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lnfours · 4 hours ago

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close to you | l.n

summary: chemical override, ultraviolet, you could be mine tonight ; or having a crush is mind boggling, soul crushing and confusing, but also so exciting at the same time.

warnings: inspired by close to you by gracie abrams, friends to lovers (bc it’s my brand), pining, all the feels, reader is childhood best friends with pietra, fluff, and some language here and there

jordans notes: hi everyone! long time no see (😅) i’m slowly getting back into writing, school has been kicking my ass. i don’t think this is my best work, but i really wanted to get something out for you guys since ive been gone so long! i promise there’s more to come than just this! i hope you all are well!! sending you all my love 🤍

masterlist | listen to the playlist

before you met him, you didn’t think about the color green too often. it was one of those colors you didn’t necessarily love or hate, it was just kind of… there.

to you, it was just one of those colors where shades of it were prettier than the actual color itself. or a color you only really liked during the fall. like how, typically, people only liked the color blue during the summer.

that was until you met him.

the boy with those big, beautiful, slightly blue but slightly green, water-colored eyes. now you love the color green. obsessed over it. thought about it every second of every day. it was crazy how a simple opinion could change in a matter of seconds, all because of those stupidly pretty eyes.

You lie awake on your back, staring at the ceiling. surely it wasn’t normal to obsess over someone this much, right? especially over someone you weren’t even sure would ever feel the same.

sure, you had crushes before, and had your fair share of falling quickly and all at once. it wasn’t an unusual feeling to you, no stranger to catching feelings rather quickly.

but this time around, everything was different. everything felt more intense, more mind-boggling and confusing and pulse rising. the feeling so foreign that sometimes you wish you had never met him so you wouldn’t have fallen so hard so sudden, but deep down you were so glad that you had.

it was the little things that made you wonder what it was like to be loved by him. the subtle glances in your direction, the gentle but lingering touches. you had thought you were going crazy, reading too much into things in the beginning. over-analyzing every little thing that made your body light up with excitement.

until pietra confirmed your suspicions.

“he’s totally into you,” she said, leaning closer to your ear as you watched him from across the room, his head tilted back, nose scrunched and eyes half shut as he laughed about something max had said, which was likely something stupid, “like, one hundred percent, down bad, into you.”

you tilted your head at the blonde, “you think so?”

she scoffed, “more like know so,”

“who told you?”

“no one has to tell me anything,” she said, “i can just tell.”

you rolled your eyes at her, “p, i’ve told you a million times, he’s not into me.”

but she was right. he was one hundred percent, undoubtedly, down. fucking. bad.

ever since the moment he met you at that stupid pub with max and his group of friends, all he wanted to do was get to know you. he didn’t want it to seem obvious when he asked max about you, but he knew no matter what he did it was going to seem obvious. just from the way he looked at you like you hung the stars in the night sky, he was no where near subtle.

he hated to admit it, but he had even done some lowkey instagram stalking through one of his private accounts. he had seen all the pictures of you and pietra, a life long friendship explained to him in front of his own eyes.

and every time his fingers would swipe through your account, all he could think about was how beautiful you were. how your eyes sparkled every time you smiled for the camera, how happy you looked when you genuinely laughed, and how he wished to be the reason behind the gorgeous sound forever.

he wasn’t trying to make it obvious tonight, not wanting to make it well known that he had his eyes on you for a while. but he had lost track at the amount of times you had caught him looking at you, and he swore he had even caught you looking at him first a handful of times.

so when everyone in the house decided that it was the end of the night and started filing through the door, he took it upon himself to make his way over to you. you were talking with pietra, a smile on your face as you giggled about something she had said. the brazilian woman’s eyes landed on him, to which she looked back at you and said something before you turned to look in his direction.

he smiled when your eyes met his, “hey, did you need a ride home?”

your heart threatened to leap out of your chest, “uhm, i was just gonna call an uber, you don’t have to-“

“no, no,” he said, shaking his head, “i insist, really. it’s not a big deal.”

how could you argue with him? those pretty green eyes, that smile, the face. you simply couldn’t. it was impossible. you couldn’t see the look pietra was giving you, but knowing her, you knew it was a look that said ‘go with him’.

and do you did, the cool, crisp autumn air in london suddenly making you wish you had brought a jacket. you had wished you planned for the nightly breeze, wishing you had opted for a long-sleeved shirt for the night instead of the spaghetti strap tank top you had chosen.

as you walked to the car that was parked down the street, he noticed you shivering. he saw the way you hugged yourself, your hair moving with the breeze. his curls danced in the wind and he knew if he was slightly cold, you were definitely freezing.

he tugged off the hoodie before passing it to you, the sound of the doors to the mclaren echoing before he turned to you.

“here,” he said, “it’s a little windy out, i know you’re probably freezing.”

your stomach did backflips as you took the soft black material from his hands, “oh, are you sure? aren’t you cold?”

he sent you a shrug, “i’ll live,”

there was no use arguing with him, so instead you sent him another smile in appreciation before tugging the sweatshirt over your head. it was already warm from hugging his body, and you couldn't help the way the smell of his cologne lingered in the soft material. you had to keep yourself from burying yourself in it, the feeling of being close to him without actually being close to him sending butterflies to your stomach.

the car ride was filled with comfortable silence, music softly playing in the background. he stole occasional looks over at your figure as you looked out the window, the neck of his hoodie pulled up to your face as you watched the street lights pass by. you looked beautiful in the dim light, he couldn’t help himself.

he thought about taking the long way to your house. a simple but effective way to be able to spend more time with you. however, the thought of you being confused and questioning his actions was enough for him to stay straight at the stop light instead of taking a right for the longer way.

he tried not to look disappointed when he reached your house, parking in front of it. he wondered if your roommates were home, if you’d tell them about the fact that he drove you home.

he turned the engine off, unclicking his seatbelt, “i’ll walk you up.”

you nodded, the both of you getting out of the car and walking through the dewy grass up to the wooden door. you fished for your keys in your purse, putting them into the lock before turning to look at him, “thanks for the ride,”

“anytime,” he smiled. he meant it. and you knew he meant it. he’d come get you at anytime of the day, wether it was early in the morning or late at night, he was always going to show up.

you stood there, eyes searching his face. he was so pretty to you, the brown curls that were slowly growing into a mullet to the sparkling eyes that you loved so much. the dimples in his cheeks that appeared whenever he smiled, the slight facial hair he had managed to grow, but your favorite part was the moles and freckles that covered his skin. the ones he had once complained about, but you loved the way they scattered his skin.

you dreamt of kissing each and every single one of them.

“hey, lando! long time no see!”

you both averted your attention, neither of you hearing the door open behind you. in the doorway stood your dark haired roommate, faith.

“hey,” he smiled softly, trying once again to not look disappointed from the way your moment was interrupted.

“we’re having drinks and watching movies if you wanted to join,” she smiled, ignoring the look you were sending her way.

“oh, uhm,” he started, not sure how to answer, “it’s getting kinda late, i dunno-“

“you can crash in y/n’s room, im sure she wouldn’t mind.”

what was that supposed to mean?

you looked over at him, “you don’t have to stay-“

“he’s been gone for weeks, he’s legally obligated,” she said, reaching from the doorway and grabbing both of your arms, “c’mon, liv is making martinis.”

you sighed heavily and he laughed softly at your protest that went unnoticed by her. your other roommate, olivia, stood in the kitchen.

“look who i found!” faith exclaimed excitedly.

“oh, hey guys! just in time,” she smiled, “it’s martini and movie friday!”

lando leaned over to you as the other two talked, “they do this every friday?”

you sighed again, nodding, “unfortunately,” you turned to your roommates, “we’re gonna head up to my room, actually,”

you led lando to the stairs, ignoring the playful teasing from the girls in the kitchen, “oooh!!”

“up to your room, huh?”

you shook your head, opening your bedroom door and letting him in before closing it, “‘m sorry for them, they’re… how do i put this?”

“a lot?” he asked, a smile playing at his lips.

“yeah, we can put it that way.”

he chuckled, sitting down on the bed as you put your things down. he looked around your bedroom, not much had changed since the last time he had been in it. the fairy lights dimly lit up the room, photos littered the walls. the desk that sat in the corner of the room kept your makeup bag and brushes, a mirror sitting in the middle.

he looked at your nightstand, a picture of you, him, max and pietra sitting on the wooden surface. it was a picture from miami, smiles on all of your faces. you stood in the middle, arm wrapped around his middle as you smiled for the camera, his trophy in the hand that wasn’t wrapped around your middle.

“i’m gonna change,” you said, “i might have a pair of your sweatpants somewhere if you wanted to change.”

he nodded, “yeah, that’d be great.”

you turned back to the dresser, opening drawers in search for the pair of sweatpants he leant you one day. the same day he picked you up from the failed date. the one that left you crying outside, swearing up and down that you’d never find love. despite it being in front of you this entire time.

finally finding the black material, you handed them to him, “i meant to give them back, but i just haven’t seen you,”

he shook his head. you could’ve kept them forever and he wouldn’t have minded one bit, “it’s alright,”

you grabbed your pajama bottoms from the foot of the bed, “be right back.”

he changed into the sweatpants while you were gone, still looking around your room. he smiled at the picture of you and your roommates, clearly taken at a party. you wore the prettiest smile he had ever seen, dressed in a black off the shoulder top. it was from the same night he realized he liked you in more than just a friendly way.

the door opening brought him back to reality, his eyes landing on your figure and how you were still wearing the black hoodie he had given you earlier. it brought a small smile to his face.

you noticed his eyes on you, looking down at the black hoodie, “i swear i’ll give it back once i wash it.”

he laughed softly, shaking his head, “it’s okay. it looks better on you anyways.”

you smiled, fighting the heat that was rising your cheeks but it was no use. he joined you on the bed, watching as you flipped through different things on netflix.

“you don’t have to stay, y’know,” you said, looking over at him, “if you have better things to do..”

“i don’t,” he said, turning his head to look your way, “in all honesty, there’s no where else i’d rather be.”

you sucked in a breath, your eyes dancing across his face once again. it was hard for you not to stare, not when he looked so pretty like this. back pressed against your headboard, hair slightly messy, and he looked so cozy. it made you want to wrap yourself around him, lay your head on his chest.

he did the same, his eyes scanning your face like he was trying to memorize every single feature, every single imperfection that he thought was still perfect. the same ones you’d argue about, but he still always found adorable.

his voice broke the comfortable silence that had fallen between the two of you, “do you ever have something to say but can’t find the words to say it?”

your furrowed your eyebrows, “like?”

he licked his lips, his attention now fixed on his hands as he fiddled with the ring on his middle finger. you never thought he’d be the type to get shy, almost embarrassed as his cheeks turned a light shade of pink.

“like, i dunno,” he mumbled, “i just.. i don’t know how to put it, but ever since the moment we met, i’ve found myself just.. thinking about you. thinking about what it’d be like to cross this weird, thin, little line we’ve drawn. if we both just said ‘fuck it’ and dove head first into whatever uncharted territory we’re tiptoeing around.”

his eyes met yours again as he let out a nervous breath. you hadn’t realized you had been holding yours, shock clearly written on your face which made him shake his head.

“never mind, it’s dumb-“

“lando,”

“- i knew i shouldn’t have listened to what max was going on about-“

you rolled your eyes as he kept blabbering away, talking nonsense. your body moving before your brain could comprehend what you were about to do, only catching up when your hands met his jaw and you were suddenly catching yourself a mere few inches from his face.

it was too late now, no going back.

you pulled his face closer to yours, his blabbering coming to a halt when you pressed your lips to his. his brain short circuited, you pulling away before he had the chance to kiss you back.

“‘m sorry,” you immediately apologized, “i don’t know why i did-“

it was his turn to cut you off now, grabbing your chin and pulling you back to his lips. his thumb traced along your jaw, his pointer finger sitting underneath your chin.

you kissed him back after a second of surprise, letting his free hand reach down to grab your hip, pulling you on top of his lap. your hands threaded through his curls, nails scratching his scalp.

when you both finally pulled away, all you could do was smile. giggles and chuckles echoing through the room as you both sat breathless, his nose bumping yours as he tucked a piece of stray hair away from your face.

“so we’re in agreement then, huh?” he asked.

“isn’t that obvious?” you smiled and he shook his head, letting out another boyish laugh.

“how long have you.. y’know, had feelings for me, i guess?”

“since the minute i saw you,” he confessed, “you were the most beautiful girl in the room, a smile that would make everyone stop and stare. it’s always been you, i’ve just been too scared to tell you.”

you smiled again, heart fluttering in your chest. all the dreams and wishes you spent with him on your mind, it was all finally paying off, “it’s always been you for me, too. i thought i had been way too obvious, but clearly i wasn’t obvious enough.”

“we were both too oblivious,” he said, moving more hair from your face, “but it’s okay, we’re here now.”

you were convinced your smile was never going to be wiped off your face, “kiss me again,”

“with pleasure,” he mumbled, lips finding yours once more as you melted into him.

