#//like just barely but uh. just in case y'know?

[kitakami-zorua-kin]

i - i'm so sorry - i didn't - i didn't know i'm sorry i - i should've - should've been there - i care i do i'm sorry - i didn't know - not again please i'm sorry not again i can't - i'm sos orry i should've been there i'm sorry i didn't know i would''ve been there if i knew i would've i'm so sorry i didn't know- rus? shit - rus, bud, you alright?! i - i'm sorry so sorry i didn't know not again they never should've fished me out i can't help anyone should've juhst left me in the sea- i'ms sorry i didn't know i care i do i'm so sorry i- i can't do it again i can't do the fucking kitakami trip again please i'm so sorry i'll be there next time i swear- fuck

[carolmunson]

almost fell into that hole in your life.

orange colored sky set list.

older!modern!eddie x thirties!reader summary: ficlet. you haven't been acting like yourself these days and eddie notices. unfortunately for you, eddie can't help but wanna make you feel better. tw: implied depressed reader, alcohol mention. implied praise kink if you squint really hard? still 18+ tho! songspiration: black balloon | the goo goo dolls

Eddie doesn't like it when things are too quiet, it makes him hear the static in his brain -- gets too aware. He can hear his eyes blink, the sound of his breath, so when you've been clammed up on the couch all night on your phone he can't help but start to make noise.

"Babe," he says from the kitchen, "Do you want me to make quesadillas or something? I have some shredded chicken I wanted to use up."

"Hm," you respond. He barely hears it, padding his way over in his 'house slides' that you like to tease him about. Such an old man.

"I was thinking quesadillas and I can make some margs, would you like that?" he asks, standing at the end of the couch. The way you're laying on your side, eyes glazed over, is enough to let him know that you haven't heard a word he's said for the last hour. Just scrolling with with a glassy look, numbing yourself ten times over.

"Peach," he says, albiet little sharply, "Are you listening to me?"

"Hmm, no way, that's wild," you respond, a zombie in his midst -- replying just to reply, to fake like you're hearing him. Eddie bites his tongue and then his cheeks to sting the frustration out.

"Hey," he says again, ringed hand reaching down to squeeze your chenille blanket covered thigh, "You hearin' me?"

You finally look up and see his face and the world around you comes into view. In your trance, the world outside had become night, the TV was off, you weren't even sure how much time had passed since you plopped yourself under Eddie's blanket on the sectional in his livingroom.

"Yeah," you squeak out, heart racing because you can tell he's disappointed, "Y-yeah I'm hearing you."

"Then what did I just say, huh?" he doesn't sound mad, or accusatory. Worse, he sounds disheartened. And even worse of worse, he sounds worried.

"Um...it was about um, you were asking about food," you try to answer confidently, and you know it was food adjacent, but you aren't sure.

"Do you want me to make quesadillas?" he asks again, "I have some chicken I wanna use up and I got all the stuff for 'em."

"Yeah," you nod, "Yeah that sounds nice."

"You wanna come help me?" he asks, "I can make us some drinks while we work."

"Uh," you start, that familiar pull tugging in your chest -- laying down feels good, getting lost back in your phone will feel better. It's so comfortable to hide under his chenille blanket and tune out. It feels better like that.

"Please?" You hesitate again, but you're not fast enough to redirect Eddie's attention, and it's then that he catches it in your eyes. The ache. He comes around the the front of the couch to sit in the divot of your thighs and chest, hand moving from your thigh to your shoulder. "What's goin' on?" his low voice twangs at your chest.

"Nothing," you urge, but your voice is too high and so are your eye brows. He doesn't believe you for a second.

"I don't like when you lie to me, peach," he confesses, "Don't lie to me, please."

"Psh, okay dad," you tease, trying to lighten the mood while you get up.

"I'm not kidding with you," Eddie's timbre keeps you in place, "I'm not playing around, babe. What's goin' on with you? You've been -- y'know -- you've been really I dunno -- inward this week. I'm missin' you."

"I'm okay," you urge again, but now you're too quiet. You don't mean it. He raises his brows and blinks at you in disbelief.

"I promise, I'm okay," you continue, "I'll be okay. It's fine. I'm fine."

"You're not making a great case for yourself." "Well then it's a good thing I'm not a lawyer," you joke again. He doesn't buy it.

"You're sad, baby," he tells you, reaching up to hold your cheek in his palm, "Why can't you just tell me? It's okay that you're sad."

"I'm not!" you try to say cheerily again, but the words get stuck in yout throat -- eyes stinging with wetness after hours of being open.

"I'm not sad," you say breathlessly, choking on the lie while a tear sneaks its way onto your lash line.

"Oh, sugar," he coos while you try to tread the water of your feelings -- flailing to keep your head above the pain in your chest.

"No, no, I'm okay -- I'm fine!" but you're starting to cry now and it kills him. Before you know it, he's made his way under the chenille blanket with you, nose to nose.

"Hey, hey, it's okay if you're not fine," he coaches you through your deep breaths while you try to guide yourself out of a full blown sob, "You can tell me. I'm here. I'm here, okay?"

"I'm sorry," your voice becoming a wraith of itself.

"Don't be sorry," he presses himself against you, enough so that you can feel the pressure of him and the pressure of the back of the couch on both sides, "Just talk to me."

"I don't..." you shrug, "I don't have anything to say."

"Just sad?" he asks, you feel an arm snake around you between your back and the the couch, pressing your chest to his. You nod, it feels pathetic, but you're cornered now and there's no use in arguing with someone who was born to win every argument he's ever had.

"Yeah," you mumble weakly, "Yeah, I'm sad. Think I'm more than sad."

He nods, his demeanor softening to something gentle -- heart reaching out to yours with caution like you'll run away, "Yeah, honey I can tell. You really haven't been actin' like yourself these days."

"I just don't wanna bother you," you confess, the brick coming off your chest, "I always get over it, I don't wanna like -- bum you out if it's not like...if it's not a big deal."

"I don't care if it's a big deal or a little deal," his heart bleeds for you while he speaks, "I don't care if you're gonna be over it in fiteen minutes. When you're hurtin' like this -- babe you gotta tell me. You gotta talk to me. Or else how're we gonna make this work?"

"It's just not important."

Eddie can tell that you mean it when you say it; he's never felt more frustrated with whoever convinced you that this was true.

"It's super important to me," he encourages, "Your shit is like, top of my list babe."

"Top of your list?" you crack a weak smile.

"You think the first person I think of when I wake up and the last person I think of when I go to sleep isn't on the top of my priority list?"

"Okay, well now you're doing to much, Ed," your face scrunches in the way that he loves, not letting you totally get out of his hold yet while you try to squirm away.

"Hey, look at me, before you get up," he cups your cheek again, gently, your eyes meeting his brown ones. Eddie leans in for a kiss, a soft reminder that he's not going anywhere anytime soon -- not that you'd want him to. Not with lips like that.

When you break away, his nose nuzzles yours, coasting up to press another gentle kiss on the center of your forehead. Long and intentional, warm enough to get you to close your eyes.

"It's gonna be okay," he assures, "It's okay if you're not, but -- I gotcha until you're feelin' better, hm?"

You nod, sniffling snottily and wiping your wet cheek.

"I am ordering us quesadillas," he whispers, stealing another kiss from you, "Because if you're going to rot on my couch, I'm gonna make you rot next to me."

"We're rotting!" you cheer half heartedly, pouting when he gets up to get his phone for take out. When he finishes, he holds his hand out and you sheepishly put your hand in his.

Eddie curls bounce when he shakes his head, "Peach, you know what I'm asking for."

"No," you frown, "I need it to rot."

"Peach...please?" it's more of a warning than a question, and you slide your phone into his hand. He doesn't check it, but he knows that if you don't have it 'locked away' in his sweats pocket for a while you'll just end up zoning out the same way you did before.

"Thanks, sugar," he smirks, "You're so good."

Your cheeks burn at the priase, rolling your eyes with a grin that cracks against your features, "Don't. We're not doing anything sexy."

"Yeah I know," he shrugs innocently, finding his way next to you again, "But when you smile like that, who am I to deny you a lil' somethin'?"

He dims the lights in the open space from the remote on the coffee table, settling in while you make yourself comfortable in his side. Eddie keeps you close on nights like this, when he knows you're on unsteady ground. You're still quiet, but the start of another Twilight Zone marathon keeps you more alert than before. With steady breaths you start to relax in what he'd deem a healthier way than before, and the quiet doesn't make his brain too fuzzy this time around. In the still of the living room and the hum of Rod Serlings voice, he feels you squeeze his hand -- a silent thank you. He doesn't think he could be any more in love.

[writing-mlm]

I was wondering if you could do a Zuko x male reader fic? I’ve been scouring everywhere for male reader fics sob😭

I told you so (It was always about you)

Summary: You're worried about life after the war, really you're worried about life without Zuko. Too bad you're as love blind as Toph is blind. Pairing: Zuko x waterbender!male!reader WC: 7.4k TW: its hinted about reader being trans, readers mother asking about grandkids a/n: this was gonna be sm longer but I haven't posted in agesssss

“Katara,” You softly call in front of her tent. It’s the dead of night, four days before Aang is supposed to be fighting Ozai and you’re in front of Katara’s tent, nervously picking at your hair ribbon. “Katara!” You call again, leaning close to the fabric. 

“Huh?” She opens the flap to the tent, only able to see with the dying campfire behind you. 

   “Can I come in?” You whisper and she tiredly nods, rolling back over to her spot so you can enter. Settling on your knees on top of a hide blanket, you close the tent and watch as she lights a lantern. 

Patting your fingers against your bare knees, you look around her tent. It’s mostly the same as the others Zuko has bought, but she has her clothes neatly folded next to her pillow with her necklace set securely under the pillow. 

“Why aren’t you asleep yet?” She asks through a yawn and you nod, even though it wasn’t a yes or no question. 

   “I uh… I need to ask you something…” You trail and she nods, propping herself on her arm. “Do you think… do you think Zuko will stay with us after Aang defeats Ozai?” She raises an eyebrow, it's well into the night and you kept yourself up for hours, mulling over that question. “It’s just… he’ll become Fire Lord and he’ll be busy. What if he forgets m- us?” Ah, she blinks, that’s why you’re worried. 

“He won’t forget you,” She reassures, putting a hand on top of your hand and your eyes widen before you move your hand from under hers. 

   “I wasn’t talking about—“ Lowering your voice, you clear your throat. “I wasn’t talking about me, I meant the whole group.” You shake your head, looking off towards the tent's entrance to see if you had woken anyone up. “We’re all his friends, not just me.” Awkwardly chuckling, you rise and wave your hand. “Forget I even said anything, I’m just tired. Pre-battle nerves and everything…” Without protesting, Katara watches as you stand up and open the door of sorts to the tent, nearly tripping on your way up. 

“He won’t leave you.” She says as you leave her tent. 

Regretting not bringing a blanket with you, you look at the moon and run your hands along your arms for warmth before going back to finding your tent in the near pitch-black area Aang has decided to stop at for the night. It doesn’t take long to find your tent, though since standing in front of your tent, you see Zuko standing with a small flame in the palm of his hand. 

“You okay?” You ask and he turns around, the flame flickering with the sudden movement. His shoulders settle as he sees you and the flame dies down just a bit, just enough that you can fully see him when you’re close enough. 

   “I heard you yelling,” He admits, keeping his voice down in case he woke anyone up. If only you’d been as good. “Why were you in Katata’s tent?” He takes notice of your fundoshi and sarashi and you shake your head, gesturing back to her tent. 

“I was asking her a question…about… water bending.” He slowly nods, not believing your very obvious lie but doesn’t press on. “So…” Looking away from him, you chew the inside of your cheek and sigh, trying to find something to say. 

“So…?” He repeats. 

   “Future Fire Lord, amirite?” Lightly punching his arm, you immediately curse yourself. “I mean— like, with Aang and your dad and stuff…?” He blinks, once and then twice. “I’m just… y'know?” Looking at the moon, you squint. “Look at the moon! It’s late! I better go to sleep now, goodnight!” Darting into your tent, you push yourself to the furthest corner and watch as Zuko stands there for a couple of seconds before he clears his throat. 

“Yes, goodnight.” He says before walking away. Sighing, you pinch the bridge of your nose and allow yourself to sit in pure embarrassment until you eventually fall asleep. 

—

Katara had come around fully to the idea of Zuko, something about being next to your sorta enemy while deciding not to kill your mother's killer brought them closer together. It was nice. 

