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THREAD: Is the Bad Earth/The Southbound rivalry just Toph and Sokka hating each other?
posted by u/ampfeedback92

Like, are these bands actually rivals or are we all being farmed for engagement? Because Aang and Zuko just did that charity single together and Katara literally promotes Bad Earth stuff all the time. It can’t just be me noticing that Toph and Sokka are the only ones in a hate bubble. Someone explain the lore.

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u/earthkingdoms
Bruh. It’s not Bad Earth and The Southbound beefing, it’s literally just Toph Beifong and Sokka Naitok going at it. Everyone else seems to get on fine.

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u/soundguyagni
Worked security at Lantern Fest last year. T & S absolutely hate each other

Toph walked past Sokka during load-in and said, “Careful not to trip over all that commercial success.”

He told her, “Me? At least I can see what I trip over.”

They kind of stood there, simmering in each other’s hate fire, and they were still there when we were instructed to leave the space

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u/moonspiritfm
That's what kills me. Like the others seem exhausted. Katara always looks one sentence away from strangling her brother, Aang's trying to be super neutral, and Zuko's just accepted this is his life

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u/kyoshisleftboot
No because Suki dated Sokka and manages Bad Earth. THAT woman deserves compensation

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u/boomerangfan27
Sokka knows every Bad Earth song, and nobody can convince me otherwise

During Sunstroke Festival, Toph’s mic cut out halfway through “crawlspace” and he kept mouthing the lyrics from backstage. Not chorus lyrics either. Second verse. THE SECOND VERSEEIKFBSLOIVL

Hello?????

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u/metalbender93
Counterpoint: Toph is worse.

There’s an old livestream where Zuko says he caught her listening to The Southbound in their tour bus at 3 a.m., and she BENT A WHOLE METAL STRAW AT HIM because the chat heard him. It’s a deep cut. Will link if I find it somehow.

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u/appathevan
Aang is the ONLY reason these bands haven’t physically fought at this point LOL

At Shoreline Fest, some guy in the crowd yelled “BAD EARTH CLEARS” during The Southbound’s set, and Sokka got visibly annoyed while Aang just went: “Both bands are doing really different things creatively :)))”

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u/tokkatruther
The funniest part of this rivalry is that the rest of them are fed tf up. Like, you can tell they lowkey all vibe with each other, and that it’s Toph and Sokka driving the whole thing, so they all kind of take a step back and let them argue lmao

Katara always looks one Toph-defense at her brother away from murder (aside: I’ve heard those bloodbending rumors so he’d better watch out), and Aang keeps trying to say nice things about Bad Earth in interviews, and Sokka immediately interrupts him

Lol and Zuko literally never says anything. He just stands there looking like he hasn’t slept since 2019. Which. Valid dude. Me too

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u/festivalrat
My favorite interaction was at Firelight Fest when Bad Earth finished their set, and Sokka said into the festival mic: “Give it up for Bad Earth, everybody. Proof that unresolved anger can, in fact, be profitable.”

And without missing a beat, Toph yelled back: “Thanks. We learned from forcibly consuming any of the shit you write.” Mind you, she said “no offense” to Katara and Aang LMAO

I thought Sokka’s nonbending ass was going to figure out a way to make a wave to carry her away istg

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u/musichead99
On T and S, there’s definitely something weird happening, though. You don’t pay that much attention to someone you hate.

Toph pretends she doesn’t care about The Southbound, but she somehow always knows when they change setlists, while Sokka acts annoyed every time Bad Earth gets mentioned and then proceeds to talk about them for thirty straight minutes.

At this point, their rivalry feels like foreplay. Hot take! #tokka #beitok #naifong

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u/sokkacycle
NO NO NO BECAUSE I’M SCREAMING. THIS IS MY TIME TO SHINEEEEE

There’s a clip from RiverCity Fest where Sokka is giving an interview backstage while Bad Earth is performing nearby. Toph starts playing her bass on-stage, and let me tell you how this man FULLY loses his train of thought mid-sentence

Like, he actually stops speaking

The interviewer had to ask the question again, and I have never known peace

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u/wangfire420
Not to be dramatic, but if these two bands ever make music together, the indie scene will collapse instantly. Idk I just feel like they would go so hard together

On top of that, seeing Toph and Sokka working together and hitting that enemies-to-lovers sweet spot? I would die, personally

Anyway, going to leave this here when I am inevitably right about a collab soon idk

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u/70ph831f0ng
Bro idk but I would sell my organs for them to work together.

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u/feedbackloop22
I saw both bands at Shoreline Fest last year. Toph changed one lyric mid-song in Bad Earth’s song “jarring” to “tell your drummer to stop crying online” and then Sokka posted “not all of us can keep time” like six minutes later.

They literally hate each other bro. It cannot be PR

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u/synthsinandgin
If the t&s beef WAS fake, Aang would crack immediately. That man cannot lie to save his life sry

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u/analogriot
I think the rivalry started real back when they were all doing local gigs and competing for the same venues to a point where, even if they did end up putting a stop to the beef, they’re in too deep to pull back lmfaoooo

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u/deepcutsleeper
Old fans know this goes back YEARS. Southbound got bumped from a festival lineup because the crowd at a Bad Earth set overflowed into another stage area and delayed everything. Sokka was MAD mad about it

There used to be ancient Twitter beef screenshots floating around somewhere

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u/bleedingreverb
I still think something happened between them personally because nobody maintains that level of targeted annoyance for over a decade unless there’s lore

u/lowbatterylover
Katara's facial expressions during Tokka arguments >>>

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u/chorusinjuly
This feud is what happens when there are feelings on one or both sides. The beef started, neither of them can end it because they like it too much. Womp womp

‧₊˚♪𝄞࿐₊˚⊹‧₊˚♪𝄞࿐₊˚⊹‧₊˚♪𝄞࿐₊˚⊹‧₊˚♪𝄞࿐₊˚⊹‧₊˚♪𝄞࿐₊˚⊹‧₊˚♪𝄞࿐₊˚⊹‧₊˚♪𝄞࿐₊˚⊹‧₊˚♪𝄞࿐₊˚

The more Zuko and Suki tried to stop Toph from storming into the corporate meeting down the hall, the more she physically kept them at a distance by bending the earth beneath them.

Their protests seemed to fuel her as she held a crumpled sheet of paper containing the terms of a new project. Right now, she wished she possessed Zuko’s ability to set anything of her desire ablaze because her target would've been this sneaky contract.

She reached the door and burst in just as Zuko called her name and huffed when he realized there was nothing to be done. For all she cared, he could be mortified at her behavior because he was a traitorous asshole who had no business being so agreeable to this stupidity.

“Miss Beifong,” said the head at the record label, whose name she couldn’t bother remembering, despite working under him for several years. “What a surprise.”

“Cut the shit,” Toph snapped.

The room was dead silent. A dozen people sat around the polished conference table, coffee-scented breaths clouding her senses, and behind her, she heard Zuko curse under his breath.

Toph slapped the wrinkled contract onto the table hard enough that the contents on the surface shook. “You want a surprise? Here's one. I woke up this morning to find out somebody thought it'd be a good idea to sign my band up for some bullshit collaboration with The Southbound without bothering to tell me, contracts drawn up and all. Anyone care to explain?”

“Miss Beifong,” the man at the head of the table repeated carefully, “I'm sure this can be discussed—”

“Then discuss,” Toph cut him off. “Because I'm having a hard time understanding why everybody in this room apparently thought I'd be thrilled to spend my summer making music with The Southbound.”

“Technically,” one of the assistants murmured, “it'd only be a couple of weeks due to a need for a quick turnaround—”

“Was I talking to you?”

The assistant shrank back, and behind her, Zuko groaned softly. “Toph—”

“No, don't 'Toph' me right now, Hot Pants.”

The executive cleared his throat, the sound of the sheet of paper she’d just slammed down being flipped over. “Well, forgive me for saying so, Miss Beifong, but shouldn't you be yelling at your bandmate?”

It sounded like he knew something she didn’t, and immediately, her anger doubled down. The heat within her only allowed her to question, “What?”

“The young man behind you,” said the exec, whose name suddenly floated into her mind: Lee. “Mister Qin came up with the idea for the album collaboration, following the success of his charity single with The Southbound’s pianist, Aang Xi.”

Toph pursed her lips, and a laugh bubbled up her throat, followed by a string of hysterical laughter that echoed around the packed conference room. Zuko stood behind her, silent, and Suki was probably just waiting for her to finish. When no one joined her, and she simultaneously realized that Lee wasn’t lying, Toph’s laughter stopped short.

“Oh, absolutely the fuck not.”

Suki, manager hat on, sighed. “If I may, Mister Lee—Toph, the label knows about the animosity between the bands and what it does to both your numbers. People are obsessed with watching you and Sokka, and this is the way to do it—by merging the five of you to maximize the profit and benefits from the one-time collaboration, so we can get more eyes on Bad Earth. As much as you may hate it, it’s a good idea.”

Of course she would think anything Zuko thought of was a good idea.

Abruptly, Toph’s hand pounded loudly against the wooden conference table in front of her. The sudden sound made everyone seated around it jump at least an inch above their seats from fright. Had she not been so livid or felt so betrayed, she might have enjoyed the reaction a little more, but that wasn’t the case.

“Fuck that!” she shouted, frown deep and face hot with fury. “No fucking way I’m doing all that.” She turned to Zuko. “And fuck you for trying to shoehorn me into this.”

“I'm getting the sense you don't like the idea.”

“You think?”

Suki covered her face with one hand as Label Lee cleared his throat and said, “For the record, Miss Beifong, Mister Qin's proposal was quite compelling.”

Toph rounded on him. “I don't care if he presented it with fireworks and a choir. This is bullshit, and I’m not doing it.”

“If it helps,” said one of the assistants, “there was a slideshow—”

What made the assistant shut up was either the look on Toph’s face or the fact that she very pointedly made the ground beneath his seat send him flying into a wall.

Amid the sound of quiet snorts, Zuko merely shrugged, hands stuffed into his pockets. “It worked on them because I was right.”

“Correct,” Lee admitted, making Toph’s eye twitch. “Very persuasive presentation.”

“Mr. Lee, please stop helping,” Zuko mumbled.

The executive frowned. “At any rate, Miss Beifong, this isn’t an obligation, of course, but the renewal of Bad Earth’s contract is conditional upon your cooperation with this collaboration and accompanying team-building retreat.”

For a moment, Toph simply stood there. Around her, nobody moved, and nobody spoke. The room had gone unnaturally quiet, as though everyone had suddenly realized they were standing far too close to the edge of a cliff.

“I’m sorry.” Toph blinked. “I’m going to need you to repeat that.”

“Quite simple,” Lee said, swiveling his chair in her direction. “The album itself is only one component of the project. The label intends to market this as a landmark collaboration between two of the industry's best alternative acts. Fans are invested in the history between your bands, and sponsors have already expressed interest. We're investing a great deal of money into this because we believe that it’ll work, but we need everyone involved on the same page, hence the retreat. The last thing anyone wants is for one argument in the studio to derail the entire process.”

“Then maybe don't put me in a room with Sokka Naitok.”

Lee leaned forward. “The retreat exists because you two can’t seem to get along.”

“Right, so help me understand. You people are aware that we hate each other. This isn't some fun little rivalry cooked up by teenagers online. He irritates me. I irritate him. We do not get along.”

“The reality is that neither band has ever actually worked together in a professional setting. You have shared festival lineups, award shows, and late-night slots, but you've never had to create together. There is a significant difference, and that’s where the team-building comes in. You could benefit from it and finally squash this beef, as the kids say, and work together for an album that will potentially—again, as the kids say—break the internet. But perpetuating the rivalry between you afterward isn’t out of the question, either.”

Theoretically, she could walk. Spirits, she wanted to walk just to avoid having to deal with some bullshit she didn’t sign up for. She wanted to tell Lee exactly where he could shove his contract, give Zuko and Suki the same treatment, and spend the rest of the afternoon breaking rocks until she forgot this conversation had ever happened. And maybe six years ago, that was exactly what she would have done.

Six years ago, Bad Earth had been her and Zuko, a van that barely ran, and enough spite to fuel them through another failed gig. Back then, she'd have laughed in the face of some executive threatening her. But six years ago, they hadn't had thirty people on payroll. They hadn't had roadies who had followed them for years, nor sound engineers who knew every quirk of their performances. They hadn't had assistants, lighting crews, managers, merchandise designers, or people who had built their lives around the fact that Bad Earth existed. People who trusted her and Zuko to keep it up and to protect what they had all built together, and she gave a shit.

Giving a shit, truly, was a pain in the ass.

These bastards knew it, too, that she cared, knew she'd think about the crew before herself, and that she'd never gamble with other people's livelihoods.

Zuko—her closest friend, her confidant, her bandmate—knew it, and was the one to put all this in their heads in the first place.

The two of them had started Bad Earth with exactly zero intentions of becoming whatever this was. Before the fame and the hits and the record deal and the festival bookings, they just did it as a means to get all their demons out of their heads. It was the only thing that truly worked.

They'd known each other since they were kids, dragged through the same wealthy social circles by parents who cared far too much about appearances and not nearly enough about anything else. Toph remembered stiff charity galas, endless formal events, and spotting Zuko lurking at the edges of rooms, looking just as miserable as she felt. Somehow, they'd become friends in spite of everything; maybe because neither of them fit where they were supposed to, or maybe because they both understood what it was like to grow up in a house that never quite felt like home.

At eighteen, they'd both finally left, and a few months later, they were sharing a shitty apartment, surviving on cheap food, borrowed equipment, and the certainty that anything was better than going back. He had a sister and an uncle, whom he checked in on constantly and kept well-provided for, and whom Toph admittedly loved, but she had nothing to look back on, and she was fine with that. An earthbender with no earthly attachments but her bass. Go figure.

She liked it this way, though. It was what she was used to. It was easier to let people believe that was all there was because the alternative involved letting them near enough to disappoint her, and experience had taught her exactly how that usually ended.

Her folks were a great example, but she had shed that skin a while back.

Music was the easy part. It had always been the easy part. She and Zuko had built an entire career on dragging the ugliest parts of themselves out into the open and turning them into something people wanted to listen to and relate to because everyone was a little fucked up. The hard part had always been everything else.

Clearly, this was the hard part.

It was rare that Toph Beifong didn’t have anything to say, but right now, with hot anger running through her, she wasn’t exactly compelled to speak. Instead, she gave a stomp strong enough to make the ground shake, flipped them off, then turned on her heel with the desire to get the fuck out of there.

A few moments later, Suki and Zuko were following behind her again, as she had expected when she entered the studio.

“You have every right to be angry,” Zuko told her as she packed up her bass, shoving her cables in with enough aggression to rattle the latches.

“Real glad I’m getting permission to be.”

He sat beside her, his heartbeat slow and steady, which mildly calmed her because she knew he was being genuine, but she was still quite pissed off. “I knew you weren’t going to go for it, and I also knew you would do anything to get us to the next level. Suki’s brought this up in the past, and you’ve never really cared for it.”

As much as she hated to admit it, it was true that this had been discussed, but Toph put a stop to it as soon as she could, either by laughing at the idea or blatantly ignoring it and refusing to react to the concept.

“From an industry perspective, it makes sense,” Suki said when Toph took too long to reply. “It’ll get both fanbases into both groups, and it’ll get fans who are already invested in this rivalry that you, Toph, continue to perpetuate, by the way, on our side, even more invested.”

“There has to be another way.” Toph scoffed, hands curled into fists as she slammed her case shut. “And it’s not like other bands haven’t beefed before. You don’t hear about other rival groups doing this shit.”

“Maybe not, but it’s not really the bands beefing, is it?” Suki questioned simply. Toph resisted the urge to point out that she wasn't solely responsible for the animosity. Sokka was perfectly capable of running his mouth all on his own. “Both sides gave them ammo to pull the trigger. The beef is too good.”

Toph ran a hand down her face. “Spirits, people need hobbies.”

“They have hobbies.” Suki snorted. “Their hobby is watching you and Sokka act insane.

“The point is that this deal is already negotiated. I’m not too happy about this because I know what could come out of it, and I know that Sokka’s been a pain in Toph’s neck and vice versa. I’m sure the other side is just as thrilled, but it’s done, and the contract, as you know, is a courtesy.” Suki sighed. “This will be good for you, in the long run. Everyone loves a good rivalry, and your numbers will love you for it, too.”

The worst part of all this was that she would have to spend extended periods around Sokka Naitok without being legally allowed to earthbend him into the earth’s very core. The man had somehow spent the better part of the eight or so years irritating her in ways no one else had. Every time she thought she’d finally gotten used to him, he’d open his mouth again, and spirits, his mouth. Smug comments, smug jokes, smug little under-the-breath remarks he knew would get a rise out of her because he apparently dedicated entire sections of his brain to figuring out how to be annoying in increasingly creative ways.

She genuinely didn’t know how Suki had dated him once upon a time.

Regardless, Toph outwitted him each time. She would always have the last word, and it irked him so deliciously that all she wanted was to feel the anger in his heartbeat, stance, and voice again and again.

“Look—”

“Funny.”

Zuko clicked his tongue. “I’m sorry I kept it from you, but this is going to be good for us. You get along with Aang and Katara fine, right? You can handle writing with Sokka for a couple of weeks.”

“If I don’t murder him first.” Toph shook her head and angled her face toward Zuko’s as she sat on the ground. “We’re good. I know why you did it, but keep something from me again, and Bad Earth becomes a solo act.” Then, as Zuko raised his hands in defense at the threat, she turned to Suki and said, “But I’m not going anywhere with that asshole. I’d rather sit here and eat my fucking bass strings.”

