Hello~ Please call me Nanoha. Here you may expect things from Disney, Voltage Inc. and whatever else catches my fancy! Warning: This blog does have NSFW posts so do be careful (Yes that means I’m 18+) (Can now say I’m over a quarter of a century). Clara (Kurara-Black-Blog) & Moon (moonsworllld) are beautiful people inside and out! I won’t listen to any disagreements!Currently obsessed with Voltron: Legendary Defender. A proud Lance stan & Proud Co-Creator of Lance's Haremverse (The other is Kurara-Black-Blog. Check her out!). Though Fairy Tail (I love Lucy so much) and Miraculous Ladybug still hold a special place in my heart. Steven Universe and Gravity Falls may come later. Hope you enjoy my little blog P. S: Formerly known as SakuraDisneyLover
Summary: It wouldn't be the first time Lin knocked on your door all battered and bruised, seeking refuge after an unkind day; even if she still never met your eyes as she did so, even if she still tapped the side of her thigh in a nervous rhythm as if waiting for you to reject her, to send her on her way to a cold and empty house instead.
You never did. And you never would. No matter how late the hour became.
A/N: Guys, I desperately need Lin to feel loved. :( (no seriously can y'all tell just how much I love this woman??)
Word count: 2,3k
*̥˚ Masterlist ☾ ⋆*
There were only a few minutes left before the clock struck midnight.
Your teapot still rested on the stove, and the empty mug was left on your coffee table to be cleaned only the next morning. Soft rain had started tapping against the windows sometime in the last couple of hours, and the only lights illuminating your living room came from the kitchen and a dim lamp by your side.
And maybe you should have been sleeping already; you had promised yourself just one more chapter about an hour ago. But it was a Friday, your couch was exceptionally comfortable, and the book had just gotten too interesting to drop.
Another fifteen minutes went by, and that's when you finally closed your book and set it down on the coffee table, beside your empty mug. Not because you decided to stop reading, but because three unrythmic knocks came from your front door.
A frown settled on your features in the same moment; it's not like you were expecting anyone, much less at this hour of the night. And yet you had a nagging feeling deep inside your chest—much like worry but a little sharper—because you had an idea of who it could be.
Pulling your night robes tighter around your shoulders, you walked to the door. Your heart leaped to your throat as soon as you turned the handle and opened it.
Lin stood there, on the other side. Her metal uniform was nowhere to be seen; in its place, she wore only her dark pants and a long, dark brown coat. Raindrops darkened the fabric of her clothes even more; they clung to her hair and slowly rolled down her skin. But what truly caught your eye was the start of a blooming bruise right on the corner of her right jaw, just beside her scars; and how she pretended to have one hand on the pocket of her coat, when in reality, she was holding onto her side as if breathing had become a painful task.
It wouldn't be the first time Lin knocked on your door all battered and bruised, seeking refuge after an unkind day; even if she still never met your eyes as she did so, even if she still tapped the side of her thigh in a nervous rhythm as if waiting for you to reject her, to send her on her way to a cold and empty house instead.
You never did. And you never would. No matter how late the hour became.
You did, however, have to bite back tears each time. For one, because you didn't think it possible to physically feel your heart shattering inside your chest until the first time Lin showed up with her own blood on her clothes. For another, because it hurt you how much she still looked at you as if you were an anomaly, as if someone caring this much about her was still something that Lin struggled to understand and accept.
You swallowed the lump in your throat, mustering the best shaky smile that you could, as you watched your own trembling fingers reach out for her.
Lin inhaled sharply when your hand found hers, as if some part of her was still bracing for impact. Her green eyes blinked once, then twice, and they slowly found yours. Her eyes glistened under the cheap light of the corridor outside your apartment; unshed tears already clung to Lin's eyelashes. And she wouldn't let them fall here; you knew it.
But when your fingers loosely intertwined with hers, Lin's grip tightened almost bruisely around your hand in the same heartbeat. A quiet, yet desperate, plea.
You took half a step forward, feeling your chest constrict around nothing, for your heart didn't belong to you anymore. Carefully, you brought your joined hands up, until your lips brushed against the knuckles of Lin's hand, and you placed a kiss there, and then two; just to be sure she understood the silent words etched in your very breathing.
In the same beat, Lin met you halfway. Her boots bumped into your slippers as she stepped forward, close enough so she could drop her forehead against your shoulder. And she stayed there, pressed onto you, allowing you to hold a little of her weight.
A long, trembling breath fell past Lin's lips and against your collarbone. And at the same time you felt something damp seeping through the fabric of your night shirt, Lin nuzzled deeper against you.
She said nothing; she rarely ever did. And you never quite pressed. But Lin also knew, already, that you would never allow her to suffer in solitude again. Perhaps that's why, even with her uncertainty, she showed up at your door. On some days, your stubbornness rivaled hers; and on the day you had made her promise never to shut you out again, you had won.