Everyone had been sort of relaxed during their stay at his father's empty beach house but you were still on edge. Staying in Ozai’s own beach house was risky, he could decide he finally wanted a dip in the ocean and show up. Especially with Sokka and Suki exploring into town, word could spread. Even if Zuko didn’t share the same sentiment. 

“Calm down,” Toph grunts as she shoves your calf. Stumbling onto a pillar, you glare at her. “I’d feel if anyone was around.” That was true, you supposed. Sighing, you decide to give it a rest looking around the surrounding area of the house, and settle next to Toph. She and Katara were watching Aang and Zuko practice their Fire Bending, you tried not to watch. It only reminded you that you could possibly die in a horrible fire, feeling the water leave your body until you become a crisp husk of yourself. 

Toph, clearly feeling your worry huffs and grabs your shirt before pulling you down. Forcing you to lay on your back, she hums and closes her eyes. Doing the same, you instead think about nearly anything else. Even try to clear your mind, although you only think airbenders can truly do that. 

“Doesn’t it seem kind of weird that we’re hiding from the Fire Lord in his own house?” Katara asks sometime later, once the two finish up their training. 

   “I told you, my father hadn’t come here since our family was actually happy,” Zuko explains, his seventh time explaining that exact point. Sitting up, you catch him wiping the sweat from his head. “And that was a long time ago. It’s the last place anyone would think to look for us,” He adds, staring at you. 

“You guys are not gonna believe this!” Sokka exclaims as he rushes into the courtyard with Suki behind him, a rolled-up paper in his grip. “There’s a play about us!”

“We were just in town and we found this poster.” Looking at the picture on the poster, you cover your mouth and listen as Sokka and Suki read the poster. It sounds horrid. Zuko knows it’ll be horrible. Katara doesn’t want to go. 

As such, everyone goes. 

“Why don’t the girls sit up there and the boys sit down there?” Katara grins, already shoving Sokka from the bench next to Suki. She grins at you, motioning with her eyes to Zuko. 

   “Why?” Aang frowns, clearly trying to set you up was affecting Aang trying to set him and Katara up. 

    “She clearly wants the better view!” Sokka almost shouts. Everyone shushes him and looks around. 

“Why don’t we just sit where we want?” Toph groans, plopping down on the outside of the lower bench. “My feet can’t even see from up here!” Katara shares Aang’s frown and slumps down next to Toph. 

   “I’ll tell your feet what’s happening,” She promises, barely registering that Zuko sat next to her. There was more space on the top bench but you were sure you didn’t want to sit next to the couple and took the spot next to Zuko. Aang sighs and takes the seat next to Sokka. 

The play starts, opening with the actors that played Katara and Sokka on their canoe. Katara’s actress is… something. From the first word, you check out. 

“I told them,” Zuko whispered when the two started to complain. Only Toph seems to be enjoying the play. 

   “We could leave,” You grin, catching the actor freeing the girl playing Aang. He thinks about it, genuinely thinks about it but he’s enjoying Aang complaining about his own character until ‘Zuko’ and ‘Iroh’ show up.

“They make me look totally stiff and humorless,” He complains. As much as you don’t want to say it, it’s the most accurate portrayal of the group so far.  

   “Actually, I think that actors are spot on,” Katara muses. 

    “How could you say that?” He gasps at the same time his actor says the same thing. 

“We should leave,” He agrees and goes to stand up but Sokka pushes him down. Eventually, the scene where they meet your actor appears. The actor playing you is… something. He’s a quiet actor, hunching himself over and running away from any source of fire. Then, there’s only one scene with Yue, her death. Immediately after it’s the scene where you found out about her death. Your actor, for the first and only time in the play, blows up and yells at Sokka. Nearly killing him by accidentally freezing him. 

The play wasn’t wasn’t completely wrong in that sense. 

It wasn’t something you were proud of, no matter how much Sokka swore it was water under the bridge. 

“Do you want to leave?” Zuko whispers, grabbing your hand. Probably to make it quicker if the two of you decided to leave. Nothing else. 

   “Do you?” You ask, looking over at him. Yes, yes, you fucking wanted to leave the play. This whole thing was a stupid idea. 

   “I never wanted to stay,” He blinks, and yeah, that’s true. 

As quietly as possible, as Katara is busy explaining to Toph, as Aang is trying to strike up a conversation with Katara, and Suki and Sokka are lightly arguing about his portrayal, the two of you leave the theater. 

The intermission would be soon, anyway. 

“I didn’t know you did that,” Zuko says but judging by his face, he immediately regrets his words. 

   “I thought he killed my sister,” You humorlessly laugh, leaning against the banister. “What was I supposed to do? Not kill him,” 

“That’s reasonable,” He agrees, his thumb running across the flesh of your hand. He feels the curves of your knuckles, the dips of the scar left there from a fight with an earthbender. He still thinks punching the rock was stupid. You watch, looking at your intertwined fingers. 

Ever since that night in the tent, Zuko has been acting strange. He’s been more touchy, he actively seeks you out in the group, and he's a bit more awkward with you. Toph, whenever they’re alone, always teases him about it. 

A stupid part of you, so you’ve dubbed it, thinks he could feel the same way. The rational part of you thinks he’s committing you to memory, so when he leaves for good he won’t forget you. 

“Do you want something to eat?” He asks, long after the two of you stood in the silence that took over the balcony, the both of you staring at your hands. 

   “No,” You shake your head a little. “I’m good here. You?”

“I’m good here, too.”

—

 In truth, you were surprised that Zuko had picked you over Katara to join him in fighting Azula. You don’t think you were as good as her, close, but not to her level. She was better on her feet while your biggest issue was second-guessing yourself. 

“The sky’s lovely,” You admit, holding Appa’s reins tightly. 

   “It is.” Zuko says without ever looking up. His eyes are cast towards Appa’s fur, he refuses to look at anything else. Not until Appa starts to descend towards the palace. 

Azula is on her knees, about to be crowned in front of no one. There’s no crowd other than the officials around her. 

“Sorry, but you’re not gonna become Firelord today.” Zuko says before leaping off of Appa. “I am.” She laughs and you stare at her hair. It’s a mess, the worst you’ve ever seen them. They’re cut unevenly, but not on purpose. Her top knot is sloppy done and everything else is a mess. 

    “You’re hilarious,” 

“You want to be Firelord? Fine. Let’s settle this. Just you and me, brother. The showdown that was always meant to be—“ She grins, baring her teeth down at Zuko. “Agni Kai!” 

“You’re on.” Zuko agrees. While you don’t agree to let Zuko fight her alone; the both of you know Azula wouldn’t be able to fight the two of you straight on, her only chance would be a one-on-one.  But if  Zuko agrees, you’ll let him. If push comes to shove, you won’t be far. 

As they prepare for the Agni Kai, you fly Appa away. Far enough that he’s away from any attacks that might come his way. When you return, you return to a wall of blue and yellow fire splitting down the middle. It’s pushing Zuko back but it doesn’t seem to care. The sounds of the fire are damn near horrifying, you hear it from all around you, and feel the warmth of their fires as they fly around, setting everything around it ablaze. 

Eventually, Azula is knocked back and Zuko yells about her lightning. Taunting her for being scared but she swears she isn’t and prepares her strike. It’s a last-second decision, as she fires her shot and you notice it isn’t heading for Zuko but for you.  He notices and jumps in front, clutching the strike to his chest before he falls. Sparks fizzle around him as you rush over but Azula fires at you. 

Her attention is no longer on her brother, he’s as good as dead in her eyes. 

Thankfully, though, the area is surrounded by water. It’s not a lot, though. Most of it evaporates by the second stream of fire she sends your way and you dive behind a pillar. There are stripes of fire all around you, and you don’t know what to do. You could grab Zuko and leave or you could fight. You could try and heal Zuko and the two of you fight but you don’t know if that’ll work. 

“Running away?” She cackles, flying down using her fire. Grabbing some of the water that was on the other side of the area, you use it to put distance between the two of you. Eventually, you run out of water and are forced into a new area as Azula throws a burst of fire at you. It nicks at your skin and you bite your tongue, holding back the yell of pain. Tripping, you notice that the floors have metal gates. Peering inside, you thank the spirits. Running water. 

Grabbing chains used to keep the doors closed, you wait for Azula. 

“There you are, Water Prince.” Azula sneers, standing in front of you. She takes two steps forward, waiting for you to do something. But you just need her to get closer. Sending a spray of water to her left, she dives right and straight to you, readying herself to lightning strike you. 

Her fingers nearly touch you, but you raise your arms, pulling the water below the two of you high and wide enough that she couldn’t possibly get out of it. It freezes around her almost instantly and you quickly wrap her arms in the chains before locking it to the grate. 

Giving them a tug, they don’t budge and you drop the water back into the grate. She struggles, gasping for air but you go back to Zuko. 

He’s still in pain, writhing on the ground as you flip him onto his back. Pulling some water from the pouch Katara had gifted you, you try your best to heal his wound. You had only learned the basics of healing, before your father eventually ‘came to his senses’ and put you in training with the boys. 

But it’s good enough, as the water glows and he seems to be in less pain. 

“Thank you, (Y/n).” He mutters, his eyes barely open. “But you should heal yourself.” His hand raises, ghosting over the burnt skin of your neck. 

  “I’ll be fine,” You croak, pulling his hand down to his side. “Worry about Azula.” Helping him up, the two of you watch as she yells out, spitting fire before collapsing to the floor and sobbing. 

“What will you—“

“She’s still my sister,” He says, watching as she falls asleep, still crying. He nods to one of the advisors and leans on you for support, letting you guide him back to Appa. “And she needs help. My father, should Aang spare his life, will go to prison.” 

—

For his coronation, Zuko had requested that everyone come dressed in their best traditional wear. And not Fire Nation traditional. He had specifically asked for everyone to wear their traditional clothes and accessories, asking everyone to spare no detail. And with a month to prepare, you think you did quite well with your outfit.

Sliding your norigae through your left ear, you admire the crescent moon pendant and untangle the soft blue string hanging below it. It brushes against your ivory choker, one that’s similar to Sokka’s but his choker is thicker with one row while yours is five thinner rows of bone. 

“You look good,” Looking behind you in the mirror, you thank Suki and see she’s wearing her Kyoshi Warriors uniform. 

   “I’m feeling a bit overdressed if I’m being honest.” You chuckle, staring at your many, many layers. The most noticeable of a long piece of fabric going down between your legs, resting just above your ankles with careful pattern stitching that matches your putter shirt. It’s connected to your outer jacket, but you can’t tell with your whale hide belt and tiger seal fleece sort of skirt. It doesn’t connect in the front, but that’s what your mothers always called it. 

“It’s nice,” She shakes her head. “You should see what Toph is wearing.” She adds and you turn around to face her. “She’s waiting in the main room with Katara.” Crap, you knew you shouldn’t have taken so long. 

   “Oh, am I the last one?” At that, Suki laughs and puts her hands on her hips. 

   “Sokka isn’t even out of the bath yet,” Of course he isn’t. While you might be the most overdressed, at least you weren’t the last person dressed. You shake your head and thank her again, leaving for the main room.

Once you’re there, you see Toph is sitting on the sofa, sitting as comfortably as she can when she’s wearing something so far from her comfort zone. 

Her typical headband is replaced with a golden kuitou with several pom-poms and gems. Her hair is mostly the same, but she’s swept the middle part of her bands to either side. You’ve never seen that much of her forehead before. She’s also wearing a heziqun, a tube top of sorts, worn over her quin, which is a long silky skirt— wait, those are just really loose pants. Smart. She’s also got on a zhai xu, the sleeves part of her dress. Her pibo, the long thin scarf that’s typically draped over her arms, is sitting on the couch next to her. 

“Don’t say a word,” She says, her eyes snapping to you. 

   “Wasn’t going to,” You hum, taking a seat next to her. 

Katara is across from you, wearing an outfit similar to your own but hers is distinctly from the Southern Water Tribe. 

“Don’t be nervous,” Toph grins over at you and you curse under your breath, she’s not wearing shoes. “You’ll see your boyfriend soon enough.” She pats your shoulder, faking a pout. 

   “Not my boyfriend,” You purse your lips, there’s no way you’re going to go back and forth on this with a child. 

    “If you say so,” She loudly sighs and stretches. “But when you get married I want to be your best man.”

“I don’t think so,” Okay, fine, maybe you were going to give in a little. Just a smidge. She frowns and punches your arm. “Ow! Toph, there are no groomsmen in Water Tribe weddings! But I would totally go to you for the ring,” 

“Good,” She nods. “I know you have horrible taste in gems. You’d probably want something basic like a diamond.” She makes a face as she says it and Katara rolls her eyes. 

