, though scrappy Samson drew first blood, much to Euan’s chagrin. Samson’s only the second tree rat to be accepted amongst Ryer’s ranks--the one before him allegedly disappeared under mysterious circumstances. It’s an especially difficult lifestyle, as Samson ends up getting the short stick in virtually everything (largely thanks to Euan, who ranks much higher, and ignored by Ryer, who also encourages the rivalry), but he stays anyway for the resources and opportunities that it provides him.

#6-7: More rats! Comparisons of Samson, Dekko and Tomo. 

Dekko (aka Dex) is one of Yaspar’s crew. He’s one heavily tattooed string bean of a sailor. He lost his right paw recently and is still learning to adapt. There’s also Chief Tiatoma (though most call him Tomo), who leads the local tree rat tribe. He taught both Jaca and Samson sign language, and is constantly fighting what feels like a losing battle for the preservation of his tribe’s culture. He strongly disapproves of much of what the Abbey and Ryer are doing, and also fiercely cares for Jaca.

[lord-explosion-baku]

Opia Night 2

Vampire!Shinsou x reader

Warnings: alcohol mentions, mentions of blood, dumb mc, campy vampire bullshit, swearing

A/N: ahhhhh. okay. so. this was a tough write. I think I got stuck because i started taking myself too seriously and then i just started throwing words out left and right. this is very back and forth, no-goal-reached, bullshit. I mean, getting from point A to point B is r o u g h, bro. Im SO SORRY. I was trying to make this natural and it just AINT. she’s messy today and it’s fine. Gotta just post what we can when we can lmfao. SOO! I’m aware that this chapter isn’t good, but I do hope that you find it entertaining regardless! I promise Night 3 will be better!

(PLEASE DO NOT REPOST MY WORK ANYWHERE WITHOUT MY PERMISSION)

Night One

Night Two

You woke up to your phone buzzing next to your head on your pillow. Once, twice, and the third double-vibration made you realize that you were not going to be going back to sleep any time soon. Blinking at your window, you groaned at the flecks of dust that were lit up by the golden remnants of twilight. You’d slept most of your Friday away after slaving away on your school work Monday through Thursday. You tried telling yourself that you deserved the rest, but sleeping through sunlight has become habitual to you when you had nothing else going on. When you woke up from your coma, you would usually sleep some more. Usually.

The phone on your bed was alight with three unread messages, all saying something different, but with the same invitation handed out:

Kirishima(7:02): hey :)

Sero(7:07): you busy?

Kaminari(7:15): babe! partaaay tonite!!!! come over!

Again, you groaned.

The last night you’d spent over at their house was a complete disaster. You totally embarrassed yourself by screaming out of nowhere. Or so it seemed to have come out of nowhere to everyone else who heard you; what you thought you had witnessed went completely unnoticed to everyone at the last party. But to you, it was so vivid.

Purple-haired-couch-kid. Fangs. Blood.

You completely freaked and locked yourself in the bathroom. It took both Kirishima and Sero to coax you out after you battled the idea of calling the cops to their house. When you came out, there was a swarm of kids eyeing you like you were crazy. You asked to see Kodai. She appeared. She was unharmed: no blood, no marks, no recollection of any handsome boy who took a bite out of her wrist. Kamianri’s garage-sale couch had been occupied by no extremely handsome man, and there were no purple-haired people to be seen at the party afterwards.

It wasn’t something you could have imagined unless your drink had been spiked, but you thought you were pretty careful when it came to open containers! And besides, who’d want to spike your drink with hallucinogens. Getting you high could have been a prank or someone thinking they were doing the rest of the party-goers a favor, but to what you could tell, nobody else was seeing shit. So maybe you were crazy. Maybe there was no alluring voice speaking to you in your head, and your psyche had suddenly broken out of the damn blue. In the psychology class you took freshman year, you learned a lot about different mental illnesses that cause hallucinations and paranoia. Maybe you had to get yourself checked out.

Your phone buzzed again.

Kaminari: Kiri is gonna be real bummed if you don’t come :”(

Well, that was on him. You couldn’t really imagine why you would receive such a welcome invitation to another one of their parties after the big fuss you made. After you realized Kodai wasn’t in trouble, you stormed home; you lived close enough, so it was fine to leave your car there. You didn’t speak to anyone about what happened afterwards, so you were sure you’d be snubbed by your friends for at least a little bit. You figured that… if they wanted something else from you, maybe the rule of party fouls would be ignored.

You sighed, knowing that even though Kirishima definitely had a crush on you, he was still your friend and a great guy. You couldn’t think bitterly of him just because he might’ve wanted to kiss you on several occasions when you were just hanging out. You did sleep with him once, back in the day, but you both agreed to just be friends afterward. You were… kinda wild back then and didn’t like the idea of having a boyfriend. Kirishima tried to be understanding, but every now and then, you’d see him look at you with those sad, puppy-dog eyes.

There was a bleep! and you saw that you got a Snapchat notification from Sero. You pursed your lips and opened it to see a video of Kaminari singing your name, pushing Kirishima’s shoulder, and a chorus of several people making gross kissing noises at the two of them. You rolled your eyes and were about to close the video, but something—no, someone—in the background caught your eye.

You replayed the snap. There was singing, gross kissing noises, and him—right at the end of the video. He was only there for the last two seconds of the video, but those mesmerizing indigo eyes leering at the phone camera seemed to grab you by the throat.

You didn’t fucking imagine him. You didn’t fucking imagine him.

Sliding the screen to show the front-facing camera, you grimaced at your face. You rubbed the sleep out of your eyes and snapped a quick photo with the tag, ‘who is all there rn?’

Kaminari’s reply came instantly. It was another video of people hooting in the kitchen taking shots. Sero was sniffing at a rough-looking pineapple and Kaminari was yelling.

“Who is all here right now?!” Kaminari called and cheers came as a response. Kaminari turned the camera to face his grinning self. Kirishima was in the background checking his hair in the mirror. When he saw that the camera was in him, he flexed his arm, the dork. Then, Kamimari threw his arm around somebody, and pulled him into frame. You actually gasped.

“Why, the whole word is here, babe! Come overrrr!” Kaminari sang at you, but you weren’t paying any attention to him. Purple-haired-couch-kid was side-eyeing your drunken friend, but when he looked into the camera, he appeared to be amused. He wasn’t as dressed up as he was two weeks ago; he just had on a plane black T-shirt with the same ropey necklaces. The camera didn’t do his likeness any justice. The shadows under his eyes seemed to be much darker, and his skin was straight-up pale. Still, his gorgeous lavender eyes had you captivated. He was all you could see.

Purple-haired-guy’s ivory arm wrapped around Kaminari’s shoulder. He grinned, the whites of his teeth gleaming dangerously at the camera, squeezed Kaminari against him, and the video ended. You were too enamored to even thinking of taking a screenshot and you couldn’t replay the snap.

You cursed and covered your eyes with your pillow. You really were planning on sleeping the rest of the night away—maybe put on some cheesy soaps you could snicker at before zonking out. But now, it seemed, you didn’t have any choice but to go to the party. You had to see him.

A shower and a quick trip to the liquor store later and you were showing up to your friends’ rented domain with a six pack in hand. You entered without knocking. They never had the door locked; it was a constant open-invitation to ‘Denki’s Dank Crib’ as Kaminari wished people would call it.

You were immediately slapped in the face with human musk and you were glad to be wearing something more light: a white, chiffon top over your sunflower skirt with yellow, scrappy heels. It wasn’t everyday that you wanted to dress nicely, but as ridiculous as the concept was, if you did see the purple-haired-couch-kid… you wanted to look nice.