"I uh-" Lin's voice came out raspy, quiet, and as if caught by something she was barely holding back. Her hand, still holding onto yours, squeezed once, grounding herself. She cleared her throat, tried again. "I'm going to take a shower."
You waited until she was ready to pull away and look at you again. When she did, you raised your free hand; your fingers ghosted over her scars, over the patch of skin slowly darkening with a bruise there, before you gently pushed stray locks of hair behind her ear.
You nodded, allowing your touch to linger a little longer. "Okay. I'll be here."
Lin stalled to let go of your hand, as if reluctant to do so. As if by letting go she'd be risking you leaving her. And just like every night, she held your gaze for an extra heartbeat, with her lips parting to ask if you meant it. Sometimes, on the worst nights, the words did escape her. But on most nights, she bit them back.
Outside the windows, rain had picked up its pace. It fell harder now, violent against the glass and the slick pavement of the streets.
Lin let go eventually; she walked into your apartment with the familiarity of someone who spent more time here than in her own house. Her brown coat found its place hung over the back of one of the dining chairs, left to dry off the raindrops.
And you watched as she disappeared into the bathroom. Yet the door was left ajar, with a thin strip of golden light bleeding into the hallway. A quiet, timid invitation.
Lin would never beg you to join her; she'd never beg for the comfort she so desperately wanted. But she left her little hints: a gentle tug at your hand, a door left open for you to follow. It was her way of never feeling like a burden. She would forever give you a choice; she would forever allow you to dismiss her if that's what you wanted.
You never did. Not even five minutes had gone by since the water from the shower had been turned on, and you were already pushing open the bathroom door.
Soft steam had already started to gather from the hot water; the mirror had gone foggy, and the shower curtain started to collect tiny water drops.
Quietly, you removed your clothes, choosing to ignore the small red stains on Lin's white tank top now resting on the floor. You swiftly put your hair up in a bun, and finally pushed open the shower curtain.
As soon as your eyes found Lin, you had to close them again; otherwise, you wouldn't have been able to breathe. Lin's alabaster skin was a constellation of bruises and scratches; some were already turning from harsh red into a deep, unsettling purple. Her torso had taken most of the damage; there was a huge bruise blooming near Lin's ribs, and you could only hope she hadn't broken any. There was a prominent scratch running from the back of her shoulder and down to her spine that you had no idea how it had gotten there, and you weren't sure you wanted to know. And the mark near her jaw, now partly hidden by the wet hair framing her face, had only grown darker.
You could hear your own heartbeat; it tuned out the sounds of water hitting the shower tiles. Tears pooled in the bottom lid of your eyes, and you inhaled sharply to keep them at bay. "Lin…" Her name stumbled past your lips. Your hand, still gripping the shower curtain, nearly poked a hole through it.
And all Lin could do was purse her lips and avert her eyes. Because she knew, she knew the state she was in, and she couldn't make up her mind if it was even fair to be dumping the harsh realities of her life onto you.
Lin brought both her arms around her in a gesture that was entirely unlike herself. Her nails pressed hard into the muscles of her own biceps, as if trying to hide some parts of her ugly marks from you.
She shrugged, just a weak shift of her shoulders. "Bad day." And she shuffled just a little further away, tucking herself under the falling water and allowing it to act as a barrier between you.
And yet that's what hurt you the most; that part of Lin believed she shouldn't be here, that she could somehow be a burden to you, that she tried to protect you from the painful and difficult sides of her, even if she was the one standing naked and hurt under a stream of water inside your bathroom.
Water trickled down her skin; it traced paths over the blooming bruises on her body and flattened her wet hair against her neck and shoulders.
And you couldn't bear to be even a second longer away from her. With two quick steps, you closed the distance between you and Lin. Under the falling water of the shower, your bare chest found her back, and both your arms slid carefully around Lin's waist.
The water fell all over your hair, but you didn't care. All you could feel and think about was Lin. Her skin was warm and soft beneath your touch, beneath the hands you so tenderly slid around her waist, until they found her abdomen and settled there, pulling her tighter against you.
Something between a gasp and a sob escaped Lin as soon as you reached her. She lowered her head with a quiet groan, and her hands instinctively searched for yours, tangling your fingers together and holding you securely against her.
You leaned your forehead onto the back of Lin's head, nuzzling there in between her wet hair until your lips found the curve of her neck. You placed a lingering kiss on her skin there, shifting one of your hands up until your thumb found the place right beside Lin's breast, near her thundering heart.
For a suspended moment, you stayed there, feeling each rapid beat of her heart under your hand. Basking in the certainty that she was truly there, warm and alive, in your arms. "We'll make it better again," you spoke in nothing but a breath near Lin's ear.