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loganhowlettshousewife · 2 days ago

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animal

chapter 4

friendly reminder that i am not a writer, i'm just a girl who loves logan howlett and wanted to write something exploring his animalistic side since i so rarely see it done. my first language is also not english, so please do not be rude when giving me any feedback.

warnings: swearing, drinking/alcohol, mentions of sex, mentions of blood, violence, killing, angst, i hate the pacing of this but i rewrote it like three times and then gave up

series masterlist │my masterlist

after sharing your first kiss, logan becomes much more clingy. he’s attached to you at nearly all times. if you’d thought he was affectionate before, you had no idea what you were getting into. his favourite thing is to press his face into your neck, licking and biting the skin there, but it’s not just your neck. you’ve become a chew toy for a 400 pound man.

he’s never too harsh with it, always gentle with you. he knows you’re not as strong as him. it’s affectionate nibbling, like dogs biting their owners, and you love it because it’s such a clear sign of logan’s happiness.

it reminds you of the early days with logan, where he couldn’t stand to be in a different room as you, though now it’s no longer out of fear but out of a deep desire for closeness and companionship.

and things are good for a while, like that. you enjoy the ease of your unlabeled relationship. he’s yours and you’re his, in every capacity. there’s no need to put an arbitrary, man-made label on your relationship when most of it is quiet, unspoken. you’ve never really had a conversation about what you are, but it’s obvious.

you had thought yourself happy before meeting logan, at peace with the life you’d made for yourself, self-sufficient and doing all the things you loved. you weren’t slaving away at a corporate job, making hardly enough money to support your hobbies, leaving you with hardly any time to enjoy them anyway. it was good.

this is a different kind of happiness, one you’d thought was only real in fairytales. you feel as though he has some sort of six-sense telling him how you’re feeling, when you’re tense or unhappy. he makes you feel like a princess.

but all good things must come to an end.

he starts to have more nightmares, takes to sleeping in the guest room because he doesn’t want to keep you awake all night with him. more often than not you’ll hear him shouting in his sleep, deep grunts of pain that have you rising from your bed and joining him, hoping your presence will soothe him.

and you like to think that it does. you never get too close to him when he’s tossing and turning restlessly, claws out, metal gleaming in the low moonlight streaming from the gap in the curtains, but you know that logan’s senses are enhanced, heightened, and so you hope that he can feel your presence even while stuck in a nightmare, that you can drag him out of it. eventually he always either settles or wakes up, though both are better alternatives than watching him struggle against an invisible enemy.

you’ve had a few more close calls, where his claws get a little too close, where you let your guard down and lean closer towards him even though you know better, because your heart aches for him.

he becomes more human by the day. he doesn’t tell you when his memories start to come back to him, but you can tell.

you can tell when you get home to find him on the couch with a bottle of whiskey that he must have gotten from the cellar, the one you’d never shown him how to find. it belonged to your grandfather, so you’d gotten it along with the house, but you don’t drink very often and so you haven’t made much use of it.

he takes large swigs of the half-empty bottle, the smell of whiskey on his breath and the taste of booze on his tongue when you go to kiss him.

you can tell when he becomes less expressive with you, no longer sharing his emotions on his face or with his behaviour as easily as before. he doesn’t bound up to you and sniff you to check where you’ve been, to check if anyone’s gotten too close, their scent clinging onto your clothes. he doesn’t growl when he’s upset or annoyed, just grits his teeth and clenches his jaw tight.

you can tell by the way he holds back his little noises when you pull his head into your lap, scratching at his scalp and tugging on the longer tufts of his hair that you’d jokingly started to refer to as kitty ears. you miss the soft purring, the knowledge that logan was happy and comfortable with you.

sometimes you’ll plan out conversations in your head, acting out how you’ll talk to him and the words you’ll use and how he might reply. but when you try to ask him if he’s alright, placing a hand on his trembling one, sitting down in his lap so he can’t escape, he always shrugs it off. he tells you you’re sweet for worrying about him and kisses you until you no longer remember what you wanted to say.

there’s something happening in his mind that he’s not telling you about, but you chalk up all his odd behaviours to him needing time to deal with remembering his old life.

if his constant nightmares tell you anything, it’s that the memories returning to him aren’t positive ones. there’s a pain in him that wasn’t there before, a darkness that lingers behind his eyes, haunted by things he’s seen. you can’t imagine anyone would deal very well with the onslaught of traumas returning with a vengeance.

he doesn’t stop kissing you, doesn’t stop hugging you from behind, doesn’t stop surprising you by sneaking up behind you and picking you up out of nowhere, making you shriek and giggle. so you tell yourself you’re being dramatic, it’ll resolve itself in time.

it doesn’t.

he goes out to run through the forest, to hunt as the natural predator he was always meant to be, but when he comes back he won’t speak to you. he shrugs you off, locking the door to the bathroom so you can’t meet him in there.

it’s a small thing, but it’s a crack in the routines you and logan have been building together, the wordless nature of your relationship crumbling around you because all of a sudden it no longer feels like the two of you are on the same wavelength.

you cry silently on the couch, head in your hands, feeling like your world is collapsing. the perfect bubble that had settled around you and logan had popped, and now reality was coming in to destroy the fantasy you’d grown accustomed to. you should have seen it coming - in fact, you had, with every night he spent in a bottle instead of on your lips, but you’d chosen to ignore it.

he doesn’t seem to be as in-tune with your emotions anymore, and you wonder if it’s because he simply doesn’t care enough to try.

the through wrenches you in two.

you had given logan your heart, placed it in his rough, calloused hands and asked him to hold it for you. and now you could feel that very same hand, once so gentle and careful, squeezing tighter and tighter, a physical ache.

you need time away from him, away from the house where every corner has memories attached. so you journey into town.

you’re out for a while, walking aimlessly. the streets grow dark, the sun setting in hues of orange and pink behind the horizon, streetlamps turning on to replace the sunlight, though their dim glow is hardly an effective replacement. and still, you don’t return home, not quite ready to face logan.

it’s as you’re preparing to head back, muttering reassuring words to yourself under your breath, that someone grabs you from behind, a hand against your mouth so you can’t scream. you’re shoved into an alley, thin and dingy between two shops that have already closed for the night, their employees gone home to rest, no one around to hear your struggles.

you scream, though the sound is muffled, and cry and kick at your assailant, but he won’t let go. he’s stronger than you.

you think about logan, who doesn’t know where you are, who probably walked out of the bathroom with only a towel around his waist, stray droplets of water tracing down the grooves of his abs. you think about how on any other day you would have kissed down his chest to catch the water on your lips, not yet venturing below his waist, though you’ve done other things.

you hope you don’t die tonight. there’s still so much you haven’t done, so much you haven’t said.

and then the body holding yours is gone and you fall to the ground, knees scraping the pavement on your way down. you cry and cry, fear and anger and relief all washing together into a mess you can’t name. you barely notice the sounds of your assailant begging for mercy, or the low growl from your saviour. but you can smell the blood in the air, the tang of iron.

“what the fuck were you thinking?” strong arms lift you up and instinctively you squirm to try to get away, until a hand grabs your chin and forces your gaze upwards. logan’s furious glare stares back at you, his eyes narrowed and jaw tense.

“i- i’m sorry,” you whisper, barely able to get the words out, and you collapse against him. because even if he’s covered in blood and his claws are still out and he’s just murdered a man, even if he’s clearly angry and dangerous, you’ve never felt safer.

he’s quiet the whole way home. he doesn’t speak to you as he carries you inside the house, refusing to let you walk on your own, doesn’t speak to you as he cleans the cuts on your knees, doesn’t speak to you as he settles you down on the couch with a soft blanket fresh out of the dryer, doesn’t speak to you as he makes your tea the exact way you like it.

and then, “wanna tell me what you were doing out there? you know it’s unsafe for a pretty girl like you after dark, you don’t need me telling you that.”

“i just needed some air,” you argue, though there’s not much heat behind the words, staring down at your steaming mug of tea, watching the unmoving liquid as if it’s the most interesting thing you’ve ever seen. logan scoffs, and you can see him in your peripheral vision, looking so unlike the man you thought you knew.

“there’s plenty of air here, we’re in the middle of fucking nowhere.”

“you know what i mean,” you sigh, and he stares at you with his hands on his hips until you roll your eyes and continue, “i needed to be away from you! is that what you want to hear? you’re different lately and it scares me because everything was so great for some time and now you’re…”

“different?” he laughs sharply, “yeah, i’ve got my memories back. i remember every awful fucking thing that’s ever happened to me, every time i’ve been tortured. you know how many times i’ve been tortured? you think i’d act the same after that?”

“it’s not that,” you argue, placing your mug down on the coffee table, “we don’t sleep in the same bed anymore! you refuse to let me see you when you come home after hunting! you don’t cuddle up to me like you did before! you used to kiss my neck all the time and now you don’t! you’re just… pulling away. and i know i’m being selfish, fuck do i know it. but every time i’ve tried to have a conversation with you about this you shut it down so what was i supposed to do, logan?”

“you wanna have a conversation?” he shouts, “fine, talk.”

your breath is coming out in ragged pants. there’s a fire in your veins, a fury you haven’t felt in a very long time, it’s intensity paralysing you. you watch logan’s face, the way he stands before you, his imposing figure stretched above yours.

and there’s nothing you can say. the words you’ve been preparing every night before bed for days and days flutter away in a breeze. all you can do is watch his chest rising and falling.

“i wish you would talk to me,” is the only thing you manage to choke out.

“you’re not getting that version of me back,” he says, voice finally softening into something resembling his usual gruff but not unkind tone, “i remember who i am now. so you gotta let go of this shit, or you gotta let go of me.”

taglist: @mystiquesvendetta @raeinyourdreams @babey-fruit-bat @meetmypointlessaddiction @kneelforloki @deaky-with-a-c @hypermarvellove @littlepeanut03 @the-ruler-of-death @aliengutzstuff @misscrissfemmefatale @mynamesstevenwithav @teaganthemorningstar @blackkatzz @leryg0 @fries11 @forksloree @i5uckersblog @dragovegogrimborn @quillycrow @melday0105 @just-a-little-cellist @scorpiosaintt @akasha157-blog

if your name is in white it means i couldn’t tag you for some reason. i’m very sorry :(

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ceaselesswatchersspecialboy · 2 days ago

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enamored with the bill possessing Ford's body au. If you would feel up to it, do you have more tidbits? :3

I’m happy to see so many people enjoying it!! I have a lot of additional tidbits so I’ll just stick to giving a few for now:

— Dipper finds out Ford is the author a lot earlier, for the obvious reasons of Bill being present in Ford’s body. He doesn’t put the pieces together right away, only because initially, he hates Bill, disappointed that the ‘scientist’ his parents spoke about that he wanted to impress turned out to be nothing like what he had hoped, ignoring and dismissing him instead, even taking a liking to Mabel before him! He has this idealised version of the author in his head, someone who he relates to and finds comfort in, and he doesn’t want to taint that vision by suspecting it may be someone who he hates. He may be a mystery lover but he is still a twelve year old with a grudge.

It’s only after he and Bill start getting along that he brings it up, and Bill doesn’t think to lie. He’s just that surprised Dipper found it. He does lie about not remembering things though to avoid Dipper’s questions about the paranoia and why he hid it — as on the spot kind of thing, and that becomes Dipper’s mystery fixation of the summer.

— Stan and Bill have various nicknames for each other, with Bill’s main one for Stan being ‘Fez’, and Stan’s main one for Bill being ‘Goldie’.

— Speaking of them, when it comes to their relationship, they are genuinely friends after thirty years of living together, but what that friendship entails is where it gets complicated and I don’t think I can summarise here. I’d say it can best be described as two people who have come to understand each other very deeply, and are similar in a thousand ways, but they would rather throw themselves off a cliff than acknowledge or talk about that. There’s also the lingering anger and resentment on Stan’s end, not for taking Ford’s body, he knows Bill doesn’t want to be stuck here either, but for what he did to Ford before that, how he hurt him. He, much to his confusion, does care about Bill, and Bill, much to his own confusion as well, does care about Stan back, but their friendship is built on something awful, and that doesn’t just go away.

— On a sillier note, it was in 1990 that Stan realised Bill was his only friend and that he sort of enjoyed his company, and that truly was a horrifying moment. On the other end Bill finally admits to some degree he might care for Stan in 1994, which happens while both of them are drunk, and Bill likes to claim it didn’t happen. The image below also probably summarises the lighter aspect of their dynamic better than I could word it here:

— Bill has taxidermy as a hobby and actually gives Dipper and Mabel a few lessons in it, creating some displays for the shack. Weirdly good bonding activity.

— Very specific ‘episode’ idea in my mind where Stan and Bill get framed by Faires that Bill angered a thousand years ago for a crime they didn’t commit, and Dipper and Mabel have to figure out how to prove their innocence, finding more about their Grunkles along the way, and also having to beat a fairy in a game of poker.

— Mabel at some point comes to the conclusion her “Grunkle Ford” had a bad breakup that he still hasn’t gotten over and makes it her goal to help him through it. This is part of her summer mission. It comes up frequently. It’s ridiculous I know but what is Gravity Falls without a generous amount of both angst and utter silliness.

