#valor punk

[mysticlillybett]

Missed yesterday so this post's a twofer!

Day 7: At Work with Corvo! Sketched not coloured since I missed the day.

Day 8: Different Genre with Noir detective Tommy and his rebellious ward Benji!

[endy-x]

JAYCE!

Have you seen him?

Now you have!

Watch ValorPunk

I am so happy with this and hes so pretty and magical

[bombardin]

Day 10: Fairies Benji lived in Av long enough to know you don't take offerings from fairies, especially not these two

[fairyfantasma]

fav characters pt. 2

non-book characters

aka tv show, video game, or movie characters (with the exception of percy jackson cause i said so)

i feel like this says so much about me... also i feel like im missing some ppl but you get the point 🤭

lmk who some of your fav characters are 🙏

[redswaberkez]

what are they playin??!?!?

Reyna on vocals and viper on drums but you cant see them

[swiftyangx12]

🕷️The Adventures of Agent Arachnis!🕸️

[Ep. 2: Mission After Mission]

[Valorant x Marvel]

[Synopsis]: Being a Valorant agent is a tough job to defend Alpha Earth while having a side hustle in a society filled with other Spider-people.

[Gender Neutral]

[TW]: Violence, Arachnis having a rant towards the end, not good at writing Hobie’s dialogues (please, I need help with this.)

[(A/N)]: Arachnis is the call sign for [Y/N]. I think I got readers confused if this is an OC or something, but I’m thinking of creating a Spidersona of sorts based on the name.

[Earth 2020-6-2-B]

[Location: PEARL, 11:55 p.m.]

[Brimstone assigned Arachnis on a nightly stealth mission to retrieve some classified intel at a hideout where some of the Omega agents are resided in.]

Arachnis: *Silently crawls past the guarding Omega agents and leaps off from structure to structure silently*

[While the Spider Radiant was scouting out, avoiding attraction, some other spiders came along.]

Miles: Guys, this is a bad idea. What if they catch us?

Gwen: They won’t. We’ll just stay far away and watch.

Pavitr: Has anyone ever ask what they usually do on this Earth?

Hobie: Could ‘ave ask their friends when visitin’.

Pavitr: Guys, look. *Points at a distance where Arachnis jumps down from a building*

[The four rush over and sneakily lean over the edge of the roof. The gang watch Arachnis snatch every agents up and traps them in their webbing. Except one escaped and the VP agent senses this, charges at the escapee like a predator and pounces on them.]

Arachnis: *Bares out their fangs and bites on the Omega!Harbor injecting their venom*

Omega!Harbor: *Coughs heavily and faints, dying for good*

Spider Gang: *Gasps in horror*

Pavitr: No wonder they keep the mask on.

Hobie: Deceased after fainting. That’s brutal.

Miles: We should go back before they catch us.

《🕷️》

[Earth 928, Spider Society HQ, Spider Cafeteria]

[Everyone was silent, processing what they witness back on Earth 2020-6-2-B.]

Arachnis: Hey everyone!

Spider Gang: *Jumped up a little*

Arachnis: Is everything okay?

Miles: Yeah, yeah! We are just thinking about today’s mission debriefing. *Smiles nervously*

Arachnis: Uh huh. Anything good happened yesterday?

Gwen: Oh, uh…We played band while you were away.

Arachnis: That sounds fun. Anything else happened?

Pavitr: Oh! Just played some songs.

[Silence surrounded everyone until Arachnis breaks up the awkward atmosphere.]

Arachnis: Guys, I know you followed me during my last night’s mission.

[The young Spider kids shrink down to their seats of fear. Except for Hobie, who just shrugs.]

Arachnis: What were you thinking? Those enemies have guns ready to shoot down anything they see as a threat.

Pavitr: Sorry, Mr./Ms./Mx. [L/N]. We just want to see what you do outside of HQ.

Arachnis: You could’ve ask Miguel. I report everything to him since my universe doesn’t have The Lizard, Electro or anything yet they keep coming in.

Gwen: He wouldn’t tell us much.

Miles: *Nods in agreement*

Arachnis: *Sighs* Then I’ll tell you some snippets during my courses. Just please, don’t follow me like that again.

《🕷️》

[Earth 2020-6-2-B]

[Location: LOTUS, 12:45 a.m.]

[Spider-Man 2099 and Arachnis arrived through the portal and then the Spider Radiant realized too late where the anomaly is located.]

Arachnis: Oh no no no no! Miguel, we’re on enemy territory.

Spider-Man 2099: I know. That’s why I need you on this mission.

Arachnis: This is bad. We’re on Omega Earth and they have the Valorant League. Not VP.

Spider-Man 2099: Would you stop freaking out?

Arachnis: Asshole, I have the right to be. We’re on uncharted territory and it’s only us here. No backup.

Spider-Man 2099: You experienced this before.

Arachnis: Yeah, and now I need to kill them if they see us.

[While the two were bickering, Arachnis’ Spider Senses triggered and they pull out their Spectre aiming at a direction.]

Arachnis: *In defense mode* Get behind me, O’Hara.

Spider-Man 2099: I can handle this myself.

Arachnis: *Glares at him* O’Hara, you’re not familiar with Omega Earth nor my home world to the extent of having knowledge of its history, so stay behind me. That’s my order.

Spider-Man 2099: *Glares back at them and comply* Lead the way.

[As Arachnis cautiously strides toward the corner of a building, waiting for something to come out, their senses were triggered again and yelled out.]

Arachnis: Miguel, watch out! *Push away him away*

[Bombs detonated in front of the VP agent and poison exploded around the two spiders.]

Arachnis: *Coughing violently* This isn’t Viper’s toxins…

Spider-Man 2099: I told you I can handle this.

[A maniacal laugh erupted the air, catching the two spiders’ attentions. Something flew in front of their view.]

Hobgoblin: You can’t stop me!

Arachnis: *Shoots at the anomaly’s hovering craft*

Hobgoblin: *Dodges the flying bullets*

Arachnis: Fuck, that green asshole is wasting my ammo.

Spider-Man 2099: *Shoots his neon web at the craft and hoist himself at the goblin*

[Arachnis watch the two brawl out and without anyone realizing, they crashes into the body of water next to the map.]

Arachnis: Oh! Water damage. Miguel, are you okay? If so, this thing is all yours. I’ll take damage control. *Points behind at some Omega agents who just arrived*

Spider-Man 2099: *Drags the anomaly out of the water* [Y/N], you don’t have to kill them.

Arachnis: Oh, I’m not gonna kill them. *Pulls out a baton* They just need a good night’s rest. *Charges at the unsuspecting agents*

《🕷️》

[Back in the Spider Society HQ]

[3:47 a.m.]

[The Hobgoblin variant are imprisoned with the rest of the anomalies of villains/individuals waiting to return to their respective universes.]

