Posts by LIVEWIRE.
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[fancypost bgcolor=; border: 0px; width: 420px; text-align: justify; font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;]Stevie, personally, doesn't consider this as a punishment, or even as a way to embarrass B. Instead, she thinks of it as helping them along— and she's doing a damn good job of it. She isn't much of a matchmaker, and they were a match long before she'd met them; plus, pushing their relationship onto the romantic side of the very thin line of their bond has never been her intention for making B do this. Rather, she thinks that it's about fucking time they actually confessed this. Sure, she knows that love— platonic, romantic, whatever the hell it is— doesn't have to be said so plainly, that unvarnished words like "be careful" or "you fight good" can come to mean the same, that even little bumps and nudges and the things you do start speaking louder than your voice. But dammit, this needs to be said, at least to her. And if it makes her long for Cam's company, then nobody needs to know.
The easy joking makes her roll her eyes in exasperated amusement at first. She's glad to have something to take her mind off that damn argument, and this is it. She wants to laugh her head off again instead of sitting around in too-big bones, trying to put one paw in front of the other without falling or crashing into something or both. She wants to be herself again, instead of someone suffering through a loss she'd gone through before. Except this time, it hurts a lot more, because Cam isn't dead.
She stops breathing for a second when it happens, because these two are like wild animals who'll freak and run off if you so much as inhale. Watches Win, who seems almost taken aback, then bites down a scream of frustration when all Win says is B. Like, jeez, dude, just tell him you love him back. Is she living vicariously through them right now because of a certain event that pretty much got her into this lion body in the first place? She'd say no, but everyone would know that was a lie.
/ oh my god i am finally here + toying with width and line height
rolls around in the angst
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[fancypost bgcolor=; border: 0px; width: 420px; text-align: justify; font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;]The fields have lost their appeal— she sees them every day, walks through them every day, fights in them (almost) every day— and she's always preferred the dizzying height of trees, anyway. She loved scampering up bark and branch, watching the ground below her without fear of being bothered by anyone. Other than the few other acrobats in the clan, of course. Now, though, she doesn't know how well she'd fare in climbing. Her extra weight (she's never been thin, but now she's positively ponderous) means that hanging around the higher branches is next to impossible, and even the thicker ones farther from the sky may not hold her weight. In one night, her whole life has changed. And she gets the feeling it's for the worse.
Her eyes flick up to look over Cherviltea and one of his spawn, brows creasing in annoyance at having her brooding time interrupted. She smooths her features out with some reluctance— Chervil's never done anything to make her dislike him, and neither has the kid; they're not the ones who've hurt her to her core— and says, "You got me," dully. Yep, there she is, little Stevie, who isn't so little anymore. She's built like a fucking brick wall, for Christ's sake.
Well now, it seems like most dynamic duos are made up of two tough pieces of shit who can't admit when they're wrong (which Stevie isn't; she's just making an observation here). But while Win just stood there and took it, Stevie couldn't. Stevie snapped. Stevie yelled. Stevie told her best friend to fuck off and never show her damn face again around her, and holy fuck if that isn't worse. And neither of them have the guts to walk up to the other and say "hey, let's start over," no. It'll take another one of them getting captured before they can make up and forget this all every happened. Another capture— and there is one coming. But, oh, she doesn't know that yet.
She snorts at Win's words, avoids his eyes and stares at her paws. She can hear him smirking, and she doesn't know if she wants to laugh at it or scream at him. In the end, she settles for silence, one she breaks just to offer up a halfhearted reply. "I got a growth spurt a little late, so what." She almost lifts her head to see Cam's reaction, then stops when she realizes. "Don't see why not. Think I oughta practice walkin' before doin' any a' that, though."
/ decatuple thumbs up
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[fancypost bgcolor=; border: 0px; width: 420px; text-align: justify; font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;]/ i dont know schools so
Stevie tugs on the drawstring of her sky-blue hoodie, twirling it around her finger as she strides into the library. She nudges back the hood and pulls the zipper down over her black shirt (with the Captain America shield on it in the bisexual flag colors, because of course she would, this is Stevie we're talking about here). Her cargo pants trail along the ground despite having folded it up twice, which, to her eternal aggravation, speaks volumes about her height. Faded blue and white sneakers tapping a little rhythm on the floor, she cranes her head up and appraises the rows and rows of books lining the shelves. Her fingers deftly comb through her hair and arrange it into a messy ponytail, giving her eyes the freedom they need to see.
And her ears to hear, apparently. She glances around upon hearing Megaera's voice; she has a soft spot for the cheerleader, who's a year above her and possibly the most perfect human being on the planet? It's very likely. Something about LEGOs? And Bruce, which stumps her. She knows the guy well enough that he isn't cold and distant and fun-hating (the gossip in this damn school is wild), but Bruce and LEGOs? She has gotta see this. Dark, curly hair flouncing around like a waterfall-cloud hybrid from where it's tied at the back of her head, she follows the source of Meg's voice and stops short at the sight that greets her.