“Hey, you! Glad you could make it!” Strong arms pulled you into Kirishima’s hard chest. He smelled like sweat and old spice. He held you for two seconds too long, going so far as to rest his nose on the top of your head, before you pulled away, offering him a friendly smile. “Your conditioner smells nice!”

“Hah… thanks.” You grimaced.

“Oh, I’m sorry! That was really creepy! I’m sorry!” A slow blush bloomed on Kirishima’s cheeks. “I wasn’t trying to be weird. I might’ve had a few drinks already and I just… uh…”

Lending him a saving grace, you lifted the six pack up. “Care for another?”

“D’aww, you didn’t have to grab beer!” Kirishima grabbed the six pack from you. “I do love this stuff though! Thank you!”

“I couldn’t come here empty handed. It’s the least that I can do after what happened last time.” You started walking towards the kitchen, keeping an eye out for the purple guy or Kaminari.

“What happened last time?”

“You know,” you said while Kirishima cracked open a bottle, “when I had a freak out?”

“Freak out?” He offered you the bottle, but you shook your head. “What do you mean?”

You scanned the kitchen and saw only a few kids you didn’t know and Sero messing around with some frothy, yellow liquid in a beat-up blender. Looking to your right, you saw that there was nobody occupying Kaminari’s old loveseat. It wasn’t like you were expecting to see him there with what—Kaminari on his lap?—but it didn’t hurt to check.

“Like when I screamed and locked myself in the bathroom,” you said. “Then I left without saying goodbye.”

Kirishima’s brows crinkled. “I don’t remember you screaming or anything like that. You did leave a little suddenly, and I was bummed for like a minute, but that’s yesterday’s news. You’re here tonight!”

“Kiri, I was standing right next to you when I threw a fit. You don’t remember? You got me out of the bathroom.”

Kirishima shook his head. “Are you sure that was me?”

You were positive. You were definitely leaning on him, talking about how you didn’t need any boys, and Kirishima was warm like he always was when you touched him. You turned to look back at the couch and then you saw that purple guy bite Yui Kodai! Everyone heard you!

“You’re here!”

Sero zoomed towards you with two large cups of something in-hand. He gave you a bright smile and offered you one of the cups. “As soon as I heard you were heading over, I started making these! Piña coladas!”

“Oh…” you took the drink and gazed into the glass. It was yellow and mushy. Thinking back on your original theory—being drugged—you gave him a tight, closed-mouth grin. “What’s in it?”

“Uhh… Pineapple, coconut rum, and ice?” Seeing the unsure look on your face, Sero hastily added, “the pineapple was close to expiring, but I tasted it, and it’s still fine! Promise.”

“Did you even blend it right?” Kirishima asked, peering into your cup. “It looks like it’s breathing.”

“It’s not my fault our blender is janky!” Sero shot back. “I’m not the one who’s always making weird, keto-friendly protein shakes with, like, kale and shit added in every morning like some sort of psychopath.”

“It’s not crazy to be looking after my body. In fact, you could learn something from me!” Kirishima poked Sero in the ribs. “Skinny.”

“I’m not skinny,” Sero argued, flinching away. He lifted up his shirt to reveal his tight, well-kept abdomen. “I’m lean.” Sero smirked when he caught you staring.

“Alright, well, our girl only deserves the best service, and this ain’t it, chief.” Kirishima reaches to take the atrocity out of your hand, but seeing Sero’s dejected face, you pulled away.

“This is fine,” you promised warily. Beside yourself, you took a sip of Sero’s sloshy creation. You got a big chunk of pineapple in your mouth and chewed the rum out. The parts that weren’t chunks were all watery, like you were drinking straight rum. You forced yourself to smile. “It… tastes good at least.”

Sero was ecstatic. “Lovin’ your look, by the way. Yellow heels look good on you.”

Kirishima rolled his eyes and placed a hand on your back. “C’mon, you don’t have to be nice to him. Lemme make you something good in the kitchen.”

“Oh, wait, Sero. I wanted to apologize to you too!”

Sero raised a brow. “Apologize?”

“Yeah...” You turned your head from Sero to Kirishima, hoping for any sign of recognition. “For freaking out. Screaming. Locking myself in the bathroom. All those good things.”

“Oh,” Sero said. “Yeah, well, you’re forgiven.”

“So you remember!” You beamed.

Sero’s hand went to the back of his neck. “To be honest, I don’t remember a lot about the last party. I think Denki broke a table—“

“You helped him break the table,” Kirishima interjected.

“—aaand someone stole my good bong? That’s it. I’m sorry you had a bad time, though. Hopefully you’ll have more fun tonight! Kaminari bought a karaoke set. It’s got all the shitty songs they’re playing on the radio right now.”

“Where is Denki,” you asked, looking around. Damn it, if nobody remembered you screaming, at least you could count on Kaminari possibly getting the name of the kid who he had his arms around in that video he sent you.

“Off somewhere being a dumbass.” Sero waved his hand absently at the crowd of kids in the living room. “You wanna smoke? I just got a new bong and it hits pretty smoothly. Or maybe you wanna try karaoke? Though you would probably wanna get a couple drinks in before that, huh?”

“Ah, maybe later. I just gotta find Denki.”

“Why?” Kirishima asked suspiciously.

“I just gotta ask him something…” you pulled out your phone and dialed his number. It rang three times before getting to his raunchy voicemail. You scoffed.

“He could be up in his room,” Kirishima suggested.

“With a chick?” Asked Sero, amused. You made a face and Sero quickly corrected himself, saying, “I mean… with a nice lady?”

“Who’s to say.” You took a sip of Sero’s special beverage. It was gross, but you were here, and probably getting a little annoyed. You came out, so you might as well try to enjoy yourself.

“I’m sure he’ll come down eventually. If he really is with a girl, he’ll be down soon, and he’ll be hungry,” said Kirishima. “Hey, I’m gonna be ordering a pizza. Any topping preference? I was gonna get a few and wanted to make sure—oh, hey!! Bakugou!”

Your eyes followed Kirishima’s to see some grouchy-looking blonde kid coming in from the front door. You took advantage of both Sero and Kirishima greeting the guy with high-fives and fist-bumps, and made your way into the dining room where kids were playing a drinking game on a broken table.

You chatted a bit with a few kids you hadn’t met before, a girl whose name you forgot from the biology class you took last semester, and some guy who was so drunk you couldn’t comprehend a single mumble that rolled off his tongue. Nobody seemed to know where Kaminari was. Nobody seemed to have seen any boy with purple hair and an angelic face...

You scooted past three boys who were playing some stupid slapping game and into the living room. You sat down on the couch and checked in on your phone messages. It’s been two hours since Kaminari last texted you to come over. You thought about shooting him a text now, but—

‘Do you realize that all of the air in the room goes out when you walk in?’

You choked on air, as embarrassing as that was, and looked up, expecting to see someone who spoke to you. Nobody was paying you any mind for Kaminari's shitty couch, but you knew you heard that titillating voice, and it wasn’t because you were crazy.

‘Such a pretty little thing to be left all alone at a party. Did you lose your fan club?’

“Actually, I chose to sit here by myself,” you said aloud, minding the few people who actually turned to see you talking to yourself. You shrunk back into the couch and pretended to be taking a video of yourself.

‘Well, I’m sure. It’s a comfortable couch, afterall—better when shared.’

Oh, so this voice was a dirty, little thot. You clicked your tongue and texted Kaminari. ‘Hey, I’m here. Where are you?’

Kaminari(11:02): side yard.