Unfortunately, however, she had no choice. She was going to have to suck up the mountains with The Fucking Southbound, whether she liked it or not.

‧₊˚♪𝄞࿐₊˚⊹‧₊˚♪𝄞࿐₊˚⊹‧₊˚♪𝄞࿐₊˚⊹‧₊˚♪𝄞࿐₊˚⊹‧₊˚♪𝄞࿐₊˚⊹‧₊˚♪𝄞࿐₊˚⊹‧₊˚♪𝄞࿐₊˚⊹‧₊˚♪𝄞࿐₊˚

@POPBEAT: Bad Earth and The Southbound set aside their major rivalry to collaborate on a once-in-a-lifetime duet album. More details to come.

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@earthbenderz
this is how i find out hell froze over apparently

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@tokkatruther
SOKKA AND TOPH IN A STUDIO TOGETHER??? UNSUPERVISED???

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@sokkacycle
katara queen i know you’re tired

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@zuzurocks
the idea of zuko qin surviving an entire album cycle trapped between toph and sokka deserves military honors actually

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@vinylvampire
need everyone to remember that these people publicly despise each other btw

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@earthkingdoms
“set aside their rivalry” booooo i wanted them to get worse!!!!

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@kyoshikicks
i need emotional devastation. i need yelling.

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@fireflakes
watching the indie scene react to this like the pope just announced god got married

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@wangfire420
this is either going to produce the greatest music ever made or end in homicide and if the last thing, my money’s on Toph idk

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@boomerangluvr
SOKKA HAS WON THE WAR HE’S BEEN KNOWING HER LYRICS SINCE 2019

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@tophswifey
do you guys understand what this means

THEY HAVE TO WRITE TOGETHER

like they have to sit in a room and discuss feelings and chord progressions

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@snailtrails
i know the sexual tension in that studio is about to be catastrophic

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@airnomadfm
No no because t and s are their respective bands’ main writers. DO WE KNOW WHAT THIS MEANS (it means they’re writing together and i’m going to throw up)

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@musichead99
can already picture the first single

Toph: deeply vulnerable lyrics disguised as anger
Sokka: devastating bridge that ruins everyone’s lives

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@thelastsetlist
PR team somewhere trying to spin this professionally while both bands are probably still insulting each other in the studio

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@republiccityradio
need a documentary crew in that recording booth IMMEDIATELY

@AANGofficial: good morning everyone ☀️ remember that you deserve kindness and that the world is beautiful

@ZukoLive: It's 9:38
@AANGofficial: good morning zuko ☀️
@ZukoLive: It’s too early for good morning
@NaitokKatara: Funny how you’re on social media and can’t respond to texts.
@ZukoLive: This was more pressing

@AANGofficial: zuko laughed at one of my jokes :)

@ZukoLive: That’s a stretch
@AANGofficial: baby steps. you said, and i quote, “lol”
@NaitokKatara: Proud of you both ❤️
@TophBeifong: If he laughed, I consider this a personal failure.
@AANGofficial: Booooo!!!

@SokkaNOfficial: not naming names but if you text me "emergency" and then follow it up with "never mind figured it out" i deserve financial compensation @AANGofficial

@AANGofficial: sorry again 😔
@NaitokKatara: “Not naming names.” Leave him alone, asshat
@SokkaNOfficial: Hope everyone sees how I’m treated btw

@NaitokKatara: No one appreciates how much self-control I exercise on a daily basis

@TophBeifong: I do.
@NaitokKatara: Thank you. Knew you’d get it
@TophBeifong: Because I don't exercise any.
@NaitokKatara: Yes, that was implied

@TophBeifong: Would love it if you people would stop reposting ‘Tokka’ edits. The mere concept is giving me indigestion.

@SukiOnTour: girl.
@TophBeifong: I am flipping you off.

@SokkaNOfficial: media training is there for a reason

@NaitokKatara: Sokka.
@SokkaNOfficial: just stating a fact

‧₊˚♪𝄞࿐₊˚⊹‧₊˚♪𝄞࿐₊˚⊹‧₊˚♪𝄞࿐₊˚⊹‧₊˚♪𝄞࿐₊˚⊹‧₊˚♪𝄞࿐₊˚⊹‧₊˚♪𝄞࿐₊˚⊹‧₊˚♪𝄞࿐₊˚⊹‧₊˚♪𝄞࿐₊˚

Toph didn’t much like being whisked away against her will.

She’d felt this way since she was a child, having to deal with her parents taking her to this dance class or to that refining course, all without her wanting any of it. All she wanted to do was bend shit and play the bass like the fucking prodigy she was.

But no, that was too much to ask because, instead of all of that, she had to deal with several bouts of motion sickness as she and Zuko made the long, winding journey to the Western Air Temple after their five-hour-long flight, during which she was also ill. At this point, she was just dry heaving, hoping that there would be an end to this misery soon.

Just as the thought crossed her mind, the vehicle came to a stop, and she very nearly jumped out, collapsing to the ground to connect with her element, forgetting about the two and a half barf bags she’d filled on the way here.

She stayed there for a while, palms pressed against the ground, breathing through the lingering nausea until the world stopped spinning quite so violently.

“Better?” Zuko asked.

“No,” she said flatly. “But if I die, bury me face-down so everyone can kiss my ass.”

“Noted.”

The Western Air Temple itself was irritatingly peaceful. She could feel the open space beneath her feet, the ancient stone warmed by the afternoon sun, the vibrations of distant footsteps, the constant breeze sweeping through courtyards and halls, all with an ease that she found vaguely offensive, considering she'd just spent the better part of three hours introducing the contents of her stomach to various forms of transportation.

The peace lasted all of five minutes.

Aang had greeted them with enough excitement to power a small city before immediately disappearing to show Katara some new meditation garden or another, leaving Zuko to drag their bags inside while Toph reacquainted herself with the concept of standing upright.

“Do you think,” she asked after another minute of lying spread-eagled on the courtyard stones, “that I could fake my death and nobody would notice?”

“Not with your social media following.”

“Damn.”

He gestured with his head towards their home for the next fortnight. “I’m going to drop our things inside, make sure we’re neighboring so I can monitor your whereabouts in case you decide to get homicidal.”

Eventually, after flipping him off, she managed to come to her feet and carry her bass inside. By the time she found the others in the massive space and kicked off her boots, the world coming into better focus, she was sweaty and exhausted, and had developed a fresh hatred for mountains.

“Toph!” Katara exclaimed before Toph even bothered recognizing her footsteps, pulling her into a hug that Toph tolerated because she liked Katara and because fighting while nauseous seemed like an unnecessary challenge. “How was the trip?”

“I met death and told him to come back later.”

“Motion sickness again?”

“It can go fuck.”

Aang laughed, materializing beside her. “Glad to hear nothing's changed. Did you take anything for it?”

“Nope,” she replied, surprised he’d remembered that tidbit. “Freeballed it.”

That earned her another laugh as he leaned against a wall. “I have some tea packed and ginger in the kitchen, if you need something to settle your stomach.”

Toph made a face that she hoped conveyed her disgust at the thought of ginger tea, eliciting a laugh from the couple before Katara said, “Just a warning, my brother’s made a schedule that we are, supposedly, behind on. We aren’t really paying mind to it, so I suggest you and Zuko do the same.”

“Don’t have to tell me twice.” Toph snorted before Aang laughed, telling her which hall Zuko went down and where she could get settled. He offered to accompany her, but she declined, needing a moment to herself since those would be few and far between for two weeks.

The space was quiet and open. Her footsteps echoed faintly against stone floors while voices carried through the halls more easily than they would have anywhere else. The acoustics in here were insane, and she would kill to use the entryway alone to test out some melodies later.

She found Zuko at the end of the hall, inside his room for the time being, so she walked past it and pushed through the next door. Turning her attention to the case in her hand, she fell to her knees and opened it, pulling out her bass before plopping onto the bed, feet off the ground.

Her fingers slid along the neck, over familiar nicks and scratches accumulated over years of use. There was a tiny dent near the body from a festival in Omashu when a stagehand had tripped over a cable. Another scratch near the bridge she'd put there herself during an especially enthusiastic soundcheck in Republic City. This thing had been with her longer than anything else ever had been.

Her thumb brushed over the strings, and one quiet note vibrated through the room. She inhaled at the sound. The acoustics here really were wild.

“Real nice of you to show up,” the illest, most grating voice said suddenly, interrupting her serenity.

Toph set her foot on the ground immediately and found him leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed over his chest.

“Thanks, I’m glad you were so readily anticipating our arrival.”

“I’ve just got a plan to stick to, and you’re already putting your foot in it," Sokka said, "so it would be nice if you respected that. I’m sure you want to get out of here sooner rather than later.”

“Why would I when fucking with you in person is so much more fruitful than the alternative?”

“It’s refreshing to hear you admit that you’re obsessed with me."

“Trust me, if I were obsessed with you, you’d know.” She stood, walked towards him, and angled her face up towards his, patting his chest sarcastically. “You wouldn’t be standing there wondering.”

Sokka’s pitiful clapbacks went ignored as she slammed the door in his face, returning, gladly, to her bass, trying to get this stupid little melody her brain had been accosting her with for the past few weeks out of her head.

‧₊˚♪𝄞࿐₊˚⊹‧₊˚♪𝄞࿐₊˚⊹‧₊˚♪𝄞࿐₊˚⊹‧₊˚♪𝄞࿐₊˚⊹‧₊˚♪𝄞࿐₊˚⊹‧₊˚♪𝄞࿐₊˚⊹‧₊˚♪𝄞࿐₊˚⊹‧₊˚♪𝄞࿐₊˚

@TophBeifong: I think some people mistake overthinking for producing.
35k reposts • 176k likes • 12:05

@SokkaNOfficial: overthinking is better than not thinking at all idk
21k reposts • 103k likes • 12:10

@TophBeifong: Imagine scheduling a meeting about a meeting. I am simply not there.
68k reposts • 342k likes • 13:41

@SokkaNOfficial: imagine being shocked that other people enjoy having a plan
31k reposts • 155k likes • 13:49

@TophBeifong: You’re not subtle. Quit trying to be.
94k reposts • 688k likes • 14:13

@SokkaNOfficial: idk maybe do ur job instead of policing my socials
92k reposts • 611k likes • 14:20

@TophBeifong: Rich coming from someone whose "job" today apparently includes subtweeting me every few minutes. Log off.
112k reposts • 822k likes • 14:56

@TokkaDaily: OH SHE CLEARED HIM

@gaangcentral: no bc she ended him bro

@earthkingdoms: "Log off." 😭😭😭 she sent that man to his room

@blindbanditnation: not her grounding a grown man in public

@watertribeworld: the way i KNOW he stared at that tweet for ten minutes

@gaangupdates: sources indirectly confirm both parties are currently at the same retreat

@concertgirlie94: YOU'RE IN THE SAME HOUSE. USE YOUR WORDS.

@zukospublicist: imagine trying to meditate while these two are live subtweeting each other from opposite ends of the cabin

@tokkatruther: "log off" is CRAZY. she tucked him in and turned off the wifi

@wangfire420: Sokka fighting for his life and Toph just hit him with parental controls

@kyoshiwarriorstan: no because she really said "this conversation is over" 😭

@Westernwatertribe: i know Katara is pacing somewhere

@boomerangbae: the funniest part is Sokka absolutely thinks HE won this

@firelordfanclub: zuko definitely just put his headphones on and accepted his fate

@harmonicconvergence: not them arguing on twitter while probably sharing snacks in the kitchen an hour later

@GaangUpdates: #LogOffSokka is currently trending with 83.7k posts.

@ZukoLive: There are so many rooms in one place, and somehow peace exists in none of them
78k reposts • 672k likes • 15:01

@AANGofficial: That’s beautiful. Is it a song lyric?
@NaitokKatara: No, because then we’d be doing our jobs. Can’t have that!
@ZukoLive: Jotting this down as we speak.

@TokkaDaily: no because Aang genuinely thought Zuko was workshopping lyrics 😭

@earthkingdoms: "jotting this down as we speak" BRO PUT THE PHONE DOWN

@blindbanditnation: zuko finding inspiration in his own suffering is so on brand

@watertribeworld: meanwhile Katara is one passive-aggressive comment away from committing a felony

@gaangcentral: Aang's optimism versus the reality of this collab

@concertgirlie94: pls katara is sooooooo tired

@zukospublicist: there are people paying thousands of dollars to attend songwriting retreats and these idiots are live tweeting instead

@melonlord88: Aang really saw "peace exists in none of them" and thought "wow that's poetry"

@tokkatruther: can someone please confirm whether tokka is happening

@GaangUpdates: Sources close to the band say the retreat remains "productive."

@earthrumblerrr: not Zuko turning his breakdown into album material before the breakdown is even over

@sokkacycle: "jotting this down as we speak" oh he's absolutely serious too

@oldgaangfan: Zuko has spent fifteen years converting minor inconveniences into lyrics and frankly it's worked out pretty well so you cant blame Aang

@firelordfanclub: "Is it a song lyric?" he's trying so hard to be helpful 😭

@harmonicconvergence: Aang really lives in a different timeline than the rest of the band

‧₊˚♪𝄞࿐₊˚⊹‧₊˚♪𝄞࿐₊˚⊹‧₊˚♪𝄞࿐₊˚⊹‧₊˚♪𝄞࿐₊˚⊹‧₊˚♪𝄞࿐₊˚⊹‧₊˚♪𝄞࿐₊˚⊹‧₊˚♪𝄞࿐₊˚⊹‧₊˚♪𝄞࿐₊˚

For the entirety of five days, Bad Earth and The Southbound barely interacted.

Nobody had agreed to that arrangement; they'd somehow simply arrived at the same conclusion independently. The temple was large enough to accommodate five stubborn musicians and all their baggage—literal and otherwise—and everyone had immediately taken advantage of that fact and was very much ignoring Sokka’s stupid little schedule.

Nine days remained of this sham, and no progress had been made. Toph could’ve called that if they’d given her a chance to place bets. And as much as she got along with Katara and Aang, there wasn’t really a way to force this kind of work collaboratively if all parties were checked out, so even trying to work together wasn’t going to work out as swimmingly as Zuko and the label might have initially thought.

Now, Toph sat in a common room and pulled at her bass’s strings, trying to figure out what to do with her progression, recording all the bits she thought were decent for safekeeping. The first half had come easily enough, all heavy notes and ugly little pauses she liked, but every time she reached the same spot, her brain simply stopped cooperating. She'd been carrying the damn thing around for three weeks. Three weeks of humming it in showers, tapping it out on tables, and waking up at stupid hours because her mind had suddenly convinced itself it had found the answer, only for the answer to turn out to be complete garbage.

She attacked the strings with a harsh strum, the temple's acoustics amplifying what she hated about it.

“Sounds like you’re having a hard time.”

Toph nearly snapped a string. Unfortunately, she'd recognize that irritating voice in the Spirit World, and was stupid enough not to remain monitoring her surroundings as she sat criss-cross on the couch she was on. “Bite me,” she said.

“Try a minor seventh.”

“Try falling off the mountain.”

Ignoring the invitation, Sokka wandered farther into the hall. “Seriously. I think it wants tension, and you keep resolving too early.”

“I wasn't aware I'd requested commentary.” She leaned against the back of the couch. “Or that I cared about what you thought. I feel bad that you were under this impression, but I suppose that a boy like you can’t help it, can he?”

“You’re so cocky, Beifong, with no real reason to be.” He shifted his stance, shoving his hands into his pockets. “Lucky for you, though, I'm charitable, which is why I am asking you to play it again and follow it with a minor seventh.”

“I literally don’t remember asking.”

“And you don’t have to because I’ve offered my services.” Sokka pressed a hand to his chest. “All you have to do is listen, though; I can imagine that’ll be a nearly impossible feat for you.”

She cocked her head, smiling. “Listen to you? Oh, no. I'd rather push you off the cliffside and live with the consequences.”

He lingered another second, like he was waiting for her to pick the bass back up and prove him wrong, but Toph remained stubbornly motionless. Eventually, he sighed.

“For the record,” he said, finally seeming as though he was giving up, “I still think you're resolving too early.”

“Also for the record, I still think you should try falling off the mountain.”

He lifted a hand to his forehead to salute. “Always a pleasure, Beifong.”

“It should be for you, yes.”

“See you at dinner.”

“I sure won’t.”

He laughed again, then his footsteps disappeared down the hall, and only once she couldn't feel him anymore did Toph pick her bass back up.

Stupid asshole. Stupid, irritating, over-planning, calendar-having asshole.

Aggressively, she played the progression again, entirely on principle and absolutely not because he'd gotten under her skin, getting through the first and second sections, and, because she needed to prove him wrong once and for all, she followed it with a minor seventh. The note rang through the hall.

Toph’s eye twitched with annoyance, and she played it again, then once more. And spirits damn him. She hated that she heard it immediately. The chord lingered in the air, ugly and tense and unresolved in exactly the way she'd been trying—and failing—to achieve for weeks. And that was just the bass; she couldn’t imagine what it would sound like with a full band behind it.

She wasn’t going to be too happy about it because all it meant was that Sokka Naitok had been right, and absolutely nobody needed to know that.

Especially Sokka Naitok.

After running the progression through seamlessly a few more times, she recorded it and saved it for future use, even though it was still ringing in her head. She needed to put lyrics to it and figure out its layers; maybe she would share it with Zuko and see what he thought before any songwriting began. She was so frustrated in general right now that she could probably crank out a few good verses if the right melody came about.

As she finished, she recognized that she wasn’t alone, so she set a foot on the ground, finding Zuko standing several feet away from her.