I’ll probably leave it at that for now! But if you’d want more or have any specific questions, I shall do my best. I’m still figuring out some stuff too so input will be helpful.

#asks #gravity falls #gravity falls au #not who he seems au #bill cipher #stan pines #stanley pines #mabel pines #dipper pines

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chelledoggo · 3 days ago

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given the state of... things... i wanna really dissect the ending of episode 2 of TADC.

old news, yeah. but... i think the message of this scene hits harder in this time.

obvious spoiler warning below the cut!!! (also religion CW since i share a Bible verse at the end.)

so by now you probably know the ending all too well.

Pomni made a new friend in Gummigoo, hoping to help him find a better life in the circus... only to watch him be unceremoniously blasted into confetti by the well-meaning but completely tactless Caine.

and of course Pomni is understandably traumatized, going into absolute hysterics.

Caine, the oblivious godlike AI in charge of the show, believes he was just keeping things safe and in order, and shows no real empathy as he teleports himself out of the situation.

Pomni just stands there. dissociating. confused. God only knows what thoughts are going through her mind right now.

the ever-nurturing Ragatha, who's made it her mission to make sure everyone else is as happy as possible, tries to step in and raise Pomni's spirits.

of course, none of this is of any consolation to Pomni. like... how could it be? she watched her friend (presumably) die.

it's like those who believe in an afterlife watching someone die in front of them. even with that little bit of hope and comfort that you may one day see them again, that can't erase the horror you bore witness to.

Pomni stands there unresponsive. Ragatha feels helpless to comfort her.

Zooble approaches, letting Ragatha know that they've finished preparations for Kaufmo's funeral...

Ragatha turns to Pomni and extends an invitation.

this is enough to bring Pomni out of her traumatized stupor.

Ragatha explains the custom that the circus crew developed themselves. whenever a friend abstracts, they hold a "funeral" service to honor them.

now Pomni never knew Kaufmo. he abstracted just before Pomni entered the circus. they never had a chance to meet.

and yet Ragatha still invites Pomni to mourn him along with the rest of the humans.

Ragatha realizes that hopeful platitudes won't really do anything at this time. so instead she opens to her new friend a safe space to grieve.

Pomni accepts the invitation. she stands before the "casket" of a perfect stranger, unsure of what to think.

Ragatha takes her place next to the casket, allowing herself the rare opportunity to express vulnerability around the people she usually puts on a brave face for.

Pomni watches and listens as each of these people she'd only met yesterday share their eulogies for Kaufmo.

they share their experiences. their happy moments with their abstracted friend. and, most importantly, they share their grief and anguish.

Pomni obviously can't relate to any of these stories of Kaufmo. she never knew him.

but that's not the point.

the point is that she's witnessing the camaraderie of the humans in a way she never could before.

she's witnessing them in a vulnerable moment where they can break their goofy facades. and, more importantly, she's witnessing just how deeply these people love and care for each other.

brotherhood doesn't always take the form of trying to fix everyone's pain and cheer each other up. sometimes brotherhood is simply allowing those you care for to feel their feelings without judgement, and to hurt along with them.

and that's when it hits Pomni for the first time.

she's Not Alone

i think this scene hits harder after... recent events.

it's okay to feel the way you feel right now. it's okay to be anxious, scared, angry. it's okay, for right now, to feel... hopeless.

hope will come eventually. but oftentimes grief has to come first.

and that's okay. it's in the moments of communal despair that the seeds of hope are planted.

times of fear and suffering are inevitable. a perfectly happy outcome can't always be guaranteed. but comfort exists even in grief.

so take your time.

hope has no deadline. rest assured that it WILL come eventually, but don't rush or force it.

rest.

feel your feelings.

find those who can lament with you.

find those who need you to lament with them.

we should let ourselves hurt together today. and then we can hope together tomorrow.

"Rejoice with those who rejoice; weep with those who weep." - Romans 12:15 (NRSVUE)

#religion cw #the amazing digital circus #tadc #mental health #hope #grief #anxiety #depression #progressive christianity #lgbtq christian #queer christian

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orangepanic · 2 days ago

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Why do you think that Asami has no friends at the beginning? With Korra it’s because she grew up in isolation and with Mako and Bolin it’s because they were homeless- but why doesn’t Asami have any friends? A girl like her should’ve had a million friends

First of all, bless you, anon. I'd literally opened up a window to talk to some friends about how alone in fandom I feel these days because so many people have moved on or stopped creating and interacting. Then I saw this message! Don't underestimate how motivating it is to get asks about characters and headcanons, or even just to know someone else is interested in your thoughts and wants to talk about mutual interests. You really brightened my day. I hope I can do the same.

As for Asami, I have three theories. The most likely and most boring of these is that it's simply convenience on the part of the writers. In book 1 we didn't see much of her personal life outside of interacting with the Krew so there was no need to waste precious screen time on Asami's other friends. After the show got renewed the writers had to scramble for reasons Asami would still be around - because let's face it, who winds up hanging out with your ex and the girl he left you for as your main friend group? IMO there's zero reason for Asami to be in the show after the first season if she has other friends and sources of support.

A more interesting proposition and the one I mostly go with in my own fics is that Asami did have other friends initially, but that they all abandoned her after her father's arrest. She'd have gone to a fancy private school full of other rich kids with other rich and important parents who'd know that a connection to the daughter of a convicted felon was now social suicide. Suddenly nobody returns her calls, everyone is busy, that invite to Su Li Lim's party happens to go astray, etc. With so many social doors now shut to her, hanging out with the former Fire Ferrets makes more sense. She might even do it initially out of spite in a "well FINE, I'm gonna go be important to the Avatar and go fight crime and be awesome" kind of way.

My last theory is that Hiroshi Sato didn't really let Asami have friends. Acquaintances, sure, but he wouldn't want her growing too close to any dangerous benders and there wasn't an easy way to do this without it being obvious that's what he's doing so he didn't let her grow close to anyone. I think of this as the Victorian novel scenario where Asami is disincentivized from doing kid stuff to "take care of father" and from an early age assumes some of the duties her mom had taken on in terms of household management. She's somehow always too busy for friends. When the class field trip comes around her dad needs her for something important. This might also explain how an 18-year-old thought they were qualified to be CEO of a huge company. She's already managing half the staff at the estate as well as the vendor contracts. How hard could it be?

But what do you think?

#asami sato #headcanons #ask

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pepperonijem · 7 hours ago

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iii. tell me your favorite love song || to.you

"i wanna sing it with you."

summary: Council meeting! It's time for you to reminisce on failed dates and first confessions with Eren, Mikasa, Armin, and Jean! pairing: Levi Ackerman x gn!reader content: cursing, floch slander lol songs mentioned: completely - jaehyun

A/N: this chapter is definitely more filler, but I had to split it up because it was hitting well over 10k words for one chapter lol.

let me know if you'd like to be tagged! comments and rb's are appreciated :)

previous chapter || masterlist || next chapter

“Did you… Did you write that yourself?”

The last note from the piano seemed to echo through the room for a while before Levi finally turned to look at you.

“Yeah,” he answered quietly. “Just finished it last night actually.” Levi looked down at the piano keys as his fingers ghosted over them, touching them with enough pressure to push down but not make a sound. “What did you think of it?” he asked. He seemed more vulnerable than you had seen him before, like you were seeing him in a way he wasn’t even used to seeing himself.

“It’s really good,” you answered. You weren’t really sure what else to say. It was good, it felt personal, like something more than just a catchy song. He had used your words, that had to mean something, but you weren’t sure what. “Was that part about the coffee–”

“From you?” Levi interrupted. Although he was looking away from you, you could see his ears turn pink. “Yeah, it was. I’m glad you noticed.”

You felt something flutter away at your chest. “I’m glad I could help you out,” you replied. If he wasn’t going to say anything more than that, then you would just take it for what it was. Levi nodded but didn’t reply. “I’m really flattered that I got to hear it first.”

Levi finally looked up at you. “Of course,” his head tilted. “Who else would I play it for?” As if it was the most obvious thing.

You’re sure your eyes widened in surprise and your cheeks definitely went pink, because almost immediately, Levi coughed and added, “You helped me write it so obviously you’d hear it first.” Right. That’s all. He was just offering something in return.

“Oh,” you began. Not sure if the sigh that escaped your lips was relief or disappointment. “Well if you ever need to write another song, you know where to find me. Though maybe I should start charging.” You hoped your tone was as light and playful as you intended it to be.

Levi let out a soft chuckle as he shook his head. Good. “Name your price.”

Before you could add on, his phone buzzed against the wood of the piano before he reached out to check it.

“It’s Hange,” he explained. “Apparently we have band practice in 20.” He pocketed his phone before turning back to you with an apologetic smile. “I’ll see you around?”

His eyes seemed to twinkle under the fluorescents of the practice room and you felt your heart thud against your chest. He smiled. “See you around.”

Levi left right after that, and you found yourself stuck in the room thinking about his song. Your fingers pressed against some of the keys that you remember him playing, as if looking for a code to see what he was thinking. It felt… electric, to have something, not quite a secret, between the two of you. You couldn’t help but imagine him singing it on stage, no one else knowing that a little bit of you existed in the lyrics of his song.

You found yourself wishing that you could hear him sing your song — the song about yo– the song he wrote that just so happened to include your words and seemed to describe exactly how you were feeling about him – again. Maybe he’d say it was for you.

Maybe he’d say it was how he felt about you too.

Later that night, you found yourself at Eren and Mikasa’s place, laying on their sofa with your head in Mikasa’s lap. You had sent out a text to your group chat, in desperate need of more minds on the case. A knock sounded on the door and Eren stood up to answer the door. You heard him groan immediately as it swung open.

“Why the hell are you here?” Eren spoke. It was immediately obvious from his lack of enthusiasm that he was not speaking to Armin.

You heard Armin’s voice reply. “I heard this was a council meeting,” he explained nonchalantly as he walked in with two boxes of pizza and a smug looking Jean behind him. “I saw Jean on my way here and figured he could be helpful.” The two of them smiled and waved as they walked into the living room and set the pizzas down on the coffee table.

“I don’t let strays into my place, Armin,” Eren huffed as he shut the door behind him, letting Jean into his place anyway.

Mikasa rolled her eyes and you chuckled as she chastised Eren. “Whatever, babe,” you felt her chuckle. “Just last week you pulled over in the parking garage and caused a 15 minute traffic jam because you stopped to pick up a lost cat.”

Eren’s cheeks reddened as he relented. Pouty as he was, he could never say no to Mikasa. Walking over, he lifted your legs as he sat down next to her before letting you rest them in his lap. “You didn’t need to announce it,” he whined as Mikasa leaned over to kiss his cheek.

“Anyway,” Armin chuckled, moving to sit beside Jean against the coffee table and facing the three of you. “We haven’t called a council meeting like this since Eren went through his emo phase.” Armin looked over at Jean as he explained.

“You would have an emo phase,” Jean sneered at Eren.

“You probably had one too, dickhead.” Eren countered.

“Yeah, if you count Justin Bieber as emo,” Jean rolled his eyes.

“Jean…” Armin began softly. “That’s… that’s not any better.” Armin patted his back as Jean looked away in embarrassment. Everyone laughed lightheartedly at that, even Jean… eventually.

“Okay,” you began, drawing out the last syllable. “Now that we’ve determined that Eren and Jean are both dorks, we can get to the problem at hand.”

“Hey!” Eren and Jean both shouted in offense.

You sat up and reached for a slice of pizza before you continued. You weren’t particularly sure of how to approach the subject, but you also knew that after five seconds of silence, Eren would begin prodding at you. Maybe it was like ripping off a bandaid?

“I think Levi likes me.”

The silence was deafening. You weren’t really sure what to expect, but silence from everyone, especially Eren, was not it. Mikasa, definitely. Armin, maybe, he liked to think before he responded. Jean, from what you’d come to know, tended to hold off on offering advice until he heard others’ perspectives. Eren, however, was always one to speak whatever was in his mind, to refine his thoughts aloud.

“Did you all hear me? I said–”

“No, we heard you the first time,” Eren said, still staring at you with wide eyes. “Levi? Like 5’3” lead singer of No Name that looks like he wants to beat my ass every 10 minutes, Levi?”

You nodded back. Looking around the room, everyone seemed to be in a similar state of shock. Mikasa was resting her chin on a closed fist and her eyes were full of intrigue. Armin had a brow raised quizzingly, and Jean’s mouth was wide open until something settled in his brain and his lips pressed together in a smirk.

“I totally called it,” Jean beamed. “Didn’t I tell you he was singing right at you that one night?”

You recalled Jean’s words from the first Halloween party you saw Levi at and you nodded. Levi did seem to have his eye on you that time.

“Nope, no, no,” Eren stood up. There was the Eren you knew. You sat up as well.“Levi doesn’t sing to people, he just sings and then glares from the stage. He glares at everyone.”

Eren also had a point. You’d known Levi to be exceptionally grouchy, and to make no exceptions for who he glares at. Maybe he was glaring at you for dancing with Jean, who he didn’t seem too fond of.