Arachnis: Dammit, I got blood on my jacket. *Peels off the outer clothing along with their tactical gear*

Miguel: *Glances over at them from his panels*

[They’re wearing a compression shirt underneath all the layers they usually wear and it shows the physique, the muscles, everything that the Spider Radiant gained during their time as an agent from a different Earth.]

Miguel: “Dios mio. No wonder I received complaints about their training course.”

Arachnis: Miguel? Hey, you’re staring at me.

Miguel: *Breaks his concentration from them and clears his throat* You should go back home since the anomaly is captured. A report will be expected from the mission.

Arachnis: Yes, I know. I have reports everyday. I’ll see you on Friday. *Picks up their jacket and gear while leaving the lair*

Lyla: *Appears on Miguel’s shoulder* I know that look, Miggy.

Miguel: What?

Lyla: I saw how you stared at them. You’re even blushing a little, it’s cute.

Miguel: Lyla, could I have some peace even before 5?

Lyla: Alright, fine. Y’know you can’t deny what you just saw.

《🕷️》

[During a mission briefing]

Arachnis: *Staring intently at Miguel like they’re planning his murder*

Peter B. Parker: *Sees them being murderous-looking* *Sighs* *Whispers* It’s nice knowing Miguel while it lasted.

Jessica Drew: Oh calm down. I’m sure they’re just thinking of something up in their head.

Arachnis: *Inner thoughts* “Damn, O’Hara. Whatcha doin’ out here with all this ass? Double-cheeked up, on a Thursday afternoon. Hella ass, the sun is still out, ya Goober…Fuck, I wanna slap the buns so badly I’ll go feral.” *Intensifying their stare*

Jessica: Okay, forget what I said. They’re gonna kill him.

[Reblogs helps creators and creates for more content]

[Tagged]: @hhurric4ne @theladyheroine @l0serloki @radianights @miguelswifey04

[jxllycat]

starting a silly little account to make more friends :3

[hag-lad]

KILL MEEEEE, this douchebag outside the laundromat was just smoking weed while wearing a punk jacket with all kinds of straightedge patches. Like???????????? Bro, you’re not fuckin straightedge, take that shit off and give it to ME! I should be wearing that jacket, and you should be washing my balls!!!!!!

[dorkacademia]

feeling sooo punk rn... <- sewed the holes on my underwear + secured the straps of my tote bag w thread bc why would i buy new panties + bag and throw out my current stuff when i can keep using what i own

[endy-x]

Reasons to watch ValorPunk and Valor Academy

THIS GUY HES SO COOL AND I LOVE HIM SO MUCH

It's also a really good story and all the other characters are great too but MY BOY HES FABULOUS

and also THIS ART THOUGH??? SO GOOD!! LIKE HELLO???? AND I LOVE HIS DESIGN I GOTTA DRAW HIM AT SOME POINT BECAUSE HES JUST SO GREAT IDK IF I CAN DRAW HIM THIS GOOD BUT I NEED TO ART HIM SO BAD

I've been sitting on Jayce's adult design for a fucking millennia but Austin asked me not to post it. Well he finally showed up in the new game and was rude to children the way god intended so now I'm free to do what I want! My favorite part about Jayce growing up is that he didn't get better or become a nice person or even get a serious handle on his temper. He just embraced being a Huge Bitch. He's always liked his immense and terrifying power and was terrified of what people would think about the fact that He wasn't as afraid of his powers of they wanted him to be. Not anymore! He simply. Stopped worrying about other people worrying and excepted that himself as an unpleasant bitch! Who's going to stop him? No one is who. He can't be that unpleasant. His boyfriend still likes him and his friends still kick down his door whether he likes it or not so it can't be that bad.

[mysticlillybett]

Real tired this week so have some silly Valor Punk stream doodles!

Valor Punk is always a bright spot in the week :D

[vanyatas]

can you do Ben headcanons? ^_^ I loved your Toby ones(^^)

i might be out of touch with BEN !! but i’m gonna try to do my best STRAIGHTLY AVOIDING how he was in 2013 (a freak.)

BEN DROWNED HCS

GENERAL HCS:

Another firm belief he is just. Short. (no shade to my short kings, me too..)

5’1.

Cyberpunk style.

His voice sounds very glitchy and electronic.

Layered neck length hair.

Blonde obviously!

Also has Jeff cut his bangs, he likes the layers a lot.

He definitely uses the floating he has to make himself feel taller.

3 Piercings on his ears but nothing else.

Elf ears!!!

Loves Phonk music, Or anything with cool noises/Electronic sounds.

The Weeknd, Pastel Ghost, Blink182, Daft Punk, Crystal Castles, Laura Les, Odetari, Grimes, Machine Girl, 1nonly, Eternxlkz, SXID, NUEKI, Akiaura, Sidewalks and Skeletons, MGMT, S3RL, Grimes, Yeule fan!!

Definitely makes his own music

Only noises and sounds he does NOT want to sing ever he just likes the way music can make you feel.

Puts his music on soundcloud.

I know Jeff is in the comments saying “delete ts bro 🔥🔥.”

It’s actually really good.

LOVES Vintage video games but he’s also on overwatch 2, LOL, the finals, Roblox, DBD, Apex, PUBG, CSGO, Valorant, RS6 Siege, and Fortnite.

Yes he’s fucking GOATED at all of them.

Genuinely means it when he threatens to DOX people on any of them.

Very nerd behavior.

Stubborn and an Asshole.

Has multiple accounts on each of the multiplayer games just because it’s too much of a risk to gain popularity.

A lot of his rude traits are just from him having an ego over being good at games and getting compliments all the time.

NOTTT a pervert whatsoever.

This mfker is a gamer he is 100% awkward around anyone he finds attractive.

Mansplains video game lore if ANYONE gets the TINIEST fact wrong.

Tangents about LOZ, Mario, and Smash bros.

ROMANTIC HCS:

I’m so serious when I say he calls you his discord kitten.

Most of the time it’s ironic.

But it catches on so much he’s definitely just enjoying it.

Playing video games 80% of the time!!!

Builds you your own pc.

No console bullshit only the best for his partner.

Matching skins on EVERY GAME.

And matching users.

Definitely goes into vc to crash out if people are being dickheads to you, or if they’re trying to intervene and hit on you.

Going with the pc building he also makes your setup gorgeous, however you want it.

Usually I’m not keen on using this terminology but he is a SIMP bro.

Thinks you’re just so pretty. Anything you ask of him he will do it.

Head on your chest, just. staring at you for as long as you let him.

Loves to have his face held too.

Following you around anywhere, on his switch, Gameboy, DS, he just loves being around you.

Will explain any sort of lost media/video game if you ask him about it.

If you’re ever just on your computer or phone doing your own thing, he will either pop his head through to give you a kiss, or leave pop ups that says he loves you and he misses you.

Very clingy.

You need to hold him so much.

He’s not affection deprived especially because he gets that sort of platonic shit from Jeff.

But once BEN has a s/o he is just crazy in love with them.

100% calls you princess, baby, kitten, and doll face.