“Yes, traitor?”

Her friend huffed, throwing his head back. “Haven’t let it go yet?”

“Knowing me, do you think I have?”

“In any case,” he pointed a finger behind him, “I’m supposed to tell you that we’re having dinner around the firepit. Aang wanted to run some ideas by us to get us actually working together.”

Toph chuckled, resting her forearms on her bass and her chin over her knuckles. “Does Twinkle Toes think we’re going to all become best buds as we hold hands around a campfire?”

“If it gets us working together to get this album finished,” Zuko shrugged, “sure. Call it whatever you want.”

“I don’t like your attitude these days, Hot Pants.” Toph plucked some strings in no particular order. “You’ve changed.”

With an unimpressed snort, he began to retreat. “If it makes you any more amenable, you can sit next to Sokka so you can torment him a little. I’m sure we’ll have a great time.”

“Dining on firewood is more tempting.”

“You say that now,” Zuko was already parting, “but Katara’s cooking.”

Toph grumbled internally. Katara had cooked for her once after a particularly long festival that both bands were performing at. It had initially started with drinks, then Katara suggested moving the affair to her and Aang’s hotel room, which contained a small kitchen with enough amenities to whip up some teriyaki salmon that Toph got several helpings of. Safe to say she was fond of the lead singer’s cooking skills.

Resentfully, she followed Zuko, bass slung across her back and recorder in her pocket because anything could lead to a melody or lyric.

Dinner around the fire pit proved to be not too bad about an hour later. Aang spent most of it trying to pitch half-finished concepts, Katara poked holes in all of them, and Zuko mostly listened (because he seemed distracted by his constantly vibrating phone, which had him smiling to himself and schooling his expression every time he typed. Toph guessed that it was Suki because who else would it be?), while Sokka occasionally chimed in with suggestions that made Toph roll her eyes and heckle him.

By the time dessert had been picked apart and Aang had moved on to describing some bizarre dream he'd had in excruciating detail that had Toph nodding off in her seat, her belly full and her head empty of anything but her bassline. There was some whispering that she paid no mind to, assuming it had more to do with Aang’s dream than not, as the breeze put her into a relaxing lull, despite being feet away from her professional rival.

Eventually, Aang yawned loudly, pulling her out of her stupor. “Okay, I’m done being creative for today.”

Katara laughed. “Sounds very unlikely.”

“Maybe not, but I'm definitely done being awake.”

The two of them stood, and Zuko followed suit with a groan. “Good,” he muttered. “I think Aang's dream had three separate acts.”

“I needed to make sure you all understood why I’ve been so disturbed by it,” Aang defended.

Suddenly, Aang and Katara were gone, the latter giving Toph an affectionate shoulder squeeze as she parted with a hand suspiciously settled on her stomach, and Zuko was soon to follow, leaving Toph and Sokka alone around the fire pit. Naturally, Toph stood up, mildly annoyed at her friend for leaving her behind, until the door clicked shut behind him just as she approached.

She frowned, reaching to rattle it open.

It was locked.

‧₊˚♪𝄞࿐₊˚⊹‧₊˚♪𝄞࿐₊˚⊹‧₊˚♪𝄞࿐₊˚⊹‧₊˚♪𝄞࿐₊˚⊹‧₊˚♪𝄞࿐₊˚⊹‧₊˚♪𝄞࿐₊˚⊹‧₊˚♪𝄞࿐₊˚⊹‧₊˚♪𝄞࿐₊˚

Body Language Expert Analyzes The Southbound/Bad Earth Rivalry: Exclusive
By Jin Liu

The ongoing animus between members of Bad Earth and The Southbound, who have been headline fixtures at droves of festivals for nearly nine years, has kept fans talking. They are continually competing for awards and trading barbs in interviews, with some of the most avid fans analyzing all of their public interactions.

Now, body language expert Aunt Wu is weighing in.

"They're not nearly as subtle as they think they are," she said.

Wu laughed when asked whether the public rivalry between Bad Earth's Toph Beifong and The Southbound's Sokka Naitok appeared genuine.

"Oh, it's genuine," she said. "The irritation is real, but so is everything else."

According to Wu, the pair display a level of mutual awareness she rarely sees outside of long-term partnerships, whether professional, personal, or romantic.

"They monitor each other constantly, and not in an obsessive way, despite what fans will immediately say after reading this article. It's simply that each of them pays more attention to the other's reactions than they do to almost anyone else in the room."

Wu pointed to multiple interviews in which both musicians appeared more focused on one another's responses than on the actual questions being asked.

"There's one interview where the host is speaking directly to Toph, and Sokka is watching her the entire time. Then there are countless examples of Toph reacting to something Sokka is about to say before he says it. She knows when he's setting up a joke, and he knows when she's about to make a comment. They're operating with information nobody else has."

Things became even less flattering when Wu was asked whether either musician successfully hides this dynamic.

"No," she repeated. "Not remotely."

According to Wu, the pair's biggest mistake is believing that arguing disguises the fact that they're paying attention to one another. "They seem convinced that because they're bickering, nobody notices what's underneath it. That's not how human behavior works. If anything, it draws attention to it."

Wu also rejected the popular fan theory that the two musicians actively dislike one another.

"If they truly disliked each other, they would've stopped engaging years ago. Most people avoid interactions they don't enjoy, but these two seek them out. Constantly."

Asked whether she'd be willing to say this directly to Beifong and Naitok, Wu didn't hesitate: "Absolutely. I'd tell them they're exhausting. Then I'd tell them they're fooling exactly nobody."

Whether either musician will respond to the analysis remains to be seen.

Given their track record, however, Wu suspects they already know exactly what the other's response will be.

‧₊˚♪𝄞࿐₊˚⊹‧₊˚♪𝄞࿐₊˚⊹‧₊˚♪𝄞࿐₊˚⊹‧₊˚♪𝄞࿐₊˚⊹‧₊˚♪𝄞࿐₊˚⊹‧₊˚♪𝄞࿐₊˚⊹‧₊˚♪𝄞࿐₊˚⊹‧₊˚♪𝄞࿐₊˚

Sokka’s head snapped towards hers as his drumsticks clattered to the ground. “You’re kidding.”

Had they been planning this the entire time? Was this Zuko’s doing? Toph banged the sides of her fists against the glass. “You do realize I can break us out of here, right?” To prove a point, she metalbent the lock only for Zuko to lock it again. They did this for a good ten more seconds until she kicked the door once spitefully. “Asshole!”

“If you really wanted to, you would’ve broken it,” Zuko replied, voice muffled through the door. “We need this. It’s what we all need. Be a team player. Write us a kickass album. You know I’m right, or you wouldn’t still be out there.”

Toph got as close as she could to the door, then bitterly said, “I hate you.”

“No, you don’t.” He tapped the door twice before she felt his footsteps retreating. “Have fun.”

With a loud groan, Sokka started pacing across the yard before finding a home near what she assumed was a pool, based on the sudden scoop she felt in the ground. The dramatics made her roll her eyes before popping a squat right where she stood.

“They're just going to keep us secluded until we come in with the album done.”

She snorted. “No fucking kidding. This is ridiculous.”

“For once,” he said, thumping the butt of one drumstick on the ground in quick repetition, “we’re in agreement.”

“Daunting.”

His little nervous tick was starting to irk her, and she quickly gave the ground a stomp, sending a ripple in his direction. He flew several inches into the air as the earth jutted out under him, and he screeched until he hit the grass once again.

After gathering himself, Sokka turned to her. “Dude!”

“That tip-tapping you’re doing is clouding my vision.” She gestured at her feet. “So cut the shit unless you want me ejecting you out of here.”

“I feel like that’s a credible threat and that I should fear for my life.”

“Good.”

Sokka scoffed, standing up and stomping over to the doors to take his turn banging on the glass like an idiot. Rolling her eyes, Toph grabbed her bass from where she’d left it by Zuko’s guitar and leaned against the nearest tree trunk to listen to his begging and pleading, his promises and ideas for a compromise (which included getting some more bottles of booze than what they had out here to be able to deal with Toph for however long they were out here [she didn’t oppose this idea, frankly]), and empty threats of releasing embarrassing photos of his sister and Aang without any context.

When he finally gave up, Toph bent the earth a few feet away from her to bump a barely-drunk bottle of rice wine, out of three that were still full, that only she, Zuko, and Sokka had been working on. The alcohol was smooth on its way down, and it mellowed her out just a touch as she plucked some of her bass strings.

“You know,” Sokka started, walking by her to take a seat on one of the logs around the fire pit, “if we do want to sleep in our own beds tonight, your inebriating yourself isn’t going to make us work any better.”

She clicked her tongue, taking care to set her bass on her lap. “Says who? The drinks make me even more honest in my lyrics, so I’m glad I got a head start at dinner.”

“Says me. You’re already exhausting sober; can’t imagine when drunk.”

“Then imagine how I feel, numbskull.”

“You don't feel. That's sort of your whole thing.”

Her smile was immediate as she took another swig from the bottle. “Oh, sweetheart, no. It’s yours because your lyrics lately have been all kinds of shallow.”

“What would you know, considering you supposedly can’t stand our music?”

“Oh, no. I can’t stand you. Your bandmates have nothing to do with it.”

Sokka barked out a laugh. “Beifong, I’m flattered you feel the need to lie to me so loudly.”

“Trust me,” she smiled around the mouth of the bottle, “I sleep great at night knowing Aang and Katara compensate for whatever personality deficit you came into the world with.”

“Ouch.” He pressed a hand to his chest. “And here I was thinking being trapped together would bring us closer.”

She rolled her eyes and took another drink from the bottle. The rice wine was finally doing something useful besides sloshing around, and that was taking the edge off her desire to launch Sokka Naitok directly into the Spirit World. Unfortunately, it wasn't nearly enough. Nothing short of unconsciousness would make him tolerable, and she wasn't willing to lose that battle.

“I advise you to get your head out of your ass, Naitok,” she told him, plucking blades of grass with her free hand. “Got an album to write and all.”

“Oh, so you’re putting it all on me, huh?”

Toph raised her brows. “Surely not. I don’t want to be associated with lyrics so shallow. I’m just encouraging you to put your thinking cap on, but I am wondering if you’ve even done any thinking lately.”

“Yeah, I have.” His drumsticks knocked together as he slipped from the log onto the ground. She could feel him a little better now. “Most of it’s been spent trying to figure out how someone so talented ended up so unpleasant.”

“Careful. That sounded suspiciously like a compliment.”

“More an insult than anything, but your ego can only focus on one little thing at a time.”

Toph snorted and took another swig. Still, irritating as Sokka was, they couldn't spend the next week sniping at each other and expect an album to magically write itself. She hated that part most. Not him—though there was plenty of that—but the fact that they actually had to do this, work together, and somehow shove aside years of annoyance (her) and bruised egos (him) and whatever weird competition had always existed between them long enough to make something worth listening to.

She took the time, talking herself into trying to put a foot forward, but the sound of his long, loud, overly dramatic huff made her pause.

“Maybe we should try getting a few lyrics down,” Sokka said. “Just so we can give them a shred of evidence that we got to work, and so we can get back inside.”

For a moment, she considered disagreeing on principle. It would've been easier, quite frankly, because it was a knee-jerk reaction to shoot him down at this point. Instead, with all the grace of someone donating a kidney against their will, she held out the bottle.

Sokka remained unmoving, though it was clear to her that he was staring down her attempt at a peace offering. When more than a few moments passed, she groaned, wobbling the nearly-empty bottle at him. “Don’t know about you, but it’s the only way I'm getting through this.”

Whatever was going on in that thick skull of his, he was taking entirely too long to reach what should have been a very obvious conclusion. The quicker they got done with this, the quicker they’d be out of each other’s hair.

Finally, he took the bottle from her, and she heard the glug-glug-glug of his drinking before he said, “Fair. I think alcohol is the only way I'm going to survive writing an album with you.”

‧₊˚♪𝄞࿐₊˚⊹‧₊˚♪𝄞࿐₊˚⊹‧₊˚♪𝄞࿐₊˚⊹‧₊˚♪𝄞࿐₊˚⊹‧₊˚♪𝄞࿐₊˚⊹‧₊˚♪𝄞࿐₊˚⊹‧₊˚♪𝄞࿐₊˚⊹‧₊˚♪𝄞࿐₊˚

PopCrave Live – Summer Solstice Festival (Interview Transcript: Katara Naitok, Aang Xi of The Southbound. Two years old.)

Interviewer: The Southbound's latest album has been huge. How does the songwriting process work for you guys?

Katara: It varies, but Sokka's our drummer but also our primary songwriter. He writes most of the lyrics and usually comes in with the structure already mapped out.

Aang: Katara tends to yell him into shape, if needed.

Katara: I do not yell.

Aang: That's true. You lecture.

Katara laughed.

Katara: Somebody has to.

Interviewer: And where do you fit into that, Aang?

Aang: I’m the glue between siblings.

Katara: That is an interesting choice of words. But to answer your question, Sokka likes having things planned out, and Aang likes seeing what happens.

Aang: Which is why Katara's there to stop us both from making bad decisions.

Interviewer: Sokka's known for being very meticulous.

Katara: "Meticulous" is a nice word.

Interviewer: Do you have another one?

Katara: Many.

Crew laughed.

Interviewer: Speaking of meticulous people, I have to ask about Toph Beifong, of Bad Earth. The internet has been obsessed with her and Sokka for years.

Katara: Of course it has.

Interviewer: Is there actually some kind of feud?

Katara: I think people online like to turn things into bigger stories than they are.

Interviewer: So they're friends?

Katara smiled politely.

Katara: They certainly know each other.

‧₊˚♪𝄞࿐₊˚⊹‧₊˚♪𝄞࿐₊˚⊹‧₊˚♪𝄞࿐₊˚⊹‧₊˚♪𝄞࿐₊˚⊹‧₊˚♪𝄞࿐₊˚⊹‧₊˚♪𝄞࿐₊˚⊹‧₊˚♪𝄞࿐₊˚⊹‧₊˚♪𝄞࿐₊˚

They were both sharing their second bottle of wine, and Toph could already feel that she was no longer sober; she could also tell that Sokka was halfway gone by the end of the first one and a half bottles. She’d always suspected that he was a lightweight.

“What was it you were playing earlier?” Sokka asked after about thirty minutes of mutual silence.

Involuntarily, her skin heated in anger at the memory of his note-giving and the fact that he’d been right. She didn’t mention this, though. Instead, she merely told him, “Some shit that’s been bugging me for weeks.”

He hummed. “Wasn’t bad.”

“Oh.” She settled the back of her hand on her forehead, bottle sloshing. “It’s such a relief you think so. Been weighing on me.”

“Seriously.” He went for the wine, but she pulled it just beyond his reach before he continued, “It was good, but much better with my suggestion, I bet.”

“Wouldn’t know.” The lie slipped out easily. She wasn't about to hand him ammunition after years of trading cheap shots. Letting him know he had a good ear felt close to admitting he'd won. She was under the influence, but she knew how to control her tongue.

“Uh-huh. Why don’t you play it now? Bet we could put lyrics to it.”

Toph snorted, taking a quick swig as she stood up. “Bet we could do a lot of things. Doesn't mean we should.”

“Come on.” He held out his hand again, missing the bottle by several inches this time as he followed her. “I’m making an excellent suggestion.”

“So you say. I, unfortunately, do not hear said excellent suggestion. Don’t think those exist coming from you, quite frankly.”

“Ouch, Beifong. You know how to hit me where it hurts.”

She smirked and bent a pebble beside her foot at his temple, making him hiss. “Yep, sure do.”

Sokka rubbed at his head before hesitating to accept the bottle that Toph finally held out to him. He drank a few gulps, then winced, pressing her. “I have lyrics. Some that might go well with that riff. Maybe we can build off it, try to get out of this yard at some point before the next millennium.”

“You want me to let you ruin a perfectly good riff with your metaphor-ridden lyrics?”

Reeling back, he sputtered for a moment. “What—dude, what’s the problem with metaphors? You use them all the time.”

“No,” she said, snatching the bottle back from him. “I use them a normal amount, where needed, but you do know that it’s totally fine to say what you mean every now and again, right? I mean, I don’t know, I guess other people are into that shit, but it’s really just not my thing.”

“For someone who says they don’t listen to our music, you sure know a lot about the literary devices I use in my writing.”

Toph snorted, dropping at the edge of the pool and dipping her feet into the cool water. “We’ve been over this. And I’ve got to keep an ear on the competition, don’t I?”

Which had started as spite years ago and somehow became a habit. These days, she usually knew Southbound's setlist changes before some of their fans did, which was deeply embarrassing and information she intended to take to the grave.

“Sure.” Sokka sighed, spinning his drumsticks between his fingers. “If that helps you sleep at night.”

“You’d be hard-pressed to find out that you don’t occupy a single one of my thoughts before I go to sleep.”

“Good. I'd hate to think I occupied that much space in your brain.”

“You wish.”

He plopped beside her and tried to grab the bottle from her, to no avail once again. “Uh-huh.”

For a while, they kept quiet, Toph drinking and Sokka longing for a sip, judging by the way he kept attempting to take it from her. Her free hand landed on her bass strings, and before she could stop herself, her fingers instinctively started plucking the notes to her bassline.

“I don't know why you’re still thinking about it,” she said suddenly.

“The riff?”

She nodded once, offering him what was left of the wine. It was probably less than a single swallow, which was her goal for the mere intent of irking him. Her snort was imminent when he grunted as he took stock of how much she’d left him with.

“I’ll blame this on the alcohol if you confront me with it later,” he said, swirling the little liquid around the bottom of the bottle, “but it’s good. It’s sticky. That’s how you know it’ll be a hit.”