Lin would never admit to how she'd stood strong for so many years, and yet a single touch from you had been enough to make her legs shake. She would never admit to how desperately she clung to you on nights like this, or how hungrily she kissed you on easier nights.
But Lin slowly turned around in your arms, refusing to stay even an inch apart as her bare chest pressed against yours. And her hands shook when they reached for your face, her thumbs tracing the outlines of your cheeks as if she feared you could be just a daydream. And her lower lip trembled when she opened her mouth to speak, yet no words came out. And, in between the shower stream, tears fell freely down her cheeks, tracing a path down until they dripped from her chin; and you knew, and Lin knew that you knew, yet both of you pretended that they were hidden under the falling water. And she leaned in until her forehead touched yours, and her nose bumped into yours, as if close wasn't close enough.
And that, was telling enough.
"All I wanted today was to come home." Lin's voice was nothing but a breath over your lips, unsteady and sounding like the tears that fell from her eyes.
Your own tears spilled over your lashes when you closed your eyes, nodding softly as she spoke. Both your hands pressed against Lin's back—mindful of her injuries there—your fingertips found the curve of her spine, and you pulled her decidedly into you. With a gentle turn of your head, your lips found her cheek; you pressed a lingering kiss over her scars, and then a softer one over the bruise on her jaw.
Lin fell against you. Both her arms closed around your shoulders, and she tucked her head into the crook of your neck. Her lips pressed over the wet skin of your pulse point, and her fingers carved half moons into your shoulders when she gripped you as if you could disappear.
Your own hands shifted up and down the muscles of her back, disrupting the path of the falling water from the shower as it hit her naked skin. The feeling of her body against yours was all-encompassing; you shifted your feet over the wet tiles, bringing yourself closer until you didn't know where her heartbeat began, or yours ended.
"You're home now," You promised, your lips brushing over Lin's skin with each word. "We are home."
Home, after all, had never been a place.
⋆* ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆･
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Epic fandom,I see your Astyanax lives au and raise you: Remember Zeus warning Odysseus that Astyanax is fated to kill him one day?
Well imagine this: It's decades after their return to Ithaca,Penelope has long since passed,and Odysseus has grown sick and frail in his old age. By this point Telemachus and Astyanax are about roughly the age he was when he first went to war,the two find themselves sitting with a comatose Odysseus on his deathbed.
Astyanax sits there watching Odysseus struggle to breathe and his heart shatters,unable to bare seeing the man who not only defied the gods' very will in order to save him but raised him as if he were his own suffer any longer. That's when he feels the dagger holstered to his hip,he unsheathes it and locks eyes with his brother. Telemachus looks at Astyanax and then to the blade in his hand,and nods in silent agreement as he wipes tears away,and with that Astyanax plunges the dagger into Odysseus's heart,ending his suffering at last.
Cut to Zeus visiting Odysseus's soul just before he enters the underworld and saying,"lmao told u there's no outrunning fate :)))"
i can understand changing elements of a story for an adaption (and im a big advocate for this! no adaptation can or should ever strive to be completely faithful to its source material) however. cutting the nobody part from the odyssey is a huge indicator that you have fundamentally misunderstood odysseus as a character i fear
I’m sorry but I’m gonna judge a movie with a 250 million budget and Oscar winning director harsher than I judge a musical made by a (formerly) smaller artist that started posting his music on TikTok for the fun of it
from @kokodrawings role reversal au: naruto as ambassador of the shinobi nations. please read the tags on the original post 🧡
the idea just took root in my mind and i really think this would be such a beautiful life for naruto post-war. discovering the world, making it his home, and everyone welcoming him like family.
he would share stories, help people, spreading love, hope and peace. and even write about his travels ! the book would probably read like a wackjob wrote it but it would be so heartfelt :')
i've always loved the idea that a post-war naruto would feel such peace and happiness that he often (accidentally) goes into sage mode simply by breathing. like someone's talking to him and then maybe a moment of silence would pass and when they look back at him the markings of sage mode are on him. also, i imagine in this au he also lets kurama's chakra leak freely (kind of like he's letting him stretch) so he would sometimes have sharper features because of it too.
the necklace he wears are trinkets from the five great nations, each an official seal from the kage of each village, a sign of their acknowledgement and also works like a pass to wander through the countries freely.
Remember all those times in HoH when Percy did feats so amazing Annabeth couldn't understand how he was able to do so, but we never got to see Percy's narration of these events, and he and Annabeth never got to talk about how exactly he was able to do such things?
Well, I would like to show you something from SoM
First, we have Percy and Clarisse fighting Polyphemus, and barely scratching him. And then:
Mind you, Polyphemus is described as being at least fifteen feet tall.