I noticed every time I write for someone i just instantly get a crush on them. it’s not good.

reblogs / follows / likes appreciated!!

[foundtherightwords]

Knight Shift

Pairing: Hellcheer

Summary: Desperate for a job, Eddie takes on the night shift at a remote convenience store in Hawkins while also preparing for his side gig as a historical reenactor. Everything is fine until the night a robbery goes wrong and a pretty EMT shows up...

Chrissy, who moved to Hawkins two years ago and now works as an EMT, is trying her best to prove herself. So when a call comes in for an attempted robbery at a convenience store, she doesn't shy away from it. Little does she know the night will bring more surprises than she expects.  

Word count: 4.6k

Warnings: very brief mentions of violence and vomit

A/N: A surprise Valentine's Day fic! I wasn't planning to write anything for Valentine's, but then I saw this post and thought it sounded like a situation Eddie would get into, and then I looked into the Society for Creative Anachronism and thought it sounded fascinating (it also helped that I'm in the middle of my Hellcheer medieval AU), so I wrote this in 2 days!

I took some of the wording from the post itself. The quote at the beginning was taken from an actual Middle Kingdom newsletter (Hawkins, being in Indiana, would be part of this Kingdom). The flyer was my own creation though.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/63054076

Troubles are brewing in the Middle Kingdom. In the canton of Hawk's Inn, the disgraced knight Sir Edward the Banished returns to his home with the hope of reclaiming his honor and restoring his good name. Will the people of Hawk's Inn, who had turned their backs on Edward years ago due to a youthful mistake, embrace their son once more, or will they turn him away for good?

***

A Royal Greeting from your Sovereigns, King Alaric and Queen Richilde: Exciting Adventures Ahead!

Greetings, noble subjects of the Middle Kingdom,

As we usher in the new year, Her Majesty and I are filled with excitement and anticipation in what lies ahead for Our kingdom. It is a privilege to sit upon the thrones of this mighty realm, and We look forward to sharing many adventures and moments of joy with you all in the coming months.

... We have much to look forward to in the coming weeks and months! We are particularly eager for St. Valentine's Day, when Our Canton of Hawk's Inn/Barony of Roane (Feb 10th) will host the Tournament of Chivalry. This event, now in its 25th year, highlights the true celebration of honor, skill, and valor - qualities that Our kingdom holds in the highest regard. We are looking forward to seeing a great turnout, with many returning knights and combatants (and some new faces!) from across the kingdom coming together to showcase their prowess in the lists. This will be a day of mutual respect showcasing the high ideals that make the Middle Kingdom such a noble place....

- February 1990 issue of THE PALE,

the official newsletter of the Middle Kingdom,

Society for Creative Anachronism

***

"Nobody wants to work the night shift," said Rick, the store manager, as he ushered Eddie into the dingy closet that served as his office.

"We're in the middle of bumfuck nowhere, and every couple of weeks, some drunk or punk or junkie—hey, that rhymes!—would try to rob us. They don't get much—not that there's a lot to get, and insurance usually covers it—but it's a bit of a hassle. Think you can handle it?"

"I've worked as a barback at The Hideout," said Eddie. "I think I can handle a few drunks."

"Don't forget the punks and the junkies!" Rick exclaimed, clearly pleased with his joke. He grinned at Eddie, showing off a mouthful of teeth that wouldn't look out of place being unearthed in an archaeological dig. "So, you want the job?"

Eddie sighed. So far, Rick hadn't done much to sell him on the job's positive qualities, but Eddie was desperate, and Rick knew it. Anyone who applied for the night shift at a convenience store on the outskirts of a small town in Indiana has to be.

"Yeah, I want the job," Eddie said.

"Great!" Rick clapped his hands with relief and pulled out a contract from his desk. "Say, you from 'round here?" he said, as Eddie was filling out the form.

Eddie looked up suspiciously, as he always did whenever someone mentioned his past. Still, if Rick had to ask, that meant he didn't know Eddie or his family history. "Why did you ask?"

"It's just that we don't get a lot of new people here. Only drifters. This ain't a place for people to come and stay."

"Tell me about it." Eddie rubbed his eyes. "I grew up here. I left a few years ago for college, and now I'm back."

"Why?"

"My uncle was in an accident and couldn't work anymore, so I'm taking care of him." Eddie slid the contract across the table toward Rick. If Rick cared to find out, he could look up the Munson name and discover all the unsavory stories surrounding it—though none directly tied to Eddie. But somehow Eddie didn't think Rick would care.

"That's nice of you," Rick said. "So you used to work at The Hideout, eh?" he continued, nostalgia clouding his eyes for a moment. "I'd wasted a few years of my twenties there. Why'd you quit?"

"I didn't," said Eddie. "It got closed down." Hence his desperation. He needed the money, but he didn't qualify for student loans, and Wayne's disability check could only stretch so far. Just a few more months until he got his teacher's certificate and a better job—or at least one that didn't involve him dealing with robbers once every two weeks.

Rick put the form away without even looking at it. "Right!" he said, pushing back from the desk. "Let me show you around."

Eddie hung back, a little hesitant. "I got one question," he said.

Rick looked wary. "Which is—?"

Eddie lifted the hem of his shirt out of his jeans. "This isn't going to be a problem, is it?"

Rick's eyes popped. "What the hell is that?!"

"Chainmail. You know, like armor."

Rick looked from the chainmail under Eddie's shirt to Eddie's face, then back to the chainmail. Eddie could almost see the regret forming in the manager's mind. Clearly, he thought he'd hired some freak. "It's not some medical or"—here Rick glanced around and dropped his voice—"kinky thing, is it?"

Eddie had to laugh. "No. I'm a member of this historical reenactment group. You know the Society for Creative Anachronism? We recreate medieval tournaments, battles, and—" Eddie noticed Rick's eyes had started taking on the glazed look most people would get when he told them about the SCA, so he cleared his throat and continued, "Anyway, I'm training to be a knight, so I'm wearing this around just to get used to its weight."

The SCA had been one of the few reasons that made Eddie's return to Hawkins bearable. He'd thought he was done with the shitty place for good, but when Wayne got hurt... well, he had no choice. It wasn't like he was making big bucks with his history degree in Chicago anyway. To discover that the SCA had built up such an active presence in the area since he left had been a pleasant surprise, and it was nice to go to their fighters' practice a few times a week, to forget about his problems, to be Edward the Banished and not Eddie "the Freak" Munson.

"I can put my uniform shirt over it," now he said to Rick. "It doesn't show at all—see?" He dropped his shirt again to demonstrate.

Still staring at the shirt, Rick took a pack of nicotine gum out of his pocket and popped one in his mouth, chewing. Now he was the desperate one. He needed a night clerk. Could he accept one that seemed... a little weird?

In the end, Eddie's willingness to work nights trumped his taste in medieval attire.

"Make sure it doesn't show, OK?" Rick said.

Edd nodded, breathing in relief. "You bet."