   “I was thinking something like agate or azurite,” You’re not entirely sure where to find those, but once you do, it’s over for them. 

“Yeah, Zuko would like that.” She nods wistfully. 

“This isn’t about Zuko,”

“Isn’t it?”

—

The coronation had ended and it was nearly time to begin the festivities, but first, you had to see Zuko. He’d sent for Ty Lee to bring everyone to him in what is now his throne room. It seemed more welcoming, despite nothing changing but the person who sat on the throne. 

Zuko pauses his pacing as he hears the footsteps drawing closer and visibly relaxes at the sight of everyone. As he descends down the stairs he dismisses the court and Ty Lee, although she was already leaving at that point. She was more excited about the after-party and hanging out with her new friends, anyway. 

“Thank you for coming,” He smiles at you before remembering the others are also in the room. “There’s a small feast waiting for us, please, join me.” He doesn’t say this, but you know from records that those feasts are between the Fire Lord and his family, and as of last week, he didn’t have any remaining family that was able to join him. Well, he had his Uncle Iroh, but he was busy setting up for later that night. 

   “Free food, I’m in! Lead the way, Oh Great Fire Lord!” Sokka grins, placing his hands on Zuko’s shoulder and literally pushing him out of the room. You laugh, walking alongside Aang towards the room, watching as Suki and Toph take the time to loudly complain about Sokka. 

“See,” Katara whispers, falling into step with the two of you. “He isn’t going to leave.” Covering her mouth, you stop walking until you’re sure the distance is too great that Zuko wouldn’t hear. 

   “I never…” Taking a deep breath, you glance at Aang. “I don’t know what she's talking about,” You tell him with a small shrug, he just stares at Katara, waiting for her to explain. 

   “He’s lying,” Toph shouts and you grumble. Wiping your mouth, you stand up straight and continue walking. 

Waiting at the doors of the room for everyone to catch up, Zuko has a small smile on his face when you stand next to him. 

“You guys go in, I want to talk to (Y/n),” He nods and two guards open the doors. Sokka and Toph don’t need to be told twice and rush inside, much to everyone’s amusement. Katara squeezes your arm as she passes by and Aang gives you a thumbs up you pretend to not notice. 

Zuko waits until the doors close and the two of you walk in silence until you’re both in the palace courtyard, in front of the turtle duck pond. 

“Really,” He nods once the two of you are alone. “Thank you for coming. And-and you look amazing, by the way.” He gestures to your outfit. “You’re not too hot, right? I have a lot of spare clothes you could wear if you’d like…” He looks off to the balcony of his room. 

  “I’m fine,” You smile, holding your hands in front of you. “I actually toned down the layers, I usually wear four more for ceremonies,” Looking around the courtyard, you wonder what the palace would look like had it been made of ice. 

   “That’s good,” He nods, fiddling with the fabric of his sleeve before he clears his throat, pulling your attention back to him. “Not that you toned it down, just that you’re not uncomfortable.” He hastily adds before a silence falls over the two of you. 

“That night, at the tents…” He starts and you slowly nod. That memory was almost completely forgotten but you remember the most basic gist of the night. “I won’t leave the team— you behind.” He forcefully corrects himself and you have to force yourself to still look at him. “I don’t plan on leaving you behind.” He reiterates. 

“Oh,” You hum, biting the corners of your mouth to stop your smile from growing. 

“I don’t know who to say this,” He trails off and reaches to grab your hand. He grips it tightly and your heart hammers, there’s a million different things he could possibly want to say but you know. Hopefully. “But my uncle advised me to speak freely about this. I have… I would like— no,” His face contorts and you nod, promising to let him take his time. He thinks for a moment, his eyes dipping to stare at your hands. “Would you like to co-rule the Fire Nation with me?” He asks, his good eye squinting at his own words. Yeah, that sounded right to him. 

“Like as an advisor?” You tilt your head. “I mean, I do have a military background, my father is—“

“As my consort.” He corrects and your eyes widen. 

“Oh,” You blink and open your mouth to speak before closing it again. 

“I understand if you say no, but I need you to know my feelings before things become… distant between us. I know you’re going back to help your father and I’m staying here,” He says when the gap of silence becomes too much for him to bear. 

   “No!” You vigorously shake your head and he deflates a little more. “No, I mean, yes to the question. No to the whole ‘if you say no’ part. I would very much enjoy being your consort.” You rush out. 

“Really?” He asks, his eye widening and eyebrow-raising. “I know it’s a lot all at once, we could start small—“

“I’m okay with starting big,” You grin.  “Skip the courting and go straight to dating, not marriage tomorrow big, you know.” You add, your eyes trailing off to the flowers of the garden. 

   “I’m too young for marriage,” He agrees. “But I could see an engagement soon.” His eyes flicker to your hair and then down to your face while yours dips down to his neck. 

“Good.” Dropping one of his hands, you jerk your head back the way you came. “Let’s go eat! Before Sokka and Toph leave us to starve,” 

Joining the others, you settle yourself between Katara and the end of the table while Zuko takes the head of the table, with Aang and Toph on either side of him. 

“So,” Katara’s eyes flicker between you and Zuko. “What did you two talk about?” She asks, doing her absolute worst to hide the grin plastered on her face. 

“Things,” You shrug, filling your plate. 

   “Mundane things,” Zuko agrees. 

“Like?” Suki presses. 

“He thought I would want a change of clothes. Can you pass the dumplings, please?” Aang nods and grabs the plate. 

“Yes, he looks very hot—“ Zuko pauses and you stare at him, the mostly empty plate of dumplings in your clutch. “Temperature wise… in his clothes.” His eyes catch Toph’s and he nearly leaps; he’ll never get over the fact that she knows where his eyes are. She just snickers and continues to eat. 

“Makes sense, let’s eat!” Sokka raises his cup in the air, nearly spilling his tea on Suki’s lap. “To Zuko! The best Fire Lord ever!” Everyone follows suit, raising their cups. 

Midway through the meal, you catch Zuko grazing his chest with a slightly contorted expression. The spot Azula’s lightning had struck him. 

“Does it still hurt?” You ask, wiping some sauce from the corner of your mouth. “I know my healing isn’t the best, so…” 

“No,” He shakes his head, his hand settling back to his lap. “You’re perfect— it’s perfect,” He quickly corrects and you notice how the table goes quiet. He cringes and you stare down at your plate, grabbing a spring roll to avoid smiling. “I just drank too fast.” He explains, now much more careful with his words. 

“Oh, that makes sense,” You glance at him and briefly make eye contact. 

    “Mhmm,” He says, still watching you. 

“Is it just me or are you two acting weird?” Sokka asks, looking between the two of you. 

   “He’s an idiot,” Suki mutters. 

“Speaking of weird,” Clearing your throat, you point your half-eaten spring roll at Sokka. “Do you guys remember when Sokka set up a literal love tent?” 

“He what?” Katara shouts, choking on her food. 

—

With the ceremony and feast over, it’s time to get changed and prepare for the rest of the night’s festivities. Everyone heads into their temporary rooms in the palace and you immediately drop most of your layers. 

In truth, you were sweating in your outfit, normally you wouldn’t wear so many layers for over four hours, especially in the Fire Nation, but it’s been around eight and you’re sticky and sweaty. Thankfully, there’s an attached bathroom and you’re able to soak for a bit before you need to start getting ready. 

You’d packed some clothes for the night, but when you entered the bedroom again there was a pile of red clothes folded neatly on the bed, and below the bed was a pair of red boots. 

Grabbing the top layer, you fold it and stare at the boran lakron— namely the deep v-neck it has and then down to your sarashi. You don’t mind all that much, it’s not as if your garments are a secret. But when you pick up the next item, you see he’s provided a second option; a tangzhuang. 

The longer you stare at the sleeveless, button-down shirt the longer you’re convinced it’s his. You’re sure you’ve seen him wear the same dark red and golden shirt before. Putting that on, you leave it unbuttoned for the time being and grab the next layer. 

It’s a pair of fisherman's pants, you own a pair yourself and had packed it along, but you don’t mind wearing the new one. Pulling them up, you wrap the extra fabric over itself before tying the string to keep it from falling. Slipping your huwan’s back onto your forearms, you lace them up before sitting on the bed. The shoes he’d provided were slip-on shoes that surprisingly fit. 

“Knock-knock!” Aang says as he’s knocking on your door. 

   “Come in!” You call, briefly looking at the door as you’re doing your hair. Ceremony hair was a pain and a half to undo. Mainly since the most you’d do to your hair is tie it up with a ribbon. 

   “I didn’t know you owned Fire Nation clothes,” Aang comments as he throws himself onto your temporary bed. He’s back to his typical clothes and you stare at him through the mirror. 

“I don’t… these were on my bed.” Sitting up, Aang raises an eyebrow before his face gets that look when he makes a connection. 

   “So,” He looks away, pretending to think about something to say. “Are you going back home after this?” He asks. You don’t think anything of the question, after all, it was Aang asking you. 

“Not for long,” You shake your head. “I don’t see myself settling down there again.” Checking over your hair, your fingers ghost over your neck. There’s still a scar there from the fight, but it doesn’t bother you. Not anymore. Just sometimes you forget about it. 

   “Oh?” He grins but hides it. “Where do you see yourself settling down?” Dropping your hand, you spin around to face Aang. 

“Somewhere,” You shrug, looking him up and down, it’s weird that you were provided with clothes but he wasn’t. “How about you?” 

“Me and Katara are planning on traveling, continuing to spread peace and all the Avatar stuff,” He shrugs, standing up. “You should join us… if you don’t have plans already!” It’s as though he’s trying to guide you into an answer— he is! Katara must’ve put him up to this because she knew you wouldn’t answer her. 

“Maybe,” Patting his shoulder, you check the sun. You have another hour before you’re supposed to head out and you really want to get to work on sending a letter to your parents about your relationship. They’d left after the ceremony, missing the coldness of the Southern Water Tribe. “I’ll definitely let you know, though!” 

—

The ride to Iroh’s tea shop was nice, everyone had flown on Appa, overlooking Ba Sing Se. You and Zuko were in the back, honestly just staring at each other until the other noticed before looking away. 

Iroh greeted everyone but he’d taken a second to look at your clothing. Instead of saying anything, he only smiled and let everyone into the shop. It was closed for the day, so Iroh could see his nephew and friends. 

Having changed into the shop's uniform, Zuko handed out tea to everyone until Sokka interrupted him, talking about trying to capture the moment. 

“I wanted to do a painting. So we always remember the good times together,” He admits and everyone goes over to see the drawing. It was definitely a drawing, taking a lot of artistic liberties. But it was nice, and you appreciate the sentiment, even as Zuko’s hand found yours. 

“Young love,” Iroh sighs and the two of you jump, separating to opposite ends of the table. He laughs, holding his stomach, and guides you back to Zuko. “Fire and ice, opposites at war but they aren’t too dissimilar, no?” His eyes flicker between the two of you and you hold back your wide grin. He’d basically said he was more than fine with your relationship. 

“Thank you, Uncle.” Zuko relaxes. 

“For what?” He asks, raising his cup to his mouth. “I am not going to get in the way of love.”

—

To say that the Fire Lord's appearance in the Northern Water Tribe was met with open arms would be a big fat lie. Had it not been for the Chief's son at his side Zuko would’ve been turned away without a second glance. 

While it wasn’t unexpected, you can tell it still deeply hurt Zuko. He wasn’t his father but he was his father's son and he guesses that’s worse. He’s paying for sins he had committed when he was lost as well as the sins of his family. But, he didn’t let it deter him. Instead, he walked side by side as you guided him through your homeland. 

The path to the palace was straight, so it wasn’t too long. But long enough that people had begun to exit their homes to see the Fire Lord and Prince walking in stride towards the palace. Surely the elders talk and theorize, and there would be gossip that you’d never hear the end of. 

By the time the two of you reached the bottom of the stairs, you saw your parents standing side by side at the top. Zuko had seen them before, during his coronation, but he had never actually met them before. 

“Chief Arnook, Kayuula; it’s a pleasure to finally meet you.” Zuko bows his head to your parents. 

   “Mother, father.” You greet, waiting for the invitation for a hug. 

“Welcome back,” Your father smiles, pulling you into a hug. Your mother joins, burying her head into the crook of your neck. “With a….” He looks at Zuko, an eyebrow raised. “Suitable partner.” He settles on saying. 