Hopping up, you headed for the sliding patio door.

‘Eager to see your babe, babe?’

“Oh, shut up!” You hissed while walking outside and a girl watching a beer pong game frowned at you. You weren’t sure, you thought that you could hear a chuckle in the very far back-end of your head.

Kaminari was in the side yard, thank god. He was leaning against the house, staring absently at the side gate. He was alone, not on his phone or anything to keep him busy. He was just standing there.

“Hey, Kami!”

Kaminari barely turned his head towards you when he said, “hey...”

“I’ve been looking everywhere for you! What are you doing hiding away in the side yard?”

“‘m just chillin’. Waitin’ for my friend…”

“A friend?” You asked. “Kaminari, are you okay?”

“Of course,” Kaminari said, still staring at the side gate. “I’ve never been better… it’s a nice night…”

You stepped out in front of him. Kaminari didn’t meet your gaze; his yellow eyes were hazy and blank. You waved your hand in front of his face and he didn’t even react.

“Kami…”

“It’s a real nice night,” he repeated dreamily. “I‘m waiting for a friend...”

“What friend, Kami? Who are you waiting for?”

“Uhh… Dunno. He just left…”

“What does he look like?” You asked, growing impatient. Kaminari wasn’t the brightest, but he was never really this slow. There was something wrong with him.

“Hmmm… like the moon…”

“Denki.”

“...”

“I saw you near a kid with purple hair and a lot of jewelry in some of the snaps you sent, Kaminari. Do you know where I might be able to find him? He was at the last party too.”

“Yeah... That’s my friend…”

Thank god, thank god someone else knew who the hell you were talking about. “Do you know where he went?”

“To get a snack…” At that, Kaminari cracked a grin.

Fangs and blood flashed in your mind. You clenched your teeth together. If you remembered correctly, perhaps purple-haired-couch-kid’s idea of a snack wasn’t suitable for this party. You grabbed his wrist. “C’mon, let's go back inside. You need some water.”

But when you turned back to your house, you bumped right into what felt like a brick wall. But it wasn’t a brick wall. This barrier was a person whose ivory skin practically glowed an eerie white under the moonlight. This barrier was a person whose indigo eyes scanned you like a marauder finding his treasure. This barrier was a person whose flushed lips tugged up into a smirk when you shrieked.

Your stomach sank when he laughed at you after you leapt back and against Kaminari’s chest. Kaminari placed a gentle hand on your shoulder, as if he was trying to be reassuring, but his touch was too light and vacant to do much to calm you.

Goosebumps crawled up your skin when you took in couch-kid’s sudden appearance. You were mad at yourself for thinking that even though he was frightening in the dark, his sharp jawline was practically begging to be nibbled on.

Jesus, what the fuck was wrong with you?! You couldn’t be thinking about hooking up with strangers that bite while Denki was high and everyone else was forgetting shit! You shook your head and scowled.

“Sorry about that… didn’t mean to scare you.” Your heart did a little jump at hearing his voice for the first time. At least, you were pretty sure this was the first time you’d heard it. It did sound oddly familiar, but you couldn’t quite place it.  

Couch-kid held out his hand. For a second, you thought he was going to shake your hand, but then you saw that he was holding a wrapped cereal bar. Froot Loops. “Here you go, Denki.”

Kaminari’s arm snaked through the opening between your arm and waist to grab the treat. Your body nearly vibrated from being only just a couple inches away from Couch-kid’s finger tips. His arms were nice—white and long, but strong, with a few prominent veins running up them. Did he drink weird, keto-friendly protein shakes with kale and shit added in them like Kirishima? Why did you care?

“Oh man, thanks Shinsou. I was starting to get dizzy,” Kaminari said, unwrapping the sweet treat. You heard him crunching from behind you, and you don’t know why, but you were suddenly very irritated with his presence. You shouldn’t have been. There was obviously something going on with him and you should’ve been wanting to help him out, but then, you really wanted to be alone with Couch-kid. The thought just made you more agitated.

“Not a problem,” Couch-kid—Shinsou—purred. He didn’t look at Kaminari when he spoke; he was eyeing you.

“Shinsou,” you said, pulling at the hem of your skirt. Did he remember you? Did he think you were dumb for staring at him without saying anything for so long back at the last party?

“That’s me.” Shinsou grinned. This time, he took your hand, rather than offering his, and kissed the back of your wrist. You honestly would have swooned if you didn’t see him do the exact same thing to Yui Kodai just a short while ago. Still, his cool lips making contact with your skin made tiny electric currents shoot up from your arm, to your neck. You shuddered. “I don’t think we’ve officially met. It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

“The, uh… pleasure’s all mine?” That was what they said in the movies, right? Cheesy soaps, whomst? What a weird thing to say, anyways. Even still, as silly as that old-time greeting was, he could’ve easily said something as ridiculous as, ‘charmed, I’m sure,’ and you still wouldn’t have been able to muster out a bark of laughter like you would with literally anywhere else.

“Denki, didn’t you say you wanted to go sing some karaoke?” Shinsou asked, his eyes still on you.

“I did say that,” Kaminari said, taking another bite out of his cereal bar. “Karaoke sounds nice…” And without any ceremony, he started walking. Sliding past you, he made his way down the side of the house. Just like that?! He was going to leave you with a stranger?

You called, “wait! Kaminari... are you really okay? You were acting a little funky just a minute ago.”

“Mmm, yeah, I’m fine. I just really wanted cereal.” Kaminari wiggled the now empty bar wrapper in the air. “But Shinsou took very good care of me…” That faraway look returned to his eyes when he said, “I’ll catch you later, babe.” With that, he was gone, leaving you alone with a guy who simultaneously made the hair on the back of your neck stand up and your heart melt with a quirk of his brow.

Shinsou’s eyes scanned over you, up from where your hand was bunched up in your skirt, to your torso, your collar bones, your lips, then back down to your neck. Unease settled over you when his eyes finally met yours and you had to quickly look away. You wished that  you were anywhere else in the world. You also wished you could think of something, anything, to say to him, but asking about Kodai seemed to be so wrong to you, at the moment, and the last time either of you had interacted, you were about to hop into his lap!

Finally, you mustered, “do you know if he smoked anything? He really wasn’t acting like his usual self. I’m worried something might be wrong…”

“Not to my knowledge. He might’ve had a couple drinks though,” Shinsou said. There was another long pause, and you fought your brain to come up up a normal conversational topic, but Shinsou beat you to to the punch. “Is he your boyfriend?”  

“What? No!” You still couldn’t look him in the eye as you answered. You hoped that it was dark enough to be able to hide your flushing face. “He’s really just a friend.”

“He calls you ‘babe’, though.”

“Yeah, well, if you put a skirt on, I’m sure he’d call you babe too.” You shrugged. “He’s just a flirt.”

“You weren’t wearing a skirt at that last party,” Shinsou mused, which gave you a little rush. He remembered you. “And he still called you babe.”

You pressed your lips together to keep from smiling, but your humor rang out in your voice when you asked, “are you interested in him or something? Because I can go get him back for you, if you want. I’m pretty sure he dated a guy our sophomore year.”

Shinsou clicked his tongue, amused. “It’s not him I’m interested in. Not really my type.”

“Right, right,” you laughed, gaining more confidence. “Well, I haven’t seen Kodai here tonight, but I think I have her number saved. Would you like me to give her a ring? It’s the least I can do for you taking care of my poor, dumb not-boyfriend while I was away.”

You reached inside your purse to grab your phone. You really would have called her, but before you could even touch your phone, Shinsou’s fingers were wrapped around your wrist. You almost yelped. Shinsou’s fingers were much cooler than his lips were and it surprised you.