Rick extended a hand with nicotine-stained fingers—the gum didn't seem to be helping—toward Eddie. "Then welcome aboard. Or however you say it in old-timey English."

Eddie smiled as he shook Rick's hand. "I'm pretty sure they say 'Welcome' too." He was going to mention that the word originated from the Old English phrase "ƿil cuma", which meant "a desired guest", but he decided this was enough medieval history for the night.

For all of Rick's warnings, Eddie's first month at the store went by without incidents. Sure, there was the promised trio of drunks, punks, and junkies, but they were harmless. Eddie even let a few of them sleep off their high or drunkenness in the bathroom until it was safe for them to go home. Rick wouldn't like it, but what Rick didn't know wouldn't hurt him. Most of the time, it was just lost drivers needing direction or the occasional horny teenager too embarrassed to buy condoms close to home. Eddie grew to like the quiet and used the time to read, do his homework, or draw up sketches for his D&D campaigns.

So that night, when a guy in a hoodie came into the store, Eddie thought nothing of it. It was a cold night, so the hood pulled low over the head was nothing suspicious, and Hoodie Guy looked no twitchier or shiftier than the average night shift customer. After a minute or two browsing the shelves, he went up to the counter and pointed to the glass case behind Eddie, asking for a pack of Marlboro.

Eddie put down the battered copy of Herodotus's History that he was reading, marking the page with an SCA flyer, and turned to get the pack.

"No, not that one, the red one," said Hoodie Guy.

With a sigh, Eddie reached a little higher for the pack the guy was pointing out.

Thump! Something—or someone—hit him between his shoulder blades, almost knocking him into the case. Eddie whirled around. Hoodie Guy was hanging with half his torso over the counter, his arm outstretched.

"What the hell, man?!" Eddie said, scowling. "Did you just hit me?"

An astonishing change came over Hoodie Guy. His face under the hood went ash gray, his mouth dropped open, and his eyes bulged in their sockets before rolling into the back of his head, as the guy slid off the counter and onto the floor, out cold.

Eddie looked over the counter at the unconscious man, nonplussed. Rick had been adamant that Eddie was not to budge from the counter, never, not under any circumstances—except for maybe a fire. You never know when an apparently unconscious or otherwise helpless man may be an attempt to distract and rob. So now Eddie just stood and waited, while the chainmail bit uncomfortably into his shoulders.

A minute, two minutes passed by, and then three, then four. Hoodie Guy remained on the floor, unmoving. Shit. He could be playing a game of chicken and waiting for Eddie to make a mistake, or something really was wrong with him. And either way...

"They don't pay me enough to deal with this, you know," Eddie said, even though he wasn't sure if Hoodie Guy could hear him or not. Then, with an exasperated huff, he went into the manager's office, picked up the phone, and dialed 911.

***

"Nobody wants to work the night shift," Chrissy's supervisor, Powell, had told her the day she joined the Hawkins EMS team. "We're a quiet town, but with all the woods and farmland around here, there's a lot of ground to cover. You may have to drive miles out of town because a farmer is having a heart attack, or some kids are messing around and get into an accident in the Quarry or on Lover's Lake. That's happened before, you know," he'd added ominously. "Think you can handle it?"

"Oh yes, sir," Chrissy had said with what she'd hoped was a confident smile. "I've seen all sorts of injuries during my time on the cheer squad and as a lifeguard in high school."

But Powell had looked skeptical, and so did the rest of the team. Chrissy didn't blame them. A city girl, coming to this small town in the middle of nowhere, all on her own—she knew what they thought of her. She knew they all thought she was running away from something, and she would come running back to her old life the moment things got tough. Well, they weren't wrong about the running away part, but she'd be damned if she came back to Chicago, back to the perfect little life her mom and her ex-boyfriend had planned for her. No, Chrissy had come to Hawkins to live her own life, and she would not quit.

And so in the past two years, she'd kept her head down and worked, worked, worked. She took double shifts back to back without complaint, she volunteered for the night shift that nobody wanted, and she was first in line when there was a bad pileup on the highway or a chemical leak at the nearby research lab. Anything to prove herself.

"They've pushed the night shift on us again," said her partner and driver, Joyce, when Chrissy reported to the station that night. "That's four in a row this week."

"I don't mind," Chrissy said.

"You should!" said Joyce. "Just because you're the only single gal on the team doesn't mean that you don't want an evening to yourself. We all have lives outside of this job."

She didn't, not really, but Chrissy refrained from saying that. She only pointed out, "You're single."

"Yes, but I'm nearly fifty and my boys are grown, so it doesn't count, does it?" Joyce smiled to soften her words.

"Does that mean that when I get a boyfriend, I'll get to work the day shift?" Chrissy said, half-joking.

"You get that boyfriend, and we'll see."

Joyce was the team mother, and as such, she saw it as her responsibility to look out for Chrissy. Chrissy smiled back at the older woman, though a little doubtfully. Joyce was right. She'd been so focused on working and saving up that she hardly had any time for herself, not to mention that the pickings of eligible young men in Hawkins were awfully slim. Then she chided herself for thinking of such frivolous things when there were more serious matters at hand.

A call came in, disrupting her thoughts. "Male, in his 30s, loss of consciousness," said the dispatcher. "Joyce, Chrissy, you're up."

The address was a convenience store just off the highway. As they drove up, Chrissy's heart faltered a little. It was one of those 24/7 places that looked like something out of a horror film, with the harsh neon lights always on, shining down on a sad selection of snacks and soft drinks. Now those lights were also shining on a man stretched out on the floor in front of the counter, and on the clerk standing behind the counter with a mystified look on his face.

Joyce checked on the unconscious man, whose vitals seemed to be stable. They moved him onto the gurney, and while Joyce called it in, Chrissy went up to the counter to talk to the clerk. She couldn't help noticing he was quite nice-looking, the clerk. When she first came in, focused as she had been on the patient, she'd only seen a shock of shoulder-length dark hair and a tall, rather intimidating silhouette. Upon closer inspection, the hair turned out to be soft curls framing a handsome face with nice, kind eyes, and the silhouette was still tall, but in a comforting rather than intimidating way. He wouldn't look out of place riding a white horse on the cover of a Harlequin romance. Perhaps not as muscular as those cover models, but still...

No. She was here to do her job, not to ogle some guy, no matter how cute he was. Chrissy took a deep breath and asked the clerk what had happened exactly.

"Well," the clerk began. His name tag, she noticed, said Eddie. "He just came in, looked around, came up to the counter, and asked for this specific pack of cigarettes, so I turned to get them—"

He turned as he spoke to show her his movement. Chrissy caught a glimpse of his back and thought she, too, was going to pass out.

Sticking out from his back, between his shoulder blades, was a knife.

"Oh my God!" she breathed out, gripping the edge of the counter. The clerk, Eddie, started to turn back to her, and Chrissy remembered her training. "Don't move!" she shouted. "Are you OK?"

"Yeah, I'm OK," the clerk said, sounding confused. "What?"