Her brows ticked upward momentarily before she remembered to keep her expression neutral. Rivalries only worked when both sides respected the other enough to hate losing. She knew he respected her, but to hear it was an ego boost all the same.

And a surprise to hear it said aloud.

“Damn.” She sighed, taking her recorder and waving it at him. “I wish I’d gotten that. Blackmail material for days.”

Sokka snorted. “Oh, fuck you.”

“Everyone wants to; join the club. You’re not special.”

“And she’s humble.”

“That’s me.”

The wind picked up, cool with a hint of petrichor as if rain were impending. It swept through the trees surrounding the firepit, setting the leaves rustling softly overhead and carrying the dying fire in a different direction. Toph stretched her legs out in front of her, the rough bark of the tree pressing against her shoulders as she shifted. The grass beneath her had flattened from hours of sitting, still warm from the day despite the chill creeping into the mountain air. To her right, Sokka swayed slightly as he sat cross-legged on his own log, his shoe dragging idly through the dirt.

“I’ve never written with anyone before,” Toph admitted, leaning back against her hands.

She could feel his eyes on her as he replied, “Not even with Zuko?”

“Nope.”

It was too personal—the songwriting process—even to share with the person she shared most of her innermost thoughts with. There weren’t many to share, naturally, but what she did care to divulge, Zuko was the lucky one to hear. They both stuck to their ends when writing songs and only convened when the whole thing was done or when they needed help with a lyric or two, and all that was left was to record.

Sokka was quiet for a moment, for long enough that she even forgot the topic was being spoken about. Then, the wine sloshed in its bottle before he drank up what was left and tossed it aside, thumping as it fell onto the grass. “Yeah,” he told her. “Me either.”

“Hm.”

“Yeah.”

“I don't know.” He shrugged. “It’s like willingly showing somebody your diary, if you kept one.”

Toph barked out a laugh. “Exactly.”

“It’s stupid,” Sokka admitted. “By the time something's finished, it's different. You know? It doesn't belong to you anymore. But before that…”

“It does.”

She felt his eyes on her again as he said, “Yeah.”

For a moment, neither of them spoke. Toph's fingers wandered back to her bass strings.

“You know,” Sokka spoke after a while, “that thing you said about metaphors was bullshit.”

“Oh?”

“Absolutely, yes.” He pointed a drumstick in her direction. “‘Glass House.’”

“Excuse me?”

“Whole song's one giant metaphor.”

She furrowed her brows, the meaning of his words catching. “You heard that one?”

It was evident that he’d caught himself saying something he shouldn’t have, but it was too late to take any of it back. He sighed defeatedly. “Yeah. It was, uh—well, between you and me, I’ve heard… a bit of your music.”

“Mm. For science? Research?”

“Unquestionably. Have to know what the enemy is up to, much like yourself.”

Toph laughed. “Naturally.”

The silence felt like some kind of deadlock, and she really wanted to reach into his brain and find out what he was thinking. They'd spent years taking cheap shots in interviews, arguing backstage at festivals, so much so that neither of them knew how to exist around the other without some level of hostility.

It was obvious that she shouldn’t have cared, but she wanted to know. She wanted to hear more of what he thought about her music, without all the angry, jealous bullshit getting in the way. Still, she kept quiet, picking at a chip at the corner of her recorder.

Sokka cleared his throat, the sound akin to a fire alarm in that moment. “I—uh, it was really good. That whole album was. I don’t think—it’s hard to find a balance between grief and anger and acceptance within a four-minute-or-so song, let alone ten of them.”

Something odd happened in her chest, but her lips twitched. “Was that a compliment? Second one of the night, in fact, if so.”

“Everything I’ve said to you with a positive inflection has been a professional observation, if anything.” Sokka shook his head. “We don’t do compliments.”

“Right, my mistake.” She nodded, eyes squinted, mind swimming. “So if I, in turn, were to say that I’ve never bothered to focus on percussion in music other than my own until I heard you people for the first time, we’re in the clear?”

The comment took him by surprise. He froze, and his heartbeat quickened slightly. She was so focused on him that she could feel the corners of his lips upturn a bit. “I’d say so, yeah. Same if I said that I sometimes find myself scrubbing backward on a song—particularly ‘crawlspace’—just to listen to that riff in the bridge. Pretty brilliant. But mind that it’s the alcohol speaking.”

“Brilliant, huh? Now that sounds suspiciously like a compliment, meathead.”

Despite himself, he snorted, nudging her shoulder. “Start recording and play the riff with the minor, or I’ll lose what I’ve got in mind.”

“I suddenly take orders from you?”

“No, but I promise I’m asking nicely.”

With a loud snort, she pressed record and started playing.

‧₊˚♪𝄞࿐₊˚⊹‧₊˚♪𝄞࿐₊˚⊹‧₊˚♪𝄞࿐₊˚⊹‧₊˚♪𝄞࿐₊˚⊹‧₊˚♪𝄞࿐₊˚⊹‧₊˚♪𝄞࿐₊˚⊹‧₊˚♪𝄞࿐₊˚⊹‧₊˚♪𝄞࿐₊˚

Unpacking The Bad Earth-The Southbound Beef: Part 2
@TyLeeChiChat | 326M views | 2min ago

TY LEE: “Welcome back, chi blockers! Last time, we talked about Bad Earth and The Southbound’s rise to fame and how their rivalry—but not-so-rivalry—came to be. Today, we have to discuss the question everyone keeps asking me.”

Giant text appears on screen that reads, in all caps, ‘WHAT IS GOING ON WITH TOPH AND SOKKA?’

TY LEE: “Guys. Guys. I know what you're thinking. ‘Ty Lee, please stop talking about these people.’ I hear you. I respect you.” (Slight beat) “No, I don't.” (Giggle) “Because explain to me why Sokka writes a song called Blindside for their second album, after meeting Bad Earth, and then two months later, Toph releases Can You Hear Me Now? And don't even get me started on the fact that they've been subtweeting each other through setlists for, like, years.”

A board appears behind her, covered in strings and photos.

TY LEE: “I have charts.”

AZULA (O.S): “Are you psychoanalyzing my brother's band again?”

MAI (O.S): “It never ends.”

TY LEE: “Uh… We'll be back after these messages from our sponsors!”

‧₊˚♪𝄞࿐₊˚⊹‧₊˚♪𝄞࿐₊˚⊹‧₊˚♪𝄞࿐₊˚⊹‧₊˚♪𝄞࿐₊˚⊹‧₊˚♪𝄞࿐₊˚⊹‧₊˚♪𝄞࿐₊˚⊹‧₊˚♪𝄞࿐₊˚⊹‧₊˚♪𝄞࿐₊˚

Somehow, someway, Toph and Sokka made it work, and without much fuss, either.

It was on their twelfth day—seventh day of actually doing anything of value—that Toph punched the ground with such excited force that it caused a tremor to rattle the temple and knock Sokka off his feet and into the pool he was pacing in front of. He yelped on his way in, then unsuccessfully tried to splash Toph in vengeance.

“Now, why—?”

“We’re done,” she announced. “We’re done.”

Sokka huffed. “I thought we were doing fine. I—why are we done, what did I d—”

“Not everything is about you, meathead.” She clutched her recorder in her hand before going up to the edge of the pool and crouching. “The album, we’re finished with it.”

He swam up to meet her and propped his forearms onto the edge. “And you’re just so sure about that?”

“Mhm, I am.”

“Well,” Sokka said, “congratulations. You finally managed to keep up with me.”

Toph grinned. “That's cute. Really cute.”

“I know. I've been practicing.”

Scrunching her nose, she reached out to pat-pat his shoulder. “Work on it more.”

Quickly, he grabbed her wrist before she pulled away and said, “If I were braver, I would pull you into this pool right now, but I value my life, so just know that I had every intention of pulling you in here with me.”

“Coward.”

“Strategist,” Sokka corrected. “Very different title.”

“Mm. Keep telling yourself that.”

She tried to yank her hand free, but he held on for another second, saying, “Seriously, though,” he said. “You absolutely deserve it.”

“Then do it.”

“Not a chance.”

“Scared?”

Inhaling, as though he was preparing a long, thoughtful reply, he told her, “Terrified.”

“Good answer.”

Only then did he release her wrist, and Toph sat back on her heels with a smug grin. He pushed himself out of the pool and swung his legs out. “Besides,” he continued, “if I drowned, the album would never get released, and the world deserves to hear my lyrics.”

Toph snorted. “The logic in that sentence. First of all, we would probably do better with a release after your death, quite frankly. And second of all, your lyrics? Pretty sure I carried your ass through at least half those songs.” She waved her recorder at him. “I’ve got proof.”

“It was a collaborative effort,” he said, sending droplets of water in her direction as he shook his head like the dog he was. “That was what this whole retreat was about, remember? And I, too, have proof in my trusty notebook, so don’t start with me, Beifong.”

She snorted, and for a second neither of them said anything. The breeze carried the sound of the water behind them, and somewhere in the distance, one of the temple bells chimed.

It was strange. A week ago, she'd been fully prepared to spend the entire retreat proving she was better than him and being ready to fend off his stupidity because that was just how they worked. Every conversation was a challenge, every disagreement was a contest, every backhanded compliment came wrapped in an insult because neither of them knew what to do with sincerity when they could just as easily throw punches instead.

Honestly, they had spent the last week arguing over ridiculousness, much milder than their usual. Arguments over whether the bridge on track four should've been acoustic, over whether the third verse of “Paper Skin” had one too many syllables, over whether Sokka's tendency to cram seven metaphors into one line constituted genius or a cry for help.

At some point, they had stopped keeping score, which had happened more seamlessly than she would’ve preferred, and it made her less ill at ease than she would’ve anticipated. Somewhere between begrudged shared breakfasts, late nights, and Sokka pacing himself into circles as he tested a beat on any surface imaginable and she plucked at her bass, somewhere between the fifth bottle of wine and the fiftieth argument over nothing, they'd settled into something strangely easy, albeit annoying and irksome and irritating, though that was part of what let her settle into it, ironically. It became civil.

After a week, she knew the shape of his thinking almost as well as her own. She knew when he was stuck because he'd tap his drumsticks against his thigh—or hers, until she wrestled the sticks away from him and tossed them into some bushes. She knew when he'd had an idea because he'd start pacing. She knew which lyrics he secretly loved because he'd pretend to hate them first, and she was sure he knew when she was into anything he put down because she’d do the same.

“Seriously,” Sokka said, wringing out the hem of his shirt before entirely giving up and peeling it off, tossing it aside. “How are you so sure?”

“About the album?” Toph shrugged. “You remember what we were working on this morning?”

“‘Hardpressed’?”

“Mhm.”

“The fuckin’ bridge?”

“The fuckin’ bridge.”

Sokka nodded. “How could I ever forget her when she’s been haunting me? You’ve got something for it?”

“Yes.”

They sat in shared silence for a bit, save for the sound of water drip-drip-dripping into the pool and onto the ground. He sniffled, then coughed when she gave him no kind of elaboration, before he started to squirm uncomfortably, wringing his hair out, a stream of water plattering onto the ground.

When finally he got tired enough of her withholding of information, he grunted, making her lips twitch in amusement.

“What?” she asked innocently.

“You know what,” he replied. “Just—tell me what you’re thinking.”

“Nothing.”

Sokka turned bodily towards her, clasping his fingers together and unclasping before running a hand down his face. “Be serious.”

“I am,” she replied. “Not every song needs a bridge, and I think we need to stop forcing one into this song when it can be stronger without one.”

Toph was sure that he thought that she was pulling his leg from the way he had no real reaction when Sokka always had something to say, even when unprompted, as she had learned over the years. But then, he hummed, asking her to fetch his notebook, only to immediately regret it when she earthbent the ground beneath it where it lay under the shade of her tree beside her bass case, making it smack him straight in the face.

Grunting and moaning and groaning done with, Sokka consulted the lyrics he’d taken down for the song and hummed them to himself, then let out another, different, thoughtful hum. He took another moment to sing the lyrics under his breath, and opted up on the key as he modified the pre-chorus. She hesitated to think that she liked the way it sounded, for the mere kneejerk disagreeing with him, but it did sound good.

“Okay, I like that,” he said finally, tapping the pen he was holding against the pages before switching to clicking and un-clicking it, irritating her nerves. “But I think we should opt up, with a key change in the last pre-chorus—”

“—to drive the emotional aspect of the song further,” she finished for him monotonously. “Yeah, I caught wind of what you were trying out.”

He placed his pen inside the notebook. “What do you think? It’s already got the third-person thing going on. It could be pushing it, thematically.”

Closing her eyes as she threw herself back onto the grass, feeling her element surround her more closely, she thought about it, humming the song’s melody, recalling the lyrics. She didn’t think it was pushing it, she concluded. It was doing just enough to make its point.

“No,” she told him, eyes still closed and the sun beating down on her face. She could hear Zuko playing the earworm of a riff she’d told him to rehearse inside, along with Katara’s vocals going through a few of the lyrics Toph and Sokka had released to the rest of the group. A small smile crept onto her face at the sounds of what they created, working. She didn’t think it would, and she didn’t think she and Sokka would make anything worthwhile, but go figure. “I think it sounds great.”

‧₊˚♪𝄞࿐₊˚⊹‧₊˚♪𝄞࿐₊˚⊹‧₊˚♪𝄞࿐₊˚⊹‧₊˚♪𝄞࿐₊˚⊹‧₊˚♪𝄞࿐₊˚⊹‧₊˚♪𝄞࿐₊˚⊹‧₊˚♪𝄞࿐₊˚⊹‧₊˚♪𝄞࿐₊˚

@SokkaOfficial: whoever stole my lucky pen, i hope you know creativity CANNOT flourish under these conditions. psa over

@TophBeifong: Calling it lucky is generous. That thing leaked all over the place.
@SokkaNOfficial: THAT WAS YOU? i should’ve known!
@TophBeifong: Yes. You kept clicking it. It felt torturous.
@SokkaOfficial: NO BECAUSE WHAT WOULD YOU DO WITH A PEN IF YOU CAN’T EVEN USE IT
@TophBeifong: Cry about it, dude.
@SokkaNOfficial: Toph.
@TophBeifong: Snoozles.
@SokkaNOfficial: oh. guess that’s out there now
@TophBeifong: Not my fault you fall asleep anywhere. This is on you. Hope the kids go nuts.
@SokkaNOfficial: give me my pen back, beifong
@TophBeifong: Ask nicely.
@SokkaNOfficial: Please? Pretty please? Pen?
@TophBeifong: Wow, manners. Growth.
@SokkaNOfficial: you’re one to talk
@TophBeifong: Seems like the pen is gone. Good luck finding it.
@SokkaNOfficial: i literally hear you laughing from where i am stop it rn

@tokkatruther: omg guys they're flirting on main
@sokkacycle: HE ASKED NICELY BECAUSE SHE TOLD HIM TO
@gaangupdates: After years of public warfare, Sokka and Toph appear to have entered what experts are describing as an unbearably smug phase.
@melonlordrecords: I know a couple when I see one and I'm seeing one
@zukosburnbook: Not him immediately switching to Please? without a fight. Stand up, brother.
@cactusjuiceenthusiast: The "Toph." "Snoozles." (which we will be getting intO LATER) exchange just entered my brain and will live there forever now
@earthrumblelive: “KIDS”? ARE WE “KIDS”????
@tokkatruther: we won the war and history will remember us kindly

@NaitokKatara: I love it when a plan comes together

@ZukoLive: You act as though this was your doing
@NaitokKatara: Well, it wasn’t yours alone
@AANGofficial: It was a TEAM effort
@SokkaOfficial: what are u guys talking about

‧₊˚♪𝄞࿐₊˚⊹‧₊˚♪𝄞࿐₊˚⊹‧₊˚♪𝄞࿐₊˚⊹‧₊˚♪𝄞࿐₊˚⊹‧₊˚♪𝄞࿐₊˚⊹‧₊˚♪𝄞࿐₊˚⊹‧₊˚♪𝄞࿐₊˚⊹‧₊˚♪𝄞࿐₊˚

“How’s it going?” Suki asked conspiratorially. “Any progress?”

Toph sighed into the phone as she bent around some rocks she always carried around. Kept her hands busy. “If progress means not earthbending Naitok off the cliff we’re all perched on, then sure thing.”

“Toph.”

“Suki.” Toph chuckled, walking into the empty kitchen for a glass of water. “It’s fine. We finished it, we worked it out. We’ll see about recording it out here, too. Twinkle Toes and your boyfriend have the experience to engineer the sound and all the equipment we’d need.”

“Boyfriend?”

“Why, Hotpants, of course.” Toph smirked. “Who else would I be talking about?”

Suki coughed for a minute, then cleared her throat. “Anyway. Are you behaving?”

Allowing the subject change, Toph told her, “Relax. Haven’t killed anyone yet.”

"The word ‘yet’ did not escape my notice.”

“Good. It wasn't supposed to.”

“Well, I’m proud of you, putting it all aside to get to work.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Toph rolled her eyes, assembling the rocks into an arch in front of her before taking a sip of water. “Pick your jaw up off the floor.”

“No, I'm serious. I was prepared for an album and a blood feud.”

“Still got the blood feud.”

“Ah, good.” Suki hummed. “I'd hate for you two to lose your charm.”

Toph snorted. “Please. He'd lose his mind without someone around to tell him his lyrics suck.”

“But they don’t suck, though, if you managed to write with him.”

It wasn’t technically untrue, but she still didn’t feel much like dignifying that with a response. “Anyway,” Toph said, returning to her favorite topic to berate Suki with, “enough about me. How's Hotpants treating you lately?”