Percy's anger in this scene seems to unlock something in him, allowing him to do things he wouldn't normally be able to. Or maybe he already could do that, but didn't know he could, or didn't know how to?
Is Percy stronger than he thinks he is? Did his anger make him stronger, or did it simply allow him to forget that he was "hopelessly outmatched", and attack without limiting himself?
There are a few moments during the saga where you get to see Percy doing things that require a greater amount of strength than what you would think he possesses (all while not being in contact with water)
From tBotL:
From HoH:
What I find interesting about these scenes is that, in the fight with Polyphemus, despite knowing how impossible what he just did is, Percy either refuses to think about how the hell did he just defeat this giant cyclops all by himself, or he refuses to tell us what he thinks about it.
Then, in the fight with Antaeus, Percy seems to be trying to play it off, reasoning that his mother always said he had "a gift for getting stuff tangled up" — which doesn't explain at all how he had the strength to do any of it — and also implying that this was an extraordinary situation, since he was "desperate to save [his] friends", so, obviously, that's not something he could do in a normal context, right? Right.
Then, in the scene he kills Arachne and Annabeth asks him how he moved so fast, you can't really tell if he is deflecting the question on purpose. And at last, the most interesting thing about the jump scene isn't even the jump itself, but rather the fact that Percy knew that somehow he would be able to pull it off. It seems to me like at this point, Percy is finally able to admit to himself that he is capable of doing more than what is expected. In his narration we so often see him saying that the idea of doing something is "impossible", right before he does that exact same thing.
From TLO:
(I also like this scene bc Percy is still deluding himself into thinking he's not as powerful as he is but Michael knows he can do it)
From HoH:
When Percy allows himself to try, he always seems to be able to do impossible things. And I don't think he is comfortable with this idea, going so far as only letting himself attempt to control poison bc a) he was dying and b) well, surely that's only possible bc he's in Tartarus right? That's certainly not a power he has access to on a daily basis...
But I feel like as time goes on, Percy is less and less able to continue telling himself he isn't more powerful than he thinks he is.
This is interesting because he explicitly says he has nothing, but then mentally, he is already assuming he'll succeed and is just scared about the potential of it getting away from him. Like the jump in his thoughts is just really clear, there. He already has a sense that he will succeed if he tries.
From MoA:
This is him trying to escape Phorcys' aquarium and it just not working...
And then this is him just... deciding to try harder, I guess. Like to be clear this is about one page later. And I'm sorry, I just do not believe that Frank shoving with his shoulder and Coach Hedge's roundhouse kick were the key factors that made a difference here.
Percy just has untapped reserves of power that he can draw on whenever he wants by just wanting it bad enough, it feels like. And at the same time, he also manages some of his other most absurd feats by accident, like his first time controlling poison against Polybotes, where his narration literally glosses over, he just says he deflected it with his will, or when he accidentally summoned a hurricane against Hyperion.
(Also fun fact I discovered about Percy using his powers against Chrysaor. People talk about it like Chrysaor overpowered him, but Percy just tried once and straight up didn't try a second time, after the initial impact and attack.)
This reminded me that in tBotL we also have this confirmation of Percy being built different:
Not to mention that just the fact that he survived the explosion long enough to fall into the ocean and later be healed by Calypso is already pretty insane...
"We're together in every universe" this "we'll always find eachother" that. What about this is the only universe that we're together in. What about there is no other way this could have worked. What about this is the only place that we have found each other. And goddamn it if we aren't going to make the most of it.
Summary: You beautifully scared Toph. Each time she walked into rooms hoping to find you, each time she pressed her feet more firmly against the ground only to find the steady pulse of your heartbeat, she was faced with the fact that her own heart had begun beating to the rhythm of your name.
A/N: Possessive Toph does things to me. That's all I'm gonna say. ♡
Word count: 3,6k
*̥˚ Masterlist ☾ ⋆*
The halls of the Fire Lord's palace glowed beneath warm firelight, their amber glow reflecting off polished stone and lacquered wood. Fire Nation nobility mingled through the grand reception hall while musicians played softly from a raised platform, the melody weaving through conversations and laughter.
Everyone had attended, and the Gaang looked strangely elegant.
Aang wore Air Nomad robes specially tailored for the occasion, formal enough for royal company while still unmistakably his own. Katara stood beside him in a breathtaking Water Tribe gown of deep sapphire silk trimmed with white fur around the shoulders. Sokka had reluctantly accepted wearing Fire Nation formalwear, though he'd already loosened the collar twice. Zuko donned the elegant attire of the Fire Lord, in deep crimson and rich gold, inspiring power and authority.