"Just—don't move."

She vaulted over the counter and ran up to him. There was no blood on his back or on the knife. But how was this guy still walking about and talking?! She carefully felt along his back and recoiled. Something hard yet flexible—like scales—moved under his shirt.

"What the hell are you wearing?!" she said, her training forgotten again.

"A chainmail shirt," said Eddie the clerk, like it was the most normal thing in the world. "I have to get used to the weight, so I wear it a lot. Why? Is something wrong?"

"You have a knife in your back!"

He twisted his head around and tried to see the knife, but as it was lodged between his shoulder blades, it was clear he couldn't.

"Uh... no, I don't?" he said. "I mean, I don't feel hurt? He only, like, punched me or something. There's no knife back there—I mean, I'd know if there was a knife back there, right?"

"I can assure you, there is most definitely a knife in your back," said Chrissy, trying to keep calm. What the hell was taking Joyce so long? "Keep still, I'm going to pull it out."

Although she knew one must never pull a knife out of a stab wound, this was a special case, and until the knife was removed, she could not assess how serious the injury was. Bracing one hand against his shoulder, she yanked at the knife with the other. It was stuck more firmly than she expected, and the sensation—oh God! She'd never felt anything like it. Somehow, the worst broken bones she'd had to set never felt as gross as wrenching a knife out of what she believed was flesh. The grating sound of the blade sent shivers up her arm and down her spine, and suddenly and unceremoniously, she bent over and threw up.

"What on Earth is happening here?" Joyce exclaimed as she came into the store and took in the scene—Chrissy leaning over the counter with her dinner splattered on the ground in front of her, and Eddie the clerk running back from the bathroom with a wad of paper towels. Some he handed to Chrissy, the rest he spread over the mess Chrissy had just made. Then Joyce caught sight of the knife still quivering on Eddie's back and her eyes widened. "Young man, there's—"

"Yes, yes, I know, there's a knife in my back," Eddie said impatiently. "I'm perfectly all right, unlike Miss"—he peered at Chrissy's nametag—"Cunningham here, so could you take care of her please?"

"No, I'm all right too," Chrissy said, even though she was dying of shame on the inside. In her two years as an EMT, she'd prided herself on never losing her nerves, yet now, faced with a knife—there wasn't even any blood!—and she was as squeamish as a trainee, her arms turning into noodles. "Please, Joyce, see to his back—"

Joyce calmly walked over to Eddie and, in one swift move, yanked the knife out.

"You should really be more careful," she said, handing it to Eddie.

"It's not mine! It belongs to the guy you have in your ambulance out there."

Joyce rolled her eyes. "Great, now it's an assault and robbery too? I'm going to have to report this." She went outside again.

Chrissy wiped her mouth with the paper towel. "Thank you," she said to Eddie.

"Are you sure you're OK?" he asked. "Do you want some water, or maybe some ginger ale? I find that helps a lot with an upset stomach."

Chrissy shook her head. "No, it's fine. I'm fine."

"Well, I'm having one." He grabbed a can of Vernor's from the nearby case and handed Chrissy one as well. "I'd much rather have a beer, but I'm not allowed to drink on the clock."

"I'm not either." Still, Chrissy took the can of ginger ale gratefully. "Let me clean up this mess for you," she said, indicating the pile of paper towels, but Eddie gently pushed her back.

"No, no, that's my job," he said. "You do your job, and I do mine."

Chrissy pressed the can of ginger ale to her face, hoping to cool off some of the blood burning beneath her skin. "I'm so sorry," she said.

"Why?" Eddie's voice was gentle.

"I came here to take care of you, and now you're taking care of me."

"Hey, we all have our bad days," Eddie said with a shrug.

Something in the way he said it sent a new wave of confidence coursing through her. She wasn't a failure just because she threw up once in front of a patient. Straightening up, Chrissy tried to gather any remnants of professionalism she still had. "I'm going to need to examine your back," she said.

"Do we have to?" Eddie said. "I don't feel any pain or anything."

Chrissy gave him her best imitation of Joyce's "mom" look. He relented and pulled off his uniform shirt. She wasn't sure what to expect, but underneath he was wearing a chainmail shirt, an actual chainmail shirt, like in those medieval movies. And it was heavy. Together, they got it off him, and even before Chrissy removed the linen shirt underneath, she knew he wasn't badly injured—no one who had a stab wound in his back could move his arms and shoulders so freely—but she was nothing if not thorough. Eddie turned his back to her, and a very nice back it was too, lean but sturdy—somehow the word lithesome snuck its way into her mind. Focus, Chrissy.

She found a small cut from where the tip of the knife had nicked him. That was probably why she had such a hard time pulling out the knife—it had been caught in the riveted links of the chainmail, not his flesh, thank God. She cleaned the cut and put a Band-Aid on it, just in case.

"May I ask why you're wearing chainmail?" she said. "Does the store get robbed so much that you have to wear protective armor?"

Eddie chuckled at her attempt at a joke. "No, I'm training to be a knight. I'm with this medieval reenactment group."

Chrissy almost laughed. Here she was, imagining that Eddie wouldn't look out of place as a knight in shining armor, and he was one!

"I think I've seen them around. Is it like a Renaissance Faire thing?"

"Not quite. Those are more for entertainment, while we're more focused on education and the study of medieval life. But some events are open to the public too. Actually"—he reached toward a book on the counter, pulled out a flyer being used as a bookmark, and handed it to her—"here's one next Saturday that I'm attending."

Chrissy looked at the flyer. In old-timey font, it said:

The canton of Hawk's Inn

In the Barony of Roane

Hereby cordially invites you to

ST. VALENTINE'S DAY TOURNAMENT OF CHIVALRY

February 10th, 1990 from 9:00 am to 9:00 pm

Site: Starcourt Convention Center, Lot No. 4281, 10 Old Highway 77, Hawkins, Indiana

Fee: Adult Registration $10.00, ADULT MEMBER $5.00,

Minors 6 to 17 $2.00, Children 5 & Under Free

Family Cap $20 Member (2 Adults, 3 children 6-17) – additional $5 per Non-Member Adult

This was accompanied by a woodcut print of two knights jousting.

Eddie explained, sounding a bit embarrassed, "I'm studying to be a history teacher."

"That's great!" And, perhaps because he had been so open to her, she added, "I'm saving up for nursing school." She had never told anyone this, afraid of jinxing it, afraid of being seen as a loser if she couldn't achieve it, yet somehow, she had no problem sharing it with this strange, funny guy she'd just met.

"To our future success then," said Eddie, raising his can of ginger ale in a toast.

Laughing, Chrissy raised hers in return before drinking deeply, the sweet, spicy soda warming her up. "This explains why the guy fainted," she continued, returning to the subject as Eddie put his chainmail back on. "Not every day the man you just stabbed turns around and yells at you with the knife still in his back."