Suki sighed loudly. “Didn’t we just shut this door?”

“How's that whole thing going?”

“There is no thing.”

“Sure, there isn't.”

Another loud sigh ensued, this one longer and much more dramatic and drawn out. “There have been texts. And—and phone calls. All of normal, friendly nature.”

“Mhm.”

“And we’ve talked.”

“Mhm.”

“And then we would just ask each other how things are going.”

Toph gasped theatrically, her rocks pausing in the air. “The scandal.”

“Shut up.”

“And?”

“And nothing!”

“Nothing?”

“Nothing.” Suki cleared her throat again. “Now, I have to go. I have an interview about this collab tomorrow morning, and I need to give them something to bite on.”

Cackling at how she was rushing her off the phone, Toph merely hummed at her before wishing her a decent night and pocketing her bending rocks, just as Katara entered the kitchen, seeming as sluggish as Toph had ever felt her. Since they set foot into this temple, Toph had caught wind of a different cadence to Katara’s walks and stances, but it wasn’t until now that she noticed just where that difference was coming from.

“Sugar Queen.”

Katara sighed, as if resigned that this nickname wasn’t going anywhere, as she leaned against the counter behind her. “Yes, Toph?”

“Got any news you need to share?”

The vocalist’s heartbeat sped up, keeping in time with an echo of a much smaller version of the organ. “Um. No? No. No, I don’t.”

“Don't worry,” Toph told her, reaching out to pat Katara’s still flat belly. “I won’t say a word.”

Katara groaned lowly. “Sometimes, I hate, hate your abilities.”

Toph grinned unapologetically. “Yeah, but you love me.”

“That remains under review. Too soon to tell.”

“Uh-huh.”

Laughing incredulously, Katara said, “You’re impossible.”

“This is not an original thought.”

Katara pushed herself away from the counter, chuckling. “Speaking of impossible, Aang and Sokka are currently attempting to determine who can survive the most cactus juice mixed with whatever disgusting thing Sokka found in the liquor cabinet.”

“Yikes.” Toph grimaced. “Based on assumption, for one, and first-hand experience for another, neither of them can hold his liquor.”

“You’d be right on both fronts.” Reaching for a bag of something, Katara hummed. “Seems like you two managed to make the best of things, you and my brother.”

Toph barked out a laugh. “Managed is one word for it.”

A soft crunch filled the space. “He says you haven’t thrown anything heavy at him in days.”

“That’s because I’m conserving my strength.”

“Mm.”

“And because the idiot’s useful, apparently.”

Katara snorted. “High praise.”

It was, she supposed. She'd expected misery and awkward silences and forced professionalism, for herself to spend every waking second wishing she'd told everyone who would listen to shove this stupid retreat where the sun didn't shine. Instead, they'd stayed up until three in the morning debating bridges and harmonies and shared bottles of wine and terrible jokes. He'd started understanding what she meant when she described a song feeling too sharp or too crowded without needing her to explain it ten different ways, and somehow, unwantingly, she'd started understanding him, too.

All of which was a pain in her ass. The guy had this obnoxious thing of sneaking under people's skin and building himself a house there, despite any pushback.

“You guys make a good team,” Katara spoke up again when Toph had mistakenly given no response. “If you don’t kill each other at the end of this, after all, I’d suggest we do this every year.”

Dropping her voice, Toph replied, “Looks like the prospect of motherhood is already making you dream big.”

They shared a laugh and a comfortable silence settled between them. Crickets chirped outside, and the temple itself seemed unusually peaceful for once. Naturally, that was the exact moment someone entered.

“Hey,” Katara said brightly around whatever she was eating, and judging by the smell, it seemed to be honeyed fire flakes.

“Hi,” Zuko responded. “Not tired?”

“Not particularly,” Katara told him. “I just came out here because the boys are being idiots and I needed a moment away.”

With a snort, Zuko said, “A good call.” There was a brief pause, then, he turned to Toph. “You busy?”

Toph raised her brow, intrigued. The tow of them hadn’t chatted much, mostly because she’d been busy with writing and composing but also because a part of her was still scorned by what he’d cooked up without telling her. Still, she cocked her head. “Depends on what you’re planning.”

“Just a walk around the grounds.”

“Damn,” Toph muttered. “Was really hoping you’d somehow say arson.”

“I’m afraid that isn’t on the schedule for tonight.”

Releasing a dramatic, drawn out breath, she said, “Fine. I’ll walk with you, but know that if you happen to slip off the cliff, it’s not my doing.”

She could hear the eye roll in his voice. “Duly noted.”

Toph nodded in Katara’s direction, wishing her good luck with her boyfriend and brother as she and Zuko headed outside into the humid night. They didn't go far, mostly because there wasn't really anywhere to go. They circled the grounds once, Zuko stopping every now and then to point out some bit of the area he'd apparently become fond of. Toph mocked him for it, naturally, and he took it with the same long-suffering patience she'd spent years cultivating in him.

Eventually, they settled on one of the lower walls overlooking the valley, and for a while, neither of them said anything, which was fine. She'd known Zuko long enough to appreciate quiet, and it surprised her a bit when he was the one to break it.

“I know you're still angry with me.”

She sighed, taking an interest in a small pebble by her feet, which she quickly bent up to grab. Angry wasn’t the word anymore, but she let him think it was. “No kidding.”

“And I'm not asking you not to be.”

“I'd hope not.”

“But,” he shifted beside her, “I just wanted to make sure we're okay.”

“You're stupid,” she informed him. “Of course we’re okay.”

“Toph—”

She dropped the pebble and leaned back on her hands where she sat. “You pulled a dick move. I reserve the right to remind you of that forever because I don’t live my life for people to try to make decisions for me when I can make them for myself. I can think rationally.”

“Fair.”

“And I still think you're an asshole.”

“Also fair.”

“And I definitely hated you.”

“Past tense?”

She'd spent two weeks waiting to be proven right, waiting for Sokka to drive her insane, waiting for all of this to blow up so she could point at Zuko and say, see? But instead, she and Sokka had written songs—good songs—and laughed, and fought, and drank, and somehow she'd discovered that she didn't particularly hate Sokka anymore.

Spirits.

She wasn't sure she'd ever really hated him beyond their rivalry or the fact that she'd simply grown accustomed to having someone on the other side of the ring.

Finally, despite herself, she nodded. “Yes, for now. But we are okay. We won’t be if you pull some shit like that again, but we’re good, Hot Toddy.”

Before she could hear his response, Toph noticed Katara’s hesitant approach, making her brows furrow. It’d barely been thirty minutes; what could’ve possibly happened?

“Uh, hey guys,” Katara said sheepishly, hands clasped behind her back, rocking on her feet. “How’s it going?”

Toph squinted in suspicion. “Spit it out, Sugar Queen.”

“Sugar—” Katara huffed. “Whatever. I hate to do this, but I was wondering—I need help.”

Zuko sat up, intrigued. “What’s going on?”

“The boys’ drinking game that got a little out of hand, and now they feel like they’re double their body weight.” She sighed. “Usually, I’m able to handle them when they’re like this, but they’re impossible tonight, and we have a strong earthbender and someone else with a decently strong build in the house, so I was hoping for a hand.”

The last thing Toph wanted was to carry Sokka and Aang to their rooms, but a part of her wanted to experience the messy state they must be in if Katara was having trouble reigning them in, so with much intrigue, Bad Earth followed Katara into the temple, and into the common room that contained the shells of her bandmates.

“I’ve got Aang,” Zuko said immediately, and before Toph could protest, added, “You already know your way around a drunk Sokka. I’d be ill-equipped.”

Toph would claim responsibility for the tile that popped out of the floor as Zuko carried Aang across the room for the comment he made, accompanied by Katara who was none the wiser, while Toph begrudgingly walked up to Sokka, who lay slumped across a large, earthen chair.

“Toph,” Sokka slurred when she closed in. “It’s you.”

“Yup, it’s me, Snoozles.”

He cackled. “I like that one.”

“I’ll be sure to use it more often.” Toph rolled her eyes. “Come on, sack of rocks. Help me out here before I encase you in earth just to get you to your bedroom.”

“Oh?” he asked, voice upturning comically at the end of the question. “Toph, you haven’t even—take a boy out first before inviting yourself into his bedroom, sheesh.”

Despite herself, she snorted, grabbing his wrist and hauling what felt like dead weight up. “Right. Where are my manners?”

“Exactly,” Sokka murmured. “No romance anymore.”

“Tragic.”

“Mm. Our generation's doomed.”

“Move your feet, Snoozles.”

To his credit, he tried. Unfortunately, however, trying and succeeding were apparently two different things. By the time they made it out of the common room, he'd somehow managed to lean most of his weight onto her, forcing her to half-drag, half-carry him down the hall. Thankfully, his room was only several paces away, because if Katara dealt with this regularly, Toph understood every threat she'd ever made against her brother.

“Did the floor move?” Sokka asked suspiciously.

“No.”

“Hm.”

“It definitely didn't.”

“Agree to disagree.”

Shaking her head, Toph shoved open his door with her foot and guided him inside. He promptly missed the bed on his first attempt, earning himself an unimpressed sigh before she wrestled him around and pushed him onto the mattress. It took a minute to pull his shoes off and toss them aside, and when she managed to grab another pillow to prop his head up, his hand landed heavily on her cheek.

“You know, you are a very, very pretty woman. Beautiful, even.”

A prickling, warm sensation filled her chest, but she stamped it down as she straightened. “So I’ve heard. Will have to take people’s word for it.”

“Take my word for it, Beifong, ‘cause it’s the most important ever,” he demanded, waggling a finger at her, as if drilling something into her head. “You are a looker.”

She scratched the base of her neck, desperate to leave if he wouldn't make a big deal of it. “Do you need anything before I skip out? Water? The waste basket to inevitably puke into?”

“Mmm. You. Are you an option?”

The comment gave her such pause that, for a moment, she had no idea what to say or how to react. Her body, though, decided to react by quickening her heartbeat, clamming up her hands, and making her feel a little too hot for the temperature in the house right now.

“I’m going to remind you that you said that.” She gestured vaguely around the room. “I’ll remind you of everything you said, in fact, and make sure you’re mortified in sobriety forever.”

He clasped her wrist in his hand and tugged at her arm until she complied and came closer again. “I’m looking forward to it.”

“Live up to your nickname,” Toph told him, forcing herself to pull away from him and pushing him onto his pillow. “Sleep, Snoozles.”

“Only because you’re asking so nicely.”

When she got to her room, as much as she tried to sleep, her body wouldn’t comply.

‧₊˚♪𝄞࿐₊˚⊹‧₊˚♪𝄞࿐₊˚⊹‧₊˚♪𝄞࿐₊˚⊹‧₊˚♪𝄞࿐₊˚⊹‧₊˚♪𝄞࿐₊˚⊹‧₊˚♪𝄞࿐₊˚⊹‧₊˚♪𝄞࿐₊˚⊹‧₊˚♪𝄞࿐₊˚

Bad Earth Manager Reflects on How Unexpected The Southbound Collaboration Came Together
By Meng Hao

When plans were announced for indie rock outfits Bad Earth and The Southbound to collaborate, fans were understandably surprised. Few expected the two groups to come together creatively. After all, Bad Earth bassist Toph Beifong and Southbound drummer Sokka have spent years developing one of modern rock's most infamous rivalries.

According to Bad Earth manager Suki Tran, the project itself came about far more naturally than anyone would have guessed.

"Nobody sat down and said, 'Let's make some grand statement,'" Tran said in a recent one-on-one interview. "It really just started with… conversations and ideas that grew into something bigger. Yep."

While the details of the project remain tightly under wraps, Tran took a moment to put a finger on how to describe the process as one driven by mutual respect and a shared desire to challenge each other creatively.

"Toph has always been someone who pushes herself, and from everything I've heard, that spirit carried over into this collaboration," she explained. "Sometimes the most interesting things happen when artists step outside of their comfort zones."

Fans have spent months speculating about how Bad Earth frontwoman Toph Beifong and The Southbound’s Sokka managed to put aside their long-running rivalry, but Tran suggested their competitive nature may have actually benefited the project.

"They're both incredibly passionate people," she said with a laugh. "I think that passion can create sparks that turn into an unruly flame to be tamed by our one firebender in the group, but it can also create something really special."

Though she remained tight-lipped about the music itself, Tran expressed confidence in the artists involved.

"Sometimes the collaborations nobody sees coming end up being the most exciting," she said.

‧₊˚♪𝄞࿐₊˚⊹‧₊˚♪𝄞࿐₊˚⊹‧₊˚♪𝄞࿐₊˚⊹‧₊˚♪𝄞࿐₊˚⊹‧₊˚♪𝄞࿐₊˚⊹‧₊˚♪𝄞࿐₊˚⊹‧₊˚♪𝄞࿐₊˚⊹‧₊˚♪𝄞࿐₊˚

For hours after Aang and Sokka had nursed their hangovers and were teased relentlessly for their idiocy, Bad Earth and The Southbound rehearsed their collaborative album from top to bottom, nearly off-book on the lyrics and composition, into the night of their last few hours at the temple. And to the forefront of her mind came the fact that she and Sokka seemed to have fallen into a rhythm, one that didn’t exactly exist days ago.

He knew when she wanted to repeat a section before she opened her mouth, and she knew when he was about to stop the song because he was dissatisfied with some tiny detail in the drums. She could tell that he could hear her winding herself up before she complained about a transition, and she knew by the way his stance shifted when he had an idea and was trying not to interrupt.

It was this same way that they’d coincided in the thought that it was time to finish this.

“I say we should get a recording session going,” he was the first to say after more than several perfect runthroughs of the tracklist. “We should probably stop staring at each other and actually commit to solidifying this thing. Or, well, standing around since we’re counting on seven working eyeballs.”

“Look at him.” Toph turned to the others. “Using his big boy logic.”

“Very funny,” Sokka deadpanned. “I'm serious. We know the songs, we've beaten them to death, and if I hear us play ‘Hardpressed’ one more time without actually recording it, I'm throwing myself off the mountain.”

“This is all I have been advocating for since we got here,” Toph said immediately. “Dibs on your drum set.”

“See? Teamwork.”

Aang laughed. “He has a point.”

“Very rare of him,” Katara added, setting down her shakers.

Toph snorted and plucked a few notes on her bass. “Fine. Where are we setting up? I vote we make Hotpants do all the technical stuff while the rest of us look pretty.”

“Bold of you to assume I wasn't already planning on that,” Zuko replied.

“He’s so dilligent,” she said, grinning. Wind blew inside through the windows, carrying, once again, the scent of rain that didn’t fall. The humidity hung thick in the air as Zuko and Sokka helped Aang set the studio up, the clouds rolled overhead, and every now and then a breeze would sweep through the temple carrying the sounds of the valley below—the rustling trees, distant birds, the soft chime of the prayer bells that hung from some of the eaves.

It was peaceful and different and somehow, it had seeped into the music. Even now, after hours of rehearsing, Toph could hear it, the quiet, the space, the strange stillness that had settled over all of them since arriving.

Spirits, she'd spent two weeks writing songs in the middle of nowhere. Why were they trying to make them sound like they were recorded in a studio?

“Actually,” she said suddenly, interrupting whatever conversation Sokka and Aang had started about microphone placement, “why are we even doing this in here?”

Four heads turned, but she could’ve guessed who would’ve been the first to question her.

“In here?” Sokka repeated.

“Yeah.” She gestured vaguely toward the windows. “We're on a mountain. We wrote the whole thing out there. Why not just record it out there? It’s a very outdoorsy type of thing, anyway.”

The group kept quiet for a second, pondering. There were definitely conversations being had through eye contact that she couldn’t see, though she could sense them. It was kind of how she knew that Sokka was already finding it hard to disagree with her logic in the way he was thumping the drumstick in his right hand against his thigh.

“I don’t know,” Toph spoke again when no one else did. “I think I kind of like the idea of it sounding rough around the edges.”

Aang tilted his head. “Our vocals and instruments being isolated, and you instantly being able to hear nature around us? Imagine.”

“And, like Toph said, I feel like the theme of the album would work with that idea,” Katara added, papers rustling as she presumably looked through their songs. “I’m into it.”

“So we record outdoors?” Sokka asked, voice laced with something Toph couldn’t call anything but excitement.

She beamed. “Fuck yeah.”

Zuko nodded once. “I’ll get a fire started.”

Doing nothing more than carry her bass to her spot around the fire pit, Toph observed the way the rest of the group gathered what they needed to record the album outdoors. Several mics were set out, along with headphones and other supplies she didn’t care to identify. Sokka was the only one who loudly complained about her doing squat and she simply waved him off, entertaining herself by making him trip on random bumps in the ground until the setup was done.

And with that, they began.

The next several hours passed in a blur of music and laughter, the fire crackling in the center of their little circle while the mountain breeze threaded itself between harmonies and basslines. Aang missed a vocal cue and blamed a passing bird, then Katara threatened Sokka with bodily harm after he nearly knocked over a microphone stand in his enthusiasm, and per his usual, Zuko remained stubbornly focused on the equipment, though even he eventually laughed when Toph pelted Sokka with a pebble for improvising a line she hated.

By the end of the night, they barely had to speak. Sokka's tapping drumsticks meant another take, and a kick from Toph against his stool meant to stop overthinking a section. They worked around the sounds of the valley and their own bursts of laughter, and somehow, sitting around a fire on top of a mountain with three of her favorite people and one irritating drummer, Toph thought the album sounded exactly like the last two weeks had felt.

“Do we know what we want to call this album?” Katara asked out of the blue, after recording Track 10, ‘Mid-Blackout.’