   “Come in,” Your mother extends her hand to Zuko and he looks at you, unsure of what to do. When you nod, he shakes as he takes her hand, letting her guide him inside. 

“Before you ask,” You rush as the door shuts. “We do have a timeline of our engagement.” Most Water Tribe relationships don’t start with dating, jumping straight to wedding preparations once both parties are of age. But for the Fire Nation, they date. Like, actually date. 

   “That’s good,” Your father nods his hand on your shoulder. “Does he treat you nice?” He whispers, watching as your mother shows Zuko paintings from your youth. 

“He does,” You nod. 

   “Does he know?” He adds, gesturing to your chest. 

“He does,” Once again, you nod. “He’s more than okay with it, father.” He inhales and nods but stops walking. Putting more of a distance between the two groups.

   “You’ll always be home here. If he’s pressuring you—“

“Father,” Stopping him, you move to hold his hands. “Zuko wouldn’t. I trust him— fully. Wholeheartedly.” He exhales, checking your eyes before he gives in. 

   “I simply cannot lose another child,” He admits as the two of you start walking again. “Our wounds are only beginning to heal.” He continues, looking at a painting of Yue. 

“I understand, I miss her dearly.” 

“(Y/n), Darling; hurry!” Your mother sings and your father smiles, picking up the pace into the living room. She sat across from Zuko who couldn’t be more uncomfortable. 

“Mother,” You tease, settling next to Zuko. “She didn’t tell you about the process of skinning, did she?” You ask and he shakes his head and slowly relaxes. 

   “I was asking if you two have consummated the relationship yet.” She says as if it was a normal conversation. Your father hums, his gaze settling on Zuko. 

“Mother,” You choke. “We haven’t… er… we haven’t kissed yet.” Her eyebrows raise but she doesn’t speak on it. “We wanted to tell

you in person before anything further.”

“I want grandkids!” She complains. 

   “Preferably one boy and one girl,” Your father adds. “I think five grandkids would suffice.” He hums and your jaw drops. 

“Father, we haven’t discussed children.” You meekly admit, glancing at Zuko. “We aren’t even sure if I can have children.” 

“Visit the elders today,” Your father nods as if it was settled. “Ask them for advice and guidance.” 

“So, I’m assuming you approve of us?” You ask anything to move the conversation. They look at each other, having a silent conversation before they both nod. 

   “I see no issues,” Your mother smiles, resting her head on your father's shoulder. “Besides, if he mistreats you, you have all the water benders in the world and the Avatar to stop him.” She shrugs. 

“Oh,” You gulp. “That’s nice.”

—

One year and seven months of dating had come and gone and it was time. You felt it was time and so did Zuko. War makes life seem short, which you suppose it is. And it brings clarity. You were sure in your relationship.

The two of you met each other when you were literally at your worst, you’d seen the ugly sides of each other and made way past it. And now the two of you were working on repairing the Fire Nation, restoring the damage inflicted upon the other nations to the best of your ability. 

“When we’re married,” Zuko says as the two of you walk out of the carriage that had taken you to Iroh’s tea shop. “What will your title be?” Pursing your lips, you admit you haven’t given it much thought before now. 

   “Consort (Y/n)?” You toss up. 

    “That’s demeaning,” He shakes his head. “You’re much more. Chief (Y/n) of the Fire Nation?” 

“Wordy, but I like it.” 

Entering the tea shop, you see your parents and Iroh sitting at a table, talking and sipping their teas. They seem to be having fun and you’re glad. But not surprised, Iroh is amazing. In the back, you saw your friends mingling about. 

“(Y/n), Zuko!” Sokka waves wildly when he sees the two of you. 

   “About time,” Toph scoffs. Although everyone knows it’s fake. 

“Sorry we’re late,” You apologize, hugging your parents. “We got caught up…”

“They were smooching.” Sokka tries to whisper to Suki but everyone hears it. 

   “Shut up.” Katara punches his arm. “It’s good to see you two again,” She smiles at you. 

“You’ve grown,” You huff, hugging her. “I’ve seen so much red I forgot what blue was!” The two of you laugh as Zuko walks up behind you, settling his hands around you. He’s been touchy ever since the two of you set a date for the engagement. 

    “That fortune-teller did say she saw a lot of red in your future,” Zuko muses, his head leaning towards yours as he presses a loud kiss to your cheek. 

   “Hopefully we can get more blue,” You laugh, pushing his head away just enough that his hair isn’t tickling your neck. 

“Should we get started?” Your father asks and Zuko immediately removes himself from you. He’s still a little nervous around your parents. 

“Yes!” You nod and take your seat at one end of the table. Zuko takes the other and your friends fill the seats on either side of your parents and Iroh. 

Settled on your knees, you watch as your parents place down a blue wooden box in the middle of the table and then Iroh places a red metal box. The red box is a long rectangle with a lot of small details but the blue box is a little more simple, carved to mimic ice sculptures back home. 

“I am Prince (Y/n), of the Northern Water Tribe. Son of Chief Arnook and Kayuula.” You speak, staring at Zuko. 

   “I am Fire Lord Zuko, son of Ursa and Ozai.” Zuko says, staring back at you. 

“Do you both agree to this engagement?” Iroh asks. 

   “Yes.” The two of you nod. 

“Is this engagement true?” Your father asks.

   “Yes.”

“Do you both love each other?” Your mother asks. 

  “Yes.” Zuko smiles without a hint of embarrassment. 

“May the spirits bless your engagement,” Everyone speaks and you’re sure they practiced that because even Sokka got it right. 

“Exchange your gifts,” Your mother says and you stand up, grabbing the box before bowing away from the table. Zuko follows suit and everyone turns to watch as the two of you stand in front of each other. 

“Do you want to go first?” He asks, messing with the red box. The rule for a traditional engagement was that the male gifts the woman something to signify their engagement but… yeah. 

   “Sure,” Fumbling with the blue box, you turn it away from you and open it. 

Inside the box was a light blue gemstone with a dark blue ribbon going through it. The gemstone was carved to look like a flame in the same design as the water symbol. You’d spent three months trying to get it right, which was difficult considering you were hardly ever away from Zuko. 

Nervously, you look between the necklace and Zuko. 

“It’s beautiful,” He smiles and takes the necklace with one hand. Holding the red box for him, he holds the necklace up to his throat before he locks the clasp together. There was something about Zuko wearing something from your tribe that made your heart skip a beat, the way he wore it did much more. You were nearly sure you’d pass out. 

Taking his box back, you watch as he opens the red box, revealing a silver version of his royal crown. But instead of flames, there was a crescent moon. 

“I’m not crowned yet,” You remind him as you grab it. 

   “It’s the consort crown.” He shakes his head. “The chief crown will be more elaborate, I promise.” With a look of approval, he walks behind you and undoes your hair. It falls from the ribbon and settles at the base of your neck. Carefully, his fingers scoop your hair up, combining it with his other hand until he’s gathered it into a top knot. His hand juts out from your left and you hand him the crown. It slips into your hair and he secures it with your ribbon before checking over his work. 

“I’m gonna cry,” Sokka admits as he blows his nose into Katara’s shoulder. She gags and bends the snot off of her and onto his shirt without much fuss. 

Taking your seat at the head of the table, Zuko takes his seat next to you and the two of you overlook the guests. 

“You two look amazing!” Aang is the first to say something. 

“Time to plan the wedding!” Iroh cheers and you smile down at your lap. 

“A wedding,” Zuko whispers in your ear, pressing a small kiss to the shell of it. 

    “It’s gonna be blue,” You whisper back. 

“And then grandkids!” Your mother claps her hands. 

Later that night, as you’re watching Zuko and Iroh talk over a cup of tea, Katara walks up to you. 

“I told you,” She softly says, placing a hand on your shoulder. “He would never leave you.” Zuko looks over at you and smiles before nodding at Iroh. 

“I still meant the group,” You grin and she rolls her eyes.

[comfortablecomfort]

Jax's Joke

Ler: Jax

Lee: Gangle

"J-JAHAHAX S-STAHAHAP IT!" Gangle squealed as Jax slowly slid his fingers along her ribbons.

"Stop? I just started. I'm barely even moving!" Jax teased as he kept going.

Even though he wasn't going fast at all, it still tickled Gangle a whole lot.

She wasn't frowning this time. She was actually smiling. With some slight tears trickling down her eyes.

"P-PLEAHEHEHEASE! JAX I-IT TIHICKLES!" Gangle let out some of that sweet ol' laughter

"Well, duh. That's the point" Jax said, not even teasing this time

So far, this is the happiest the ribbon girl has been. She was actually enjoying this.

But out of all people, Jax was tickling her? That's new.

"N-NO MOHOHORE JAX!" Gangle pleaded

"How ticklish are you?" Jax asked, in disbelief on how the ribbon girl was so sensitive. (Though he shouldn't be talking.)

"A LOHOHOT! I-I THINK I AHAHAHAM!" Gangle admitted.

"Well, in that case..." Jax slid his fingers a lot faster than before on Gangle's ribbons, her giggles and laughter started raising a pitch.

"NO WAHAHAIT! NOT THAT AHAHANYTHING BUT THAT!" Gangle screeched at Jax's sped up touch.

"Y'know, you don't look like you hate this. If anything, you look like your enjoying this." Jax teased, catching onto her.

Uh Oh...

Gangle held her breath. He was right, she was kind of enjoying this.

Jax didn't really let up, but when he finally did, Gangle was on the floor gasping for air as she tried to dry her tears of mirth.

Jax chuckled at his victim's reaction and put his hands behind his head.

"You're welcome." Jax said as he walked off, satisfied with himself

Gangle wasn't sure if Jax was gonna tickle or bully her next time...

(Sorry, this one is short... I might write another one tomorrow because I have a day off. So, send more requests if you want.)

[blood-grove]

odd adjustments

prev <- part 2 -> part 3

adoptive!soap and ghost + adopted!reader

× pairing: soapghost

× summary: the now retired couple decides that there house is feeling a bit empty besides there two cats and german shepard.

× tws: medication, mentions of ptsd, angst, minor injuries

The ride was long they lived ways out from the city which would be a change of pace and scenery.

Simon was quiet through the drive the silence wasn't uncomfortable it was nice you found yourself dozing off here and there along the trip jostled awake by the sudden bumpiness of the road glancing out of the window to see you were pulling up into a gravel drive way.

You grumbled quietly mainly out of tiredness you caught Simons eyes in the car mirror checking up on you as he parked.

"You can head inside out of the rain I'll grab the bags." Simon said as he promptly got out of the car with his own umbrella.

You quickly did the same heading over to the house where a cat waited behind the glass door seeing you it left.

Aw.

The door opened luckily it was unlocked as you stepped inside wiping your feet off on the mat setting your dripping umbrella into the umbrella holder nearby awkwardly shifting around as you stepped into the short hallway glancing around at the pictures on the walls as you made it to the living room the house was quiet aside from the movement upstairs which you could assume was possibly John.

You felt increasingly awkward as you glanced around flinching once the door opened once more Simon coming in holding both your bag and suitcase gently brushing past you as he sat them next to the stairs glancing back at you.

"You can sit anywhere you'd like" He hummed as he headed upstairs and so you did that sitting down on the couch as you slipped your phone from out of your pocket it was a bit cracked but it worked.

You eventually heard footsteps coming down John coming into the room with the grin you remembered.

You found the mohawk funny.

"It's nice ta' finally have you here!..I made some food so you can eat if you want or If your tired yer bedroom is upstairs first on the right its bare bones for now since we didn't know what ye'd like to decorate it with."

His accent was funny.

Oh you should answer.

"Uh um.." You just mumbled which got you a confused look with just made you tense which he noticed.

"Oh ah sorry forgot to mention- Cant hear very well out of my right ear n all supposed to be getting a new hearing aid soon So you may need to shout ever now and then—"

"I'm uh kind of hungry." You spoke up a bit more which John luckily heard this time

"Oh! Good Ah didnae waant the food tae git tae cauld even if its just sandwiches."

This wasn't as awkward as you thought it'd be.

You had eaten chatted up with John a bit more he was a nice guy a lot more talkative than Simon but you knew that from the interviews.

Simon had come down as well not without John badgering his to sit down something about his leg and medication you weren't too nosy.

He'd seemed to be getting the dog situated as he brought her down Riley was her name wasn't it?.

She was a German Shepard you thought as you stretched out your hand towards her with a glance at Simon she sniffed it before licking your hand you guess it smelt like the deli meats from the sandwich.

You scratched behind her ear as her tail wagged.