“I knew you were jealous,” he remarked darkly. Immediately, you yanked your arm free, but that only prompted him to grab your wrist from a newer angle. You narrowed in on him, ready to bite—he was someone you didn’t know grabbing you, so obviously you had every right to—but as soon as you gazed into his eyes, you were lost.

His pupils were abyssal; so dark that they appeared white. Looking at him, your body felt cool—numb almost. Beyond any control, your body relaxed which made you lose your tight grip of Sero’s shitty piña colada. You didn’t even care about the cold, sloshy mess splattering over your heels.

Shinsou backed you into the wall, his stare intense, his lips parted and amused. He planted his free hand on your arm and took his time running it up to your shoulder, your neck. The tips of his fingers lightly danced across your jugular, the pad of his thumb slowly running up and down the pulsing vein. He scrutinized you dangerously, daring you to move, to run, to scream for help. Not knowing whether you were scared or aroused, you let him touch you, though ‘let’ didn’t seem like the appropriate word. It was like you had no other choice. He wanted to study you, so he would, and you would not object. So naturally, when Shinsou slid his hand to the nape of your neck, you turned to grant him access to what you knew what he really wanted.

He first pressed his nose up against your skin and inhaled deeply. You shivered as he groaned, “I’ve been waiting for you for too damn long. My sanguine.”

When Shinsou’s lips pressed against your flesh, you melted. Every nerve-ending in your body set aflame; you were no closer to fleeing the scene than you were indulging in the sweet sensation that his kiss had to offer. His cool tongue traveled up your neck, sending waves of jubilant shivers down your spine. His fingers hooked around your shoulder as he deepened the kiss. You felt a tingling sensation warming up between your legs that was only a tiny bit eased when he lodged his knee between you. His hand slid down your back where he pulled you on to him more comfortably; held up by his thigh, his arm, and nothing more.

“Nhhh-“ you tried to object, like you should, like you knew you wanted to, but a carnal urge pulled at the strings of your willpower. Whether he kissed you, or killed you, you wouldn’t be able to deny him his satisfaction. You would give him, Shinsou, a stranger, anything he wanted at any given moment.

But when you heard your name called from inside, the spell was broken.  

You tensed. Shinsou’s lips froze against your skin. You felt his hands tighten around you protectively, possessively, and you knew you were in deep shit.

“Kiri,” you whispered despite wanting nothing more than to say another man’s name. Kirishima was looking for you and yet, here you were, in his side yard, with another boy. Perhaps you hadn’t changed as much as you originally thought you had.

“Don’t-!” Shinsou hissed when you tried to pull away. There was urgency in his voice, something unexpected from him. His eyes were desperate and hungry. Terrifying. It felt good knowing that he wanted to keep you, and that thought was more frightening than what you thought was his original intentions. Fingers slid their way to your waist, and Shinsou bowed his head, dipping in to kiss your lips, but before he could, your hand fell on his face.

It wasn’t a slap, no. You literally put your entire ass palm on his face to save yourself from a kiss you actually wanted.

“O-oh god!” You stuttered out. Beyond any responsible control, you shoved his head back. “I’m sorry!”

Finally freed, you bolted a good five feet away from him, back towards the house. Your assaulter gazed at you with surprise, sleepy eyes rounded in a sort of sincere, pitiful way, but you couldn’t let his dejection get to you. You swallowed harshly as you backed away from him and the wall, going against every fiber in your body telling you to stay put, to stay at his side, to let him satiate any and all needs that he had.

The thing is, you would have. Despite not being able to bark out the half-dozen questions you had for him (why do you bite people? Why can’t anybody remember you? Why do I think I can hear your voice in my head? Why the sudden smooches? What the fuck?) you would have stayed with him there, had you not heard your name called a second time.

“Leaving so soon?” Shinsou asked, gaining some composure, though as lax as he tried to make himself seem, there was an imperative note in his tone. “Don’t want to let your fan club down, I guess.” His voice was a shrug. “And here I thought you were going around asking about me.”

That was so excruciatingly embarrassing; being caught showing interest. Did he know how many people you spoke to? You wished you could wither up and blow away right then and there.

You glanced through the glass door to see Kirishima holding his phone up to your ear. A second later, your phone started buzzing. You ignored it.

“I guess I just wanted to know who you were, is all,” you said, a perfectly normal response. That was you: calm, cool, and collected—totally not willing to makeout with extremely hot strangers out of nowhere. “I haven’t seen you around before that last party…” which would be a perfectly fine segue into asking him why he bit Yui Kodai, if only you could will your body to ask!

“So you’re satisfied?”

“Uh-huh!” Not at all. Not at all. But that didn’t stop you from turning back towards the house.

‘Liar.’

Your body went cold. The voice rang too clearly to have been said aloud, but it was definitely his. In. Your. Head.

“What did you say?” You asked, turning back, trying to keep your tone steady. You didn’t know why, but you thought it would be bad if he heard your voice crack or squeak.

“I asked if you were satisfied. We barely got to converse and yet, you’re skittering away after making such a fuss about finding me. Why is that?”

“I’m not skittering away and—hey!” You put your hands on your hips. “You called me a liar just now, didn’t you?”

Shinsou placed his hands in his hips, mocking you. “I said no such thing!”

“Well, no, maybe you didn’t say it with your mouth…”

“What else would I have said it with? My hips?” He smirked. “Are you sure it wasn’t your own conscience calling you out?”

You scoffed. You couldn’t believe he was teasing you!” And what about your conscience?! Do you just go around attacking people’s necks out of nowhere like that as a hobby?!”

“Interesting choice of words,” he chuckled. “No, I wouldn’t say attacking people is a hobby, but more of a necessity. And I don’t usually go for the neck, either. I save that intimacy for victims who are a little more willing…”

‘Really, I wouldn’t want a single drop of you to run down your arms, anyways.’

“Willing?!” You started, incredulous. You pointed a shaking finger at him and continued with, “you really have a thing or two to learn about cons-!”

“Hey!” Kirishima was sliding the door to patio open. “I was looking for you! The pizza’s almost gone, but I saved you a couple slices.” He looked at you and registered the expression on your face. His eyes narrowed as he approached you. “Who are you talking to?”

But when Kirishima looked down the side yard, there was nobody there—just the slushy remains of your piña colada. He bent down to pick the cup up to see you shaken, wordless. “What happened?”

You could only shake your head. Because you didn’t know what happened—you didn’t know anything! Shinsou was there and now he wasn’t, and the more you tried to say anything on the matter, the more the words got stuck at the back of your throat.

“Hey,” Kirishima said, full of concern. He grabbed both of your trembling hands and wound his fingers through yours. That was intimate. Something sweet. Something that was supposed to be reassuring. What in the hell was supposed to be intimate about a guy you barely met narrowing in on your neck like that.

You sighed and allowed your head to fall against Kirishima’s chest. He wrapped his arms around you and held you close while that angry blonde kid, Bakugou, appeared at the doorway, munching on a slice of pizza (probably the last one.) He took one look at you, rolled his eyes, and walked away. Kirishima asked you what happened once more. You said, “I’d just really like to get home.”

“Let me walk with you,” Kirishima whispered. That would be pulling him away from his own party, but he didn’t seem to care about that. The world really needed more Kirishimas.

“Okay.”

Making your way through the house, you saw Kaminari in the living room slurring the lyrics to a lame song, Sero cheering him on while simultaneously recording every word, and Bakugou glaring out the front window. Kirishima quickly told Sero where the two of you were headed which made Sero form a tight line with his mouth. After seeing the stricken expression on your face, Sero seemed to ease up a bit.