“Oh! Oh, oh!” Aang perked up immediately, nearly tipping over his mic stand but saving with with some quick airbending. “What about The Sound of Nature?”

The silence was immediate before four voices answered, “No.”

“Okay.” Undeterred, Aang continued, “Harmony on the Mountain?”

Sokka groaned. “That sounds like a meditation album. This is not that.”

“It’s okay, Snoozles,” Toph told him. “Don’t hold back. It’s shit.”

Katara laughed. “Maybe something less descriptive?”

“Right, right.” Aang thought for a moment, then snapped his fingers. “Airwaves!”

“Aang,” Katara said defeatedly.

“No?”

“No.”

“Wind Songs?”

“Make it stop,” Toph called.

“Sky High?”

“Booooo,” Sokka joined.

“Cloud Nine?”

“Already taken,” Zuko replied immediately.

Aang slumped. “You guys are brutal.”

“If you’re done with all of that, I thought the one lyric from Track Six was cool,” Zuko said. He paused for a moment, looking through his notes, the sound of pages rustling tipping her off. “Uh, ‘living in the fault lines’?”

Katara inhaled sharply. “Fault Lines… Oh, that’s good. It has my vote, too.”

“Mine too,” Aang agreed. “See? Nature-y, but not too nature-y.”

“Twinkle Toes, don't ruin it,” Toph warned.

“Right, right. Silent support only.”

“Fault Lines,” Sokka repeated softly, testing the words in his mouth. “I like that.”

Everyone was waiting for Toph to give the final say as she rested her chin against the silouette of her bass where she sat on the ground. “Well,” she said after some intentional moments, “it beats Airwaves.”

And with that, on the heels of laughter, the matter was settled.

The final few songs came and went with far less debate than the album title had required. By then, the fire had burned lower at Zuko’s hand, the air had cooled as a slight drizzle began to rain down, and even Sokka's endless energy had mellowed into something softer before they strayed into one of the last songs on their record.

“This is the one from a third person’s point of view, right?” Katara asked, consulting the lyric book on the ground. “‘Hardpressed’?”

“Mhm.” Sokka leaned into his sister’s space, presumably observing the notes she took on the book. “Toph said we were missing something, then suggested we didn't have the outsider’s perspective on the situation and relationship referenced, so we gave them one. Turned out pretty well. Even without the bridge.”

She tried not to smile at the credit given. “Careful, Snoozles.”

“Too complimentary?” he questioned, his voice teasing, counting them down with his sticks before the next recording started. “My bad. I take it all back.”

‧₊˚♪𝄞࿐₊˚⊹‧₊˚♪𝄞࿐₊˚⊹‧₊˚♪𝄞࿐₊˚⊹‧₊˚♪𝄞࿐₊˚⊹‧₊˚♪𝄞࿐₊˚⊹‧₊˚♪𝄞࿐₊˚⊹‧₊˚♪𝄞࿐₊˚⊹‧₊˚♪𝄞࿐₊˚

INSTAPOST

@ImStillMessin: RARE FOOTAGE—Toph Beifong and Sokka Naitok Beef Origins. 00:47

SOKKA, halfway through signing a poster.

FAN: Have you heard Bad Earth yet?

SOKKA laughed.

SOKKA: Have I heard Bad Earth? Spirits, I can't escape Bad Earth.

A few fans giggled.

FAN: No, seriously. What do you think of them?

SOKKA made a face.

SOKKA: I think the bassist knows she's good, and honestly, people keep acting like she's the second coming or something. It's a little much.”

More laughter.

KATARA elbowed him.

KATARA: Sokka.

SOKKA: What?

KATARA: She's literally right there, dingbat.

The camera shook.

Standing twenty feet away, waiting for her cue to go on stage, was TOPH. She'd clearly heard enough. She was amused.

SOKKA's smile disappeared.

TOPH: Don't stop on my account.

The fans around the barricade lost their minds.

Sokka opened his mouth, then closed it, then opened it again.

SOKKA: I—

TOPH: Go ahead. I'm dying to hear the rest.

Camera pans to ZUKO, standing in the wings with AANG.

ZUKO: We’re on, Toph.

AANG: Break a leg!

TOPH cocked her head at SOKKA.

TOPH: Next time. Try talking more shit after we’re done performing, numbskull.

TOPH exited towards the stage.

KATARA groaned.

The FAN filming whispered, in a voice barely audible over the screaming.

FAN: Oh, Tui.

Cut.

@badearthnation: NOT SOKKA SAYING "I CAN'T ESCAPE BAD EARTH" 😭😭😭 BABY YOU HAD NO IDEA

@kyoshiwarrior93: the way katara immediately went "she's literally right there" tells me this man has always been his own worst enemy

@earthbenderbass: Toph smiling when she realizes she caught him talking about her is somehow scarier than if she'd been mad 💀

@tokkatruther: everyone say THANK YOU to the random fan who leaked music history

@beifongsupremacy: "I'm dying to hear the rest." SHE'S INSANE. I LOVE HER.

@cactusjuiceenjoyer: katara groaning like she just watched a shit show begin 😭

@thesouthboundstan: so what i'm hearing is that the bad earth x southbound album is happening because sokka was intimidated by a womf

@southboundefender: okay but "I think she knows she's good" is barely talking shit 😭 free my man

@blindbanditfanclub: nah because if someone said "people act like she's the second coming" about me i'd dedicate the next five years to being their problem too

@avatarrollingstone: Can't believe one of the most famous rivalries in modern alt history apparently began because Sokka was a hater LOL

@zukosleftburn: he wasn't even hating 😭😭😭 he was just stupid bro lmaooo

@melonlord_: TOPH'S FACE WHEN SHE REALIZED SHE CAUGHT HIM LMFAOOOOOO. girl said 🎣

@katarastherapybill: nobody talking about Katara sounding like she was watching her mortgage go up in real time

@badeartharchives: need the full unedited video immediately. there is no way thirty seconds contained THAT much tension.

@naifong: everyone laughing but i fear this is how old married couples tell the story of how they met

@sokka_apologist: #SokkaWasRight nobody should be compared to the second coming that's weird

@tyleechichat: NEW EPISODE EMERGENCY 🚨 IT’S THE ORIGINS

@republicsoundsfest: The fact that we unknowingly hosted the beginning of one of music's pettiest rivalries will forever be our greatest achievement.

‧₊˚♪𝄞࿐₊˚⊹‧₊˚♪𝄞࿐₊˚⊹‧₊˚♪𝄞࿐₊˚⊹‧₊˚♪𝄞࿐₊˚⊹‧₊˚♪𝄞࿐₊˚⊹‧₊˚♪𝄞࿐₊˚⊹‧₊˚♪𝄞࿐₊˚⊹‧₊˚♪𝄞࿐₊˚

Just as she’d made herself comfortable in bed on their last night, there was a soft knock on the door, making her brows furrow. Zuko would’ve just barged in at this point in their friendship and partnership, and she doubted any of the members of The Southbound would come looking for company at this hour, though after tonight—after this week—that might’ve changed, much to Last Month Toph’s dismay.

She sighed, and as soon as she settled her feet on the ground, she raised her brows, taking her time to approach the door, feeling the would-be interloper begin to retreat. She opened the door before he could go far, however.

“Snoozles.”

“H—Toph. Hi.” Sokka cleared his throat. “Did I wake you? I didn't mean to wake you, I just—”

“I was up,” she interrupted, opening the door wider and gesturing him inside, his heartbeat thump-thump-thumping through the ground. “You know, if you keep stammering like that, all nervous, I’m going to think it has something to do with me.”

He walked up to her, slipping into her room and brushing her shoulder slightly. “Who’s to say it’s not?”

The comment wasn’t jarring at this point. The past week had been, upon reflection, full of mild flirtation—a surprisingly welcome shift in their dynamic, she came to find. Despite not being jarred, it was still a bit of a stunner. She raised a brow. “Careful, Snoozles.”

“Why should I be?”

Toph shook her head at him, amused yet trying to ignore the stir in her chest and the nervous energy crowding in her gut as she shut the door behind her. “What brings you to my neck of the woods at this spiritless hour, hm?”

“I don’t know,” he replied honestly, taking a seat on the ground beside her bed, almost inviting her to sit beside him. “I just—I think I already—I don’t know.”

“You miss the writing?”

“Ridiculous, right? It’s only been a few hours.” He snorted self-deprecatingly. “Kind of disappointed we wasted the first week on stupidity.”

She shrugged, sitting with him. “I don’t. Pissing you off is always fueling.”

“Oh, you're the worst.”

“I've been told.”

Beside her, his hand fidgeted against the ground. “There were interviews where I'd wake up and think, 'Today's gonna be peaceful.’”

“And then I'd show up.”

“And then you'd show up.” He sighed loudly and very dramatically. “And you’d ruin everything because the need to irk your nerve was too great when you were standing right there in front of me.”

Toph grinned. “Sounds like poor planning on your part.”

“It was. Thanks for pointing that out.”

A quiet chuckle escaped him, and for a while they simply listened to the temple breathe around them, her head falling back against her mattress as she suddenly found herself focused on the thump-thumps coming from him, like the beats he kept on his drum whenever he was idle and trying to find a rhythm or whenever he was thinking, as rare as the latter was.

It was strange how quickly she'd stopped bracing herself around him, if alarming.

“I think maybe we were always supposed to cross paths,” he said suddenly, mildly starling her out of her thoughts, like he’d somehow be able to snoop on them. Then, as if wanting to take it back, he squirmed and added, “It’s—I don’t know, never mind.”

“Uh-uh. You’re not getting out of that one.”

He sighed, then shrugged before running a hand down his face. “Too many factors leading to it; Suki, first and foremost.”

Toph snorted at that. “She speaks fondly of you. I’m not sure why, but—”

“Yeah, yeah.” He shoved her lightly.

“I think you're right,” she admitted after a second, finding the feel of a thread hanging off her shirt between her fingers very interesting. “Even if you have been an ass from day one. Suppose that was what made you stick.”

“Me? What about you?”

“Nope, no. You started this. You’re the one who I heard talking shit about—”

Sokka’s groan came out muffled, interrupting her, his hands over his face again before he sat up straighter. “I felt threatened, okay? There, you got it out of me.”

She propped herself up on her arm. “Threatened? When you guys had been booking shit before me and Zuko ever were?”

“I know how it sounds.” He was still covering his face judging by his position beside her and the sound of his voice. “I don’t need you to make it any worse than it is living in my head.”

“That’s great and all, but if you think I’m letting you down easy, you’ve got another thing coming, buddy.”

He rubbed at the back of his neck with an embarrassed moan. “You guys came out of nowhere.”

“We'd been together for, like, six months when you decided to be a dickhead.”

“Exactly.” He shifted until he was sitting cross-legged, elbows resting on his knees. “Southbound had spent years climbing. Tiny venues, awful gigs, sleeping in a van that definitely should've been confiscated by the health department, at the very least. Then all of a sudden...” He snapped his fingers. “Bad Earth shows up.”

She couldn't help but smile. “You're making us sound like a major inconvenience there.”

“You kind of were,” he said quickly, which earned him a shove. “Ow.”

“You'll live.”

“I hope so.” He chuckled before growing quieter, and admitting, “I'd never heard bass played like that before.”

The words landed somewhere beneath her ribs. She swallowed around the sudden tightness in her throat, and said, despite herself, “That’s because there is no one like me.”

“You’re right about that,” he muttered. Then, he continued, “I walked off that festival stage and heard you rehearsing from backstage. I remember thinking, 'Well, shit.' And you know, that's the part nobody ever tells. They tell you to work hard, to write better songs, to—to keep touring.” He laughed under his breath. “Nobody tells you what it's like when someone else walks into the room and suddenly raises the bar and challenges the shit out of you. I didn't know if I could keep up.”

Toph found herself absently twisting the loose thread around her finger because she'd expected something else, like ego, or jealousy, or some version of you were stealing our spotlight! or something.

Silence settled between them, and like many of their recent bouts of stillness, it was comfortable rather than heavy and charged. It made something in her chest loosen. For years, she'd painted that first meeting as the beginning of a rivalry born from arrogance. Sokka running his mouth because he thought she didn't deserve the praise, but hearing him now, maybe he'd just been younger and dumber and insecure. Maybe she'd heard the words and missed everything underneath them because she'd been too busy firing back because it was too good to dismiss.

“You know,” she muttered after a long beat, “that's a really stupid way to compliment someone.”

He huffed so loudly that she laughed. “I know.”

“You could've just said, 'Hey, your bass playing's cool. Wish I could do that!'”

“I know.”

“Would've saved us eight years.”

“Shut up, I know, I know, I get it, geez.”

She nudged his shoulder with hers. “Idiot.”

“Yeah,” he said, smiling despite himself. “I probably deserved everything you threw at me after that.”

“Oh, absolutely.”

“And yet...”

“And yet?”

“I think I'd still do it again,” he said, prompting her to raise a curious brow not for the first time this evening. He rushed to clarify, “Not the talking shit part. The—I meant meeting you.”

That stupid, inconvenient warmth bloomed in her chest again. She chose, very deliberately, not to acknowledge it, as he leaned back against the side of her bed, mimicking her position. Somewhere in the exchange, he'd drifted closer than he'd been when he'd first walked in.

Funny, that, because a week ago, she'd have noticed immediately.

Repeating her earlier words, to both him and herself, she told him, “Careful, Snoozles.”

“You keep saying this, but I’m afraid I don’t know what you mean.”

“You're getting dangerously sincere.”

“I'll try to be more annoying.”

“Oh, should be easy.” Toph waved a dismissive hand. “You've got years of practice.”

“That is so unbelievably rude.”

“You'll recover.”

“I don't know. I think this one's gonna stick with me.”

“I can only hope.”

Her head rolled instinctively toward the sound of his voice when he exhaled exaggeratedly, in that melodramatic way he tended to. He must've done the same, for the space between them disappeared so gradually that she didn't realize how little of it was left until his breath ghosted across her face.

When had he gotten so close?

Truthfully, in that moment, she could've leaned back, or shoved him away, or cracked some stupid joke about personal space. Instead, she stayed exactly where she was, a very new development for her in any context. The warmth radiating from him felt different this close, no longer just another presence in the room but something she was acutely aware of. She could hear the measured rhythm of his breathing, the subtle hitch whenever he hesitated, the quickening rhythm of his heartbeat.

His nose brushed hers and her eyes squeezed shut in a forced wince. “Snoozles.”

“Yes.” He grunted, pulling back. “Unwise.”

“Very much so.”

“We should try the friend thing, since we don’t have a history of anything aside from a very valid and very founded feud.”

Biting down on her cheek to keep from smiling at the comment, she said, “I’d agree.”

With much notable reluctance, Sokka stood up and walked backward towards the door. “See this?”

“I actually do not.”

“Too bad,” he told her, opening the door, “because it’s a stellar display of self-control, Beifong.”

She pressed her lips together and nodded slowly. “Mm. You’re doing very poorly, in case you were wondering.”

“Good night, Toph.”

“Yeah, yeah.” She leaned back, fighting against the twitch of her lips. “I suggest a cold shower before bed.”

Sokka snorted, tapping his temple before shutting the door. “Into the suggestion box it goes.”

‧₊˚♪𝄞࿐₊˚⊹‧₊˚♪𝄞࿐₊˚⊹‧₊˚♪𝄞࿐₊˚⊹‧₊˚♪𝄞࿐₊˚⊹‧₊˚♪𝄞࿐₊˚⊹‧₊˚♪𝄞࿐₊˚⊹‧₊˚♪𝄞࿐₊˚⊹‧₊˚♪𝄞࿐₊˚

@soundwavesdaily: new video: are toph beifong and sokka naitok actually dating? we looked at all their post-fault lines interviews, PLUS past festival appearances, and fan footage, so you don't have to

@moonspiritfm: "so you don't have to" brother we've BEEN doing it

@boomerangfan27: the fact that this video is 47 minutes long 😭

@ampfeedback92: watched the whole thing, and none of the evidence is convincing individually, but all of it TOGETHER is making me lose my mind

@earthkingdoms: the biggest thing for me is that they don't fight the same anymore

@vinylvampire: @earthkingdoms THANK YOU. i've been saying this

@earthkingdoms: @vinylvampire like before they were actively trying to annoy each other and now it feels like they have inside jokes that nobody else understands?????????????

@feedbackloop22: the rehearsal footage for Sunday Night Lights where she throws a pick at him and he catches it without looking >>>>

@cactusjuicefan92: you people need jobs

@airnomadfm: @cactusjuicefan92 found sokka's burner

@cactusjuicefan92: i hate this website

@tokkatruther: everyone keeps bringing up interviews. imma be different and bring up the fact that they keep ending up next to each other. like what a difference a month can make amirite

@melonlord420: @tokkatruther counterpoint: they are coworkers

@tokkatruther: @melonlord420 counter-counterpoint: i have coworkers. i do not voluntarily spend time with them. jot that down

@republiccityradio: the funniest possible outcome is that they're not dating and this is genuinely just how they act now

@maiwithaknife: @republiccityradio i refuse to believe that. because if i spent years watching these people publicly beef only for them to become hashtag besties i'm suing

@zuzurocks: my favorite genre of footage is zuko in the background of all this

@zuzurocks: there's one clip where a reporter asks kataang if toph and sokka are together. z is in the background and looks like he's being held hostage LMFAOOOO

@emberislandvinyls: @zuzurocks BRO AANG IS WORSE. AANG LOOKS LIKE HE KNOWS SOMETHING

@Westerngrooves: @emberislandvinyls katara definitely knows. actually i think katara knew before either of them did. bet she’s so fed up with their shit bro

@offtheairpod: i don't think they're hiding a relationship, but i do think they forgot they're being observed by other people

@chorusinjuly: @offtheairpod THIS

@70ph831f0ng: okay but can someone explain the late night show bts video

??????????? why was he carrying her bass when she hates it when ZUKO, her BEST FRIEND, even TOUCHES her bass

@lowbatterylover: @70ph831f0ng because it's heavy

@70ph831f0ng: @lowbatterylover she's literally toph beifong lmao

@lowbatterylover: @70ph831f0ng fair point

@boomerangluvr: TOPH doesn't say anything. literally nothing!!! and SOKKA goes "don't start" and she starts LAUGHING. this has neVER BEEN SEEN IHEFINEDFNDIKCJNS

@ampfeedback92: people keep pointing at one moment but it's NOT one moment; it's hundreds of tiny moments

@cabbagecorpCEO: either they're together. Or they've accidentally developed the most married-divorced-person dynamic in human history. i for one hope they are together

@musichead99: @cabbagecorpCEO accidentally?