That's Bruce with LEGOs, definitely, and he seems very consumed in his work? "I ain't gettin' nothin' done today," she states with a wide grin, sliding into the chair across from the two seniors. Instead of asking politely, like Megaera has done, she declares, "I'm gonna help too," with a determined look that means "and you can't stop me."
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[fancypost bgcolor=; border: 0px; width: 420px; text-align: justify; font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;]/ tyvm, fellow egg
"tt" my son + why did i go zootopia on thisIt's easy to attribute this discord to biology; most big wildcats and many snakes, for instance, prefer solitary living to that of altruistic, group-oriented meerkats and wolves. Prey animals fare badly in a clan of predators, often mistaken for tasty morsels. Of course, one could argue the fact that they've evolved beyond uncivilized beasts and that they know better than to resort to their former primal ways, but Stevie distinctly remembers the occasions when Holydove, one of her closest friends, would have larger, toothier creatures leering hungrily at her. It only added to her long-standing resentment of bullies and, as a whole, bigger animals.
Yellow-belly? People still say that? She wrinkles her nose in bemusement. Win's spawn is a weird one. An indignant noise bursts from her maw; "no, you really didn't" what a fucking smartass. He did just save her ass from becoming a greasy spot on the moors— and he did compliment her, which mollifies her enough to grudgingly let it slide. It's honestly the weirdest thing to have a child criticize her fighting abilities. "Huh, really?" she says, ignoring her bruises in favor of conversation. Batpup brings out a change in everyone, simply for being Batpup. "Your dad ain't so sure 'bout my... abilities." Does it sting, if not outright hurt, that Win looks at her tiny frame and thinks he'd break her bones if he tried to spar with her? Yes, of course, but she's spent this long not giving a shit about what people think of her; she isn't going to start now just because, this time, it's a friend.
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[fancypost bgcolor=; border: 0px; width: 420px; text-align: justify; font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;]Though still unsteady on her new paws, she snaps to attention as Jonathan speaks. The advisor's specialty in search and rescue offers the obvious assumption that, at the very least, they'll be talking to other clans in search of another missing member. She forces herself to welcome the distraction, desperately eager to get her paws moving and away from WindClan so she can forget about Cam for a while, think only in tooth and claw. But when Jonathan says Lessa has been captured, her mind and body reel backward in horror. She's missed so much in her inactivity, and now Lessa— her Lessa, who calls her mom and who makes her smile so easy— has been taken captive by BoneClan?
Claws digging into the ground, she says hoarsely, "'m comin'." She'll fight her way through armies of dragons to get Lessa back, safe and sound and among those who care about her.
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[fancypost bgcolor=; border: 0px; width: 420px; text-align: justify; font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;]Her stride covers more ground than before now, racing at almost full gallop toward the BoneClan camp. She keeps pace just behind Jonathan, cold rage burning in her eyes as she charges through the unfamiliar territory, heedless of whatever obstacles lie in her path. Even if it kills her, she's going to get Lessa back. And so help her, if they've harmed even a whisker on the girl's snout... there won't be any mercy from her.
/ edit: wRONG GODDAMN ACCOUNT
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[fancypost bgcolor=; border: 0px; width: 420px; text-align: justify; font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;]Pain explodes inside her skull, and she tosses her head, like she can throw off Feliks's soundwaves aa if they're flies swarming around her head. Pace slowing to a stop, she growls low in her throat and presses her ears against her head, claws digging into the ground and leaving deep trenches in the soil. She adapts to it like she always does with everything new that invades her life, charging through small NPC BoneClanners despite her head aching fit to burst. She'll let nothing stop her.
Mom!
She whips her head around at the mental shout, "Lessa!" roaring out of her throat before she can coherently think. "Lessa, where are ya?" Think, Stevie, dammit! Les is a peacemaker, a pacifist, isn't she? So she wouldn't participate in a battle— not even a rescue raid organized to bring her back to WindClan. She'd be staying back, avoiding the conflict, lurking around the edges. With that in mind, she weaves through the crowd to the sidelines, calling out "Lessa!" the whole time. The thought that Lessa might not even recognize her in this new body doesn't even occur to Stevie.
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[fancypost bgcolor=; border: 0px; width: 420px; text-align: justify; font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;]/ i am not being productive right now
Team Valor shirt— check. Team Valor cap— check. Black hoodie, black jeans, red sneakers, and red hairband, all of which are not even remotely related to Team Valor and are therefore slightly less important— check. Phone at 100% battery— check. Backpack stocked with some cheap snacks and a full water bottle, as well as other necessary resources she can't be bothered to list— check. Stevie glances out the window; sunny skies with no trace of rain on the horizon— check. She shoots off a quick text, then waits near her front door to wait. Tapping her toes impatiently, she manages to catch a Zubat (whom she names "Bruce") and a Pidgey (who gets christened "Dick"), before she decides oh my God, Stevie Percy, stop wasting your fucking PokéBalls before you're even at the park and opens her messages, typing up another text.
valorstevie: yo motherfuckers pick me the fuck up
valorstevie: ITS BEEN 5 MINS WHERE TF ARE YALL
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[fancypost bgcolor=; border: 0px; width: 420px; text-align: justify; font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;]nothing to see here carry on
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[fancypost bgcolor=; border: 0px; width: 420px; text-align: justify; font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;]to muzzle..... or not to muzzle. maybe it's removed during missions where she has to Fit In™ with others, but otherwise she has to wear it.