You'd put up with the awkwardness of adjusting to here for the dog.

Simon and John started talking about something as you pet Riley the rain hadn't really let up and began to pour down a bit harder thunder rumbling out as John mumbled something to Simon the man getting up with a grunt and headed back down the hall.

"He's just going to check if we have lanterns in case the power gives out." You flinched as John spoke you didn't even realize you were staring where Simon had left you just nodded.

"You can go up to your room y'know still early in the day plus so you can unpack and unwind n' all." John glanced at you as he spoke you just nodded again maybe too quickly getting up Riley leaving your side and heading down where Simon had went.

You felt nauseous laying in bed so many things running threw your head.

Also there was a cat on your bed.

You were pretty sure this was Old man, The gruff appearance and the near mustache and beard combo look in his fur fur and the greying hairs.

You held you hand out for him to smell and he just looked at you with near human unamusement.

You pulled your hand back and went back to thinking.

Right.

God what were you thinking about even?

These are good people.

This room is good.

This house is good.

The animals are better.

Why do you have to start spiraling now? Always sinking yourself into doom spiralling.

Hypothetical's that made no sense as the storm just picked up outside.

You grumbled as you got up and started to search through your suitcase Old man had hoped down to watch you as you swallowed trying to ignore the nauseous feeling your now sweaty hands find your medication.

You fumble with the cap always forgetting how to open it before you finally pop it off and dig out a couple of pills swallowing them dry even if you know you shouldn't.

You just tried to focus on not hurling on your new floor taking deep inhales as you shakily dug your fingers into the carpet below sniffling.

Fuck.

a/n: idk why i had to leave on a sad end ALSO I LIED ITS GETTING MORE PARTS

[teatreeoilll]

ViolinProdigy!Megumi has my heart. w/c - 600 (Reposted from my old blog which I don't have access to anymore (thanks Tumblr), if you liked it reblogs or likes would be appreciated to get me back on track since I've lost all my followers and half my work :(

-

“You’re biting your nails again, Fushiguro.”

“What?” He takes a split second to register your words before letting the hand near his mouth dig back into his pocket, “Uh, sorry.”

“I like seeing you nervous,” you admit, barely audible beneath the wave of applause coming from the auditorium.

He sighs at the noise, placing a long finger near his ear, waiting for you to repeat yourself.

“I said ‘Good luck with your performance’!” You smile bashfully, nudging at the door where the stage manager waves frantically at Megumi.

He nods at the man, kneeling down to run gentle fingers on the clasps of the violin case to undo them, taking out the instrument before following the stage manager out of the waiting area.

Even though you have a seat reserved in one of the spaces prearranged for friends and family, you watch him through the crack of the stage door, listening to the other soloists groan as soon as Megumi swings his bow onto the strings.

"It's precise," a light-haired boy says, resting his arms on his own violin case, "but emotionless."

You feel your face grow red; the perfect sounds tickling your ears are nothing but pure feeling.

"Quiet, Naoya." An older man beside him chides, tugging at his thick English-style mustache. "If you listen, you might understand why your ass fits so well in the second place."

-

Megumi's quiet all the way to the train station. He finds a seat on a bench in a secluded corner, scooting to the side to make room for you.

"First place again, huh, Fushiguro?" You elbow him, trying to interrupt his pensive state.

He only utters a small Mh-hmm, watching another full train depart from the platform, clutching at the violin case resting on his leg.

"You should be happy, Megumi."

"It wasn't perfect," he mutters.

"It was perfect, you should have heard Nayoa's whines as soon as you started playing!" you beam, hoping it would improve his mood, but he just stares off into the space between the bench and the platform.

The train ride felt long, and his legs grew weary of standing pressed against a crowd of people - but despite living a far way from where your station was, Megumi stepped out together with you, like he always did, just to walk you home.

"Why did you say you liked seeing me nervous?" He finally utters when you cross the bridge exiting the station.

"I thought you didn't hear that," you mumble, trying to swallow to relieve the dryness forming in your throat, "I guess it just makes you look more, uh - human?"

"You're saying I don't look human?" He furrows his brows, coming to a halt behind you.

"I don't mean it like that," you turn to face him, watching his features under the yellow light of the street lamp, "You just look so rigid all the time that I -," you lift your arm to press two fingers to the bridge of his nose, smoothing out the wrinkles formed there by his expression, "I like to be reminded that you have feelings, too."

"I have feelings, y'know." He says, a blush creeping on his cheeks.

"I know, I just said you do!"

You walk the rest of the way home in silence, secretly scolding yourself for saying something so brazen. You smile at him when you reach your doorstep, delivering a quick 'See you tomorrow' before stepping inside.

Megumi takes the long route to his house, repeating the same phrase over and over; "I have feelings for you (Name)," he utters silently into the air, "Just tell her dumbass, it isn't that hard."

[mechanicalpiper]

helluo....would u write a henchman who Really likes cats and villain who has cat based power (which technically means they also have the habits of a cat (i.e loaf, etc etc.)) . wirh the ears n tails n stuff

HENCHMAN X VILLAIN? SAY NO MORE!

Love this prompt, was a really fun write :3

Got fuckin sappy with this one (I mean tbf I have for most of them but you know)

Snippet #6

Henchman peeked up from their work again for maybe the thousandth time so far- they couldn't keep themself focused on the paperwork on their desk with that view constantly at the side of the room!

Villain was laying prone across one of the couches in the room. They were usually meant for people waiting on Henchman for meetings and whatnot but about an hour ago Villain just sat down and got comfy, idly batting around a small pet toy in front of them.

Henchman couldn't take their eyes off- they'd barely completed half a page of the stack in front of them since Villain settled there.

They just looked so goddamn cute!! Their fluffy little cat ears flicking around playfully, their genuine enjoyment of and intent focus on the toy in front of them despite their typical seriousness, their generally adorable face looking so content right now-

"Do you need something, Henchman?"

They snapped out of their daydream at Villain's firm voice calling them out for losing focus, still just as stern and precise as ever despite their adorably tonally unfitting current activity.

"N-Not at all, Villain!" Henchman hastily lied, directing their attention back at their paperwork.

"Then don't lose focus."

Henchman looked down at their paper, trying their hardest to keep their attention on it... but god, they couldn't take their mind off Villain. They so badly wanted to just... pet them, feel that soft fur, hear lil sounds of contentment from them...

After about a minute of failing to keep their mind on anything but their adorable feline boss, they sighed and looked back up.

They weren't sure if asking this was a good idea, but they figured it was either this or disobey Villain by continuing to get nothing done, and they'd rather do absolutely anything than disobey Villain.

"V-Villain?"

They looked up from the toy again to see Henchman... blushing. They weren't sure why, but it was honestly kind of adorable to see. "Yes?"

"I'm, uh... well- uh, I'm getting a little too... d-distracted to focus? Can I take a small break-?"

They hastily whispered something after 'break' that Villain couldn't quite make out. They cocked their head to the side in a way that made Henchman melt just a little more.

"What was that last part, Henchman?"

"O-OH, uh, well, it- uh, well, y'know, it's like- well, I mean-"

"Shh." Villain interrupted, causing Henchman to stop instantly. "Take your time."

It flustered Henchman even more, but they kept it together enough to take a few deep breaths and gather their thoughts.

"Okay... I also- well, I didn't mean to, but-"

"Focus."

"U-Understood. I... asked if I could maybe... pet you a little, too...?"

Henchman was both blushing like mad and was nervous as all hell. It was such a stupid thing to ask, especially to someone this powerful, notorious, and rather amoral. They braced for the reacti-

"Eh, sure. I've got nothing better to do."

Henchman blinked a few times in surprise, processing that they were actually just granted permission before being completely overtaken by excitement.

"REALLY?" They squealed embarrassingly loud, still trying to be careful just in case.

"Ow- Quiet! But... yes." They grumbled back.

"Q-Quiet! Got it!!" Henchman stuttered out, quickly and eagerly going around their desk to the couch. They kneeled next to the couch to be directly next to Villain's head laying on it instead of awkwardly sitting next to their sprawled form.

They took another quick deep breath when they got there to steady themself- they didn't want to be TOO overzealous and make Villain regret their decision. Keeping themself calm for Villain's sake, they gently reached a hand out to brush it across Villain's head... and they let out a gasp, almost melting on the spot.

It was so, so much better than they could've imagined.

It was soft. Not just Villain's precious cat ears, but their beautiful hair entirely! Villain's ears even twitched and they let out a small, adorable sigh on contact!

What got to Henchman the most, though was the temperature.

It was so... warm. Villain was so warm.

Henchman couldn't remember the last time they felt anything like it.

They reached their hand slightly forward to scratch behind Villain's ears. The little sigh that escaped, the visible release of tension as Villain felt the scratch... Henchman had never seen anything so precious in their life, they couldn't get enough of it!

They moved their other hand up as well to pet Villain with both, who let out a typical catlike drawn-out, squeaky yawn in response that almost brought Henchman to tears.

Still maintaining contact, they slowly went from kneeling by the couch to sitting on top of it just next to Villain... who pulled themself forward to rest their head on Henchman's lap.

So much built up serotonin flooded through Henchman, they felt like they could've died on the spot, but they were more than content with that happening by now. The feeling of Villain on their lap, accepting their affection like this... the immense, wonderful sensation of warmth wasn't just physically. They felt so, so comfortable. Safe. Content.

Minutes passed as Henchman cherished every passing second they got to spend like this. They didn't realize how much they'd been wanting... any kind of comforting touch at all, let alone from Villain.

Villain didn't expect to like it... but here they were, relaxed in Henchman's lap, feeling their touch, hearing their precious, flustered, loving, grateful little noises and reactions... they could get used to this. It felt amazing to make Henchman so happy.

As minutes passed, Villain slowly began to doze off. From another small yawn to precious little mumbles to the tiny, slow breaths of sleep, it was impossibly easy to drift off in an environment this comfortable.

It didn't take long for Henchman to follow.

The most peaceful, restful night of either of their lives followed... and even better ones were soon to follow.

Neither had felt so safe before.

[cosmicladyy]

"OW, that’s too rough!"

"I wouldn't have to be if you'd just stay still!"

"You're gonna rip my finger off," your husband yowled and snatched his claws away from your grasp, giving you a nasty look as if you were intentionally trying to cause him pain.

you're aware of bowser's objections to having his nails trimmed, you could hear his complaining echo throughout the whole castle whenever he was forced into it by kamek; complaints flying out about it being the worst pain he's ever had to endure.

(you asked Junior if it was true, to which he denied and said he never felt anything when he had to get his claws cut. he just told you that his dad was a crybaby when it came to this sort of thing.)

you were happy to let him grow out his claws to his heart's content, if he didn't leave you completely covered in scratches from doing the littlest things. outside of the usual reasons you'd be left that disheveled, he didn't have the best handle on them now that they were so long. he somehow managed to destroy your favorite shirt just from giving you a hug.

he was scheduled for a filing a few days ago. conveniently, he was too busy training some new recruits; then, every day after that, he has somehow been able to evade you. for such a large and easy-to-spot guy, Bowser proved to be hard to pin down.

"sorry honey, it's getting late and i'm ready to hit the sack." it was 7:30 in the evening.

"I- uh- have to run some drills with the kids!" they were out of the castle that day.

"whining isn't going to make me go quicker," so, you took on the burden of filing down his claws.

you managed to catch him off guard when he snuck out of bed for a midnight snack. clad in just your pj's and whatever slippers were available, you cornered him, a metal nail filer gripped tightly in your hand.

the 'fight', if you could even call it that, might've alarmed a few guards with the pots and pans you brought down with you as you pinned down the stubborn turtle. it took some convincing that there was no real threat and that you were doing it for his own good; their king ordering them to help him from the floor didn't help your case.

where you got the nerve to defy him, he'll never know.

It's silent after that. the only sounds filling the room are dramatic hissing and the back-and-forth sawing of the filer.

If he wasn't mourning the loss of his long minion shredders, Bowser would've been over the moon at the domestic gesture. you, tending to his nails to ensure they were in perfect shape, and him getting to soak in your warmth as you make yourself comfortable in his lap.

why did he even have to cut his nails down anyway? it's not like he has to. they're perfectly fine and just add to his cool, jagged persona. So unfa-

"I'd really appreciate it if you didn't breath on my neck so much."

your only answer is an even heavier puff of warm air that's closer and had more power behind it, "it's not like they were buggin' anybody."