“What makes you think he likes you?” Armin asked curiously.

“I… He wrote a song about me?” you offered sheepishly as Eren’s eyes somehow got wider.

“He what?” Everyone asked in unison.

“I–” you stammered. “Well he never said it was about me, but he did use my line.”

Eren was pacing around the room now. “What was the line he used?”

“Something about the first coffee shop run in autumn.”

Recognition lit up in his eyes as you mentioned the lyric and he paused his movements. “He also used a line from Erwin in that song,” Eren thought aloud. “And I think he had a line about the drums that Hange had said about Miche.”

Oh, you thought to yourself. You couldn’t help but feel… disappointed. Eren’s words were sobering, and you felt yourself shrink. It was true, you had only met him a handful of times. Why would he write about you? Mikasa seemed to sense your deflating mood because she leaned over to wrap an arm around you. You smiled at her in return.

Upon noticing your mood, Eren let out a sigh. He sat back down beside you and when he spoke again, his voice was softer. “Look, it’s not that I don’t want him to like you,” he began. “It’s just that… well, Levi’s the most emotionally unavailable guy I know. I’ve never so much as heard him say the word ‘happy’ outside of a song. I just don’t want you to build him up in your head just to get hurt by reality.” He looked at you knowingly.

Armin nodded along. “Eren’s right,” he agreed. “Being in love with the idea of someone is as good as handing your heart over to be broken. You shouldn’t have to put yourself through that again.”

Again.

You remember that night freshman year that you were supposed to go on a date with a guy named Floch.

Floch had come up to where you and Eren were sitting and having lunch out on the quad. It was a breezy spring morning and you recall the way Floch’s red hair blew across his face as he approached the two of you with an easy smile. You gave Eren a ‘do you know this guy?’ look as he shook his head no.

“Hey,” he had said to you, pointedly ignoring Eren.

“Hey…” you answered politely but cautiously as you looked over at Eren. Eren was eyeing him suspiciously.

“I just wanted to let you know how good you look in this light,” he spoke again with a charming smile and his hand extended out for a handshake. “I’m Floch.” You blushed at him and slipped your hand in his as you introduced yourself. Eren’s eyes sharpened into a dangerous glare when Floch twisted your hand in his and brushed his lips against your knuckles. He coughed and finally drew the redhead’s attention to him.

“I’m Eren,” he said and reached his hand out, knuckles up, to mock Floch.

Floch simply laughed and nodded his head. His eyes fixed into a cold stare that contrasted his smile. “Hey man.”

Floch reached over for one of the napkins that sat between you and Eren and pulled out of a pen and wrote down his number. “Text me?” And when you nodded, he walked away, back to his group of friends who jovially patted him on the back at his return.

“That guy is an absolute creep,” Eren breathed out, not bothering to wait for him to be completely out of earshot.

“Eren…” you warned. “He seemed nice, and he was kind of cute.” You pulled out your phone.

“He looks like half the guys on this campus,” Eren rolled his eyes as he looked at the number written on your napkin. “Don’t text him.”

“Too late,” you replied, as you hit send on a message.

Once Mikasa and Armin found out about it, they were on his side.

Floch had asked you out on a date immediately upon seeing your message and that Friday night, Armin and Eren had come over to the dorm room that you and Mikasa shared. You were in the middle of getting ready, still trying to settle on an outfit and the two of them were sitting on Mikasa’s twin bed watching you with interest.

Mikasa stood by you at your wardrobe, helping you pick and choose tops for your outfit while Armin deeply sighed.

“Are you sure we can’t convince you to not go?” Mikasa prodded even as she handed you another piece. You held it against your body to check it in your reflection before shaking your head and handing it to her.

“Guys,” you pleaded. “I really like him. I don’t see what the issue is.”

You watched Eren scoff and make eye contact with you in the mirror. His bright eyes watching yours carefully. “I can give you a list. Alphabetized even.”

You turned to glare at him. “Bite me, Yaeger.” Floch had joined you and Eren and Armin for lunch the next afternoon with a fully cooked meal for you and a bouquet of flowers, and since then, you and Eren had been arguing about him since then. Even Armin was skeptical of him and how he seemed to love-bomb you, as he called it, right after meeting you. “It’s nice to be with a guy that’s so direct about how he feels about me.”

“That’s the problem,” Armin spoke up. “Isn’t he a little too interested? The flowers, coming to your classes with breakfast, like that’s nice, but you’ve known him for all of two days. He hasn’t even asked about your major.”

You chewed your lip. You could argue with Eren all day long, but Armin had always been able to get you to see reason, even if you chose to ignore it. Which you did. There was only 15 minutes left before the time Floch said he’d pick you up, and you decided you were too far in to text him now.

“Armin’s right,” Mikasa said. “And he’s been a shit texter, hasn’t he?”

“Okay, but not everyone is a good texter,” you argued. You grabbed one last outfit option and walked into the bathroom to change. “Misa, you barely send five words in a single text on a good day.” You walked back out after changing and watched as Armin and Eren and Mikasa gave you a reluctant thumbs up.

You settled onto your own bed and Mikasa sat beside you and fussed with the collar of your top. “Shouldn’t that jackass be here soon?” Eren sighed.

“Yeah,” you replied. “He said 7, so five more minutes.”

At 7 p.m., Floch was nowhere to be found.

At 7:15 p.m. he hadn’t answered any of your texts.

At 7:38 p.m. you got a call from Floch. Who butt-dialed you. From the club. With his friends who congratulated him on getting a girl to fall for him in a record-breaking five days.

At 7:45 you were crying into Mikasa’s arms.

At 8 p.m. Eren said, “A guy who likes you isn’t going to see you as a challenge to be won.”

“Woah woah woah,” Jean chimed in. “How do you know that he’s emotionally unavailable?”

Jean’s voice brought you back to the situation at hand.

You’re not quite sure why you were suddenly feeling defensive. Armin and Eren had only ever looked out for your best interests, especially after that incident with Floch. But when you remember how shy Levi got after he finished playing, and how open he was with you the night before, a part of you desperately wanted them to be wrong.

“Have you met him?” Mikasa chuckled. “That man is the definition of ‘if looks could kill.’ He only looks nice when he’s on stage.”

“Well he can’t be all bad if he can write songs that are so… personal” Jean continued to ask. Armin was right to bring him. His presence was refreshing.

“You somehow manage to be passing psych when you’re an absolute dumbass,” Eren countered. Mikasa swatted at him and he immediately folded. “Sorry. Instinct. What I meant to say was that Levi holds his cards close to his chest, not necessarily that he doesn’t have feelings.”

“My question still stands,” Jean replied. “How can you write songs like that and be emotionally unavailable?”

Eren looked at him with frustration. “It’s not that hard,” he retorted.

Again, Mikasa swatted at his arm and shot him a glare.

“I mean I imagine it’s not that hard.”

Jean rolled his eyes before continuing. “No offense dude,” he began as Eren scowled at him. “But you are the biggest loverboy I’ve ever met. It’s pretty obvious which songs you had a hand in writing because they’re so very clearly about Mikasa and so very clearly written by a simp.”

“First of all, how would you know?” Eren accused. “And second of all… which songs?” he blushed as Jean smirked. He was a lot more perceptive than he let on.

Jean cleared his throat as he began to sing… croak, more like.

“Oh, show me a map of your soul Every second from now I’m gonna love you completely.”

Jean only stopped when Eren lobbed a pillow at his face, but it didn’t stop him from laughing. That was the song you’d danced with Jean to the first night.

He was right.

Eren wrote that song when the four of you were still in high school, when he and Mikasa had first started dating. It was the night of the winter formal and you, him, and Armin had spent weeks coming up with the perfect plan for him to confess to her and Eren was more nervous than you’d ever seen him.

“Are you guys sure I have to tell her?” Eren had sweat dripping down his forehead even as you stood on the balcony of the ballroom in the middle of December. He had already pulled his coat off, left only in his white button up and red tie, both of which he’d undone a bit to try to cool himself off.

“Yes!” you and Armin both cried out.

“But what if she hates me after this?”

“Do you know how stupid you sound right now?” you scoffed at him, your breath coming out in puffs in front of you.

“But–”

“No buts, Eren,” Armin chastised. “Mikasa deserves to know.”

“And you both deserve to be happy,” you added. “She’s going to love this.”

Eren, with a nod of determination, reached for his guitar case and shook his fingers out, trying to warm them up. Armin gave you a quick nod and you were thankful to be able to get out of the cold.

You walked back into the ballroom to find Mikasa already wearing a coat. The dancing was still in full swing and the band that the school had hired was playing some slow jazz standards. Under the glow of the warm lights, you could see your hands regaining color after having to hype your nervous friend up for over 20 minutes in the cold. She smiled when she saw you approach. “Headed somewhere?” you had asked her.

“Yeah,” she sighed. “I couldn’t find you guys, so I thought I’d go out to the balcony for a breather.”

Perfect. You smiled sweetly at her as she raised an eyebrow. She knew something was up, but Mikasa in all her kindness was never one to fight against one of your schemes. “Oh? I’ll walk you out.”

You slipped your arm into hers and reached for your phone with your other hand, shooting Armin a text, telling him to clear out. He found the two of you just as you reached the french doors. His cheeks were pale with a bright spot of red that stretched across his cheeks and his blonde hair was disheveled from the wind.

“Oh hey,” Armin said casually. He pulled you away from Mikasa as she looked at the two of you with confusion. “Sorry, we just have to, uh, discuss some things. But the balcony’s free.”

“Thanks…” Mikasa said skeptically. The two of you watched as she finally walked out of eyesight before Armin grabbed you by the wrist and dragged you upstairs to another balcony.

“Armin, you suck at bluffing,” you chuckled at him as he rolled his eyes.

Once you were both settled, you and Armin headed towards the railing. You could hear Eren’s voice crack as he spoke to Mikasa, “I wrote a song for you.” Armin looked at you curiously as you reached for the tie of your coat and began to wrap it around your phone.

“What the hell are you doing?” Armin whisper-shouted to you. He made no moves to stop you.

“They’ll want a video of this,” you explained matter-of-factly. “Now hand me your tie, it’s not long enough.”

With a roll of his eyes, he obeyed and you knotted the two ties together. Armin made sure the phone was secure and hit record before leaning over the balcony to dangle your phone over the edge. You and Armin both listened in awe as you listened to Eren sing.

It wasn’t the first time you’d heard him play the guitar, but it was the first time you’d heard his voice. You didn’t think he had it in him to carry a tune, honestly, but he did surprisingly well.

Jean’s voice snapped you out of your memories. “Was I right?” he questioned smugly.

Mikasa smiled as she looked over at a blushing Eren. “Yeah, you were.”

“See?” he raised an eyebrow at you as he continued. “All I’m saying is that maybe that song was about you, and maybe he only knows how to express his feelings through music. I don’t think it’s a reach.” Jean put his hands up in defense as he finished his statement.

“Well look,” Armin conceded. “Jean has a point. Some people are better at expressing themselves in other ways, like some people are acts of service people.” He pointed over at you. “Like how you make sure Eren and Jean always have class notes when they need it.”

He pointed at Mikasa. “Physical touch,” he explained. “You don’t say much, but you know when to put an arm around someone who’s sad.”

Finally at Jean. “Quality time.” Jean scoffed as he wondered how Armin read him so easily. “You don’t have to hang out with us if you don’t want to, but you’re here.”

“Whatever,” Jean mumbled, but his cheeks turned pink anyway. Jean was perceptive, but Armin could read any person and a situation upside down and backwards.

“Well how does that help me?” you asked. “We can speculate about Levi’s feelings all day long… but I’d like to have a concrete answer.”

Armin’s eyes lit up as he devised a plan.

“Eren, what did you say your psych project was again?”

“To spend time with… oh no,” Eren trailed off as he watched the all too familiar mischievous glint in Armin’s eyes. He sat up straighter. “Armin, don’t include me in your plans.” “What?” Jean asked. “What are you planning, blondie?”

“Well, if you and Levi just so happen to do things together, and Jean and Eren just so happen to be there too,” Armin explained with a smug smile. “Then you can have them keep track of whether or not there are signs that Levi’s actually into you.”

Eren groaned as Jean laughed heartily. “That sounds so fun, actually,” Jean said. Armin returned his grin.

“It really doesn’t,” Eren countered. “Why can’t you and Mikasa go?” he asked Armin.

“I’m busy working on my own projects,” Mikasa shrugged. She smiled smugly as she continued. “Armin has his capstone.” If Mikasa was on board, so was Eren, however reluctant he may be.

“So it has to be you and Jean,” Armin confirmed to Eren. “Plus you guys will keep each other balanced, since Eren is a skeptic and Jean is a believer. And you guys get a good grade on your project.”

“C’mon, jackass,” Jean rolled his eyes at Eren. “It’s only a few more weeks till the end of the semester.”

Usually, you and Armin were the schemers of the group. One of you would come up with a plan, and the other would be ready to make it happen. This time however, you had a weird feeling. Anticipation? Excitement? You didn’t have time to decide, because soon, all eyes were on you.