‧₊˚♪𝄞࿐₊˚⊹‧₊˚♪𝄞࿐₊˚⊹‧₊˚♪𝄞࿐₊˚⊹‧₊˚♪𝄞࿐₊˚⊹‧₊˚♪𝄞࿐₊˚⊹‧₊˚♪𝄞࿐₊˚⊹‧₊˚♪𝄞࿐₊˚⊹‧₊˚♪𝄞࿐₊˚

If there was one thing Toph had learned over the course of the following week, it was that the internet apparently had nothing better to do than decide she and Sokka Naitok were in love.

The album released to far more fanfare than any of them had anticipated, Fault Lines climbing charts almost overnight while every interview they did inevitably circled back to the same questions. The rivalry, the retreat, the leaked festival video of the start of it all that had somehow become required viewing for anyone remotely invested in alternative music.

Apparently, nothing sold an album quite like eight years of mutual irritation followed by a collaborative record.

Toph supposed there were worse headlines to have.

She and Sokka didn't think much of it, either.

They fell into the same rhythm they'd found on the mountain with alarming ease. He passed her tea before interviews without asking how she took it and nailed it each time; she interrupted him whenever he started rambling, and he'd get a start on bickering with her. They argued for cameras exactly as much as they did off them, which, as it turned out, made for excellent press, and that wasn’t even the intention.

By the fourth day of nonstop promotion, she'd caught herself laughing more than once before remembering there were cameras pointed at them.

"You two make this look easy," one interviewer had remarked after watching them spend ten uninterrupted minutes roasting one another over who'd taken the longest to write lyrics. This, naturally, only led them to bicker even more.

According to Suki, all of this was golden for sales, a factoid that continued to irk her.

The whole thing came to a head later that day; Label Lee approached her.

"You know," the exec had said casually, "I wouldn't fight it so much."

Toph frowned. "Fight what?"

"The chemistry." A shrug. "People are eating it up. Lean into it a little. Hold hands once or twice. Maybe let him put an arm around you on the carpet tonight. Doesn't have to be real. Fans love a slow burn. I know we wanted the beef, but this is proving to be a million times stronger."

For a second, she genuinely thought she'd misheard. Then, very calmly, she'd told the man exactly where he could shove that marketing strategy.

She didn’t fear being fired for it; they’d heard worse from her, and it wasn’t that bad if Suki told her off while trying hard not to laugh.

The conversation ended there, but it followed her out of the building, into the car, and through every interview after that. The retreat had been real; despite her not initially appreciating it, the album was real, whatever she and Sokka had stumbled into on that mountain—friendship, if they were sticking to the plan—had been real, too. She'd spent eight years with a rivalry people insisted on romanticizing, and she refused to spend whatever came next with something genuine being mistaken for a publicity stunt.

By the time they got back to the hotel that evening, Sokka was still laughing about something Aang had said during the drive over. Toph barely looked at him.

If you just wanted it to last the length of the promo, he texted her a couple of days later, after a corporate lunch she fielded him at, you should’ve just said so. I wouldn’t have wasted my time.

She blocked his number after that.

‧₊˚♪𝄞࿐₊˚⊹‧₊˚♪𝄞࿐₊˚⊹‧₊˚♪𝄞࿐₊˚⊹‧₊˚♪𝄞࿐₊˚⊹‧₊˚♪𝄞࿐₊˚⊹‧₊˚♪𝄞࿐₊˚⊹‧₊˚♪𝄞࿐₊˚⊹‧₊˚♪𝄞࿐₊˚

@tokkatruther: maybe this is an unpopular opinion but i genuinely don't want tokka to skip straight to romance. and hear me out before you come for me, yo

the reason this promo cycle has been SO good isn't because they're flirting (half the time i genuinely don't think they realize how they come across 😭), it's because they literally seem to be into each other’s company. watch any interview from this week. they laugh before the other person finishes the joke, they instinctively make room for each other, sokka starts rambling and toph cuts him off before he gets lost in his own story, she calls him snoozles, he calls her beifong, and the arguments are just heightened banter

the rivalry is iconic, don't get me wrong, but seeing them become actual friends? seeing them trust each other? that's so much more interesting than them just kissing tomorrow (but i will take it yall dont get me wrong im the captain of this ship aight). i have also seen so many celeb relationships go to absolute shit bc fans won’t let them live. i don’t want that happening to them

if romance is ever on the table, i want it to happen because they're already each other's favorite person and because they built something solid first. friendship isn't the consolation prize before a relationship. and that’s that on that idk

#tokka #tophbeifong #sokkanaitok #sokkaxtoph #naifong #badearth #thesouthbound #badWesterners

‧₊˚♪𝄞࿐₊˚⊹‧₊˚♪𝄞࿐₊˚⊹‧₊˚♪𝄞࿐₊˚⊹‧₊˚♪𝄞࿐₊˚⊹‧₊˚♪𝄞࿐₊˚⊹‧₊˚♪𝄞࿐₊˚⊹‧₊˚♪𝄞࿐₊˚⊹‧₊˚♪𝄞࿐₊˚

At this stage in the promo process, Toph could no longer stand her own lyrics. It was even worse now, though, because the more she wanted to put them out of her mind, she couldn’t seem to, no matter how hard she tried.

Every interview clipped the same handful of lines, every social media edit paired them with another apparent lingering glance she wasn’t even capable of giving, every rehearsal forced her to sing them again while pointedly pretending Sokka didn't exist just a few feet away.

It was exhausting.

Worse, it was working.

She'd gotten good enough at avoiding him that everyone else had started compensating without realizing it. Katara answered questions Sokka usually would've thrown at her, Aang filled the silences with whatever came to mind, and Zuko found increasingly ridiculous reasons to separate them before interviews so nobody would notice they weren't speaking anymore.

Apparently, everyone noticed anyway. It was everywhere.

Fielding texts from Suki, frantically asking how she was and what was going on, Toph had barely finished tuning her bass in the greenroom at their next live gig when familiar footsteps stopped beside her.

“What’s this about?”

She frowned at the abruptness that came with the question. “I’m fine. How are you”

“You’ve got him sulking or just in a shit mood,” Zuko said, ignoring her sarcasm and expecting her to put what he was saying together, which she did with immediacy because the topic at hand wasn’t one that was rushing out of her head anytime soon. “People are starting to notice.”

“I don’t give an elephant rat’s ass what people are starting to notice.” She scoffed. “In fact, they should mind their own fucking business for once and try to get a fucking life.”

Zuko only hummed.

The mere sound irked her nerve, so she rounded on him. “Spit it out. What? What do you have to say?”

“Nothing,” he replied with a shrug. “You just seem a little on edge.”

“Yeah, because your lurking, nosy ass is pissing me off.”

“You’ve said worse.”

“I know.” She folded her arms over the bass stubbornly, not wanting to talk about this with him. There was, in fact, nothing to talk about. Zuko wasn’t even the type to want to get into things like these, so she was having some trouble understanding why any of this was his concern.

He waited, in vain, for her to say something else, and when she didn’t, he finally spoke, “Whatever this is, it's starting to bleed into everything else.”

Toph frowned. “What's that supposed to mean?”

“It means you're here,” Zuko told her simply, his voice calm as he sat across from her—a wise choice, considering she would’ve beaten him if he sat anywhere near her. “But you haven't really been here all week.”

“Oh, please.”

“You've spent the last week pretending he doesn't exist when you were buddy-buddy not long ago.”

She waved him off, going back to plucking random strings on her after clicking her tongue dismissively. At that point, she should’ve walked off and let him talk to the wall behind her. Instead, she found herself digging her heels in, because somehow talking to Zuko always made her feel like she was being read too clearly when it wasn’t something she ever asked for, nor was she ever used to. He never accused, never pried, and just observed until she inevitably got annoyed enough to start talking. It was an infuriating habit, one she'd spent years unsuccessfully trying to break him of.

“Well,” she muttered, not quite as done with this conversation as she’d thought only moments ago as she adjusted the strap on her bass, “none of this would've been a problem if you hadn't decided to play matchmaker with the stupid fucking collab.”

He looked at her for a long moment. “We're still on that?”

“You lied to me. Somehow.”

“I did.”

“You decided you knew what was best.”

Another nod. “I did.”

She hated how easily he admitted it. There was no argument to push against, no defensiveness to poke holes in. It was like trying to start a fight with a brick wall that had already agreed it was made of bricks.

“So congratulations,” she said, gesturing vaguely around the backstage area. “Get a load of where it got us. Right back where we started, so your little plan blew up in your face, didn’t it? Or, I suppose not, considering how much we’re being talked about now.”

His posture didn't change, and Toph's fingers tightened around the neck of her bass.

“No,” he said after a moment. “I know where it got you two before this week. I watched you write an album together; I watched you become friends. Whatever's happening now...” He shook his head once. “I don’t know what it is, but I know you’re forcing it.”

“Don't pretend you know what's going on in my head.”

“I don't. I know what's happening in front of me.”

For a week she'd been waiting for someone to tell her she was overreacting so she could bite their head off. Instead, Zuko refused to step anywhere near the question of whether she was right or wrong. He wasn't interested in why she'd done it, just the fact that she had.

She let out a humorless laugh. “Well, good talk.”

Hoisting the bass a little higher onto her shoulder, she was already half-committed to walking away before he could say anything else. The conversation had gone exactly nowhere, which was precisely where she'd wanted it to go. There wasn't anything to explain, nothing anyone could fix, and she certainly wasn't interested in being talked out of a decision she'd already made.

“Toph.”

“Hm.”

“I don’t regret doing this,” he told her as he stood up, going for the door. “I only regret that you’re not letting yourself be happy.”

Toph opened her mouth, already reaching for something dismissive, something easy; a joke, an insult, anything that would put the conversation back on familiar ground where neither of them had to think too hard, but nothing came because he'd managed to say the one thing she couldn't immediately swat away. It settled somewhere deep in her chest, unwelcome and stubborn, asking questions she had no interest in answering.

Thankfully, the moment didn't have time to stretch any further; he gave her some grace.

"We're on in fifteen."

"Mhm."

“See you on the ice.”

“Ironic of you to say, for multiple reasons.”

Zuko snorted, walking backward towards the door. “One last thing.'“

Any bass string plucking she was doing stopped short. “What are you up to, Hot Pants?”

“Don’t know what you mean.”

“You can’t lie to me.”

“Just let me do it for now, alright? This is a good thing.”

Toph narrowed her eyes in the direction of the door, listening to Zuko's retreating footsteps until they disappeared into the bustle backstage. It was clear that she was about to regret whatever that meant, and the only upside was that she would have a very concrete reason to send him right to the center of the earth.

She adjusted the strap on her bass with more force than necessary, settling the instrument across her lap. The strings hummed beneath her fingertips as she checked the tuning for what had to be the fifth time that afternoon. Still in tune, but she twisted a peg anyway.

Outside, the typical rhythm of pre-show chaos carried on uninterrupted. Crew members hurried past with equipment cases; someone shouted for a missing microphone; Aang's laugh echoed somewhere down the hallway, followed almost immediately by Katara telling him to quit touching things that didn't belong to him. Despite herself, her lips twitched upward at the sounds, and they stayed like that as she ran through “Hardpressed.” That was, until she sensed Sokka’s approach before she could do anything about the door being wide fucking open. His footsteps were slower than usual as he came inside, hesitant in a way she'd never associated with him before. The room filled with a silence neither of them seemed interested in breaking.

“What did you need?”

At this, she scowled. “Huh?”

"Katara said you needed me."

“She what?"

He blinked. "You didn't?"

"No."

It took them both way too long to realize what was going on, though they both came to it at the very same time that three pairs of footsteps hurried past outside. Immediately afterward, the door clicked shut, and a heartbeat later came the unmistakable metallic snap of the deadbolt sliding home.

Toph quickly planted her feet and metalbent the lock, only for it to click again. This ping-ponged several times over until she gave up, not caring at this point. This would be a game right up to the moment they had to take the stage, which wouldn’t be too long now.

“This feels familiar,” she remarked.

Sokka ignored her, understandably, and instead pounded his fists against the door. “This isn’t funny, Katara. Let me out.”

“Wow,” she said. “Selfish. I want out, too.”

He scoffed at her. “Rich. You calling me selfish. Rich.”

The sharp edge in his voice shouldn’t have bothered her. It never bothered her before all of this. She'd spent the entire week making sure there was an edge between them. She'd built it herself, brick by brick, conversation by conversation she refused to have, look by look she pretended not to feel against her face.

Across the room, Sokka tried the handle again with more force than before, frustration radiating off him in waves she didn't need eyes to notice. His heartbeat was quicker than usual, his breathing tighter.

“So the friends thing,” she said, “out the window?”

"Don't." The single word landed heavier than if he'd shouted. "You don't get to joke about that right now." He let out a long breath through his nose, forehead resting briefly against the door before he turned around to face her. "I spent a week trying to figure out what I did. I replayed every conversation we had at the temple, every interview after, every text. I kept thinking maybe I'd said something stupid without realizing it because the change was so abrupt.

"I would've apologized," he continued quietly. "If I'd known what it was."

In that moment, Toph almost laughed. It would’ve been such an inappropriate reaction, and she knew that he would’ve appreciated it if he didn’t sound so angry or hurt by her, which was probably the only thing that kept her from reacting this way.

Instead, she let out a long breath through her nose. “You may be a lot of things, but you’re not an idiot. You know you didn’t do anything.”

“Then, why? What happened?”

She hated how quiet the room had become, hated that every second she didn't answer felt like another one she was proving him right when he wasn’t. She rubbed her thumb against the neck of her bass and clicked her tongue, frustrated with herself. “It wasn't about you.”

His laugh came out hollow. "It sure felt like it."

It wasn’t easy to explain that this was about the fact that their time—the time they didn’t waste—at the temple had been the first time their conversations had belonged to them, the first time she'd started looking forward to hearing his footsteps because it meant another stupid argument or another song or another hour spent writing around a fire. Then people saw that and reduced it to a marketing opportunity, and somehow that had poisoned everything, even though their beef had been on the sidelines for most of both their careers.

She hadn't wanted to wonder whether every smile would be seen as deliberate, whether every joke would become another clip online, whether she'd start second-guessing herself every time she found herself drifting toward him. She hadn't wanted to lose whatever it had been before either of them had even figured out what it was.

But how was she supposed to say that without admitting there had been something worth losing in the first place?

She went with a shrug. “I liked how things were. Before.”

“How were they?”

“Easy.”

His heartbeat fluttered as he sat on the tea table in front of her, their knees knocking. “And they weren’t after we left our little bubble.”

Again, she shrugged, but kept her mouth shut. Her chest was tight, and her stomach was sick with nerves unrelated to their upcoming performance, which almost upset her even more than the conversation at hand.

Despite the mood, Sokka released a sharp exhale, indicating a slight laugh. “So you thought that cutting all contact would get us right back on track?”

It was certainly easier than having this conversation.

“Made sense in my head at the time,” she replied, a slight curve to her lip.

"Yeah, well, we’ve always known that your head is something to behold.”

Toph smirked at the comment, and as she was about to respond, her rebuttal died somewhere between her brain and her mouth because perhaps she should acknowledge her fuckup, but the knot that had been sitting between them all week had finally started to loosen, and she couldn't bring herself to tighten it again by dragging them back through everything she'd done.

Instead, she settled for bumping her leg against his. “You’re not too bad, Snoozles.”

“Hm.” He reached out and strummed one of her bass strings. “Apology accepted.”

The comment gave her pause. For a brief, disorienting moment, she wondered if she'd become that transparent, but too quickly she realized it wasn't that at all. It was that he'd learned her. Between the arguments throughout the years, the songwriting, and the long nights around a campfire, he'd learned how she spoke when she couldn't find the words.

The thought should've been unsettling. Instead, it settled somewhere warm beneath her ribs.

“Asshole.”

“Ah, the sweet sound of familiarity.”

She snorted, shaking her head. Being so tuned in to him and his movements, she regarded his grin as he plucked another bass string.

With immediacy, she slapped the back of his hand away. “Touch my bass again and I'm rescinding my apology.”

“You mean the one you never actually said?”

“Don't push it.”

“Wouldn't dream of it.”

The corners of her mouth betrayed her anyway, and spirits, it was absurd how quickly they'd found the rhythm again. Trading cheap shots, letting the silence settle without either of them rushing to fill it.

The heat of his gaze remained on her for another moment before rubbing the back of his neck. “Can we,” he cleared his throat, “officially call this a truce? Beef squashed?”

“I think we can, but I reserve the right to annul the truce if need be.”

“Sounds very dictatorial of you. I might reconsider the offer.”