"i have a giant scratch on my back that says otherwise." his arm that you weren't holding wraps around your middle almost apologetically.

he grumbles behind you as you softly blow at the newly shortened, still sharp claw, "see, doesn't that look better?"

briefly examining the hand you raised up to his face, he chuffs and looks off to the side stubbornly, not wanting to give you the satisfaction of him admitting that he liked them way better than before.

"if you really loved me, you woulda left them the way they were." he barely argues.

rolling your eyes, you peel yourself out of his hold, "it's not exactly ideal to be a living pincushion, y'know."

he remains silent, refusing to even make eye contact.

"want me to make you a sandwich?" you softly bargained, holding his rough cheeks in your hands and running your thumbs over his scales in a way you know he likes.

there's a pause, then he huffs, "with extra spicy mustard and chili flakes sprinkled on top?"

"anything for you, my king," you land a wet kiss between his bushy brows with an obnoxiously cute 'mwah!' and began moving around the kitchen in search of said ingredients.

with your back turned to him, the flustered koopa takes a peek down at his newly primped claws, flipping his hands over to fully admire your work.

a jagged, lovesick grin bumpily spreads out on his muzzle; he could get used to this.

[bioexorcizm]

sugarplum.

ship: briarbear -> carm/wednesday (s/I) wc: 1376 summary: briar introduces themselves to carm's coworkers for the first time.

Richie barely looked up from his phone when he heard the door, still recouping from lunch rush. 

Probably some straggler, he thinks, and if they can be late to lunch, he can take a fuckin’ minute to take their order --

“Uh, hello?”

“Yo, what can we --” he pauses, chokes on the ice he's chewing as his eyes set upon them.

Their hair is pulled back, dark; this week it's dyed a deep plum color, ombre with peach that sets a highlight just about their cheekbones, where the few bright colored ends of their grown bangs that weren't tied back lay. The light dye popped especially against the minimal but dark makeup accenting their face, and that black sweater they wore…It was strangely familiar, but Richie could scarcely process the fact.

Had he half a mind, he'd ask if they're as sweet as they looked. But fortunately for them both, he was left utterly dumbfounded. 

“How can, uh, I help you?”

“Is Carmy here?”

“...Carmy?”

“Sorry -- Carmen?”

Richie shakes his head, “Nah, I know who you're talkin’ about, it's just --” he sighs, before turning his head towards the kitchen and letting out a very disappointed “Yo, cous!”

It's a moment before the vaguely annoyed “What, Richie?” comes back to him. 

“Got a minute?”

“Uh, not really.”

“Yeah, well, your services are requested at front of house, chef.”

“...What?”

Richie takes the time to let his gaze linger, stuttering a not-so thoughtful “Er --” before moving closer to the kitchen, or at the least out of earshot of the dining room.

“I mean, there's some hot piece of ass askin’ for you out there. Like, by name.”

“What the fuck -- ?” Carm groans, “Fine. I’ll be right there. Shit.”

He finishes dicing the smattering of vegetables on his cutting board and, then with a sigh wipes the sweat from his brow. It's hard to remember how hot the kitchen can get, and this thought is what claws its way to the forefront of his mind as a million other things begin to unfurl in the background of his brain; He's behind on prep, who the fuck could be asking for him? Gas bill’s due tomorrow. Speaking of gas, he needs to stop and get some on the way home. He’ll be late, he should probably take a minute and text --

He mutters a weak “Corner,” in the second it takes him to approach and round the deli bar doorway, and he tosses the towel he's wiping his hands on over his shoulder. When he peers past the counter though, his eyebrows raise, and he lets out an airy chuckle. 

“‘Scuse us for a minute, would you, cousin?”

Richie nods, shrugs, and barely moves an inch into the kitchen doorway. Carmy rolls his eyes and takes another step beyond into the dining room, head slightly hunched as they speak in hushed tones that the rest of the staff one at a time slowly gathers to strain to hear in curiosity. 

“Little busy, sweets.”

“I won't stay long. Just wanted to pop in, ‘sall.”

“No, I mean, I’m not sayin’ that, it's just…” he trails off, shakes his head, and pivots his thoughts, “I thought you had a thing today.”

“A thing? Like, you mean my job? Like, that thing?”

“Well, it's a thing.”

“A thing, yeah I guess it's a thing, but like, I get paid to do it, so…I mean, like --”

“Well, yeah. But I mean, how did it go?”

“Like an everyday kind of thing...It was fine. It was this morning. So, y'know...Now I’m here.”

They stare at each other for another awkward moment, though the embarrassment seems to lie more in Carmy than it does Briar, almost as if they’re reveling in it. Richie stifles a giggle.

“Anyways, you left without your key this morning. I just wanted to drop it off, in case I’m asleep tonight.”

Carm sighs, watching carefully as they dangle the lanyard in front of him, pooling the fabric into his hand when he finally extends it.

“I’ll be late, by the way.”

“Always are.”

“...Sorry.”

He looks at them. He knows that he should be tucking the loose strand of hair away from their face, telling them they look pretty today, especially in the cute outfit they've seemed to fashion out of his old torn black sweatshirt. He knows he should be making excuses, promising to do better but he doesn't, and he hopes that they understand that it's a promise he can't make, and that he'd rather not make it at all than break it. He knows he should be leaning in, and kissing them and reminding them how much he loves them, that he appreciates how patient they are, how attentive and forgiving they are to his appearing distance, perhaps more now that they lived in Chicago than when they had stayed behind in New York. He recounts every single shortcoming he can muster within himself, not of his own accord, and also dinner starts in about three hours, and he hears the ring of the timer he set for himself to do a walkthrough, and he has to temp all the coolers still and don't forget to check Mikey’s office for the address book in case it has anything in it and he should probably call back that guy about getting the lights in the back alley fixed and has anyone checked the chicken in the past thirty minutes? 

The brush of their skin against his draws him back, and in the moment his eyes dart down to where their hands touch, he realizes the weight of the cigarette carton in his other. He should offer to chat with them while he takes a break. He should take the ends of their hair between his fingers and compliment them, he doesn't want them to think he hasn't noticed it's changed color. He was observant, if nothing else. 

In his mind, he offers a plethora of compliments, “You look gorgeous today, sugarplum. Your hair looks great, pumpkin. I miss you, jellybean.”

The last stings all too well, burned into his memory by having typed it so frequently just not so long ago. 

Instead, he wraps his fingers around the house key, and pulls it gently until it's close enough to shove into his pocket. He searches their face for any sign of understanding, and he finds apology and sympathy instead. 

Because they didn't understand, and perhaps they never would. But they would again and again wait up two, three, four hours past midnight until they heard the front door open and shut, until they felt the warmth of him next to themselves in bed or found themselves otherwise chasing him down to the couch and sleeping there next to him -- Just so they could say they wake up to see his smile every morning. 

He looks down to the key, dangling from his pocket, and back to them.

“Thank you.”

“See you at home, teddy.”

“Seeya.”

“Didn't even offer me lunch? Tsk, damn, I see how it is,” his expression falters for a moment, and he almost begins to speak before they cut him off with a chuckle, “I’m fuckin’ with you, Carm.”

He almost smiles. They flick a stray crumb from his shirt with a wink before spinning and heading towards the door. 

They turn, catching one last glance at him.

“This place is homey, by the way. You should let me do a shoot here, sometime…Oh, and you can tell your friends my name is Briar!” 

They wave their fingers one last time before headed out back into the city. 

Carmy moves to retreat to the kitchen, nerves still burning where they'd touched him, the echoing sound of their voice in his mind grounding him before he can get too deep into his thoughts again. But when he looks back, he sees the mass of chefs crowded, peeking from the doorway. 

“The fuck, guys?”

“Briar's a fun name,” Tina smiles, “Caught a good one, Jeff.”

“Shit, yeah, don't let that one go.”

“Richie --”

“Not quite how I pictured them.”

“Syd -- You know, fuck all of you. Back to fucking work, please.”

The resounding chorus of “Yes, chef,” that greets his ears in reply has never sounded sweeter. 

[howlingday]

Jaune's Shampoo

Nevermore

"DAMMIT, NORA!" Jaune opened his shower door. As he exited, he noticed his body had drastically changed. Using a mixture of his shampoo and experimental goo found at the fiendish Dr. Merlot's laboratory, Nora had unwittingly created a mutagen just to prank her team leader.

As Jaune stepped from the shower, he suddenly lost his balance and fell forward. However, instead of faceplanting hard into the tiled floor, it was more like his face kinda... stuck to it. He felt a huge pressure on his face from his nose to his forehead. When he opened his eyes, he saw that he was sort of... hovering. Off the ground.

He tried to push himself off the floor, only for his arms to sort of slide out, like he had no hands. Glancing to his side, he saw that he, in fact, did not have any hands. Instead of where his hand, arm, and skin were normally supposed to be, it was replaced by a huge, black wing, as dark and terrible as a night without the moon or the stars.

"HELP!" Jaune cried, only for his voice to uselessly echo back to him. He called again from his position on the bathroom floor, only to once again be met with his own voice, and nothing more.

"Jaune?" Oh, nevermind. Somebody did hear him. "You okay in there?"

"Uh... Not really." Jaune replied with discomfort in his voice.

"Well, are you decent?

"Uh... I don't know."

"What do you mean you don't know?"

"I, uh... I'm kinda stuck after I fell out of the shower."

"Uh oh! Should I get the nurse?"

"Maybe? I don't know, I'm kinda scared. Could you get someone from Team RWBY?"

"I am Ruby!"

"Oh. Well, um, if you could use your leadership powers to unlock the door first, that'd be great."

"My what?"

"Your leadership access. In case of an emergency, you can use your scroll to unlock student dorms."

"...You mean I could have been breaking into the bathroom while Weiss was showering this whole time? Because seriously, she takes all day and-"

"RUBY!"

"On it!" Ruby tapped around on her scroll until she found the leadership feature and tapped the unlock application. "Hey, Jaune, did you know it can also unlock garbage cAAAAAH!"

Jaune sighed. "Hi, Ruby."

"Jaune, what the heck happened to you?!"

"I'm stuck!"

"Yeah, I can see that, but how did you get turned into a bird?! You look like a person-sized Nevermore!"

"Do I?" Jaune asked. "I couldn't really tell because I'M STUCK ON THE GROUND! NOW HELP ME UP!"

"Okay, okay!" Ruby stepped in and looked around.

"Ruby? Ruby, what are you doing?"

"I'm looking for a towel." She answered. "I don't wanna, y'know, in case you're contagious."

"Ruby, I am stuck to the floor with my butt hanging in the air."

"Well, yeah, but what if you have bird germs?"

"RUBY!"

"Okay, fine!" Luckily, in the middle of their bickering, Ruby found a towel to put over Jaune's butt. "Ready? One... Two... Three!"

Ruby pulled as hard as she could, grunting as Jaune slowly lifted from the ground to a more hunched position, an improvement from his more... provocative appearance before. With a scraping sound, Jaune fell backwards onto Ruby, earning a squeak from her, followed by a groan.

"Thanks, Ruby." Jaune said, trying to stand, only to slip forward again. Thankfully, he landed chin-first, instead of beak-first. Rolling over he got a better look at himself. Save for his bare chest, Jaune's entire body did in fact look like a Nevermore. He flexed his talon toes, aweing at the strange sensation of downgrading from ten piggies to eight, with three in the front and one in the back on each foot. Flexing his arms, his wings gave a little flap. Looking between his legs, he saw Ruby rubbing her head. "You okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine." She groaned, then standing up. "Wanna try standing again?"

"Uh, yeah, but, uh..." Jaune looked to the door leading to the shared dorm. "Could you help me walk to my bed?"

"Sure thing, Jaune."

Pulling him to his feet, Ruby slipped an arm under his wing and supported him in his slow, little bird footsteps to the dry and soft carpet floor. As she helped him, she became familiar with the smell of his shampoo. It was difficult to describe. At best, she could probably describe it as water and wood, which was dumb, but it was the best she could do, considering she was caring a guy to his bed, and he was somehow twice his normal size.

"Here we go." Ruby sat next to him, slowly easing him into his bed. Or, well, she hoped it was his bed, or this was going to be very awkward to explain. I mean, the whole thing was awkward, but-

"Huh?" Ruby felt something moving around behind her head. Looking to Jaune, she saw him leaning back and twirling his 'beak' into the back of her hair. "Uh, what are you doing?"

"Sorry." Jaune pulled away. "Your hair looked like it needed a brush or something, so..."

"Oh, uh, well... Go ahead." Ruby leaned forward a bit. "I don't mind it."

"Thanks."