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[fancypost bgcolor=; border: 0px; width: 420px; text-align: justify; font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;]mmade a minor edit aha
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[fancypost bgcolor=; border: 0px; width: 420px; text-align: justify; font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;]Thank the fucking Gods for the Force, or whatever the hell it's called; Stevie doesn't really know, wouldn't have given a shit if it weren't for Lessa training with it or something. Look, she can't remember all of the details, and anyway, Lessa's safe and that's all that matters. "Holy shit, kid, you ok?" she says, not waiting for an answer before lying down on the ground. "Here, Les, get on my back. Hold onto m'mane." Reyna's call sends electric jolts of rage through her nerves, but she restrains herself for Lessa's sake.
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[fancypost bgcolor=; border: 0px; width: 420px; text-align: justify; font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;]Daybreak pulls at the edges of night as Stevie noses open her cabin door. Silence presses against her eardrums, filling her head with quiet stillness, and her heartbeat seems like a crash of cymbals in the impassive noiselessness. She shuts her door softly behind her, breathing in the cool early morning air, and settles down on her front porch to watch the sun rise. She feels like she's got two paws in the deep end of the pool and the other two in lava, drowning and burning at the same time. And it all ties back to one cat, her so-called best friend, who died and came back to life and may as well be dead to her now for all the ways Cam isn't taking care of herself. Even turning into a Goddamn lion is Cam's fault— something about strong emotions triggering a sudden change or whatever the hell it is. She's standing in the middle of a clearing surrounded by misty trees and she doesn't know how the fuck she's gonna get back home. Lost, that's what she feels. Just lost. At least she still has Win and Boy, and even Batpup, complete little shit he may be. She cwould pull herself together just for those three.
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[fancypost bgcolor=; border: 0px; width: 420px; text-align: justify; font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;]oshitwaddup has logged in
oshitwaddup: o shit waddup
oshitwaddup: wait omfg is dv getting laid
oshitwaddup: get it, dude
oshitwaddup: Cocoa google is ur friend
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[fancypost bgcolor=; border: 0px; width: 420px; text-align: justify; font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;]/ FULL SATAN BAT NO
+ also um his human au name is damian right
rightShe's in the middle of naming a Golbat she caught in one try "LittlestShit" when— speak of the Devil('s son)— someone kicks her poor door and scares the fucking shit out of her. Stevie regains her senses quickly, the fury of a thousand suns settling on her small shoulders because she knows who the Goddamn fuck just hurt her motherfucking door. Pulling it open, she glares at her fellow Team Valor initiate and says, "Dude, what the fuck." In one fluid movement she reopens her messages and taps Bruce's name, typing quickly without taking her eyes off her door's murderer.
valorstevie: BRUCE YOUR SPAWN OF SATAN JUST KICKED MY FUCKING DOOR IF HE DAMAGED IT YOURE GOING TO HAVE TO PAY FOR THE EXPENSES OR SO HELP ME GOD I WILL HUNT YOU DOWN AND MAKE YOU WISH YOU HAD NEVER BEEN BORN YOU HEAR ME WAYNE
valorstevie: have a nice day =)She's about to give him a piece of her mind (even though there's a 99% percent chance he won't give any more than half a shit, it can't hurt to try) when someone else interrupts and she has to level her dead-eyed stare at him. "What."
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[fancypost bgcolor=; border: 0px; width: 420px; text-align: justify; font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;]p l s ,, let him live
idk why im posting on stevies account
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[fancypost bgcolor=; border: 0px; width: 420px; text-align: justify; font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;]/ rev pls let it stay happy
and oops i still dont have Matching MuseIt is a truth universally acknowledged that "sleepy" is cuter than "tired." Stevie resents the usage of "cute" anywhere near her name, whatever the context, even though the odd few may find her tendency to talk shit no matter how sleepy or tired she is to fit snugly within the word's definition. Seriously. She is not cute. Fucking fight her. At this moment in time, however, she can't muster up the energy to make smart smart comments at the sight of Batpup stubbornly dragging his paws around. Her new body is firmly unused to her sleepless tendencies, meaning— horror of horrors— she actually feels sleepy. Add that to the number of recent, emotionally draining occurrences that have sapped her ability to do anything, and you've got yourself one crankily sleepy lion.
She tries her paw at being a little shit anyway. "Aw, ya look adorable," she coos, her words slurring into an embarrassing, incoherent mess. Grimacing, she sluggishly tosses her head and tries to glare through her half-closed eyelids. "You gon' read 'im a bedtime story?"
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[fancypost bgcolor=; border: 0px; width: 420px; text-align: justify; font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;]let him live in complete happiness
and also bc im trying to find it in me to post in win's death thread but like. i cant. i physically cant. rip skull c.o.d.: a character on an rp site
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