Toph stood out in her own way. Instead of flowing robes, she'd chosen something practical. Her dark emerald jacket was cut much like a fitted suit, embroidered subtly with gold threading that resembled veins of ore through stone; matching trousers replaced the skirts expected at court. It somehow suited her perfectly—sharp, confident, unapologetically unconventional.
And then there was you. You wore an elegant Water Tribe dress that hugged your body like moonlit water; layers of pale blue and white fabric embroidered with delicate silver patterns shimmered whenever you moved. Your dark hair had been pinned back with carved ornaments, leaving a few soft strands framing your face.
Toph didn't need her sight to know every person in the room had noticed you.
She could feel it. Tiny shifts in weight, hesitations in footsteps, conversations faltering for half a heartbeat whenever you passed nearby.
This much attention directed at you irritated her far more than she wanted to admit.
The evening itself was pleasant. You shared gossip with Katara while admiring the palace gardens visible through the enormous windows. You listened patiently as Aang excitedly explained a restoration project he wanted to begin near one of the old Air Temples. You even sparred verbally with Mai for several minutes before somehow earning the older girl's faintest hint of a smile.
Toph hovered nearby through most of it. Not too close to become obvious; she'd never admit she was following you around the reception hall. Yet keeping close to you had become something of a habit over the past several months. A dangerous one.
Because somewhere between quiet conversations during travels, shared campfires beneath unfamiliar stars, and lingering touches that lasted a second too long, the lines between you and her had started to blur together in something so messy neither of you knew what it was anymore.
It had always happened in secret. Always somewhere no one could catch or interrupt; hidden balconies, empty hallways, quiet corners after everyone else had fallen asleep.
The first kiss had been impulsive. It had happened because of an argument, something about Toph throwing herself face-first into danger with no regard for consequences.
She had teased you then, asking with a smirk on her lips if you'd cry if she were to die a glorious death in battle. But there had been no hint of joy in your words when you'd all but whimpered that yes, you very much would.
To this day, you didn't know if it was the raw emotion of your words, or if maybe Toph sensed something in your body that even you hadn't known was there. But on that same heartbeat, you'd felt both of Toph's steady hands press against your jaw and pull you into her. The kiss was a little messy and a little too rushed, but it had successfully shut both of you up.
The second had been confusing. You had just saved a small village from local bandits, light work, and yet the residents felt the need to show their gratitude in numbers. A banquet had been organized, with enough wine to quench a small town.
The night had stretched into hours deep enough that neither of you could know if you were closer to morning or midnight. And you and Toph had been the only ones remaining under the stars, sitting close together beside a small dying fire.
Toph had a bottle in her hand, even if her words were already slurred enough, and your laughter followed hers with the same kind of ease. And it had happened without either of you quite allowing it to.
Toph had leaned over you, her body pressing firmly into yours until your back was flush with the cold dirt of the ground. Her strong arms had settled around your head, and her mouth found yours under the haze of wine and the smell of fire smoke. But she had tasted sweet and addictive, enough for your hands to find her waist and bury under her shirt and keep her there with you for another hour or two.
Everything after that had simply become impossible to stop.
And on many occasions, you had tried to bring it up, to talk with her about what exactly the two of you had become. You had tried to understand what all those shared moments behind closed doors meant for you both now. And each time, Toph would dodge the conversation. She'd joke, or she'd change the subject.
Or she'd just lean in and steal another kiss until neither of you remembered what you had been discussing in the first place.
The truth of it, however, ran deeper. You beautifully scared Toph. Each time she walked into rooms hoping to find you, each time she pressed her feet more firmly against the ground only to find the steady pulse of your heartbeat, she was faced with the fact that her own heart had begun beating to the rhythm of your name.
And if she ever allowed you to become truly hers, she would be allowing herself to love you, to admit that she wanted to.
Because by loving her, you held a dagger to her heart. And in loving you back, she would be telling you exactly where to cut.
And that felt much more frightening than pretending nothing had changed.
──∘◎∘──
The feeling started as a vibration. Not on the floor, but in her chest.
Toph tilted her head, hair falling over her pale eyes as she focused her senses. There was something out of place, something that didn't belong next to you.
Across the ballroom, you were speaking with Zuko. Nothing unusual, you had become good friends over the years. But then you laughed, and Zuko laughed too. He leaned closer to hear you over the music, and you lightly touched his arm while making another joke.
To everyone else, it looked perfectly innocent.
To Toph, every tiny movement echoed through the polished stone beneath her feet. She sensed exactly how you gripped Zuko's arm, leaning closer to him until your forehead nearly touched his shoulder. Toph felt your footsteps angle toward him. Felt Zuko mirror your stance and step a little closer. Felt you standing close enough to him that your heartbeats nearly aligned in Toph's perception.