Kirishima held your hand while he walked with you. He tried to make light conversation, attempting to get your mind off of whatever happened when you were alone in his side yard, but you couldn’t entertain him with idle chit chat. The entire walk home, you thought you felt somebody’s watchful gaze on you.

TAGS FOR EVERYTHING (CLOSED): @ayeputita @yandere-inamorata @dee-madwriter @unboundbnha @rizamendoza808, @lemonlordleah-shinzawa-kitten @rubycubix@smbody-stole-mycar-radio @zellllyyyy@sarcastictextstuck@kpanime @captain-sin-allmight-queen @psionicsnow@wickedlewicked @ghost-of-todoroki @kattariapenn@im-an-adult-sometimes @bnhya @local-senpai@eggpienutbuttercroissant@usernamekate94 @reyvenclaww @hi-ho-and-hello

[reversecreek]

pops hip n winks at the dash. haaaaiiii. me again. i’ve honestly missed playing lana fr a while she’s one of. my most treasured muses bc she’s jst a silly n vivacious ball of sunshine or alternatively? a train wreck depending on which way u turn her in the light..... i actually hv two playlists made fr her n one is rly old bt it’s more like. songs that Remind me of her which u can find here n then here is more like. stuff u’ll most often catch her blasting on her record player as she dances around in her underwear w the curtains open. OH and here is her pinterest 🍓⚡

* kristine froseth, cis female + she/her  | you know lana jameson, right? they’re twenty-three, and they’ve lived in irving for, like, a few hours? well, their spotify wrapped says they listened to play that funky music by wild cherry like, a million times this year, which makes sense ‘cause they’ve got that whole cherry red gym socks worn with nothing else, doodling penises in the condensation of a stranger’s car window, a bumper sticker on the back of a convertible cadillac that says ‘scrappy doo is a filthy slut’ thing going on. i just checked and their birthday is june 2nd, so they’re a gemini, which is unsurprising, all things considered. ( nai, 24, gmt, she/her  )

HISTORY:

lana grew up in a big house in albany, NY. i picture it w dark oak floors n lots of light furniture. albums framed on walls. mayb some rolling stone covers too frm way bk when of the bands her dad’s label signed. kind of like… a rock star palace w no evidence of children at all. i think i described it best in one of lana’s self paras once when i said the garden ws “as big as it was unloved”

lana’s mum victoria (vic) ws a music journalist w a pretty fruitful career ahead of her when she met lana’s dad richard (rich). his record label ws jst starting out, founded on the coattails of his wealthy best friend’s (jensen peters) investment w his other best friend (who he jst calls knoxville). it rocketed to success when they signed poppy injects, a rock band w an electric stage presence, n vic ws drawn to the glitz n glamour of a man tht ws at the helm of his aspiring industry. their love ws very impulsive, all or nothing right frm the start, n it ws almost like she ws mre in love w his accomplishments n what he represented than him.

(DRUGS TW) anyway so jameson records repped a few rock bands bk in the eighties, altho poppy injects r who they’re mostly known fr, namely bc of hw brightly they crashed n burned. they were a big chart success bt the lead singer hd quite an intense struggle w heroin (wsnt rly subtle abt it either while he ws in the public eye as u cn probably imagine frm such an on-the-nose band name) n he ws always in n out of the papers. it eventually brought down his career n it ws a big publicity nightmare

lana pretty much… grew up around figures like this throughout childhood. real characters who wld kind of… b extremely volatile n destructive abt their troubles. the jameson house was an open one as welcoming clients went n a lot of parties took place there. a lot of the time musicians wld b snorting lines in the kitchen when she wnted to grab a bowl of cereal fr breakfast n it was just. a very strange environment fr a child to grow up in. more zoo than home. more shaken snow globe than resting place. (END OF TW)

(ABORTION REFERENCE) her parents always kind of jst… didn’t like her much. her older brother caleb ws unplanned bt they sort of welcomed the surprise more bt… quickly realised they weren’t cut out fr parenthood n then when lana came as another surprise 3 yrs later they didn’t even try to hide their resentment abt the situation. her mum ws actually booked in to have an abortion bt cldnt go through with it at the last minute. once when lana ws a kid she asked her why she’s so cold towards her she jst turned her head frm her dresser, looked at her, told her abt this n said “idk why i didn’t go”. lana didn’t kno wht to say to tht so she jst left her room n closed the door (END OF REFERENCE)

(DISSOCIATION TW) bc of the intensity of her parents ignoring her growing up lana adopted this sense of like…. she didn’t rly kno what it ws bt it ws a delusion of sorts where she thought she ws a ghost bc she gt this strange outside feeling. she’d jst sort of… drift around the halls w no-one acknowledging her n sometimes she ws jst convinced she wsnt actually there or they cldnt see her n she ws jst haunting the house frm a previous family. (END OF TW) her imagination festered an explanation out of smthn she didn’t understand essentially. lana used her imagination to do this a lot growing up. it ws kind of like the band aid she slapped over everything. after all she wasn’t alone if she was sword fighting imaginary pirates dwn the hallway with a poker from the fireplace. 

the one saving grace tho tht sort of?? gt her thru this n made her feel Seen ws caleb. lana quite genuinely hs always thought the sun shines out of her older brothers ass like she jst thinks. he’s the best person in the entire world. wld b rly bewildered if anyone questioned tht. he wld always look out for her n cut the crusts off her sandwiches (he’d cook fr them most of the time bc their parents were too busy/didn’t care to) n sometimes wld even sleep at the bottom of her bed curled up like a guard dog. it ws always lana n caleb n his best friend tommy against the world in tht house (tommy lived next door bt was always over bc he had very strict parents tht he found suffocating)

(ARMY MENTION) SO when tommy announced tht he’d signed up to the army (bc of pressures from tommy’s military dad to fulfil some kind of stupid “legacy” tommy didn’t even care abt) n caleb said he was going with him lana ws understandably…….. completely blindsided. she ws rly upset tht they were leaving n was kind of like “wtf why are u doing this like what do u even think this is gna solve” etc n begged caleb not to leave her there on her own n jst to not sign up in general bc tommy had to bt he didn’t listen. 

ERM i won’t go into it but it didn’t turn out well as u can probably imagine bc the army is a terrible industry n caleb had to return home without tommy. he wasn’t the same after that. (END OF MENTION)

what’d been a rly close relationship before where he ws basically like a surrogate father figure to lana was Not there any more. he ws rly withdrawn n always pushing her away n snapping at her for the sake of getting her to leave him alone. on top of this lana had a lot of shit go down while he was away n rly just shouldn’t have been a kid alone in tht house. regardless lana thought if she kept grinning as wide as she cld she’d convince caleb to join in too. maybe if she seemed fine n happy he’d take the lead. maybe she’d believe it too n start to feel it n everything could go bk to how it was before her world became so different. lana liked the way the sky flipped when she tipped her head back on the swings bt this was different. everything was upside down bt this didn’t make her belly feel like she’d swallowed a butterfly and it wasn’t funny bt still, she kept laughing. always desperate to find something to laugh at n if she couldn’t find it she invented it. as long as ur laughing the world can’t b that bad.