Nora looked through the crack in the door. Above her, Yang was recording everything on her scroll. It was weird that this was the result of Nora's earlier prank, but hey, at least they got this cute video to share with everybody. And to be honest, Yang couldn't remember the last time Ruby looked this happy.

[teatreeoill]

ViolinProdigy!Megumi has my heart. w/c - 600

-

“You’re biting your nails again, Fushiguro.”

“What?” He takes a split second to register your words before letting the hand near his mouth dig back into his pocket, “Uh, sorry.”

“I like seeing you nervous,” you admit, barely audible beneath the wave of applause coming from the auditorium.

He sighs at the noise, placing a long finger near his ear, waiting for you to repeat yourself.

“I said ‘Good luck with your performance’!” You smile bashfully, nudging at the door where the stage manager waves frantically at Megumi.

He nods at the man, kneeling down to run gentle fingers on the clasps of the violin case to undo them, taking out the instrument before following the stage manager out of the waiting area.

Even though you have a seat reserved in one of the spaces prearranged for friends and family, you watch him through the crack of the stage door, listening to the other soloists groan as soon as Megumi swings his bow onto the strings.

"It's precise," a light-haired boy says, resting his arms on his own violin case, "but emotionless."

You feel your face grow red; the perfect sounds tickling your ears are nothing but pure feeling.

"Quiet, Naoya." An older man beside him chides, tugging at his thick English-style mustache. "If you listen, you might understand why your ass fits so well in the second place."

-

Megumi's quiet all the way to the train station. He finds a seat on a bench in a secluded corner, scooting to the side to make room for you.

"First place again, huh, Fushiguro?" You elbow him, trying to interrupt his pensive state.

He only utters a small Mh-hmm, watching another full train depart from the platform, clutching at the violin case resting on his leg.

"You should be happy, Megumi."

"It wasn't perfect," he mutters.

"It was perfect, you should have heard Nayoa's whines as soon as you started playing!" you beam, hoping it would improve his mood, but he just stares off into the space between the bench and the platform.

The train ride felt long, and his legs grew weary of standing pressed against a crowd of people - but despite living a far way from where your station was, Megumi stepped out together with you, like he always did, just to walk you home.

"Why did you say you liked seeing me nervous?" He finally utters when you cross the bridge exiting the station.

"I thought you didn't hear that," you mumble, trying to swallow to relieve the dryness forming in your throat, "I guess it just makes you look more, uh - human?"

"You're saying I don't look human?" He furrows his brows, coming to a halt behind you.

"I don't mean it like that," you turn to face him, watching his features under the yellow light of the street lamp, "You just look so rigid all the time that I -," you lift your arm to press two fingers to the bridge of his nose, smoothing out the wrinkles formed there by his expression, "I like to be reminded that you have feelings, too."

"I have feelings, y'know." He says, a blush creeping on his cheeks.

"I know, I just said you do!"

You walk the rest of the way home in silence, secretly scolding yourself for saying something so brazen. You smile at him when you reach your doorstep, delivering a quick 'See you tomorrow' before stepping inside.

Megumi takes the long way to his house, repeating the same phrase over and over; "I have feelings for you (Name)," he utters silently into the air, "Just tell her dumbass, it isn't that hard."

[mauesartetc]

Redrawing Shadiversity's AI Piece

For context, check out this post here. This is, uh... It's a doozy.

Let's start with the main character of the image. The girl's pose looks very awkward and unrealistic for what she's doing. Her feet are dragging in two different directions that don't indicate the direction she's jumping in, and it looks like her top half is getting blown back in a wind tunnel. According to one of the reblogs on the post that introduced me to this thing, the pose wasn't the generator's doing, but the artist's. "He drew the girl and photoshopped in a picture of a lizard and a picture of a church and had the image generator "refine" it."

I sincerely doubt he used any kind of photo reference for this drawing, as it'd be uncomfortable for anyone's spine to curve backward like that while they're leaping forward and swinging a heavy sword. That just looks painful.

Let's explore some ways we could make the pose look more believable.

I think I'll go with a pose that's close to the original but makes a bit more sense.

It obviously doesn't have the same level of... "polish" the AI version does (we'll get to that in a minute), but the tilt of the spine looks much more natural for the direction she's leaping in and the way she's holding the sword.

Now that we have that out of the way, let's analyze more of the image as a whole.

AI art handles detail in a way that looks good to the untrained eye, but falls apart in the eyes of experienced artists. These clothing folds, for example. There's no logic to the way they're shaped, and the shirt is randomly tight around the chest when it's loose everywhere else. Then there are the scales brought into sharp focus despite the rest of the dragon being blurred, the blood drips that look like stalactites, and so on and so forth. I'm sure there are things I missed, as well. If y'all find them, let me know in the comments!

Something to note about the sketches I made before the finished drawing: They kinda suck. And that's the point. The early stages of a drawing aren't meant to look pristine with perfect anatomy (not to say the finished product is anywhere near perfect, but still). What they are meant to have is energy. Purpose. Life. But AI bros are so afraid to make any "bad" drawings that they don't draw at all (or in cases like Shad's, they only draw the bare minimum).

I didn't make this post to dunk on AI prompters, but to encourage them to put in the necessary work that will improve their skills. And no, I'm sorry, typing words into a box won't make anyone a better artist. It might make them better at describing what they want when they commission an artist, but by and large it's like lifting a feather when you want to gain muscle instead of, y'know, lifting actual weights.

Obviously machine learning isn't going anywhere and it'd be nice to use as a tool to make different steps of the art process more efficient. It's good for silly memes, I guess. But we shouldn't treat the images it spits out as masterpieces, and, importantly, businesses shouldn't use it to replace real people.

Anyway, it's pretty easy to go to the store with five bucks and come back with a decent sketchpad and pens/pencils. Not to mention art programs like Krita and Blender are FREE, and there are plenty of tutorials on Youtube. Just sayin'.

Get drawing.

[jamisonwritestf2trash]

What sort of jobs do you think the mercs would have if they weren't, y'know, mercs?

What Would The TF2 Mercs Jobs Be If They Weren't Mercenaries?

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Ough, I love this. It's a very cool suggestion, Anon. Thank you for asking! I've thought about this a couple of times, and I'm glad to get a chance to rant >:)

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Demo would get into pyrotechnics for a while, (shocker I know, but bare with me) he'd find himself setting up fireworks shows, making fireworks, teaching safety courses and all that fun stuff, but I don't think he'd be fulfilled in the same way being a merc would. He'd find himself being bored with the monotony of it all, only doing it for the money. After a while of this he'd finally just say fuck it, and try and look for other work opportunities, found an animal shelter in desperate need of new hires, submitted his application, and with in two weeks had become absolutely enthralled with his new job. He finds out he loves working with animals! He makes friends with every animal in the shelter right away, and gets a good chunk of them adopted each year or so.

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Engie would have most likely gone on to become a very successful engineer. Shocker, I know. He would have probably specialized in biomedical engineering. I think he'd go in with no particular job in mind, but then would be introduced into the idea of building prosthetics and become a prosthetist. He likes being able to help people with his creations. (MINI HEACANON / STORY) The first time he ever made a prosthetic was for a little kid who lost his leg due to a car crash. He was super traumatized from the accident and refused to let anyone near him, Engie spent about a year working with the kid to, one be able to measure and fit him for his prosthetic, and two, to just make the kid smile and make him less scared. When the job was done the kid was so happy, grinning ear to ear, he hugged Engie and was literally crying out of joy, that's when Engie knew he loved his job 😭

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Heavy has a doctorate in Russian literature, so I'd assume he'd go into the teaching field with that as his specialty. He'd find a university in need of a professor and work with students to help them better themselves. He just likes being able to share his experiences and perspective with those who want to learn. Very much a "Tuesday's With Morrie" type of teacher. Will literally do anything for his students by the way. He love each year he spends teaching, also loves hearing from his students after they graduate. Really just wants to make an impact on peoples lives anyway he can. He'd probably end up being a writer if he couldn't go into teaching for some reason. He'd write fiction mainly, maybe some life experiences too, for the same reasons above.

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Medic would have found a way to get his medical license back, legally or illegally (most likely the latter). And went on to continue practicing medicine, most likely in a country with more lax laws on human experimentation. If that failed, the local morgue is always hiring graveyard shifts, and when no one really cares too much about what happens to the corpses, Medic would find ways to keep himself very entertained. I also think he could be content working as a librarian! I don't know, like the gap between librarian and doctor is huge but I can just imagine him and Archimedes running a little library together, (Kind of like uh Blue and Linda from Rio, I'm really pulling out random media this prompt, 😭) I just feel like even though he's batshit insane nine times out of ten he can still enjoy a quiet, peaceful life if he wanted too. Probably still does a bit medical stuff on the side though, you just can't stop him.

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Scout is another case of me being unsurprising. He'd be a baseball star. It's really a toss-up on whether he gets super famous or just enjoys quiet success. If he's super famous you bet he's signing contracts for advertisements and other things you'd expect multimillionaires to be doing (He'd also be so thrilled to be a multimillionaire he'd be giving his mom her dream life) and just generally enjoying the fame. If he didn't make it into the big leagues, he'd still be successful in minor leagues. I'll even go as far as to say that even if he didn't make it big or even semi big, he'd become a coach little league/ high school /college and love it. Honestly, he would cry if one of the kids he coached went pro one day. (Maybe a Twitch streamer would also fit, but that's silly, right?)

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Sniper has always been into wildlife photography. He absolutely loves animals. He's naturally good at photography. I think him having good aim and a steady hand are a mix of a natural talent and years of training. His years of training would have just gone into photography instead of, you know. He gets very good very quickly, takes pictures you'd see hung up as decoration pieces, and definitely had a fair share of curious animals wandering up to him to check out his work. For a guy who loves animals, he's living the dream. Haz had a few less than steller run-ins during his time, but generally appreciates being able to enjoy nature and animals as part of his job.

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Spy being an actor would come naturally for him. He's great at switching his style, mood, character, etc. So he'd naturally be interested in a job where that skill would be valuable, then he finds out about how much money he can make off of acting and just goes straight in. I think he would end up being a really popular actor, people liking him in almost any role he plays, and would generally have little to no hater or bad press. He loves going over every new script and building up his character in his mind, then giving them a place off the page. He also loves going to fancy parties, so... Also, the first time he got a bad/negative review or comment on his acting, he cried lmao.

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Soldier would so be a historian. Like, hands down, only job I think he could have outside of being a merc. He can rant for hours about American history and knows so much about other countries too due to their involvement with America and a general curiosity, that he'd be a perfect to teach about history in museums, classrooms, or even just uploading videos online. Just put someone who needs to learn about history of any kind in front of him, and they'll learn more in the time with him than they ever have. Also! I'm not sure what these people are called, and I'm way too tired to look it up, but I think that Soldier would help new immigrants with leaning English and with getting their citizenship. Solider would also help refugees. Also also, he'd hold support groups for veterans.

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Pyro is normally headcanoned as a fire fighter or ex-fire fighter I'm pretty sure, but I think it's easy to forget that while Pyro likes fire, they like making firsvl, you know what else they like? Making art! So naturally, being a glassblower would be a great fit for Pyro. They love the job! The molten glass is mesmerizing to them. The artistic freedom is liberating. It's all just so great to them. They make a lot of flame themed pieces that and animal themed pieces. They mainly do pieces and sell them at markets instead of taking commissions for them. They're super happy with this life and have multiple pieces of their work displayed in their home. They sometimes get this feeling of missing something, like a vague memory, but they just continue to make new art to fix that, but oddly enough, they end up reminding them more of those distant memories. I wonder what that's about.

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I swore I'd get this out today, and I held myself to that, even though I almost passed out. (Not me posting this 5 minutes to midnight lmao) I only had three paragraphs left, and I was not giving up on them. I swear I'm trying to get better at consistency 😭

Anyways enough of that, I hope you enjoyed this! I had fun writing it. Trying to come up with different jobs for them is both really fun and oddly difficult. Anyways! The schedule for new posts will hopefully go as follows:

Mercs favorite books

Medic and Creepypasta

How the Mercs would react to a close teammates death

(Then any asks that come in would follow!)