“You’ll be the one to regret it.”

“I’m sure.” He breathed out a laugh. Then, he poked her hand with his finger before sticking it out to her. “So… friends?”

For a moment, she remained unmoving, but she slipped her hand into his warm one, his fingers wrapping around her own, and they held each other there. “Something like that.”

Before he had a chance to reply, Toph felt an incoming interruption through the ground and held up a finger with her free hand. A second later, there were three loud knocks on the door.

"You two decent?" Aang called from the hallway.

"No!" Toph and Sokka answered in perfect unison, and she grinned at him.

There was a beat of silence outside, then “I'm gonna take that as a yes.”

The deadbolt clicked, and as the door swung open, Katara took one look at the two of them, whose hands were still locked, snorted, and announced before leaving again, "We're on in two."

Sokka pushed himself to his feet, pulling her up with him. As soon as they were outside, he released her, and as they walked down the hall, his voice low as he said, pointing at her, “We’re finishing this later.”

Biting down on her cheek momentarily as she followed him, she mock-saluted. “Aye, aye, captain.”

It was hard not to laugh at the stutter in his heartbeat.

‧₊˚♪𝄞࿐₊˚⊹‧₊˚♪𝄞࿐₊˚⊹‧₊˚♪𝄞࿐₊˚⊹‧₊˚♪𝄞࿐₊˚⊹‧₊˚♪𝄞࿐₊˚⊹‧₊˚♪𝄞࿐₊˚⊹‧₊˚♪𝄞࿐₊˚⊹‧₊˚♪𝄞࿐₊˚

Somewhere in the #BadWesterners hashtag:

@badearthnation: I KNOW THEY'RE LITERALLY ON OPPOSITE SIDES OF THE STAGE BUT WHY DID IT FEEL LIKE EVERY SONG WAS JUST THE TWO OF THEM???

@southboundfan98: the amount of times sokka looked over at toph during "hardpressed" 😭😭😭 brother STAND UP

@beifongsupremacy: Toph didn't acknowledge him ONCE and somehow that was more intimate than most love songs

@melonlord_: For people asking, yes, Toph Beifong spent the entirety of Hardpressed pretending she wasn't smiling every time Sokka changed up the drum fill

@cactusjuiceenjoyer: he's thirty feet away behind a drum kit and she's standing with her bass and somehow they still have insane chemistry. explain that

@zukosleftburn: The way Sokka started laughing when Toph messed with the tempo for like half a second tells me this has happened before

@blindbanditfanclub: NO BUT SHE KNEW EXACTLY WHEN HE WAS ABOUT TO DO THAT FILL. SHE TURNED BEFORE HE EVEN HIT IT. WHAT DO YOU MEAN THEY DON'T COMMUNICATE ON STAGE???

@tokkatruther: you don't understand. musicians are flirting in morse code and we're all just spectators

@kyoshiwarrior93: respectfully, what the fuLCKJDBFKIBASJ do you mean they were beefing

@Westernerdefender: THEY WERE SMILING. THEY WERE SMILING. THIS IS NOT A DRILL.

@GaangUpdates: Hardpressed made its live debut tonight, and fans are already praising the unmistakable chemistry between Bad Earth's Toph Beifong and Southbound drummer Sokka.

@emberislandpod: Need someone to explain why Toph's bass tone got noticeably dirtier during Sokka's solo because I know that wasn't accidental

@beifongsupremacy: she literally can't see him and somehow knew exactly when he was grinning at her when she flipped him off i cant

@sokka_apologist: everyone's talking about toph but can we discuss Sokka grinning like an idiot every time she took over the chorus???

@musicjunkie88: you know those couples who insist they're not flirting but everyone around them suffers because of it? yeah

@thegaangarchives: The funniest part is that they don't even do anything. They're just weirdly synced bro

@tophsbasspick: Hardpressed is a wild song for them to be vibe fucking over bruh

@twinkletoesfan: Aang smiling like a proud dad, Zuko trying not to smile, and Katara looking like she's seen this movie before 😭

@thesouthbounding: Sokka literally missed his cue because Toph changed one tiny thing and then immediately recovered because he somehow knew where she was going. Did anyone else see this?? THAT'S MUSICAL TELEPATHY

‧₊˚♪𝄞࿐₊˚⊹‧₊˚♪𝄞࿐₊˚⊹‧₊˚♪𝄞࿐₊˚⊹‧₊˚♪𝄞࿐₊˚⊹‧₊˚♪𝄞࿐₊˚⊹‧₊˚♪𝄞࿐₊˚⊹‧₊˚♪𝄞࿐₊˚⊹‧₊˚♪𝄞࿐₊˚

The need to grab Sokka by the collar and pull him down to her lips overtook her, not for the first time, after a successful performance. It was adrenaline, and it was the desire to share something with someone who helped create what might be the best project of her career to date, despite not having the words to say it aloud. It was this hunger she didn’t have a word to name right this second that she’d never before experienced.

Still, she’d practiced control her entire life; she wasn’t about to let that go now. It wasn’t the right time.

The roar of the crowd lingered in her bones long after they stepped offstage, vibrating through the soles of her feet as the five of them were ushered through winding backstage hallways by an increasingly frantic stage manager trying to keep everyone on schedule.

Still, the second they cleared the stage, whatever professionalism had gotten them through the performance evaporated.

"Holy heck!" Aang shouted, throwing both arms into the air. "Did you hear them during the last chorus?"

"They were singing it back!" Katara laughed, grabbing his shoulders before he could tackle the nearest stagehand instead. "Every single word! The album’s barely been out, and they were singing every word!"

"I can't believe that just happened," Sokka said, laughing at the absurdity of it. He dragged a hand through his hair, still trying to catch his breath. "Did that actually happen?”

Zuko snorted, wiping the sweat off his brow. “It’s not like this is our first time performing together.”

“But it’s the first time they knew the lyrics enough to sing them back!” Aang shouted, reaching out to Zuko to shake him by the shoulders. “One of the songs we built together!”

"Okay, but did you guys hear them during the outro?" Sokka asked, still sounding like he hadn't quite landed back on earth. "I swear they got louder."

"They did," Katara said immediately.

"They definitely did," Toph agreed.

For a brief moment, they all fell quiet, because for her part, Toph was replaying the exact same moment that they’d heard the entire crowd singing the lyrics of what was arguably Toph’s favorite song off the album back to them.

Then Aang let out another victorious yell. "We killed that!"

That was all it took. Sokka whooped, throwing an arm around Aang's shoulders, while Katara collided with both of them a second later, laughing too hard to stay upright. Zuko endured approximately three seconds of watching the chaos before shaking his head and allowing himself to get dragged into it anyway. Toph lingered on the outside, unable to wipe the grin from her face.

She'd witnessed these idiots celebrate plenty of good shows, but this wasn't that.

This was relief after weeks of work, of flights, rehearsals, interviews, and wondering whether the gamble had been worth it. It had been.

“We did it!”

She barely had time to register Sokka peeling himself away from the group before he caught her around the shoulders and tugged her into the huddle, though detached from the rest of the group. His voice had been quieter than the rest of the group as they hooted and hollered because somehow those three words felt like they belonged to just the two of them.

Toph bumped her forehead against his shoulder with a scoff, disguising the smile threatening to split her face. "Fuck yeah, we did."

The admission settled warmly between them, his arms around her shoulders, and neither of them rushing to step away.

Eventually, however, reality reasserted itself as a frazzled stage manager clapped loudly to get their attention. "Love the team spirit, everyone, but if you'd like to make your next press obligation, I need you moving. Now."

The spell broke immediately. Aang apologized a million times over as Katara laughed, ushering him towards their upcoming interview next door, and Zuko muttered something about musicians behaving like children before promptly following the couple down the corridor.

The next hour disappeared into a blur of congratulations, interviews, photographs, label executives, and people she'd never met insisting on shaking her hand. By the time the obligations finally thinned out, she felt Sokka fall into step beside her as they headed back toward the greenroom.

“You mentioned finishing a conversation earlier,” she said as they walked. “I’m intrigued.”

Sokka hummed, letting her inside and shutting the door behind them. “Yes. Right, uh, so, now that the beef is no longer beef officially…”

“Mm?”

“I wondered if—do you maybe want to grab a bite sometime? Or I could—I make a sick sea prune stew.”

“Does that work on all the girls? The offering-to-cook-for-them thing?”

He made a so-so gesture. “But you’re not all the girls, are you?”

Toph tilted her head, her lips quirking, satisfied with his answer. “What’s the catch?”

“No catch,” he said. Then paused. “Actually, yes. One.”

“Do tell.”

“We write another together.”

She raised her brows, amused. “What? Twelve tracks weren't enough for you?”

Sokka exhaled a puff of air, waving her words off. “Not nearly.”

Her smile overtook her face without her permission before she reached out to lightly punch his shoulder. “You’ve got yourself a deal, Snoozles.”

He wrapped his fingers around her fist before she pulled away, and when he did, he stood there for a few moments, their warm hands locked together, before yanking her into him, taking her face in his hands, and kissing her clean on the mouth—all in one fell swoop.

The shock caught her momentarily, him not being the forward type unless he was actively sticking his foot into his mouth, but in no time she melted into the kiss, her hands clutching his wrists as their lips moved hungrily yet exploratively against each other.

A quiet, involuntary laugh escaped her, the sound swallowed by his mouth as she slid her hands from his wrists to his forearms, then higher still, fingers curling around the back of his neck as she tilted her head, deepening the kiss. Every instinct she'd spent the last week listening to—to pull away, to overthink, to keep a careful distance—simply disappeared, and all that remained was him: the warmth of his hands against her face, the steady beat of his heart beneath her fingertips, the faint hitch in his breathing every time she drew him just a little closer.

She savored the way he answered without hesitation, every slow meeting of their lips seeming to dissolve another layer of uncertainty until she couldn't remember why she'd ever thought staying away from him had been the safer choice.

Sokka answered in kind, one hand slipping from her cheek to settle carefully at her waist, drawing her in until there wasn't enough space left for either of them to pretend this had been impulsive. His thumb brushed absent circles against her skin under the hem of the cropped hood she was wearing, tentative only in the way someone is when they're still half-convinced they're dreaming.

Her fingers threaded deeper into his hair, holding him there as another quiet breath escaped her, halfway between a sigh and a laugh He smiled into the kiss, and, helplessly, smiled back before finally pulling back, though not enough that his forehead couldn’t rest against hers.

“I know I said sometime, for our little outing,” he muttered, as if afraid that speaking any louder would ruin the moment, “but I’m wondering if tonight might be a better option. Away from all of this. Just us and no one else.”

Her heartbeat stuttered, her fingertips brushing against his cheekbones, seeing him for the first time. “That eager to get me alone, huh?”

“You’ve got no idea, Beifong.”

‧₊˚♪𝄞࿐₊˚⊹‧₊˚♪𝄞࿐₊˚⊹‧₊˚♪𝄞࿐₊˚⊹‧₊˚♪𝄞࿐₊˚⊹‧₊˚♪𝄞࿐₊˚⊹‧₊˚♪𝄞࿐₊˚⊹‧₊˚♪𝄞࿐₊˚⊹‧₊˚♪𝄞࿐₊˚

Bad Westerners: The Tour: The Documentary (Transcript, Episode 1)

SOKKA: Touring together has actually been pretty easy.

INTERVIEWER: Easy?

SOKKA: Well, relatively.

CUT TO

Footage of TOPH and SOKKA arguing outside a hotel.

TOPH: You changed the setlist.

SOKKA: I moved one song.

TOPH: You changed the setlist.

SOKKA: One song!

TOPH: Tyrants always start small.

SOKKA: You would know, wouldn’t you?

SOKKA suddenly neck-deep in a hole.

CUT TO

Thirty seconds later.

TOPH and SOKKA sitting on the floor together, eating chips out of the same container.

TOPH: Being around them twenty-four-seven is a little much.

TOPH: Katara mothers everybody.

KATARA: Somebody has to.

TOPH: I think she’s practicing for motherhood. She gets a pass.

KATARA: I so appreciate that.

TOPH: And Twinkle Toes leaves his weird tea everywhere.

AANG: It's chamomile.

TOPH: And it's awful.

AANG: You haven't even tried it.

TOPH: Don't need to. Smells like old socks.

SOKKA (O.S.): Says the woman who used, like, seven of my jasmine tea bags this morning.

TOPH: That's because your taste in tea is better than your taste in music.

SOKKA: You literally helped write the album.

TOPH: Exactly. Somebody had to save it.

INTERVIEWER: Alright, lovebirds. Biggest disagreement you've had on tour?

KATARA: Temperature.

AANG: She keeps turning the air conditioning down.

KATARA: Because it's freezing.

AANG: It's sixty-five degrees.

KATARA: That's penguin weather.

AANG: It's—

KATARA: Don't you dare say something I’m supposed to be used to.

AANG: You were raised in the tundra! It’s a fair comment!

KATARA: I’m pregnant.

AANG: You—I digress.

INTERVIEWER: How's tour life treating you?

ZUKO: Fine.

INTERVIEWER: Just fine?

ZUKO: I've slept in too many different places over the last two months. I have no idea where I am.

INTERVIEWER: You're in Ba Sing Se.

ZUKO: Great.

Beat.

ZUKO: I thought this was Omashu.

INTERVIEWER: What's your role in the band?

SOKKA: Oh, I’m multi-faceted. Call me the visionary, the creative genius, the heart and soul.

Beat.

KATARA: He plays drums.

SOKKA: That too.

KATARA: Also worth noting that he would practice these answers in the mirror as a kid.

SOKKA: Katara.

INTERVIEWER: You aren't in either band.

SUKI: Nope.

INTERVIEWER: Yet you've been on tour for three months.

SUKI: Mhm.

INTERVIEWER: Why?

SUKI glances off-camera.

SUKI: I like the guitarist in one of the groups.

CUT TO

ZUKO nearly choking on his tea.

ZUKO: Why would you say that?

SUKI: Because it's true.

INTERVIEWER: Most embarrassing thing you've done on tour?

SOKKA: Nothing comes to mind.

CUT TO

Footage of Sokka confidently walking into the wrong dressing room.

Three seconds later.

SOKKA: OH, LA. I'M SO SORRY.

CUT TO

Sokka tripping over a cable.

SOKKA: I'm okay!

TOPH: No one asked.

ZUKO unsuccessfully trying to open a bag of chips.

TOPH: Need help, princess?

ZUKO: No.

Bag explodes.

Silence.

TOPH: So that's a yes?

AANG feeding pigeons outside a venue.

CAMERAMAN: Aren't we supposed to leave in five minutes?

AANG: They get sad when you rush them.

INTERVIEWER: Who's the messiest?

ZUKO: Me.

INTERVIEWER: That was quick.

ZUKO: There's no point lying. I leave clothes everywhere and forget where I put things.

KATARA: He once spent forty minutes looking for his phone.

ZUKO: It was in my pocket.

TOPH: It was in your hand, dumbass.

INTERVIEWER: What's one thing people misunderstand about Toph?

SOKKA: They think she's mean.

Beat.

SOKKA: Which she is. But she's also—You know.

He shrugs.

SOKKA: Her.

INTERVIEWER: That's not an answer.

SOKKA: It is if you know her.

CUT TO

Toph trying to reach something on a high shelf. Before she can ask, Sokka hands it to her. Neither one acknowledges it.

TOPH: Thanks.

SOKKA: Yep.

INTERVIEWER: Has anything changed since finding out you were expecting?

KATARA: Aang.

AANG: Me?

KATARA: You hover.

AANG: No, I don’t!

CUT TO

Footage of KATARA reaching for a water bottle.

AANG immediately appears beside her.

AANG: Need help?

KATARA: Aang.

ZUKO kneeling on the floor trying to coax a cat out from underneath the bus.

ZUKO: Come here, buddy.

SUKI: We've been here twenty minutes.

ZUKO: He's scared.

TOPH: Gun to my head? Nah, guess they're not too bad.

INTERVIEWER: Anybody in particular?

TOPH: Twinkle Toes is all right, and Sugar Queen gives decent advice.

KATARA, off-camera.

KATARA: Can the crew clip that bit and email it to me? I need to have proof of this in case it gets edited out.

TOPH: Firepants knows I have no choice but to like him at this point in my life.

INTERVIEWER: And Sokka?

TOPH smirks.

TOPH: Biggest pain in my ass.

SOKKA in his own interview.

INTERVIEWER: And Toph? Biggest pain in your ass?

SOKKA: Oh, absolutely.

INTERVIEWER: Yet you're smiling.

SOKKA: Am I?

Unaired Footage

Camera rounds the corner and immediately freezes.

TOPH sitting on a road case with SOKKA standing between her knees, one hand tangled in his hair while the other holds onto the collar of his shirt. SOKKA's hands rest at her waist, his forehead pressed against hers for a brief moment before she pulls him back down into another kiss, smiling against his mouth.

Neither of them notices the camera.

Then SOKKA's eyes open. He spots the camera, then yelps.

SOKKA: AHH—!

SOKKA nearly launches himself backward, only to remember at the last second that TOPH is still hanging onto him.

SOKKA: Spirits above! How long have you guys been there?! That—no! This isn’t something you people just film. This is—I feel violated!

He slaps a hand over the lens.

SOKKA: NOPE. NOPE. Documentary over. Everybody out! Camera privileges revoked! That's enough behind-the-scenes. There are boundaries!

TOPH: Don’t be rude, Snoozles. Maybe one of them wanted to be our third.

SOKKA: Spirits. Toph.

TOPH: Oh, please. You love me.

SOKKA blushes.

Turns to the camera and points beyond.

SOKKA: Out.