Her own heart twisted painfully. Something hot and ugly settled heavily in her stomach, and she nearly shattered the wine glass she held between her fingers.
Toph didn't like this. Not one bit.
Before she realized what she was doing, she was already walking. Her footsteps quick and purposeful, pushing her way past the crowd without a care when people grumbled about her lack of politeness.
She reached your side, caught you gently but firmly by the wrist, and without a word, pulled you away.
A small gasp of surprise escaped you when you were suddenly snatched away from the conversation. Nearly tripping over your own feet, you struggled to keep up with Toph's fast pace. "Toph?" You called as she guided you between guests. "What happened? Is something wrong?"
There was no answer. All you could do was watch Toph's raven-dark hair bounce over her shoulders as she walked; loose for once, maybe because you had once told her how much you loved it when she allowed those long dark strands to frame her face.
Toph guided you through one of the quieter corridors, branching away from the party. She tucked you both away in a shadowed corner, just shy of the prying eyes of the other guests.
Toph pushed against your chest with a calculated shove. You stumbled backwards and had to suppress what would have been an embarrassing yelp when your back suddenly hit the wall with a muffled thud, instead settling for grasping onto Toph's waist tightly, the fabric of her suit jacket twisting in your hands.
Her muscular arms caged you there in an instant, her hands settled against the wall on either side of you, instinctively creating a small world that belonged only to the two of you.
"Toph?" You asked in a breathless hush, watching the outline of her features under the dim light spilling from the party just a few steps around the corner.
The hallway was empty. The music became distant. The moment you were alone, Toph pressed her whole body against yours, solid and warm, one leg between both of yours as her arms kept your face in place.
Your lips met in a kiss that carried every ounce of emotion she'd been trying to bury for months. It wasn't careful. It wasn't hesitant. It was the kiss of someone desperate to reassure herself that the person in front of her was still there.
Toph's hands moved to settle against your jaw, her thumbs pressing into your cheeks and pulling you painfully close. She caught your lower lip between both of hers, lightly tugging on it with her teeth before she slowly soothed it with her tongue.
And your head was spinning as breathing wasn't your brain's priority. Your fingers sneaked under the hem of Toph's shirt, finding the defined curve of her waist and running your nails over the skin there; it gave beneath your touch, pliant under your hands as if she'd been made for your touch alone.
The feeling of Toph pressed so closely against you was near dizzying. Her presence was all-consuming; it felt like white noise and being submerged underwater all the same time—it was the feeling of her soft, insistent lips on yours, and the way you could feel her pulling in a deep breath before a raspy groan came from the back of her throat and she was leaning forward again. Whatever it was that kept you tied to her, you embraced it.
Toph kissed you sweet, warm and tasting like expensive wine; inebriating in the way she pulled you impossibly close to her as if feeling the beat of your heart flush against her own was the only thing keeping her afloat.
When she finally pulled back for a moment, as her lungs ached for air, a fresh wave of heat rushed through you at the sight of Toph; the woman's cheeks unmistakably flushed, her lips swollen with a faint smear of your dark lipstick decorating them prettily. Small cracks in the usually so confident and unbreakable earthbending master.
Your chest heaved as it caught up with the lack of air, and you blinked several times to focus back on reality. "W-What…" Your voice stumbled, hands still buried deep under Toph's shirt. "Toph, what the hell was that about?"
She hesitated, gasping for air just as much as you. She angled her head away from you, running her tongue over her bottom lip and still tasting you there. "You and Sparky." Was all she grumbled.
A scoff escaped you before you could bite it back. "Zuko?!"
"You were all…" Toph gestured vaguely before settling her hands against the wall again, as if she wasn't willing to let you go just yet. "…cozy together."
Your mouth fell agape as confusion slowly painted your features. You removed one hand from under Toph's shirt in order to push strands of hair away from her pale eyes. Your fingers traced the edge of her eyebrow as you did so, until you reached behind her ear and softly tangled your touch between the silky strands of her dark hair. Toph timidly leaned into your hand.
"I was just talking with him," you reasoned eventually.
There was a huff, and suddenly she was pulling away as if your hand had burned her. "You touched him." Toph spat the words, "More than once."
You stared at her for long seconds before understanding finally settled across your features. "Toph…"
"I didn't like it." She snapped, sharper than she'd meant it to be.
Silence stretched between you. Your brows scrunched with indignation, and you took hold of both her wrists, decidedly pushing her arms down and holding her there.
And Toph let you, partly frustrated with how easily you disarmed her.
"You don't get to be jealous." Your voice was even; a quiet, bittersweet finality wrapped around it sent a rush of cold dread to Toph's stomach.
A humorless chuckle fell past Toph's lips. "What?"
"You heard me." Though your voice didn't hold half the conviction it needed for what you were trying to establish, you still pressed on. "You… don't get to act like I'm yours whenever someone else gets close."