So yeah! Busy weekend, but I'm not complaining:D

[lemm-moxx]

Silly things abt my utmv oc's

(i don't have a specific name for this thing as the "T.U.A" is more a vehicle to interact with the wider multiverse in the story and all of the characters are picked from my other au's so likkeee)

But mainly a kinda(?) in universe analysis of random aspects of these two as i hate just explaining things upfront. WARNING theres a lot

The preceding 2 excerpts are sourced from scattered papers and tapes found in universes generally surrounding the institute (including #11567 #11542 #00145 #10001 and #23479 ) The texts overall are disjointed and nonsensical. creator unknown. [[Ask M.E dept for more info to amend case file.]] 1) He's one of the best men money can provide! He takes orders with out question or thought. Work oriented, highly professional and determined- Really he's what everyone should aim to be in this field. He's worked at the company for 15 years so naturally he's at the top.

Oh ok! I mean that's a good start i suppose, What else is there?

What else.. ? I mean what else is there to say-he's successful. That's it. That's all you need really. Well surely- What about hobbies? Free time? People aren't just their profession. Ok, but why does he need a hobby? He barely has enough free time as it is. And that's wasted sleeping and eating. Well i mean, it fleshes out the character for one? He does nothing when he gets home from work. Not even watch TV? No? Nothing, you mean like actually nothing. Yeah.....? i don't-is there something wrong with that? No- no it- I'm not insulting your writing or anything. It just seems a bit bland.... If I'm honest. 2)

[[TAPE BEGINS]]

I lived in a nervous place, at an anxious town- so it didn't come as a surprise when they all started avoiding me after my brother died. His death was an accident- I mean who leaves a small kid to babysit a toddler? Really, really if your asking me the townspeople killed him. Not me. I just feel like you need to understand why i did it y'know? Anyway I grew up alone. A house on the outskirts of town, they never warmed up to me in the end. I would work in the library day to day, for the money. Nobody came in anyway and because we also sold books i actually had a paycheck. Buy myself food and go home. Rinse and repeated until all stains are washed away. Though, i guess in my case. Some stains are too tough to be washed out. I had heard about human falling down, i was a skeptic of course. It was the smell of dust that scared me at first, every time i walked into town it was there. Nobody ever seemed to need a funeral, that was the confusing part. Maybe a couple monsters went missing day to day, but they were back without a scratch after a while. I put it as something probably explainable. That was until i died- I mean i don't know if i actually died but.. When the human finally found me they seemed, exited. They looked at me like they had found buried treasure, unveiled some kind of hidden secret. And, and I was exited too if I'm honest. Though you wouldn't be able to tell-i was as horrible as i was to anyone on the surface. But he second they stabbed me in my chest. All my sympathies were gone. And, and when i woke up in my bed. Like puzzle pieces. it all clicked y'know? I wasn't strong so i needed some kind of external force, i did it though in the end. I wasn't soppy or friendly like the rest of them, so it was easy. I ruined my clothes but some eggs need to be broken -or whatever they say. When i strutted into town i thought i was a hero. But of course they were ungrateful; couldn't even thank me, i was chased out .And that's when your head archivist found me-and uh that's at. And I appreciate the job offer, really i do! I mean i didn't realise you were lacking in employees from the look of the place, then again i guess the library was the most organised place in Snowdin and I was the only there. I just uh- i need to be in a quiet place for a bit, maybe not here- I just need to think it over really" "That's fine, i'm sure you've had a nasty scare. and there's a lot you need to understand quite fast considering your position. I'll drop you off in one of those timelines for out codes! Yes, yes someone will explain it there" "I'm sorry timeline-" "A month? How's that-is that too much? i apologise if I'm inept. I'm not very good with time these days. Maybe not a whole number, that seems too equal; 2 weeks? How's that. We are desperate for employees for the archive so i would appreciate it if you could come back sooner." "Oh well i uh-Sure, sure! ill take a look through everything on the leaflet you gave me in the mean time." "Oh wonderful! I hope to see you again in the future- hopefully as an employee ha-ha!"

[[TAPE ENDS]]

[heartbeatbookclub]

tbf i don't think there's a single therapist on the planet that could help monika with. all that.

there are not enough words in the english language to properly articulate how completely and totally and utterly fucked her situation is. each and every individual piece of it would require a team of 6 therapists on their own. if she went to therapy for her mother-of-all-existential-crises she would need a good several hundred at bare minimum and i feel like at that point it becomes too many cooks in the kitchen y'know

I was referring to Side Story Monika, but I think in the case of Base Game Monika, it's unlikely that a therapist would be able to "fix" her, but it couldn't hurt. In her case I'd say her existential crisis is warranted, though she could certainly be coping better.

Though I don't think she'd agree with that....uh, my thoughts re:Coil. I do think that in both cases it's a showcase of her stubbornness, though. In the Side Stories, she'd assume she can just deal with her problems and be fine. In the Base Game, she assumes she can just solve all of her own problems via her abilities, and when that fails, her answer is to burn it all down instead.

More than anything, her responses to these things seem to revolve around control, which is a big part of why I think she'd be resistant to the idea of therapy (it takes a great deal of vulnerability to do, and requires you to relinquish some element of control over yourself).

[pencilpat]

Breaking Things - Analogical

This sat in my drafts for a bit, because it makes me emotional. This is simply a hurt/comfort expression of thoughts about Virgil giving comfort to Logan's ongoing struggles with his and Thomas's emotions. I see analogical as queerplatonic, but romantic interpretation is ok with me!

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A crash resounds from the hallway, so loud that Virgil curls in on himself with a gasp and Roman lets out a slight scream. They blink and look at each other, fingers paused on the controls of a video game.

"What was that?" Virgil groans.

"I don't know, probably just Remus- Jump back to game world, Gloomba." Roman nudges his arm with his elbow and jerks his head towards their stalled game. Virgil rolls his eyes, and he's about to retort, when a bang sounds from the same area. Virgil flinches again. A swelling pit seeps through his gut, suddenly, the mindspace seeming to darken around them.

"Wait," he says, standing, dropping his controller and moving away like a man possessed, "Something is actually wrong." His voice wavers, slightly too deep, slightly too echoey, as he senses the panic among them.

Roman groans at him and pauses the game, tempted to unpause and kill Virgil's character for fun as he watches him disappear down the hall that contains their bedrooms. Virgil ghosts down the hall as quietly as he can, dragging his hand along the wall, listening for sounds that would explain the distress he senses. Another smaller crash pipes up from the door with a silver 'L' engraved on it. Target acquired, Virgil walks towards Logan's door with worry creasing his brow.

He knocks, gentle just in case. "Logan?" he calls it just loud enough to be heard, knowing how noise can aggravate Logan when he's already upset. "Can you come to the door?"

There's silence, at first. Then he hears hesitant footsteps walk to the door. It doesn't open. "Do you need something, Virgil?" Logan's voice makes Virgil cringe, that crisp monotone that he uses when concealing, masking, himself.

"Uh, yeah. I sense your distress, y'know. It's kind of my job. I thought all of you knew that by now," he mutters the last part, scratching and tugging at the beanie he wears over his hair. He can practically hear Logan breathe in, his irritation loud as always.

"I'm fine."

"Then open the door," Virgil spits out so fast he barely thinks about it, blinking at his own boldness. Logan stills again behind the door. Virgil hears him sigh, and the door creaks open, just a crack, enough that Logan's face is in his view. And wow, does he look like shit. "Wow, you look like shit."

Logan glares at him through exhausted, reddened eyes - from crying or tiredness, Virgil can't tell - and glasses just barely askew. He wears no necktie, unlike his usual attire, just a polo. "Astute observation. What do you need."

"I- I don't know, I'm checking on you! Can I come in? I mean, you usually let me come in?"

Logan's eyes flash, something seeming off about them, so suddenly there and then gone that Virgil misses it. "Virgil," he groans, the mask slipping as he runs a hand down his face, further disrupting his glasses. "I said I'm fine, is that not sufficient?"

"No, L, it's not." Virgil breathes in heavily, and then shoves into Logan quickly, pushing both of them into the room. Logan gives a small, angry cry, stumbling backwards.

"Virgil! That is a complete breach of privacy, what are you-"

"Logan- Woah, Logan, what happened in here?" Virgil's eyes are held wide as he takes in a thoroughly damaged version of the usually pristine room. Logan's entire desk has been overturned, and the objects on his shelves seem tossed at the wall in a fit. The shelves that hold all of Thomas's memories seem untouched, thankfully. There are several empty jars of Logan's favourite jam, enough to be eaten in weeks seemingly eaten in only a few hours. Virgil looks back to his friend, arms extended between them in question. Logan is staring hard at the floor, anger creasing his features. "What happened?"

Logan's eyes flit around, landing on anything but Virgil's face. Finding only the signs of his episode surrounding him, he breathes in sharply, and then deflates as his breath leaves him. Logan walks quietly to his bed, and sits on the edge, leaning over himself and covering his face with his hands. His knuckles are reddened as though he's been hitting something - or himself. Virgil trails behind him on instinct, settling beside him instantly. He touches his shoulder softly, massaging his fingers into the muscle of his arm, grounding, soothing. Logan's tenseness settles slightly, calmed by the familiarity of their times comforting each other. This level of upsetness isn't something Virgil has seen coming from Logan, specifically, and it leaves him white-faced and drawn.

"I think- I think something might be wrong with me." Logan's voice shakes, a light rattle of fear. He looks down at his own hands like they're not a part of his body.

"Seems like it, bud," Virgil sighs. "Did something uh- upset you? Or..?"

"Everything." Logan barks sharply, his mouth held thin. "I don't know. I can't- I can not tell what's causing this."

"Causing what, teach?" Virgil moves his arms around his friend's body, now massaging both of his shoulders as well as holding him. He presses the pads of his fingers into his skin firmly, coaxing him back from that spot five feet to the left of himself. Logan leans into him, his eyes closing tightly.

"Do you remember when I threw paper at Roman, a while back?"

Virgil snorts. "Sure do. Funny stuff."

"It wasn't." Logan's fist tenses against his leg, pressing down into himself. "I didn't feel like- like me. Like myself. Something wasn't right. I was... overcome."

Virgil stops massaging him, setting a hand on his cheek and drawing him to look at him. "L, I'm being so serious when I say to tell me exactly what you mean by that."

Logan withers slightly under direct eye contact, but he holds it due to the seriousness of Virgil's voice. "I don't know, Virgil." He feels slightly taken aback, not fully prepared to explain this emotion. "It has happened more than once, I know that. I feel very- very suddenly grasped by something. Like something is squeezing me." As he speaks his eyes squeeze closed again, flitting back and forth under their lids as though searching for the answer beneath them.

Virgil breathes. "Oh. Well, that could be a panic attack, Lo." He tries to conceal relief in his voice under concern. "Is it your chest, specifically?"

"Virgil," Logan suddenly grabs his hand, staring down at his unmade blankets and breathing heavily for a moment. He manages to meet his eyes, misery making them watery and strained. "I have had panic attacks before, all of us have, when Thomas has them. It isn't like that feeling. It's- it's hot. Like a burning." Logan's opposite hand ghosts over his own throat, clenching and unclenching. "I don't know what it means. I am still me. But it's also not me. Burningly not me."

Virgil flinches under his intensity, wide eyes seeming wider with the dark makeup below them. Logan's behaviour is scaring him. He tries to think if Thomas has experienced much dissociation before, but no incidents come to mind. He blinks dumbly as he comes up with nothing to help. Logan's eyes drift away as the silence stretches. All of him drifts, suddenly, to the side as he falls onto his pillows with a dull thud. Virgil crawls up on the bed beside him cautiously, laying next to him and beginning to massage his arm again gently, knocking their foreheads together.

"You are yourself. We're all ourself. Feeling big things doesn't make us not 'us'. Just us, yeah? Just Thomas."

"Just Thomas," Logan parrots under his breath, eyes closing above deep purple eyebags nearly rivalling Virgil's. Virgil lays beside him, not knowing what else to say but wanting to do anything he can. He soothes at Logan's tense muscles in the semi-strained silence around them, silently offering anything he can give. The pit in his gut suddenly unravels just as Logan's breathing evens out. The rhythm of the massage and his exhaustion from wrecking his room seemingly caused him to fall asleep unceremoniously. Virgil sighs through his nose, glancing over the messy room and his friend's face.

He scoots closer to him, removing Logan's glasses gently and settling in the space of his side, faintly resting his arm over his stomach, soft as not to disturb him. If he fell asleep that suddenly, he must need it, and Virgil wouldn't disturb his most stressed companion's rest for anything.

"We'll figure it out, bud," he whispers to him, promising reverently even though Logan can't hear. "We'll all... be okay. For now." He chuckles at his own dire pessimism, and lets himself rest as well in the crook of his friend's sturdy arm. The room looms darkly around them, but they are safe, curled against each other through the darkness, only ever themself. Only ever Thomas, and all the pieces that come with him.