"It's good to know that my chainmail works at least," Eddie said with a grin. A dimple flashed on his cheek, making Chrissy's heart thump in her chest. Then, just as quickly, the dimple disappeared as he turned serious again. "What's going to happen to him?" he asked, indicating the ambulance outside.

"We're going to report the incident, and the police will probably want a word with him."

"Is that necessary?"

Chrissy stared at him. "He tried to stab you."

He shrugged again. "But I'm fine. Guy's probably just desperate. I mean, you have to be, to rob a place like this. Like I said, we all have bad days. If you could leave out the stabbing part in your report—it's too difficult to explain anyway."

"That's very kind of you," Chrissy said in wonder.

Eddie looked a little abashed. "Don't let the people at the tournament hear you say that," he said. "I'm trying to create this dark, mysterious persona for my knight character."

"Well, perhaps you can be a dark and mysterious knight who actually turns out to be kind to those who know you."

Her words seemed to have hit him unexpectedly, and there was an emotional gleam in his eyes as he looked at her. He really does have nice eyes, she thought. Large and round, like a puppy's, fringed by long lashes, dark brown under the harsh neon light, but she bet that in sunlight, they would be a warm amber...

With her impeccable timing, Joyce chose that moment to enter the store, with the knife still in her hand.

"Well, the guy woke up," she said. "Hypoglycemia. As for the stabbing"—she waved the knife—"he's very sorry and he won't do it again. What do you say, Chrissy, shall we give him some glucose tablets and let him go?"

Chrissy and Eddie glanced at each other, sharing a conspiratory smile. Eddie's dimple dipped and rose again, and Chrissy's stomach fluttered in a way that had nothing to do with its recent emission.

As she and Joyce prepared to leave, Chrissy tried to give the flyer back to Eddie, but he pushed it back toward her.

"You should come and see us," Eddie said. "We don't fight with real weapons, but it can be a lot of fun."

Was he asking her out? Despite what Joyce had said, Chrissy had had her fair share of guys hitting on her while on the job, and she could always turn them down with a sharp word or two. With Eddie though, she found that she didn't mind, and the thought made her feel a little shy.

When she said nothing, Eddie continued, sounding rather flustered, "If you don't want to, that's fine." He continued in a rush, with the air of someone taking a leap of faith, "But I'm here every night, so if you ever have a craving for discount jerky or chips or ginger ale, I'm at your service."

Chrissy looked at the flyer in her hand and looked again into his smiling brown eyes and his dimples. If he had taken a leap of faith, why couldn't she?

"Maybe I'll see you at the tournament," she said, tucking the flyer into her jacket.

If Joyce noticed Chrissy smiling to herself as she climbed into the ambulance, she made no comment on it. She only looked in the rearview mirror, at the reflection of Eddie standing at the store entrance to watch them drive away, with the same smile on his face. Joyce watched the two kids with their private smiles as if their secret were not open for the whole world to see, and, remembering a time when she was just as young and foolish and hopeful, she smiled to herself as well.

Perhaps the night shift was not so bad after all.

THE END

[babyboiboyega]

Gekko Headcanons #1 : The Cookout

Pairing: Mateo De la Fuente/Gekko x Black!Gn!reader Headcanon: Taking Mateo to a family cookout would include... Content: fluff, profanity Word Count: 2.6k Author's Note: its been toooo long since I've written something, and of course my newest hyperfixation is the thing that gets me to write again LMAO gotta love it y'know? I am very new to the world of Valorant and this character, so please...if any of this seems ooc, kindly let me know. I'm still learning about him, I'm still feeling him out, but I just enjoy the character so much already. I also enjoyed writing this, so I hope y'all enjoy! <3 Tag list: @liyaawrites (aka, the person responsible for this obsession!!)

I wanna start off by saying that the second you mention taking Mateo to meet your family, the boy is geeked out of his mind. Maybe it's in passing during a conversation, or maybe you consciously bring up the topic once you feel it's the right time; either way, it’s met with wide, brown eyes that sparkle in excitement, and thick lips that part on an immediate agreement. Not only does an agreement follow, but he also immediately starts to ask what he should bring. What kind of get-together is it? Does he need to know anything beforehand? How does he need to dress, because he’ll be damned if he shows up underdressed when meeting the family of the person he loves. He only stops worrying when you tell him exactly what the function is – a cookout – and what he’s expected to bring – some dish that your mom/grandmother/auntie or other family member is requesting. And once those questions are answered, he goes straight to worrying about making sure it’s up to their standards. You have no idea why, but your family gives you and him the job of bringing the macaroni (and not any store-bought macaroni- they’ll know the difference). When he learns that it has to be homemade and that its a staple in the entire cookout, he instantly looks up recipes while thinking back to the ones his ma or abuela would use, wanting to put his own spin on it while also wanting to make a good first impression. It gets to the point where you find him up late one night, his phone’s screen illuminating his features from where he lays beside you. He’d turn his phone to you sheepishly, apologizing for the bright light and displaying a page called “how not to make macaroni and cheese” or something along those lines with a sheepish smile.

“Think they’ll like this one?” “Teo…baby…it’s 3 am.” “...you’re right, I should look for another one-”

The days leading up to the cookout are spent with him constantly going on about how excited he is to meet your family – specifically the cousins you’re the closest to and have mentioned before. In response, you warn him that your family can be…a bit much, specifically when someone brings their partner around. They have a tendency to ask too many questions, get a little too comfortable joking around, and are just all around loud and obnoxious sometimes…and he’d only reassure you with a knowing smirk and a raised eyebrow that not only is his family the same, but he’s so used to being around large families as his used to have get togethers all the time. He’s dealt with it before, and it'd be worth it to deal with it again if it meant he got to meet your folks. Despite the sentiments, you still warn him – especially of that aunt who always likes to make smart-ass comments and loves calling others out despite having her own problems in her life, to which he lets you know that he’s dealt with one of those and he’ll make sure that y’all are far away from that aunt at all times. He would offer to keep you dancing all night just so you had an excuse to not talk to that person, which would only lead to a conversation involving line dances. 

Despite Mateo's affinity for the punk/skater aesthetic, I’d like to think that his Hispanic roots have resulted in him having a good sense of rhythm. I also like to think that he listens to a lot of music in his spare time, fostering an appreciation for different genres. With that being said, I think our boy could keep up with the line dances. When you offer to teach him a few just for fun, he’d be excited as hell, his lips curling into a full-blown smile as he’d watch you turn the music on and scroll through the first ‘cookout line dance’ playlist you find. When you find a suitable one and try to teach him, he’d be playful about the entire thing, claiming that he needs you to do it a few times although you know its just so he can see you dance, his eyes lingering heavily on your hips as you do so. And when you finally get him to join you, you realize that he may not have the steps down, but he’s got enough swag and rhythm to keep up and look like he knows what he’s doing, which is enough. 