“What do you think?” Armin asked. You scanned their faces. Jean and Armin looked at you with excitement. Mikasa also seemed interested in this plan. Eren, though he tried to hide it, also raised an eyebrow in interest.

“Ah,” you sighed. “What the hell? Why not?”

a/n: originally, i was gonna make floch a guy who tried to date you to convince you to join a cult (bc surprisingly, when i was in university, cult recruitment was a big thing?) but decided to make him a jack-ass instead. also the idea of Eren being a "can i sing for u" type of guy is so funny to me and you can't convince me that if he had a little sibling he wouldn't be a protective overbearing little shit.

#levi ackerman #levi aot #captain levi #levi attack on titan #levi ackerman fluff #levi ackerman x reader #snk levi #levi x reader #levi x you #attack on titan #aot #aot headcanons #aot x reader #snk #shingeki no kyojin

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kazoosandfannypacks · 3 days ago

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summary: ezra bridger has been following online microcelebrity spectre_pheonix for years. although her online identity is shrouded in mystery, he may be closer to her than he realizes. word count: 7309 (7974 counting alt text) co-authorship note: the video game sequences featured in this fic were written by my co-author, shadow-ninja-13, who also helped me figure out a few plot things and what video games to include where. he's also my teenage brother, known by some on this site as skyguy, and he's the coolest kid on the planet!a/n: After so, so, so much time working on this fic and talking it up IT'S FINALLY FINISHED!!! Shoutout to my tumblr follows for helping me out with a couple ideas in this fic! Some of this fic is told in embedded images. I have added alt text, so it should be accessible via screenreader as well. I can probably make a pdf copy of a full plaintext version of the story available if anyone needs it! taglist: @laughingphoenixleader@accidental-spice@kanerallels @piraterefrigerator @jedi-nurse@dootchster @lucasbridger@redroverrider @light-umbra @commander-tech @jedimandalorian@notanodinarygirl {if you’d like to be added to or removed from my Sabezra taglist, let me know!}

also on ao3!

need a player 2?

No, that definitely sounded insincere.

Ezra backspaced the message he'd typed into the livestream chat, then typed something else.

Duh. Too obvious. Try again.

Perfect.

Ezra hit the send button and waited for a response. It was very rare that spectre_pheonix responded to any of the hundreds of thousands of comments she'd get on her streams, but that didn't stop Ezra from hoping.

Ezra watched as the player found the Warthog, and perfectly drove, splattering the Aliens that got in her way. Nearby there was a small opening, he watched the player take the truck through, by driving on the stone wall. If she flipped, it’d be all over. If not, she’d be more awesome than usual. The landing was about to happen, the anxiety was building, and then… a hand got in between him and the phone, blocking his view entirely.

"Hey," Ezra said, pulling his headphone off of one ear so he could yell at his roommate, whose hand covered his phone.

"Hey yourself," Jai said, "we gotta get going; we're gonna be late."

Ezra hadn't looked at a clock since the stream had started, which was apparently three hours ago. Somehow it was already fifteen minutes before the dining hall stopped serving dinner, and it was at least a ten minute walk down that way.

"Shoot," Ezra sprang to his feet, "I must've lost track of time again."

"Because you were watching that gamer girl?" Jai asked, leaning on the doorframe.

"Maybe," Ezra said, as he reached for the nearest matching pair of shoes he could stuff his feet into.

"What's so interesting about watching someone game, anyways?" Jai asked.

"I think it's about loyalty now more than anything," Ezra said, "I've been watching her stream since before she became popular. It just wouldn't be right if I didn't watch her gaming sessions, especially when it's a game I love. Besides, she just has this way about her. She's so cool, so collected, so…."

"....hot?" Jai attempted to finish for him with a smile.

"I wouldn't know," Ezra said, "she's very good about keeping her personal life personal. I've never seen her face. No one has."

"So she's a mystery girl."

"She's just like any other celebrity," Ezra defended.

"So you mean she'd be way out of your league even if you knew who she was?" Jai asked.

"More like I haven't even considered it," Ezra said, "I'm one of millions of fans."

"Isn't her follower count only…"

"Enough talking," Ezra said, pulling Jai out the door of their dorm room, "I heard a rumor it's pizza night in the dining hall."

And with that, both boys were off on a new quest: Obtain Pizza.

💜.🎮.🧡

"I wonder how they'd react if they knew who was in the room with them," Sabine thought, sitting alone with her sketchbook in a corner of her college's student center.

Across the room, a group of boys were having a heated discussion over their game of Smash Bros. She didn't try to eavesdrop, but she'd always been aware of the world around her, and definitely heard the words "spectre" "phoenix" and "most influential gamer of our generation."

"You must be trippin'," one of them said, "her 'let's plays' are nothing more than a halfhearted follower grab."

"Oh, like you'd know," another said, "your youtube channel has, what, seventeen followers? Oh, and you just came in last place, again."

Sabine looked back up at their game to see that the fourth-place gamer had been playing as Bowser, then watched Diddy Kong deal a crippling blow on Captain Falcon.

Then, she glanced at the players, all of them laughing and roasting each other. One wore a t-shirt that said "official spectre spectator," and another had a hat on backwards with spectre_pheonix's logo on it. Sabine would recognize that merch anywhere— after all, she was the one who designed it— as merch for her own shop, and she couldn't say she was disappointed by how much praise its wearers spoke of her with.

"If only they knew who I was," Sabine thought, but she quickly reminded herself she was glad they didn't. Though she was thankful for her followers and their merch money paying her tuition, she wasn't prepared to have toxic dudebros hounding her everywhere she went. And once word got out at college that she was spectre_pheonix, there would go any sense of normalcy she had. Besides, if word about it slipped back home to her parents, she'd be deeper trouble than she already was.

So before she could do something regrettable and talk to them, she packed up her stuff and moved to a different study spot.

💜.🎮.🧡

The Flood surrounded her. In an unexpected turn of events, the creepiest enemy in the entire Halo saga had been introduced. She fired her assault rifle at the hoards of Flood crawling on the ground. The salvo was effective, but costly. She had forty rounds plus one full clip, but that wouldn’t be enough. As she walked the character up some stairs, she found allies, and promptly borrowed their ammo. At the end of the swamp, she encountered the monitor, and watched the cutscene at the end of 343 Guilty Spark.

"Sorry guys, gotta stop the stream for the night," Sabine said, "it's well past midnight here, and I've got an eight a.m. class."

She watched the comment section flare up with responses.

💜.🎮.🧡

Ezra stumbled into class a couple minutes late, but he was sure his professor would understand. It wasn't his fault that spectre_pheonix had been streaming late last night, right? As long as he quietly slipped into the back of the classroom, no one would notice anyways.

"Mr. Bridger," Professor Syndulla called to him as he tried in vain to hide his late entry, "so glad you've decided to join us this morning."

Ezra turned around and tried to hide his guilty expression.

"Of course, ma'am," Ezra said, with a dramatic salute, "I'd never miss out on one of my favorite teacher's classes."

"Flattery gets you nowhere in my class," the professor said, "take a seat, and we'll continue."

"Yes ma'am," Ezra said. He took a seat as close to the back of the room as he could and pulled out his laptop to take notes.

Ezra tried his best to pay attention, but the lack of sleep was getting the better of him as Professor Syndulla's lesson dragged on.

"Maybe I could get dad to sit in on class and take notes for me sometime," Ezra thought, "he could listen to her talk for hours."

It was, admittedly, a little weird that his adoptive father was dating his psychology professor, but at least her letter of recommendation helped him get into this school— on the condition that he "applied himself diligently to his studies" and didn't "discredit her influence by trying to coast on it" and all that other stuff they'd told him when she'd suggested he attend Atollon Alliance University.

"But I'm definitely not 'diligently applying myself' if I fall asleep in class," Ezra thought, the notes document before him blurring before his eyes, "and I need to do something to stay awake."

So, he turned to the one thing he'd never be able to sleep through— one of the many videos in his "watch later" tab on youtube. After double checking to make sure his laptop's sound was off and muted— you could never be too careful— he clicked a video titled "spectre_pehonix's top FIFTY EPIC saves!!!" and watched along as he listened to Professor Syndulla's lesson, finding that all that boring stuff about psychology was a lot more interesting when he also had spectre_phonix’s abilities with some grenades against Wraiths, Hunters, and Banshees to focus on.

💜.🎮.🧡

Class wasn't the only time Ezra used gaming videos to focus. He'd never been one for focusing on one task at a time, and usually found that if he sat down to study, he'd end up pulling out his phone and watching videos on YouTube anyways, and that it was better in the long run to start out with some gaming recap video in the background— except on days when spectre_pheonix was streaming during his study sessions, of course, and he'd watch it live, streaming Twitch in one window on his computer and whatever essay he was nearing the deadline on in the other.

Today, for example, he had her stream of Halo in the background of a rousing essay of the themes and morals of The Octopus.

The clock was ticking. 4:23 seconds left to go. The clock only counted down. She drove the Warthog through the groups of retreating Aliens and Flood. 4:07 seconds left to go by this point. She was told to stop, but she knew that that evac point wouldn’t help her. She’d played before, and she knew that the evacuation Pelican was shot down. She kept on driving. At max speed she used an odd floor detailing as a ramp, and jumped a whole group. The stress and tension of the final level made normal players stressed, but not Sabine. 2:25 left on the clock. The point was only about one kilometer away. She kept going, and going, and going. Nothing could stop her now. 1:22 left on the clock, she was within one kilometer away. She would make it! Unless she flipped by mistake. :44 seconds and counting! She saw the Pelican, and started running. She could take the Warthog no farther. She jumped in the Pelican at the last second. Barely beating Halo: Combat Evolved.

"It's like my teacher always says," spectre_pheonix said, "when things are at their worst, I feel like I'm at my best."

Ezra had only been half focusing, but this statement warranted his full attention. It wasn't as though the statement was profound or original— in fact, he'd heard it before. Abandoning his book report for the moment, Ezra expanded the Twitch tab across his whole screen, and ran it back ten seconds, thinking maybe his brain was playing some cruel trick on him.

"When things are at their worst, I feel like I'm at my best."

"That's exactly what Professor Syndulla said in psych class today." Ezra thought, "Is spectre_pheonix in my psychology class? Does she go to Attalon Alliance University too? No, that's crazy. Isn't it?"

His thoughts soon became a cluttered and jumbled mess, so he pulled out a notebook, flipped to random blank page, and after forty-seven minutes had constructed a list that looked something like this:

His results were inconclusive, but he suddenly remembered the book report due in less than an hour, and the two-thousand seventy-three words short he was from the word count.

💜.🎮.🧡

The last decade or so had gone pretty much exactly as Hera had planned. After realizing how important it was to her to help guide young people to their place in the world, she'd set her sights on a philosophy PHD so she could teach at Attalon Alliance University. She'd graduated with honors, and soon began teaching, and it was just as fulfilling as she'd planned it would be.

But what she hadn't considered in her plans was falling in love. When she was in college, she'd been too focused on her studies, and later on her duties as an RA in her dorm, to even consider pursuing a relationship, and by then, well, she figured there weren't a lot of single men in their late twenties interested in dating philosophy professors, so she poured herself into her work instead, and building good connections with her students as much as she could.

But, apparently, she hadn't been entirely correct in her assessment of her prospects. There was, apparently, at least one single man in his late twenties interested in dating philosophy professors— a man by the name of Kanan Jarrus, one who'd figured there weren't a lot of single women in their late twenties interested in dating the kind of guy who'd adopted an eight year old at the age of twenty-one and now had a sixteen year-old son who spent most of his time either playing video games or watching other people play them.

Hera had met Kanan in a chance run-in at a Wisconsin cheese festival, and though there was no denying the spark between them, it took a couple more chance run-ins before she'd agreed to a date. Their relationship progressed slowly, with Hera's career and Kanan's delicate balance of providing for and raising his son, but they'd had more time to see each other over the past year, since his son had enrolled at Attalon Alliance University.

"Morning, Professor Syndulla," Ezra grinned, walking into class one morning.

Though all of Hera's students may as well have been her children, she had a special fondness for that one— and took extra caution to make sure she didn't give him special treatment. Though he hadn't fathered Ezra, Kanan's influence on his life was evident through his actions. Ezra shared a lot of mannerisms with his dad, including an answer or an excuse always at the ready, and a charming smile he seemed to think would absolve himself of guilt. However, there were a lot of qualities they didn't share, and one of them was Ezra's propensity to be late.

It was this propensity for lateness that made Hera do a double-take. Class wouldn't start for another five minutes, and Ezra was here, in class, early.

"Good morning, Mr. Bridger," Hera said, "is there any particular reason you've shown up on time this morning?"

"Maybe I'm finally taking this whole 'education' thing seriously?" Ezra suggested.

"Mhmm," Hera nodded, "and maybe a certain gamer wasn't streaming last night."

"Well, there's that too," Ezra rolled his eyes and headed for his usual seat, towards the back of the classroom.

She watched as the rest of the students made their way into the classroom, and another one caught her attention, and not just because of her brightly colored hair.