The words hurt you as much as they did her; they rolled off your tongue like sharp razors because you wished you didn't have to say them at all.
Toph opened her mouth, but nothing came out. She shook one hand free of your grasp, trying to reach for your cheek. Unable to find the right words, she leaned forward, hoping another kiss might somehow communicate everything she couldn't say aloud.
You pushed her hand away.
"I've wanted us to be together for months," you continued quietly, shaking your head and looking away from her lest your words tangle in themselves. "I've waited because I know this vulnerability scares you."
Toph's shoulders stiffened, and she took a step back as if to brace herself for a blow. "Stop it." Her heart was too loud in her ears, and her hands grew clammy; it felt as if sand had swallowed her feet because Toph's senses were all jumbled up.
"But every time I try to talk about us…" You whispered, and then paused as your thumb, which was still pressed against Toph's wrist, caught on the rapid beating of her pulse. You inhaled sharply, trying to push away the what-ifs. "…you avoid it."
Another silence stretched, hovering like a dark cloud.
"You only kiss me when nobody can see." Despite your voice almost being carried away by the distant music coming from the party, each quiet word landed heavier than the last. "It started making me wonder if you were embarrassed or… or ashamed of me."
Toph's face did something complicated, and she slipped back behind her defenses, crossing her arms over her chest like a barrier between you. "That's nonsense." She shrugged halfheartedly, blowing away a long strand of her hair that had fallen over her nose. It didn't go very far, the end of it catching on the corner of her mouth. "It couldn't be further from the truth."
You pursed your lips, still sensitive from the kiss of mere minutes ago. She was stubborn like that, you knew well, even when you could see her fingers tapping her arm rhythmically, as if she needed the motion to keep her busy and from doing something a little reckless.
"Then prove it." You tugged your messy hair free from its updo, allowing it to fall over your bare shoulders and hopefully hide the pink flush of your cheeks. "Just… tell me this means something for you, at least."
Toph seemed to sense the motion, her head angled back toward you. And her lips parted momentarily, as if she were ready to curse her lack of sight for keeping her from seeing you properly. Her fingers tightened their grip on her own arm, breath running shallow.
She said nothing.
A beat passed, then two. You closed your eyes, feeling something cold settle on your chest.
You nodded slowly, "I'm going back to the party."
And then you were gone. And Toph felt the absence like her heart had just been carved out of her chest.
──∘◎∘──
The palace gardens were quiet; moonlight spilled across smooth stone paths and sleeping flowers.
Toph sat alone on the edge of a fountain, her bare feet dipping into the water and causing ripples that reflected the moon's hazy glow. She gripped the stone of the border; it crackled under her frustration.
For the first time in what felt like forever, everything was too quiet. She remembered your lips, the warmth she'd always leaned toward without thinking. The softness of your laugh. The steady rhythm of your heartbeat whenever you stood close together—a rhythm Toph knew better than anyone else.
She had memorized it without realizing. She could probably pick out your heartbeat from hundreds of people. And she did. Each time you fought side by side, half of her senses were tuned to your pulse all the time. When you lie down to sleep under the stars, Toph counted your heartbeats until sleep took her over. Even when she had her mouth on yours, leaving you breathless and causing that same beat to quicken under her hands, she followed it; she let it guide her, she allowed your heart to tell her where to touch, where to press her mouth a little firmer to get the reaction she wanted.
The realization struck Toph all at once and almost had her slipping deeper into the fountain. She didn't simply enjoy being around you. She had built pieces of herself around you.
Around your voice, your kindness, your terrible jokes, your stubborn optimism, your heartbeat that guided her own.
And the thought of losing that… it hollowed something inside her so completely that she nearly felt nauseous.
No, she wasn't afraid of loving you. She was afraid of admitting just how completely she already did. And that fear had nearly cost her everything.
Toph stood, leaving damp footprints behind her as she rushed back inside the palace.
For once in her life, she knew exactly what she wanted.
──∘◎∘──
Conversation filled the ballroom once more as Toph returned. Picking up a thousand different shapes and voices and vibrations with her senses so suddenly almost made her dizzy.
With a quiet groan past her lips, Toph forced herself to focus. She eased her breathing, frowning slightly as she travelled the entire room in a single moment. And she immediately sensed that her friends all stood together near the center of the hall.
You were there, too, laughing at something Sokka had said while Katara halfheartedly pushed at her brother's shoulder, balancing a drink in her other hand.
Without hesitation, Toph walked straight toward them with newfound confidence, once again pushing her way through the crowd. She didn't bother with words; they were never her strong suit anyway. Toph simply found your hand, interlacing your fingers together, and gently pulled you closer to her.