she ws always well liked in school bc she jst tended to treat everyone like they were bffs no matter who like u cld have literally bumped shoulders w her once in the corridor n she’d be like OMG HAIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII let’s kiss<3 n like she ws a huge notorious flirt w any n all as well as incredibly impulsive n jst. wild honestly to put it simply too bt things like. changed a bit frm 16 onwards. (HYPERSEXUALITY & IMPLIED TRAUMA TW) she jst became far more reckless honestly n like....... jst didn’t rly seem to care after a certain point abt herself too much.... got herself in a bunch of bad situations.......... kind of jst flung herself to the wolves numerous times without any caution abt the way they’d bite. formed a lot of self destructive habits one of which ws cruising craigslist personals fr random hook-ups n like. she literally cld have wound up in a ditch somewhere honestly it’s a shock she hasn’t. despite various dips n inclines in her journey navigating this side of her it’s very much still present in her life to this day n she struggles to kno hw to control herself at points. sometimes she feels like a melting candle tht needs moulding by thumbs until it can form a person again. sometimes she’s only sure she’s real when she’s being touched. (END OF TW)

ANYWAY. laughs nervously. went to college to study dance bc she’s always loved dance in general bt specifically ballet (despite definitely not hving the discipline for it) n honestly this was both good n bad fr her. had a whole string of terrible heartbreaking relationships bc she tends to fall into those hard n fast n they were w a lot of bad people fr like 98% of the time. she kind of learned more abt what love is during her time there tho which is a gd thing bt she still isn’t very good at knowing hw to believe she deserves it so it’s a process. she hd fun tho. threw 498572598475 outrageous n elaborately themed parties. ws friends w pretty much everyone on campus. 

despite a strained relationship w her brother n having to go home to visit n check on him whenever he got rly bad it ws the first time it actually felt like she’d found a home in a lot of rly loving n genuine friendships n lana will never forget hw much that experience meant to her even if she definitely struggled there too. college felt like a place she belonged n then suddenly she couldn’t belong there any more n there was a big sense of floundering in that. like where do u go now when u’ve never known home elsewhere? how do u happily go out into the world if it means leaving ur world behind?

she applied to a dance company in LA n fell in w a pretentious art scene there full of wannabe andy warhols n the like. became a makeshift edie sedgwick to some guy w dyed white hair n the idea his every concept was revolutionary when rly he jst shot her dancing barely clothed splashing around in a random fountain in his friend’s mansion on an ancient film camera. she’d spend her days floating around on lilo’s and prancing in feather boas and racing with glitter leftover frm last night in her leotard w smudges of faint red lipstick to barely make her job on time. always a sexy train wreck bt this time? make it hollywood. 

(IMPLIED ALCOHOLISM TW) i won’t lie to u lana hs always partied way too hard bt then partying way too hard turned into slurping merlot thru a crazy straw shaped like a flamingo at 4 in the afternoon wearing penis novelty sunglasses n it wasn’t quite so much of a party when u were doing it on ur own. this rly snowballed into place in college bt carried on n wound up getting her fired from the dance company bc she turned up to rehearsals drunk one too many times n they didn’t allow fr sloppiness like tht. it was a “professional operation” that didn’t “accept that kind of behaviour” bt lana was jst like ummmmmmmmm that’s totally dramatic btw way to spank me in the town square like i’m gale w a raw ass n back in the hunger games bt ok sure i’m out ig. BOOP! (literally booped the director on the nose before leaving) (END OF TW)

honestly hd no idea what to do w herself after her job fell thru in LA n was pretty embarrassed actually upon sobering up the nxt day. cldn’t bring herself to tell her friends for a hot minute bc she felt like a failure or smthn n she was meant to be living this glamorous life out there being the classic wild n silly n fun Lana Jameson. cldn’t figure out how to repackage it into a funny story tht wouldn’t worry ppl. eventually wound up jst caving n telling her closest besties (shoutout freya n rosa) bc she ws hving a weird time dating losers n randomly living in LA even tho she didn’t kno why she was there any more after losing the job n they were jst like. fk it then. jst come here. we’re in irving. and so? mizz jameson packed her bags....

PERSONALITY:

always smells vaguely of wild cherries or strawberry starburst or jst the candy aisle in general. if she ws a vinyl record she’d b this one n she’d only play good vibrations by the beach boys, dancing on my own by robyn, play that funky music by wild cherry, femme fatale by the velvet underground n (i can’t get no) satisfaction by the rolling stones

the jameson family r pretty well off n bc of her relation to such a big music industry figure she’s hung out w a fair few relatively high rep ppl thru her teens. mostly kids of celebrities n stuff like tht. she amassed a bit of an instagram following #nepotism bt also fr her style (v penny lane-esque in some aspects. lots of fur cuff trimmed jackets bt then also jst…. a wild combination of everything honestly. pastel faux fur coats, seventies style platforms, bright red cowboy boots, pink fishnet tights, holographic stickers of planets on her cheek n glitter used like highlight, 90% of the time a red lip) n bc she’s not gna make ur eyes bleed to look at or anything let’s b real

growing up lana was always a huge social butterfly. knew everyone n everyone knew her. she ws one of those girls tht ws kind of impossible to ignore or forget. very animated, always made u feel like u were the centre of the universe whenever she spoke to u, always made it feel like u were best friends even if ud only spoken to her once.

deliberately puts on tht kind of Magnetic Alluring Act tht femme fatales wear in movies w most ppl. kind of…. is always playing A Role of the person tht she wants to b seen as. hates being sad n always wnts to be happy / making ppl happy. chameleons to situations. feels like she’s performed as the vivacious n fun loving Lana Jameson fr so long tht she doesn’t rly kno who she is beneath tht bt she isn’t too keen to find out. sometimes gets glimpses n feels the urge to close her eyes.

she’s always been rly spontaneous n adventurous. always doing something weird n wild every weekend. she has ten thousand ridiculously absurd n chaotic stories. she’s like oh ya this one time this guy made me ride him with a daddy saddle like i was woody and he was bullseye. he literally made me call him bullseye. or she’s like. oh ya once i had to run barefoot thru a cabbage patch bc this one farmer wanted to have a threeway w me n my friend tht we met off craigslist n every framed photo in his house was a pig dressed up in cosplay bt honestly they were kind of cute n he was sexy aside frm the murderous vibes n the fact he kept calling me babe which i’m pretty sure means he wanted to dress me up next bt like whatever honestly.... she tells jst the most batshit stuff n the person she’s telling it to is left blinking like. wtf.

uncontrollably flirty. insanely confident. cld make a joke out a paper bag n will try. she tends to laugh when she feels like crying n has a smile brighter than a ray of texas sunshine.

likes to roller skate n hs a red pair she’ll glide around in at night lit up by amber street lamps breath sticky w the taste of wine n lollipops probably heading to a random hookups. who needs ubers?

always dapples her fingers thru the breeze when she’s driving in a car w the window down. honestly likes dangling her whole body halfway out too. she almost always has some sort of sweet on her, whether it’s sour haribo cherries or strawberry lollipops.

luvs bowie (ONLY aesthetically) n prince (wholeheartedly) n madonna (completely) n anyone tht’s a vintage style icon w little care fr what ppl think.

daisies n poppies r her fav flowers bc daisies r wild n overlooked n poppies r the first thing u look at in a green field. she’s had like 8472493874 ‘relationships’ n none of them hav lasted beyond a month / hav been terrible / hav seen her being treated badly / she’s cheated on them. honestly it’s like a burning train wreck but u can’t quite tear ur eyes away. often the heart of many sordid gossip scandals.

PLOTS:

TBA bc she’s only jst arrived in town i won’t lie to u all but i’m gna whip things up on here anyway n link in chat w updates at some point........ that said? lana is insatiable n it isn’t rly unlikely tht she cld’ve bumped into ur muse in a grocery store aisle n somehow a wild spontaneous adventure spawned frm that alone.......... if u have any immediate ideas we can discuss 😋

[the-badger-mole]

Happy Birthday

"I'm bored!" Toph complained. "Why do I even have to be here?" Katara rolled her eyes as she rubbed her distended belly. The young heir in her womb was in a mood today. 