"Miss Wren," Hera said, "I enjoyed reading your paper last night."

"Thanks, Professor Syndulla."

That was the entirety of their interaction, but Hera could tell by the smile on her student's face that she had taken it to heart. One time during Sabine Wren's first semester, Professor Syndulla had complimented something she said in class, and from the expression on her face, Hera could tell that kind of positive affirmation was foreign to Sabine— and she made it her personal mission to make sure it wasn't foreign to her anymore. Though their conversations rarely went further than a compliment on the student's hard work and a thank you for the professor, Hera could tell that Sabine appreciated it, in her own way.

💜.🎮.🧡

Ezra had had his own reasons for coming into class on time, and not just to improve his education. He hadn't abandoned his spectre search (or "wild ghost chase," as Jai had called it when Ezra explained it to him,) and his biggest evidence pointed to this class. Maybe if he actually showed up on time, he could get to know his classmates well enough to find out if one of them was her. Instead of listening to her in his headphones as their professor taught, he listened for her in his classroom as their professor took the students' questions, which didn't increase his focus on the lesson at all, but it did give him something to do in class other than watch YouTube recaps and pretend to be taking notes, so it was a nice change of pace.

After class, he hung around a little longer than normal, standing by one of the classroom doorways to see what he could overhear.

When only a few students remained in the classroom, Professor Syndulla approached him.

"Alright, Bridger," she said, "what's your angle?"

"Angle?" Ezra asked, "why do you assume I have 'an angle?'"

"You came to class five minutes early, and instead of making a break for the door as soon as possible, you're hanging around after class is dismissed. Pardon me for being suspicious."

Ezra didn't respond.

"If there's ever anything you want to talk about, I'm here," she said.

"Look, it's nothing," Ezra said, "don't worry about it."

Ezra decided to turn heel and leave before his dad's girlfriend started psychoanalyzing him again.

What Ezra hadn't counted on was someone else walking through the doorway at the same time, and him running into her.

"Watch where you're going," she grumbled, as a textbook and a few notebooks fell out of her arms.

Ezra had seen this kind of scene in movies before, so he figured he may as well pick up the textbooks for her.

"I'm so sorry," he said, crouching down and grabbing the books off the floor, "I didn't…"

She sighed. "It's alright."

Her voice almost seemed familiar— no, it did seem familiar.

"Here you go," Ezra said, getting up and handing her the books, "I, uh…."

He stumbled over his words, because not only did he recognize her voice as one of his favorites in the world, but when he looked up at her face, he saw rich brown eyes, and hair the same color as spectre_pheonix's logo.

"You're good," she smiled as she took the books from him.

"I, uh," he scratched his neck, "I like your hair."

"Nice shirt," she said, and winked as she walked away.

He looked back at her as she left, then back down at his shirt— his favorite shirt he'd ever gotten from his favorite streamer's online shop.

💜.🎮.🧡

Even when Sabine got back to her dorm room after class, the boy who'd bumped into her after class was still on her mind. There wasn't anything exceptional about him, but there was some kind of awe that sparkled across his blue eyes that almost made her feel special.

So, as soon as she got back to her dorm room, weird as it sounded, she decided to draw him— not his whole face, just those eyes that had been fixed on her, tucked between a shaggy crop of hair, and those mysterious scars underneath. It wasn't abnormal for her to draw inspiration from people she'd seen around campus like that.

She also could tell that he must've been a longtime fan of hers. She hadn't sold the "spectre spectator" shirt on her merch site for a couple years, but he had one, and he wore it proudly. She tried to remind herself that there was no way he could've known it was her; she'd been so careful not to leave a trace of her real self online.

Still, as she saw the awe on this fanboy's face, she wondered if that's how all her followers would respond to seeing her. Her follower count was just a number, but she wondered if that number was all awestruck and loyal followers like that one.

So, once she finished the sketch, she went to her Twitch profile. Six-hundred, seven-thousand and eighty-three followers. Six-hundred, seven-thousand and eighty-three people, people just like the one she met today, who appreciated her with an awestruck wonder.

She scrolled through the list of names, and noticed one near the top of the list— spectre_6, whose username she'd seen in the comments of many of her videos over the years. The notification said they were streaming Terraria, and, out of curiosity, she pulled up the stream and decided to check it out.

💜.🎮.🧡

It wasn't very often that Ezra found himself with free time. When he wasn't watching spectre_pheonix's livestreams, or doing homework, or attempting to do both at the same time, he was usually sleeping or hanging out with his friends.

However, today after class, he found himself with free time enough to do a little digging, and add a new page to his conspiracy:

It seemed like a good enough list for now, so he decided that, since spectre_pheonix wasn't streaming right now, he may as well pull up Terraria and do a little streaming of his own.

He was crawling through the pink blocks of his dungeon. Wielding his trusty Horseman’s Blade, he walked through the rough stones of this monster-ridden dungeon. He jumped down a shaft, relying on his jet pack to keep him from dying on the ground. He used the melee/range sword to promptly cut down a nearby Necromancer. He kept running through, and quickly slew several Blue Armored Bones.

Ezra heard the blip of activity in his comment section, and glanced at the sidebar on his screen. It wasn't unheard of for him to get comments on his streams, but it also wasn't very common either.

He glanced at the comment, then did a double take and a triple take. The color of the name was familiar. The username was familiar. There was a checkmark next to her name to show he was following her.

Ezra's heart skipped several beats, like when your teacher calls on you in class, but in a good way, like when you're prepared for it— but he wasn't prepared for this at all, no matter how much he'd dreamed it would happen.

Spectre_pheonix had commented on one of his livestreams.

"OH MY GOSH!" he yelled into the mic, not noticing The Paladin behind him until it was too late. Quite frankly, he didn't care that his “Incompetence was put on display by Paladin’s Hammer” because at least being dead gave him a chance to respond to her comment.

He tried to get back into his game, but couldn't focus, especially when she responded.

She didn't reply to that, and he wondered if she was still even watching. Rather than just check in a normal way, he instead blurted, "spectre_pheonix, if you're still watching, wanna do a collab sometime?"

He was mentally kicking himself in the shins for asking such a foolish question, but was excited when he saw a reply in the comments section:

💜.🎮.🧡

The past week had pretty much been the best week of Ezra's life. Spectre_pheonix rarely collabed with anyone, but the past week they'd joined in together for Minecraft, LEGO Star Wars: The Clone Wars, and Dust: An Elysian Tale, the latter of which, being single player, was just spectre_pheonix playing and spectre_6 giving commentary. Not only was this a dream come true, but it also boosted his meager follower count, and Jai had even stopped picking on him for his fantasy fanboying, instead jokingly referring to Ezra's collabs as "the closest thing he'd ever get to a date." Ezra didn't care.

He'd also been on the lookout more and more for that girl he'd run into, Sabine. Whether or not Sabine was spectre_pheonix, he had yet to decide on, but that didn't change the fact that she was still a pretty girl who'd smiled at him at least once, which definitely kept her in the forefront of Ezra's mind.

💜.🎮.🧡

Sabine rarely shared any information about herself online, but it was hard to plan collab information via Twitch, so she'd exchanged discord handles with spectre_6. Admittedly, he would've been as great a gamer as she was, if maybe he'd had a little more practice playing instead of just spectating. Still, collabs with him were enjoyable, and his sense of humor turned even Dark Souls into a hilarious adventure.

As she took notes on Professor Syndulla's class on her laptop, she kept discord open in a separate tab.

"Miss Wren?" Professor Syndulla asked, "is there something humorous about my lesson on how having traumatic experiences as a child inhibit our ability to make connections in the future?"

"No, ma'am," Sabine said. She hadn't realized how much of a mistake it would be to message spectre_6 in class until now. Usually, the people she'd chat with in class didn't have nearly as great a sense of humor as he did. Surely that was the only reason his conversations had her giggling in the middle of psych class.

💜.🎮.🧡

Ezra had done just enough research in class to find out everything he needed to know about Sabine. He'd positioned himself where he could see her, notice the deep gray of discord in the side corner of her computer next to the class notes. She typed in response to his messages. She laughed in response to his messages. When the teacher called her out for giggling in class, the same thing apparently happened to spectre_pheonix. She closed discord and payed attention in class at the same time spectre_pheonic did.

Ezra was convinced now more than ever: spectre_pheonix's real name was Sabine Wren, and she'd been in his psychology class this whole time.

She was a very private person, and someone finding out who she was definitely wasn't on her radar with how careful she'd been about personal details, so he knew if he brought it up, he'd have to breach the subject very, very carefully.

💜.🎮.🧡

"I KNOW WHO YOU ARE!"

Sabine looked up from her notebook with a start, intending to stick around after class so she could apologize to Professor Syndulla, not so that some random peer could slam his hands on her desk and yell ungrounded accusations at her.

But to her surprise, and in some ways her delight, the student she saw in front of her was the boy she'd bumped into last week, with the same soft blue eyes, the same dark, shaggy hair, and the same purple and orange shirt she'd once sold on her shop.

"What do you mean?" Sabine asked, beginning to pack up her things in an attempt to make a hasty exit.

His voice lowered. "I know you're spectre_pheonix."

She tried to keep a cool head, not to show her abject terror. She knew of a lot of bad things that had happened to celebrities when a crazed fan found them, and couldn't let this one know the truth.

"Who?" she asked, "I'm sorry, I, I don't know what you're talking about."

"I think you do," he said.

"What makes you so sure?" she asked, trying to stall just a moment as she quickly slung her backpack over her shoulder and turned to leave.

"Because I'm spectre_6."

She stopped dead in her tracks and turned back to look at him, sizing it all up in her mind. He'd clearly been a longtime fan of hers, just like spectre_6 had. Now that she thought about it, his voice sounded familiar, too. He'd also mentioned sitting in class, right when she was, and that the same thing had happened in his class that happened to her.

Still, she needed confirmation.

"What?"

"You started laughing in class today because of my joke about tax evasion," he said, "and then decided to 'sign off and lock in' so you could keep your grades up. Last night after you finished your collab with me, I messaged you a gif of Master Chief saluting and saying "goodnight," and you called me a total dork— that was a high honor, by the way. And then the day before that…"

"Okay, okay," she said, a little quieter, afraid of the few students still in the room overhearing, "I'm convinced. But how did you find out it was me?"

"You quoted Professor Syndulla in your stream a week and a half ago," he said, "and then you complimented my shirt last week, the same shirt I'm wearing now— and yes, I have washed it between then and now— and your hair matches your logo, and, I was watching you today in class— not, like, watching you, watching you. Like, not in a stalker way— oh kriff, am I a stalker? I am so sorry, that's really creepy now that I think about it. Anyways while I was hopefully maybe definitely not stalking you, I noticed that you reacted to every message I sent spectre_pheonix, and my suspicions were confirmed."

And Sabine's suspicions were confirmed when she heard him ramble, the same way spectre_6 always did when he was nervous in-game.

"Nice deduction, spectre_6," she said, feeling so much more comfortable now that she knew that this stranger was a friend she'd already met.

"Call me Ezra," he said, extending a hand to her, "Ezra Bridger."

"Sabine," she said, taking his hand and shaking it, "it's nice to finally meet you."

"You have no idea," he said.

💜.🎮.🧡

Being roommates with Ezra Bridger meant you had to be prepared for anything. Walking into the dorm room and thinking you're alone only to find your roommate under his desk, watching vines, and claiming both those things were for "emotional support." Listening to the most insane rumors and conspiracy theories about your teachers and classmates. Helping hide that stupid orange cat he'd smuggled in. Waking up at 2am to the beeping of a microwave and the smell of pizza rolls. All of this came with the territory, and Jai was professional in handling the insane force of nature that was Ezra Bridger.

But none of it could prepare him for what he saw when he walked into his dorm room one day after lunch and found Ezra cleaning. For someone whose laundry was piled higher than his loft bed, and who acted like he'd never seen a bottle of windex in his life, Ezra sure seemed to have purpose as he rushed around the room, putting away clean clothes while also tidying up the cluttered pile of papers and funko pops that he claimed were hiding a desk.

"May I ask what the occasion is?" Jai asked.

Ezra didn't even turn to look at him as his tornado of tidiness swept across the dorm room.

"Surprise."

"Surprise what?" Jai asked, "like, 'you can't tell me' surprise, or 'you wanted to surprise me by cleaning our room' surprise or 'your dad is coming for a surprise visit' surprise?"

"The first one," Ezra said.

"I'm not even gonna ask," Jai said.

"Good," Ezra said, "because you wouldn't believe me."

There were a lot of things Ezra could do that were unbelievable, but he was pretty sure just cleaning up the room was enough to suspend his standard of disbelief.

Jai sat down at his own desk and pulled out his laptop, figuring he may as well work on his history homework while he waited for the inevitable Bridger surprise.

About ten minutes later, Jai thought he heard a knock on the door, followed by Ezra yelling out "I'M COMING!" and bolting for the door, picking up the last bits of trash off the floor on his way.

Jai watched his roommate fumble to open the door with the trash still in his hand, then toss it into a corner where it wouldn't be seen and pull the door open.

"Sabine," Ezra said, "come on in."