“One more time, princesa- I promise. I’ll get it this time.” “You’re just looking at my ass, Mateo-” “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” (with a shit eating grin on his face)

Now…when it gets to the day of the cookout, you two would be up pretty early, going to get the supplies to make the macaroni before starting on it at home. He’d want to help so badly, but he’d also have no problem getting your input on it – after all, it is your family and you know how they usually like their macaroni. But he’d also insist on doing most of it himself which would result in about a few hours of him moving around the kitchen with a focused look on his face. His focus is only broken by you checking in on him, it instantly changing to a cocky, yet playful, smirk as he would nod to the pan that’s in the oven. 

“How’s it goin, baby?” “Look at that masterpiece and tell me how it’s goin, mi carino. You see that golden brown on the top, you smell that delicious, scrumptious, decadent-” “Aaaalright, that’s enough-”

You know I have to mention the process of picking out outfits. I absolutely believe that Mateo would not only be down for, but would love being one of those couples that wears complimenting outfits. Not matching completely, but maybe having one article of clothing that’s the same color or maybe even wearing the same accessories. You two have too much personality and style to limit yourselves to wearing the exact same thing when going out, so he would love to wear complimenting outfits. He’d always make sure to pick colors that you enjoy wearing despite thinking that you look beautiful in every color. 

“What about green?” “Oh…well…you know I don’t exactly look the best in green, baby.” “I wholeheartedly disagree, but we can look for something else, mi amor. No problem-”

I think that he’d be so invested in making sure y’all look good that he’d kind of forget about the macaroni that's in the oven. You can’t even blame him, because you’d be able to see the excitement radiating off of him as he gets ready, so you’d just gently, but amusedly, remind him. 

“Teo.” “Yeah?” “Your macaroni-” “Mierda- my macaroni-!”

His attention would instantly switch to the macaroni, so much so that he’d still be standing in the kitchen, his eyes on the oven when you walk in fully dressed with Wingman trailing behind you, Mateo’s shirt in his beak as he chirps and trills. You wouldn’t be able to understand him, but you don’t really have to to understand the comedic radivore’s noises. You’d only be able to nod and agree with the little guy as you both watch Mateo hurriedly throw on his shirt before taking out the macaroni. 

Now…lets get to the cookout itself. He’d hear the music and chatter immediately after stepping out of the car and would just look at you with a smile and excited eyes, offering to take the dish with one hand and your hand with the other. You’d be able to see that recognition in his eyes, the myriad of sounds that signify a family fellowship being ever so familiar to him. Homeboy would walk in the door with a wide and inviting smile, greeting people politely while also showing that he can be rather extroverted when he wants to be. Of course, he gets the typical ‘this must be yo lil friend’ from your family members, but he takes it in stride. But while taking it all in stride, he’d also make sure to kiss your cheek, your forehead, hold your hand, wrap an arm around your waist– anything to show that the words ‘lil friend’ are just a title your family members have given him, and that the truth is he’s yours. 

He’d show the macaroni to the family member(s) in charge of the food, watching with baited breath as they take the foil off of the top, their eyes looking at the golden-brown cheese on top before looking up at you two with a smile. 

“Oooh, this looks good, Y/N.” “Actually, Mateo made it. I just helped him when he needed it; it was all him.”

He’d absolutely be geeked when they turn to him with an impressed look, their smile widening as they set it on the table with the rest of the food. And if you thought he had a big head when being told that it looked good, it’s nothing compared to when the first family member comes up and tells him that it tasted good. Chile, you’d never hear the end of it…though you don’t want to. It’d be endearing and sweet that he takes so much pride in making something your family enjoys. And when it comes to him actually eating the food prepared, he would not hold his appreciation back. There’d be a lot of ‘who made this’, followed by just as many ‘dios mio’s as he can dish out. The same goes for the dessert portion, especially the homemade pound cakes from your family members. Yeah, he’d have no problem asking for a to-go box; one for food, and one for dessert. 

Throughout the duration of the cookout, he’d find himself constantly in conversation with someone from your family, whether it be because he had been pulled into a conversation, or whether it was because someone approached him with the intent of asking questions. Either way, Mateo would be game for any question asked, usually answering with an air of confidence, friendliness, and humor that made others love him instantly. When asked questions about you two’s relationship, he’d be quick and incredibly willing to answer, his eyes glancing at you adoringly as he does so with a smile on his face. It’d get to a point where you would have to ‘rescue’ him from more questions, citing that you wanted to dance just to get him away from your family member(s). And he’d happily let you pull him away, however, not before promising the uncles gathered around a table that he’d play spades with them the next round. 

At some point in the night, you’d lose him for a few minutes, coming back to his empty seat after fixing a plate of dessert for both of you, and after scouring the yard, hoping that he hasn’t gotten himself into a less than pleasant conversation, you finally find him. Except he isn’t in a conversation- not with an adult, anyway. No, he’s seated in the yard, not too far at all from the kids table, smiling widely as the kids from your family gather around him. Their hands reach for and gently run over his hair, the dyed shapes and colors instantly catching their attention as they speak over each other, asking him questions.

“Why’d you do that to your hair?” “Did it hurt? Why’d you pick spots?” “My mama says people who dye their hair like that don’t want a job.” “Can I do that to my hair?”

You’d only be able to watch in fondness for a few minutes as he struggles to answer their questions, his facial expression showing exactly how much he enjoyed being the center of attention for the kids. It would get to a point where he’d look up at you with an expression that screamed for help despite the smile still on his face, and you wouldn’t hesitate in rescuing him. You’d never seen Mateo around kids before now, but going off of the vibes and interactions you’d see, it’d be easy to come to the conclusion that he’s pretty okay with kids. Because of his chill demeanor, not only is he seen as ‘cool’ to the youngins, but he’s also easy to interact with. It would certainly help that he’s got a little crew of adorable creatures who are intelligent enough to interact carefully with the kids. There’d be peels of laughter and excited chatter as Wingman does a trick when prompted by Mateo. There’d also be a time where Wingman turns to Mateo, chirping quickly and constantly looking back at the kids…and after a short conversation between the two, he’d probably smile, nodding his head towards the kids with a ‘have fun, be careful’. That’d be the only thing Wingman needs to hear before turning and joining the group of kids in their activities, the laughter being a constant noise as long as the creature is interacting with them. 

When it gets to the end of the night and people start filtering out of the yard, he’d check in with you, asking you if you’re tired or if you still want to hang around with a look of understanding for whatever answer you give. It's only when you smile tiredly and sheepishly at him that he’d nod with a smile, telling you that maybe it's time to go. It wouldn’t be long before you two have a bag with your to-go boxes in them, making your rounds with your family members and saying goodnight. He’d leave Wingman to play with the remaining kids until it’d be time to go, waving him over once you two are ready to leave. (You can’t help but feel like you two have your own little family, and the earlier sight of him interacting with the kids certainly adds fuel to that thought). 

The ride home would be spent going over certain conversations and interactions that had happened during the night, showing just how attentive Mateo had been the entire night. You’d also learn of some of the conversations he’d had when you weren’t around…and he’d instantly wave away your apologies for the nature of those conversations, an easygoing and amused smile on his face as he does so.