You are your father's child, she thought as a tiny foot connected with her kidney. She turned to Toph and smirked.

 "You're here because my husband is paranoid, and Uncle wasn't able to get here before Zuko left."

 "But you're so boring!" Toph groaned. "You can't even spar with me because of that kid!”

"You mean your little niece or nephew?" Katara winced as her baby kicked her again.  She ran her hand over her stomach. "Settle down in there."

 "What's wrong with you?" Toph asked. She frowned as she turned towards Katara. "Are you hurt?"

"The baby is kicking today," Katara explained. "Hard." 

“I can't understand why you would willingly put yourself through this," Toph scoffed. "What's the upside? After the kid is born, it's all long nights and stinky diapers." Katara waddled across the room and lowered herself carefully onto the sofa beside Toph. 

"Well, I've always wanted kids," she said. "I've had enough experience delivering them to know what I'm getting myself into. Plus there's the whole line of succession thing."

“I would have let the monarchy end with Zuko and made the Fire Nation vote for their next leader." Toph folded her arms across her chest. At nineteen, she was absolutely certain she would never experience the maternal urges her friend had apparently harbored since she was old enough to understand the concept of motherhood. Katara just threw her head back and laughed.

"That's not a terrible idea," Katara chortled. "I'll run it by Zuko when he gets home. But I would still want to have his babies regardless." Toph shuddered in disgust.

The few men she had dated in her life were fun while they lasted, but she hadn't regretted the end of any of those relationships. She certainly wouldn't want to be tied to any of them by a child.

"If you say so, Fire Lady Sweetness." She stretched her arms over her head and leaned towards Katara curiously. "When are you due?" Katara reached around and rubbed the base of her spine, suppressing another groan.

 "About four weeks," she said. "That's why Zuko asked Aang to take him. He wants to get back from Ba Sing Se as quickly as possible."

“And why did I get stuck babysitting, again?" Toph asked. Katara grabbed a cushion and threw it at her friend she missed by a lot, but it didn't matter.

 "Stop whining!" she chided jokingly. "You know you missed m-eeeoooow!" Katara doubled over in pain. In an instant, Toph was at her side, all business and worry.

"What's wrong?" she asked frantically. "Are you okay? Is the baby okay?"

 "I'm fine!" Katara waved her off. "It’s been going on for a couple of days now. This happens when you get close to birth. Your body has practice contractions sometimes." Toph frowned at her unconvinced. 

"I am never having kids," she swore. 

"It's definitely not for everyone."   Katara chuckled. Then she let out another low groan."

"Are you sure you're okay?" Toph asked. Katara nodded and pulled herself off of the sofa. Sitting was too uncomfortable at the moment.

"I'm fine," she reassured her friend. Then she doubled over and let out a sound that reminded Toph of the lowing of a goat-cow.

“You do not sound okay!" Toph jumped up and tried to guide her friend back to the sofa to lie down. "Katara, you're scaring me!"

“I'm oka-oh no!" Toph heard the sound of something splashing on the ground. She frowned. She hadn't heard a glass tumble over.

“What?" she gasped. "What happened? Katara, what's going on?" There was a silence long enough for panic to settle over Toph before she heard a reply.

“Um...my...my water just broke," Katara said quietly. Toph's brow furrowed in confusion even as relief settled over her. 

"Okay...” Toph said. “So we'll have someone bring you another."

"No, Toph," Katara took a deep breath, and Toph thought it sounded like she was trying not to cry. "I mean the baby is coming. Now." 

 "WHAT?" Toph shrieked. She clamped onto Katara's arm, unsure of what she needed to do. Normally, when something like this happened, she would turn to Katara. But who did Katara turn to when she was the one who needed help?

”ZUKO! Toph called. "ZUKO!!!"

"Toph, he is thousands of miles away," Katara reminded her. "He can't hear you."

“You're having his baby!" Toph said frantically. "He has to hear me!" 

In spite of herself, Katara actually laughed a bit before she was cut off by another contraction

"Have someone send for a physician," she instructed Toph. "And then tell a servant I need someone to take me to my room." Toph nodded, glad to have some direction.

"Right!" she breathed. "Got it. Tell...someone to come help." She turned and ran off before Katara could say anything else. 

Fortunately, the entire palace was on alert for this. The Fire Lady was giving birth to the heir to the Fire Nation, after all. There was a well practiced protocol in place. Before long, the physician followed by a couple of the palace staff had arrived with a rolling bed and were loading Katara on to it. Toph breathed a sigh of relief that her friend was in the hands of people who actually knew what they were doing.

"Wait!" Katara cried as they began to wheel her off. She reached back for Toph. "Aren't you coming?" Toph shook her head.

"What do I know about childbirth?" she asked. "You'll be better off without me." Katara shook her head.

"Zuko isn't here," pain and pleading mingled in her voice. "I need you!" Toph shook her head.

“I'm no good with stuff like this!"[

"Please, Toph!" Katara begged. That shook Toph to her core. Katara didn't beg. "Please, Toph. I'm scared! I can't do this alone!"

That did it. Toph straightened her shoulders and went to take her friend's hand. 

"Fine," she grumbled. "I'll go with you. But you had better not splash anything gross on my feet!"

At first, Toph found the whole birth process a bit anti-climactic. After all the drama of Katara's water breaking and her contraction pains, the kid was still not ready to come out.

Toph sat dutifully at Katara's bedside, cracking jokes and keeping her water glass filled. After a while, she began to wonder if Katara was even in labor after all, but the periodic groans of pain testified that she was.

"At this rate, Zuko will be home before this kid is born," Toph said. Katara sighed as she froze a bit of water to chew on.

 "Spirits, I hope so," she sighed. "I'm glad you're with me, but I really, really want Zuko here right now."

 "I'll try not to take offense," Toph deadpanned.  The truth was, though,Toph was sure that Katara couldn't be wishing harder than she was that Zuko would miraculously show up ahead of schedule. He'd only be a day or two early, after all...

"Ooooooooooh!" Katara groaned. That was happening more frequently, Toph noted. The physician and her assistants began fluttering around the room with more urgency.

"What's going on?" Toph asked nervously. 

"The baby's coming," Katara told her. She was trying to keep her breathing steady, but Toph could feel Katara's pulse quickening.

"The baby's been coming for four hours now!" Toph couldn't keep the complaint completely out of her voice. Childbirth was boring!

“No, Toph," Katara grabbed Toph's hand and squeezed. Hard. "It's time." 

"Ow!" Toph tried to pry her fingers free, but Katara's grip was vice-like. 

"I can't do this!" Katara sobbed through the contraction. "I can't do this. I need Zuko here!"

"He's too far away!" Toph reminded her. "I had someone send word, but I don't think it'll get to him in time." Katara shook her head vigorously.

 "I'll wait!" she declared. "I can't have this baby without him!"

Toph balked, momentarily distracted from Katara's grip on her hand. She had never seen Katara so...so...frightened. This was the same woman who had ended a century-long war and defeated the prodigy fire-bender princess of the Fire Nation. The same woman who had decided to move across the world and faced the impertinence of the Fire Nation's snobbiest royals in order to be with the man she loved. And she had reigned benevolently and wisely over those same snobs for two years! She couldn't do this without her husband?