"Alright," a girl's voice said.

A girl?

Ezra Bridger had never talked to a girl in person in all their time at Attalon Alliance University, so naturally Jai was surprised when a beautiful girl followed Ezra into their dorm room.

"Oh, Sabine," Ezra said, "this is my roommate, Jai."

"Nice to meet you," Sabine said, with a smile.

"Pardon the disbelief on my face," Jai said, "I didn't know Ezra even knew how to talk to girls who weren't on his computer."

Ezra looked a touch embarrassed, but his new friend spoke up for him, with half a giggle.

"We met through his computer," Sabine said, "he may have mentioned me. Spectre_pheonix?"

"You mean the Wild Ghost Chase wasn't just another ungrounded conspiracy theory?" Jai asked.

"Wild Ghost Chase?"

"It's called The Spectre Search," Ezra defended, "and yes, as I predicted, spectre_pheonix is, in fact, another student in my psych class."

"I came over to do a collab in person today," she said, "it's a lot better than trying to voice chat over Ezra's grainy mic setup."

"Hey!" Ezra said.

"She's got a point," Jai said, "and I guess my prediction was right too."

"What prediction?" Ezra asked.

"I told you if you ever met her she'd be way out of your league."

"Hey!" Ezra said again. "Don't you have a history report due?"

"Relax, I'm just messing with you," Jai said, "besides, this one's an easy A."

And with that, he turned back to his computer and let Ezra and Sabine have the illusion of privacy for their first in-person edition of "the closest thing Ezra would ever get to a date." Jai put on his headphones and went to his favorite research material: opening Spotify and resuming where he'd last left off in Hamilton: An All American Musical.

💜.🎮.🧡

It wasn't uncommon after that for them to stream in Ezra's dorm room, or in Sabine's when Jai was busy with homework he couldn't risk interruption in. This time was one of those days, because, as Jai cited, "Lin Manuel Miranda didn't write us a musical about algebra," so Ezra found himself on the floor in her room, leaning his back against her bed, while she sat on her bed, her legs dangling off the side next to him.

While they waited to connect on their college's laggy internet, Ezra filled the silence.

"So, how do you think you'll do on that psych test next week?"

"Not too bad, I hope," Sabine said, "you?"

"I just hope dad has room on the fridge for another D-," Ezra said.

"Maybe I can put in a good word with the professor for you," Sabine said, a bit of a laugh in her tone. "She and I have a fairly good rapport."

"If only you knew," Ezra thought.

"Unfortunately, this is one area where I think I do have you beat," Ezra said.

"Are you crazy?" Sabine asked, leaning over the edge of the bed so she could see if his expression was sarcastic, "she's clearly got it out for you. I've never seen her go so hard on any student."

"And why do you think that is?" Ezra asked.

"Because you don't apply yourself in any of your classes and she thinks you're wasting potential?"

"Well, yeah," Ezra said, "but I'm not the only one who does that, and she singles me out anyways."

"And why do you suppose that is?"

Ezra sighed. Professor Syndulla had never mentioned having a boyfriend, at least, not in any of the classes Ezra had been in, and if she had, no one besides Jai would've known it was Ezra's dad. It was a touchy subject for him, so he didn't bring it up much.

But somehow he could tell Sabine would understand.

"She's dating my dad," Ezra said.

"She— what?"

This wasn't normal information for students to know about their teachers, so he understood her confusion.

"How do you think I even got into this school, what, with my grades?" Ezra asked, "if not for her glowing letter of recommendation, I wouldn't even be here right now."

"So your dad is dating your professor so you can get into college?"

"What, no?" Ezra said, "They've been together for years, and I wasn't even thinking about college until long after they met. But dad always thought college would be good for me, and Professor Syndulla offered to help me get in and found me some scholarships."

"So our psych professor is hard on you because she's dating your dad?"

"Yeah, lots of psychology to unpack there." Ezra said.

"How do you feel about it all?"

Ezra paused. He hadn't answered that one honestly in a while, not even when his dad asked him last saturday.

"Do you really wanna know?" Ezra asked.

Sabine slid down off her mattress and sat down next to him, and her presence was already familiar enough to inspire honesty.

"Yeah," she said.

"It's weird," Ezra said, "I guess I never really grasped the idea of having a mom again."

After a moment of silence, Sabine asked another question. "Can I ask what happened to your mom?"

"The same thing that happened to my dad," Ezra said, "my real dad that is— I mean, my birth dad. I don't wanna say Kanan's not my real dad. He raised me for more than half my life, anyways, after my parents went on a missions' trip and never came back."

"Oh."

"It's alright," Ezra said, not letting her waste time on awkward sympathy. "No, no it's not, and to be honest it really sucks, but there's nothing any of us could've done to stop it. And Kanan, he was always there for me, even before my parents left."

Sabine didn't answer, but it felt nice to talk to her about it anyways, so he hoped she didn't mind that he continued.

"They're getting married," he said.

"What?"

"Professor Syndulla and my dad," Ezra said. "Well, she doesn't know it yet, and maybe she'll say no again, but I don't think so. Dad's proposing at dinner on Friday."

Sabine nodded again, clearly trying to process everything he'd said.

"I'm sorry," Ezra said, "I didn't mean to make this a pity party."

"Don't be," Sabine said, "this is what friends are for."

"Friends?" Ezra thought, with a smile. Two months ago he'd been her fan, and she hadn't even known he existed. And now they were friends? He could get used to this.

"But just so we're clear," Sabine said, "I don't pity you."

"What?"

"You have a dad who thinks the world of you," Sabine said, "and I'd kill to have a mom like Professor Syndulla."

"Why?" Ezra asked.

"Because I know what it's like to have a mom who's not like her," Sabine said, "a mom who's not proud of you. A mom who doesn't compliment the sketches you draw in the margins of your notes. A mom whose biggest dream is for you to drop out of your art major so you can join the family business instead."

"I, I'm sorry," Ezra said.

"I don't need your sympathies either," Sabine said.

"You're getting them anyways," Ezra said, "do you want to talk at all?" "What's there to say?" Sabine said, "that family business always came before family? That even my own brother thought it was more fun to game with his friends than his sister? That my parents wouldn't give a single dime for my tuition, and if it wasn't for my merch money and some massive scholarships I wouldn't even be here?"

Ezra put a hand on her shoulder to comfort her, trying to find the words to say. Someone whose whole persona was built on a mask of online secrecy had just shared something so personal with him, and he didn't know what to say.

"Do you wanna come to dinner on Sunday?"

"What?" Sabine asked, apparently shocked out of her despair.

"I always go to my dad's for a family dinner on Sunday afternoon after church. Professor Syndulla does too. We're probably gonna be celebrating the engagement, and then she's gonna beat us in our weekly game of Ticket to Ride. It's incredibly boring, but if you wanna join us anyways…"

"I'll be there," Sabine said with a smile.

And instead of returning to her normal seat, she stayed next to Ezra as they remembered why they were there in the first place and began their game together.

💜.🎮.🧡

Sunday ended up being one of the most enjoyable days Sabine had had in a long time. She ended up tagging along with Ezra that morning when he went to church, so he wouldn't have to drive back to the school to pick her up. It was a new experience for her, but he didn't seem to mind. Afterwards, they went back to Ezra's dad's house— Ezra's house, technically— for a family dinner, along with Professor Syndulla, who was absolutely beaming as she showed off her engagement ring. Another one of Kanan's family friends, whom Ezra referred to as "Uncle Zeb," was there as well, along with the professor's cat, Chopper, who couldn't be trusted to stay at home alone for a whole afternoon without destroying the place. The game of Ticket to Ride that came out after dinner only had enough pieces for four players, but Ezra and Sabine teamed up so everyone could play— and even with their combined mental resources, they were still no match for Professor Syndulla.

As they drove back to school, Sabine reminded herself why Ezra had done this. Not a single person at that dinner was related to each other— and yet, they were family— and Ezra wanted Sabine to be part of it too.

Maybe this "friendship" thing wasn't so bad after all.

💜.🎮.🧡

Spectre_pheonix and spectre_6 had been doing collaborative streams for most of the past month. Her fans really enjoyed his commentary on her skills, often leaving comments about how well her dry wit complimented his whimsical sense of humor, and how well they worked together. Both of them gained more followers because of it, which Ezra thought was almost impossible, because how could there have been people on Twitch who weren't already following her?

"You ever read the comment section?" Ezra asked one day as they were playing Minecraft.

"Not often. Why?"

"Look at these," Ezra said, then read a few of them out loud.

"That last one is true, at least," Sabine said, and it would've been harsh if he hadn't seen the twinkle in her warm brown eyes.

"That last one was my roommate," Ezra said, glaring across the room at Jai, who smiled innocently.

"Oh, but this one isn't," Ezra said, reading off the latest comment:

He smiled at Sabine.

"That's a great question," Ezra said, into the mic so the commenter could hear. "Hey, spectre_pheonix, wanna go out on Friday?"

Sabine looked at him and smiled. "Sounds like a date," she said.

"Great," Ezra said, then turned back to his mic, unable to hold back an enormous grin as he said, "Yes, yes we are."

💜.🎮.🧡

By all accounts, it should've been weird for them to go out on a date instead of just hanging out and playing video games. It should've been weird when Ezra showed up at Sabine's door, wearing a nice button down shirt instead of her merch, holding a bouquet of purple and orange roses instead of his custom gaming controller. It should've been weird as they sat down to eat something nicer than dining hall pizza or a bag of doritos that ended up half-strewn across the dorm room floor as they blasted away at each other in Halo. It should've been weird when Ezra put on a playlist in the car of the cringiest but most endearing love songs she'd ever heard, and even more so when they found themselves singing along, and it should've been weird when Ezra put his arm around her during the movie and she leaned in closer, and it should've been weird when they walked out of the theater and he put his coat over her bare shoulders without her even needing to tell him she was cold. It should've been weird when, instead of ending the evening with, "so, Terraria tomorrow?" it ended with a couple "I had a great time"s and a delicate first kiss.

It should've been weird, but it wasn't. It wasn't weird at all that they had more in common than their love of video games. It wasn't weird at all that conversations with him came naturally and being in his presence felt like breathing. It wasn't weird at all that, as soon as she was alone, Sabine found herself leaning back against her dorm room door and sighing dramatically like the heroine of a cheesy romcom.

It wasn't weird at all. In fact, it was perfect.

#sabezra #the sabezra gamergirl au #sabine wren #ezra bridger #fanfic #sabezra fic #modern au #college au #gamergirl au #kanera #hera syndulla

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lightlycareless · 3 days ago

Text

The oneshot we were all expecting!!!!!! Or at least the one I so desperately wanted to write 🥹 I just adore our two little lovebirds in this setting—their first kiss and date ajkhgjkaghjkahgjkahsgjkashkgaskghaj ANYWAYS

warnings: highschool au. naoya is completely evangelized so don't expect his usual shenanigans. he's also somewhat of an obnoxious dork. fluff. also minimal proofreading (?)

Happy reading!!

[I’m almost there!! There was a small delay on the train, but I’m almost there I swear!! I’m sorry, please wait for me 🥺]

Naoya must’ve re-read your last message a thousand times, but far from making him angry, or even easing his anxiety… it just made him feel worse.

As if the seconds he spent waiting for you weren’t agonizing enough, now that he knew you were very close, he couldn’t help but worry about your reaction. If you’d approve of him, his itinerary for the day—

Or most importantly, his appearance.

Up to that point you had only seen him in his everyday boring jujutsu uniform, with a few exceptions of casual attire after class. Never situations where actual effort beyond the bare minimum was placed.

So naturally, he had to go all out on your first date with him.

Was it too much?

Maybe. Though some would argue this… style was expected of him. Expensive, borderline excessive, from head to toe black in brands many could only dream of affording—it was obvious that Naoya had money to spend, and he wanted the whole world to know.

Mostly you. Everyone else he really didn’t care for—he just wanted you to know what he was willing to do and provide for you. Nothing more, nothing less.

And such was his determination that he almost forgot another important matter, the one that ended up affecting him the most ultimately: his reaction to seeing you all dressed up for the date.

With a black short skirt alongside a beige oversized turtleneck, accompanied by black thighs that sparked something inside him… Naoya simply wanted to scoop you up and gush at your adorableness. He literally didn't think you capable of being any prettier, and yet, here you were, proving him wrong. Just like every day.

“I’m so sorry Naoya, I hope you weren’t waiting for too long!” you breathed, rushing to his side. Even if you had kept him waiting, all those silly trivialities disappeared the moment you stepped into his sight.

“You didn’t.” he lies, doing his best to contain the blushing mess settling on his face. “I just got here.”

“That’s not true.” You giggle. “You’ve always been punctual!”

Yes, that's true. And when it comes to you he was far worse; in fact, for today he had actually arrived three hours earlier just to make sure that all the places in his itinerary were still available.

Naoya had reservations anyways, but there’s always some fool...

“The same way you’re always pretty.”

Now it’s your turn to fluster; what a nice way to turn the tables.

“You’re not so bad yourself, boyfriend.”