“Please tell me she did not say that to you- I’m so sorry, love-” “No need to say sorry. It was pretty funny, so its okay, mi cielito. So…you tried to turn the speed all the way up on the treadmill, yeah?” “Yeah, that’s enough of that-”

To put it simply: Mateo would be ecstatic that he not only got to spend an entire day with you and your family, but that he got to see how you interact with your family. It’s truly nothing like seeing the love of your life in their safe space with people they trust. He could’ve sat and watched you speak to cousins, aunties, uncles, whoever else and would’ve been completely satisfied. He’d go to bed thinking about the glow you had on your face as you spoke to family members you’d missed, and how he’d heard and seen you genuinely laugh with cousins when recounting old stories, and how you and your family connected over food, music, and fellowship...and yeah, he’d have to admit to himself in the middle of the night, while holding you close, that he couldn’t wait to have that with you in the future.

A/N: I hope that was fun to read, it was certainly fun to write! Once again, this is my first time writing for this character that I just found out about like...two weeks ago, y'all...be patient with me while I'm learning. BUT I'm gonna really try to write more this summer because I definitely won't have time to in the fall, so keep an eye out!

[deconstructthesoup]

I've seen some good ones floating around, so here's my take on a Fantasy High Swap Class AU:

Adaine: She's a College of Creation bard, something that stemmed from needing something to keep herself sane growing up in the Abernant home. She channeled her studies of the cosmos and magic into songs, and she actually managed to pass herself off as a Conjuration wizard... until she got found out and sent to Aguefort. Luckily, it's the perfect place for her to hone her craft, and she winds up becoming an incredibly well-known songwriter---more on the indie folk side of things than punk rock, but still. (And she does also become the Elven Oracle, if only by accident.)

Kristen: She starts out as a Zealot barbarian under the Church of Helio, but it doesn't take long for her faith to waver, and she eventually falls into the unpredictability and beautiful chaos of the Path of Wild Magic---and eventually multiclasses into an Oath of the Ancients paladin, inspired by claiming Cassandra as a deity. She's got a lot of righteous fury and craziness at her disposal, and she's never gonna back down from a fight.

Fig: While still keeping her rebellious attitude, she decided to still accept the girly side of herself when her horns grew in and be more pastel-punk (kinda like K Tanaka), and she embraced her devil side by becoming a Trickster Domain cleric---specifically, a cleric of Asmodeus. She's still a lover of disguises, a shameless flirt, and has a shaky relationship with the truth, but it's cranked up to eleven due to her serving a deity of all that. She does eventually multiclass into being an Alchemist artificer, which is... just as chaotic as you might expect.

Riz: He's still a detective at heart, of course, but he winds up using his smarts and sneakery to become a School of Illusion wizard. This actually makes him perfectly suited to being the guy who's always trying to figure out the truth, even if his disguise habit is almost as bad as Fig's sometimes, and he takes on his secret-agent style way earlier than in canon. He's not strictly lawful---he's a big fan of finding out loopholes---but he's definitely the team's designated "smart guy."

Gorgug: His subclass was the hardest to figure out, but I decided he would be good as a Cavalier fighter---his martial prowess is still focused on helping and supporting his friends, regardless of whether it's through rage or skill. Eventually, though, he gets inspired by Adaine's creative ways of using magic and multiclasses into a College of Valor bard. And yes, he uses these skills in part to become a band member of hers. Fig is also part of the band.

Fabian: And last but not least, our Fabian got inspired by both Cathilda and a much more sober Hallariel to become a Swashbuckler rogue. His story is kind of an inverse of canon, with him learning from his mother and mother figure more than his father---partly due to the fact that Bill died before canon in this---and gaining a lot more pride from that (and yeah, that includes him introducing himself as "Fabian Seacaster, son of Hallariel Seacaster, the greatest swordfighter who's ever lived!"). But after his Bad Day, he realizes that there's worth in appreciating what his father has to offer, and he becomes a Fiend warlock of Old Bill---Pact of the Chain, of course, so the Hangman can be his familiar.

So, uh... yeah!

[aguillar]

             DΣΛƬΉ is pretty final: i'm 𝙘𝙤𝙡𝙡𝙚𝙘𝙩𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙫𝙞𝙣𝙮𝙡.

Santiago coleciona discos de vinil desde os dezessete anos e, ao longo da última década, acumulou mais de cento e cinquenta álbuns diferentes. Mesmo com o extenso repertório, tem a resposta na ponta da língua sempre que o perguntam quais os seus favoritos. (ouça a playlist)

                 𝙀𝙓𝙏𝙍𝘼: top 5 albums in his collection

                              𝙡𝙤𝙫𝙚 𝙖𝙩 𝙛𝙞𝙧𝙨𝙩 𝙨𝙩𝙞𝙣𝙜   by   scorpions. ⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑

𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧: 1984, autografado, primeira tiragem 𝐟𝐚𝐯𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐤: still loving you 𝐟𝐮𝐧 𝐟𝐚𝐜𝐭: álbum de sua banda favorita e o mais valioso de sua coleção, foi presente de seu pai quando completou 25 anos.

                                 𝙡𝙚𝙙 𝙯𝙚𝙥𝙥𝙚𝙡𝙞𝙣   by   led zeppelin. ⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑ 𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧: 2014, comprado novo 𝐟𝐚𝐯𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐤: dazed and confused (side one) 𝐟𝐮𝐧 𝐟𝐚𝐜𝐭: foi o primeiro álbum acrescentado à sua coleção, e por isso tem um valor sentimental no top 5.

                              𝙨𝙩𝙞𝙘𝙠𝙮 𝙛𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙚𝙧𝙨   by   rolling stones. ⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑ 𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧: 1971, primeira tiragem, condição razoável 𝐟𝐚𝐯𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐤: wild horses 𝐟𝐮𝐧 𝐟𝐚𝐜𝐭: a primeira música que aprendeu a tocar em sua guitarra acústica foi wild horses.

                                  𝙦𝙪𝙖𝙙𝙧𝙤𝙥𝙝𝙚𝙣𝙞𝙖   by   the who. ⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑

𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧: 2011, remastered, condição perfeita 𝐟𝐚𝐯𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐤: the punk and the godfather 𝐟𝐮𝐧 𝐟𝐚𝐜𝐭: apesar de não ser seu álbum favorito, o show da banda em nova iorque em 2019 foi o melhor em que já foi até hoje.

                                    𝙗𝙖𝙘𝙠 𝙞𝙣 𝙗𝙡𝙖𝙘𝙠   by   AC/DC. ⭑⭑⭑⭑⭒

𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧: 2024, 50th birthday edition, comprado novo 𝐟𝐚𝐯𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐤: you shook me all night long 𝐟𝐮𝐧 𝐟𝐚𝐜𝐭: apesar de já ter uma cópia, comprou a edição de aniversário como investimento, sabendo que o valor aumentará.