"So, what's the plan here, Sugar Queen?" Toph demanded. "Just postpone giving birth? I'm pretty sure that's not how this works!" She tilted her head towards the physician for confirmation. The older woman nodded her head. In spite of the pain of Katara's grip on her hand, Toph smirked to herself. There was nothing to this child birthing stuff.

"I don't care!" Katara sobbed, squeezing her knees shut. "I have to wait for Zuko! We are supposed to do this together!"  Toph suppressed a groan.

 "I'm sure he's going to be sad he missed this, but Katara, you're having a baby!"

"I'm a healer!" Katara snapped. "I can hold this baby in until my husband gets home!" 

At any other time, Toph would have made fun of Katara's stubbornness, but she had been at Katara's bedside for hours, her hand hurt and she really, really needed to go to the bathroom!

"Your majesty, I'm afraid that might hurt the baby," the physician said, bowing and scraping as if Katara wasn't just the scrappy daughter of a barely noble family from the frozen south. Katara had experienced more in her nearly twenty-two years than this namby-pamby doctor had in all her life. Toph gritted her teeth until she was sure one of them had cracked. The physician was going to be useless here.

“Katara, stop being a brat!" Toph ordered. "You always have to have everything your way! Well, guess what? Zuko isn't here and you are having this thing whether you're ready or not!”

"Is that...supposed to be...be comforting?" Katara gasped.

"It's supposed to be accurate!" Toph snorted. "Look, you have two options. You can either put on your big girl pants and let this happen naturally, or you can be a bigger baby than the one you're pushing out of your white lotus, and make this harder than it has to be. Either way, that baby is coming out! So, what are you gonna do, Sugar Queen?"

Katara, still crying softly, slowly let her legs fall open. The physician let out a sigh of relief and went to work.

Toph had been blind from birth, but she had never really regretted not having that sense. Sure, she had no concept of colors, and she would never really be able to see the smiles of her loved ones, but she had been just fine without that stuff. This, though...this  was the first time she had ever been glad not to be able to see. As long as she lived, Toph knew she would never be able to forget the traumatic sounds of Katara’s agonized screaming. She would never forget the pain of the bone crushing grip on her hand. And she would never ever forget the fear she felt witnessing Katara go through what Toph knew had killed so many women before them. The birth of the heir of the Fire Nation throne was possibly the worst thing Toph had ever experienced.

After what felt like an age, the sounds of Katara's screams were replaced by the wailing of a baby. Katara finally released Toph's hand, and before the gore and viscera had even been cleaned from the tiny body, Katara had pulled her daughter into her arms and cooed as if she had never experienced a moment's pain in her life. Toph shook her head. She would never understand this part of the human experience.After a bit, the physician carefully pried the baby girl from Katara's arms so both mother and child could be cleaned up. It was done quickly and soon, the baby was returned to Katara.

"You did good, Sugar Queen," Toph sighed. Katara turned in her direction, and Toph knew she was smiling.

 "You did good, too, Auntie Toph." Katara reached out and took Toph's hand, gently this time. "Thank you."

“Welcome," Toph grumbled, extracting her hand. She wasn't quite ready to forgive Katara for that just yet. Katara just laughed, sounding tired, but happy. 

"What's her name?" Toph asked quietly.

"I'm going to wait for Zuko to get back so we can decide together," Katara told her. She shifted a bit towards Toph. "Do you want to hold her?"

Toph started to say no, but Katara had already guided her hand under the infant princess' head. She waited until Toph had a firm grip before pulling back.

Toph had been blind since birth, but she never really regretted not having that sense. Not really. She had been able to compensate in other ways. She would never know what her little niece's eyes looked like. Toph would never understand what it meant that the baby took after her mother's skin tone,  and had her father's smile, but she knew that few people would understand what it was to know what the baby's heartbeat felt like or truly understand the soft warmth of the baby's skin. Toph would never forget the awfulness of witnessing the baby's birth, but it paled in comparison to the memory of holding the first child she would ever love for the first time.

Part 1, Part 2

[excellentexecution]

@niccolahiromithomas​ asked: Niccola looks down at Brianna, who wiggles and coos up at her with big blue eyes and a head full of wild raven curls. She was a chubby ball of joy for a 3 month old. "Are you sure you will be able to handle Bria and Logan on your own? Your Mum said she had no problem coming to grab Logan to have a Mhamo-and-Garmhac day. Logan loves helping her out in the garden." 

The Irishwoman was looking a bit frazzled herself, hence why she was being sent off for a spa day. Her curls were fuzzy and tangled, her skin a bit broken out, and sweats and a tank had became her new fashion statement since bringing their daughter into the world. 

Hearing his name, the young kindergartener came over to his Mum's side, giving her shoulder a comforting pat. "I promise I'll be extra good for Papa. You look really tired, Mum. You work hard. You deserve a play day like you do for me! Isn't that right, Papa?" the brown eyed boy concluded, looking up to his father for confirmation.

Children asks meme. 

She was looking more and more like her mother with every passing day. Face shaped like Niccola’s, round and curved; Brianna’s nose was just about the only part of her that resembled Bret at all. Prominent but still so pretty, too beautiful was that baby to have come from someone as scrappy as the Hitman. A fact that he knew and spoke about well. A declaration that he told everyone when given the chance, the midwife after the homebirth went without issue and his extended family thereafter. No longer was there strength to stay away. Not from his wife and children, from the home that was so filled with love, a career could wait. Would steady itself and make use of others instead - a series of inchoate stories redesigned into something better than before - a champion needed freedom. Asked for peace of both the mind and the body. Promised to repay the generosity when able, when returned to and healed, McMahon had been kind to Bret. Saw the urgency that surrounded, devotion that colored his eyes unlike any passion prior. Considered sacrifices already done as good. Respectable, honorable, 2 days off turned into 3. Calgary would be a heaven seen soon. 

Watchful as she went about their bedroom, Bret couldn’t have agreed more with the smaller version of himself when it came to Niccola. Older and smarter than anyone else from his years, Logan wasn’t raised a fool. Untamed hair was knotted into thick bunches around his mother’s head. Lines underneath her eyes signaled lack of sleep and stress. Troubles that decorated her expressions even if she was pleased, she needed a break. Quiet that didn’t involve the burdens of parenthood. Selfish pleasures for herself and none else, fatherhood could, and would, relieve the pressures with gentle force. Scoot outside of the home the maker of it. Send Niccola and her belongings toward the local spa - the best who would take care of her. Pamper her in everything that they had, creams and facial lotions whose names weren’t known. Brushes for the curls and polish for the fingernails - expensive brands but trusted ones. Prices that were paid regardless. Relaxation that was wanted for her just as much needed, Niccola had an appointment to go to. 

Bending himself downward, Bret placed a kiss upon Brianna’s cheek, her frame too little for the bed but herself determined as ever to explore every inch. Beside her mother and brother on the comforter, Logan given his own affection as well, his father’s thumb running along his jawline, delicate motions. Niccola never to be ignored, Bret pressed his lips upon her own. A most gentle and certain kiss. A piece of himself for those he loved above his own life. 

“That’s right, my boy. Mom does a lot for us and our family. She deserves a little time to herself.”

Standing no more but rather having taken his own seat, he smiled toward his Niccola, “It’ll be alright. You have no reason to worry. You need to get out of the house. You’ve been locked up inside of it for so long, and I could use some alone time with the kids anyways. We haven’t hung out together in ages. Before I know it, Logan’s gonna be growing a beard and Brianna’s gonna be driving. We need this. The both of us.”

“I want you to go and enjoy yourself, baby. Take however long you need and don’t feel like you have to rush back. We’ll be here waiting for you.”