The room seemed to hold its breath alongside you. Aang stopped mid-sentence, Sokka's eyebrows shot upward, Katara nearly dropped her drink, and even Zuko seemed pleasantly surprised.
Your breath hitched with a poorly hidden gasp when Toph's free hand settled decidedly on your waist, pulling your body more completely against hers. "T-Toph," her name stumbled past your lips as you felt heat creeping up your neck when the stares of everyone around you turned in your direction, "I just said-"
Toph didn't care; she shut you up the moment her mouth collided with yours. The hand resting on your waist shifted up, tracing a path over the fabric of your dress and holding you more firmly against her.
The kiss was not hidden behind closed doors. Not stolen in secret. Not something to be denied tomorrow morning. It was a real thing, out in the open and under the eyes of hundreds of people. One that said everything she'd been too frightened to speak, now displayed louder than a scream.
Toph's hair tickled your cheek when she leaned into you, letting go of your hand so she could bring her palm to your jaw as if she were trying to see the shape of you in every conceivable way.
When you finally parted, Toph remained close enough that her nose still brushed yours. And her thumb reached to trace the outline of your lower lip, as if to make sure you weren't just a daydream. When Toph spoke, you felt the shape of her words against your lips; "You're mine," she whispered, a smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. "And I want everyone to know that."
Air left your lungs all over again. Your hands clutched at the lapel of Toph's suit jacket, holding onto her because you weren't sure your knees could keep you standing right now. "I… I think you made it pretty clear to everyone here." A chuckle escaped you, feeling faint with the way she loved on you.
Toph bit at the edge of her lips as if it took every ounce of her strength to hold herself back from claiming your mouth with hers again and again. Instead, she settled for leaning in and giving a peck to the corner of your lips, before pushing further until her voice was close to your ear, "Good."
A few steps beside you, Sokka had a large grin on his face as he elbowed Zuko and extended his palm, wiggling his fingers. "I told you it would work. Hand it over."
With a huff, Zuko dropped a few gold pieces into Sokka's hand and gave his friend an unamused side-eye. "You'll be the one emptying your pockets when I get the day of their wedding right."
Toph ignored every reaction in the room. The only heartbeat she cared about was the one standing right in front of her.
And now, she had no intention of ever pretending otherwise.
⋆* ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆･
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listen it's not that I think epic the musical is a perfect adaption of the odyssey but it was an impressive passion project that knew what it wanted to be and knew what people gravitated to in the original work and it put significant effort into conveying this through its unique medium and tone to the point that hundreds of other people felt compelled to put effort into their own artistic interpretations of that version of the story. and that's really cool! and yes I would be more critical if it was a 100 million dollar project made by a professional because what the fuck do you mean you're a world-famous director and you cut the my name is nobody scene are you goddamn serious
So I've seen people comparing the new Odyssey movie to Epic the musical, and here on Tumblr it's mostly people dunking on the movie by saying Epic is better. So of course this leads to fans of the movie to try and hit back by criticizing Epic, especially in other sites, and imma stop you right there buddy.
Epic the musical was a dude's senior project at theater school that got popular on TikTok. Said dude is Jorge Rivera-Herrans and when you google his name the first thing that shows up is the Fandom Wiki because he doesn't have a wikipedia page. Almost every singer in the musical is completely unknown because auditions were held on TikTok and if you don't listen to the songs already knowing that you'd never guess. The entire thing is available for free on youtube.
The Odyssey is a 3 hour long movie with a 250 million dollar budget directed by a guy with a really long wikipedia page and staring actors you're probably sick of seeing so often.
Neither of them are accurate tellings of Homer's Odyssey, and both of them can be criticized by viewers, but if you're gonna compare the two in any serious way instead of making a meme then you have to take these factors into consideration.
Personally, if someone gifts me a scarf they crocheted themselves and I notice a few spots where they missed a stitch I'll point it out if they ask for criticism to improve in their craft. But I'll still have warm and fuzzy feelings for the scarf, and the missed stitches feel endearing.
If I paid 999999999 bazillion dollarydoos for a pure silk scarf encrusted with diamonds and i notice a bunch of missing stitches you can bet your ass I'll be a Karen about it.
Now that Christopher Nolan's The Odyssey is out, we can wait for the EPIC: The Musical movie, and then have to deal with people saying "We just got The Odyssey, why are we getting another adaptation?"
And all the people complaining about Lupita Nyong'o playing Helen are gonna have their heads spinning at Puerto Rican Odysseus, Polites wearing glasses, Black Eurylochus, Black Antinous, Black Ares, British Circe, and British Hermes.
And all the people complaining about Robert Pattinson Antinous saying "You're pining for a daddy you didn't even know, like some sniveling bastard" are gonna have to deal with the What Saga and Holy Moly.
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