Naoya smiles; he's been waiting so long to earn that title, and naturally, it's much sweeter than what he imagined.

“You ready to go?” he asks as he takes hold of your hand.

“Yeah!” you nod eagerly, squeezing him back. “Where are we going first? The aquarium?”

“Yes. Unless you’re hungry, princess. If so, we can get a bite.”

“No, I’m not hungry yet. But I guess we could get something to drink.” You suggest, already looking through your options.

“Whatever you want, and don’t hold back. Remember it’s all on me.”

Your heart fluttered at his words.

“Thank you.”

He smiles.

Naoya had previously scoured the area for nothing but the best coffee shops to give you the most amazing experience possible, nothing short of suitable for his little mochi…

Though his efforts would ultimately be for naught, since you’d take him towards a personal selection instead, initially a recommendation from one of your classmates, now your favorite spot.

But it wasn’t all bad as Naoya feared, in fact, it was much better than he anticipated; the pastries, while peculiar, were surprisingly tasty. Even for someone like him who wasn’t all too fond of sweets. Yet, what he liked the most was the cozy ambiance that set for an… intimate setting.

“You know, you’re awfully cute when you do that.” Naoya murmurs, a sly smile as he places his hand over yours, inching closer to you.

“When I do what?” you ponder curiously.

“Don’t act coy now, you know what I mean.”

“But I’m not… doing anything.” you frown.

“Is that so?” Naoya laughs.

“Don’t tease me…” you murmur. Your poor heart was already on the brink of bursting out of your chest by the happiness of being so close to him brought you—

You almost passed out once he got much, much closer to you, pressing his thumb at the left corner of your lips and wiping the remnants of your delicious tiramisu…

“Oh, Naoya—that’s—!” you covered your face with your hands. “Stop it! You’re just trying to embarrass me…!”

“Hmmm… really? How could I possibly do that?”

“You—you know what I mean! Don’t act like you don’t!”

Well, you’d better get used to this playful side of Naoya if you’re to be his girlfriend, for he doesn’t intend to stop anytime soon—though he briefly manages to stop when in the aquarium.

Yes, even for someone “cool” like him, the aquarium was quite enjoyable by itself, the kind of place he wouldn’t mind returning to later on again…

Especially if he gets to admire you gleefully observing the fishes, gushing at the ones you considered pretty, if not odd, while taking pictures of them.

There’s just… something about seeing you like this that makes his heart feel warmer, tighter, his feelings for you growing stronger the longer he stares at you, eventually leading him to the thought he’s plentifully considered before—but never brave enough to push for it.

But now… considering all this… he believes perhaps, it’s finally time for that.

Nonetheless, he’s yet to traverse his biggest obstacle, which is setting up everything for that to happen— if it was even meant to occur in the first place.

Just consider this: Naoya is intimidated by the notion of asking you for a picture, hiding his phone as soon as you turn around to face him.

“It’s—It’s nothing.” He stammers, looking away as he promptly shoves his phone down his pocket. “Just wanted to check something—I think I got a message or something...”

“You know… if you want a photo of me all you have to do is ask.” You suggest, moving closer to him and intertwining your arm with his, resting your head into his shoulder. To think that just a few moments ago the roles were reversed… Oh, how you adored Naoya. “Might even throw in a pose or two for my shy boyfriend.”

“I’m not shy.” Naoya frowns.

“No, of course not.” You giggle, standing on your toes and kissing his cheek. “Never.”

Once done with the aquarium, Naoya’s itinerary continued to the nearby mall, where he’d encourage you to buy something nice—or more like force you to do it yourself, since he was set on purchasing whatever he assumed you’d enjoy. So, if you don't want to end up with things you might not like, you better step up— before getting something to eat.

But while most of his plans were made with the purpose of distracting you, he won’t deny that he’s greatly benefiting from them too; because once he set his mind in achieving that today, Naoya turned into nothing less of an anxious mess, constantly wondering what he needed to do to achieve the same thing he’s been dreaming of since he’s set his eyes on you.

As well as trying to overcome the insecurities that came with it, what could ultimately ruin the small relationship he was starting to build with you.

What if you didn’t want to? What if you accepted this date to get to know more of him, deciding the best way to continue was by taking things even slower?

If so, he’d only ruin everything with his silly request!

But this—this isn’t anything new. A lot of couples have done it many times! And will continue to do so even after the two are no longer around.

«Don’t you think if this is something she wanted to do, she would’ve told you already?» Naoya cruelly scolds himself. «If I make this decision myself, I’ll only end up pushing her away—»

“Are you ok, Naoya?” you ask, having noticed how eerily silent he’s become since… a while ago, really. “You haven’t even tasted your ramen”

“Ah, yes— I’m fine.” He responds, wiping the sweat off his hands on his coat before looking at you. “I just remembered there’s an assignment I need to do.”

“Oh, is it urgent? We can head back if you—”

“What? No! Why would you suggest that?!” Naoya gasps, you blink. “I—I mean—I still want to spend more time with you in the city.”

You press your lips together.

“Are you sure it’s nothing? We can always go out another time…”

“No. I want today to be special, it’s our first date, after all.” You blush.

“Alright, I’ll believe you.” You say, smiling. “But only if you eat, if not, we’ll head back to the school!”

Maybe filling his stomach will ease his nerves, an empty stomach was never a good basis to make decisions on.

And yet, it simply made his uneasiness grow bigger, if not worse—like he could puke at the mere thought of disappointing you, even when you’ve consistently shown how happy you are with all that he’s done for you.

Or so that’s how you wished to feel, because it wouldn’t take long before you noticed Naoya’s… distance. His prolonged silence that begun just after leaving the aquarium—the now bane of your existence—completely different from when the day began.

You didn’t want to take this mishap and use it as fuel for your insecurities, but with nowhere else to go and no answers to obtain, it just happened. You simply… began to think that maybe, he didn’t like you as much as you hoped.

Perhaps you’ve come off too strong with him back then; or maybe you’re too weird for his liking, you shouldn’t have gotten too comfortable with him too early in the relationship—

Not that it mattered anyway, because you were absolutely sure he was now considering not being with you anymore.

Evidently, the two were going through quite the emotional turmoil; but it wasn’t until you realized that the time to return home was fast approaching that you decided to take the first step and end all confusions once and for all.

If the day was going to end like that, you might as well know why.

“Na—Naoya… did I do something to upset you?”

Naoya immediately blinks, snapped back to reality and startled by your bold accusation.

“No?? Where is this coming from??”

“I—I don’t know, I guess you… well, I just concluded that since you got all silent out of the sudden… it must’ve been because of me.” you quietly explained. “Because I disappointed you.”

“I hope to never hear that from you ever again.” Naoya frowns, his stern reaction making you further embarrassed, avoiding his gaze subsequently. He sighs. “Lool, Y/N… I didn’t mean it that way.”

“...Just tell me. What did you not like about me? What is something I did?”

“All you’ve ever done is be perfect, so no.”

“Then what is it?” you ask once more. “Is it the assignment you told me?”

“No, that’s not it. Not at all.” Naoya quickly responds.

“Then tell me, please.” you breathe, getting desperate at the lack of answer—for every denial felt as if the knife of his indifference twisted deeper and deeper into your heart. Inching you closer to the possibility of you being the cause of such distaste, he just didn’t want you to make a scene. “If it’s something I did—”

“Seriously, stop it already, Y/N!” Naoya gasps, immediately cupping your face and forcing you to see him. You try your best to avoid his gaze to befall your teary one, but ultimately you fail at his persistence. “What do I need to say to get through that stubborn little head of yours??”

“…The truth, I guess…” you sniffed, there’s no point holding back the tears forming in your eyes anymore if they were already soaking your cheeks. “...What changed?”

Naoya swallows, already feeling like shit by having made you cry—a sight he will never forget, nor will he allow to occur once again by his own merit—worse when his heart just kept pounding loudly and painfully against his chest, a combination of his uncertainty when approaching the topic, and regret for your reaction.

But even then, he wholeheartedly prefers to deal with his embarrassment, than his guilt for having hurt the woman of his dreams.

The faster he mends this, the quicker you’ll be back to the same bubbly girl he fell in love with. Or so, he hopes.

“The truth is… I’ve been thinking about something. About that.” Naoya begins, voice trembling as he looks at you.

“I don’t… follow.” you say.

He swallows once more.

“The reason why I’ve been quiet is because I want to do something with you.” He quickly adds, it’s obvious by the way he speaks that he’s very nervous, fearful that you might judge him afterwards. But only if he knew… “I want… to… kiss you.”

“O—Oh!” you gasp, and suddenly, everything seemed to make sense. “Naoya, is that why—”

“Ye—yeah. And I didn't know how to bring it up without making you uncomfortable.” Naoya explains. “That’s the reason why I kept quiet. I… I never meant to upset you.”

“I… I didn’t know you were—”

“I knew it was a stupid idea, I’m moving too fast, aren’t I? You probably haven’t even considering the idea—forget I said anything—”

“No, Naoya, don’t—don’t say that.” you say, pulling his attention back to you. “Because that’s not true.”

“What do you mean?”

“...I guess I mean to say I… I’ve also considered it. I have also been thinking about it, quite often too…” you confess, embarrassed. “I’d be lying if I said otherwise…”

“Y/N… you mean to say you also…”

“Y—yeah, I mean… who doesn’t want to kiss their boyfriend any chance they get?” you ask. “I just didn’t bring it up because… well, I wasn't sure if you wanted to.”

“It’s all I’ve been dreaming of.” He reveals as well, your heart quickens once again. “...Did you hope it would happen today?”

“M—Maybe!” you shriek. “It’s not too soon, is it?”

“No, I don’t think so.” Naoya admits. “I think some might even say we’re running late.”

You frown. “Not that it should matter, it’s our relationship. Our decision—and I… choose to wait if you so desire.”

“I don’t want to wait anymore.” you say. “I… I want to kiss you.”

“Then let’s do it—” “But what if you don’t like it?” it’s your time to worry. “I… haven’t kissed anyone else so I don’t know what to do…”

Naoya blinks. Did he hear that right? But far from being inundated with that peculiar rush most got in a situation like this, he was greatly worried about making this a moment you’ll enjoy.

A moment he won’t ruin by his own inexperience.

“Am I to be your first?”

“I mean, I guess if you count that one time when I was 5…”

“I don’t like the thought of that.” Naoya frowns, jealous. You let out a breathy chuckle.

“It was a silly bet, Naoya. Didn’t mean anything.” But you still made the conscious decision to not tell him who it was—if this is how he got at the mere thought of someone else kissing you, you could only imagine what he’d do upon learning it was actually Satoru all along. “Not when I only want you.”

Naoya swallows, his heart skipping a beat.

“Then… what are we waiting for…?”

After a quick debate, the two end up settling for a small, nearby park to finally do what their heart’s desired, into a somewhat secluded eye where no one else would see them obnoxiously (but sweetly) try to kiss each other for the first time, yet intimate enough to persuade them into actually doing so.

Truth be told, the more you and Naoya realized how close you were to actually doing, the more… anxious you felt. To believe you were simply a few moments away from kissing your boyfriend for the first of many times… This might as well be your first kiss!

Might be Naoya’s too.

“N—now what?” you whisper, unsure how to proceed, fidgeting with his fingers.

“I—I guess we kiss.” He swallows, gently squeezing your hands. “Do I just… lean?”

“Ye—yeah.” You nod, cleaning up all the strands of hair that obstructed your face. “And I guess I’ll just… move to you.”

“Ok.” He nods, taking one last deep breath. “Then… let’s do it.”

…

“You said you would lean down, Naoya.”

“I can’t if you’re staring at me like that!”

“I’m—I’m not staring!” you cry back. “I’m just—I’m just being attentive!”

“Yes you are, you’re looking straight at me with those big eyes of yours!”

“Where am I supposed to look, then?! How am I supposed to know when to move??”

“Not me?? Close your eyes!”

“But what if you bump into me?!”

You’ve unknowingly awoken a fear within Naoya, as if the worry of your approval wasn’t enough.

“I’m not—I’m not going to bump into you.” He frowns. “Why would you even suggest something so silly… Do you know how weird you look staring right at me?”

You frown.

“…You didn’t have to be rude about it…” Naoya immediately regrets the way he spoke to you.

“No, princess, I didn’t mean to upset you.” He says, cupping your face once more. “That was just my nerves talking.”

“…I’m nervous too.”

“I know, I know. But I still want this, more than anything in the world.” Naoya adds. “So please… trust me. I promised to take care of you, didn’t I?”

You smile softly.

“You did.”

“Then just close your eyes and let me do everything else.”

“O—okay…” you nod, sighing before eventually closing your eyes, trying your best to relax and prepare for the fateful moment that would mark the beginning of this beautiful relationship.

Unaware of Naoya’s intent stares; it was almost ironic how he complained about your gaze when he was doing the very same thing now…

But he wasn’t exaggerating when stating he really wanted this. In fact, he probably wanted this much, much more than you. To finally be connected to someone that would appreciate him for who he was, not for what he represented…

Naoya never imagined a moment like this could ever happen with someone like him, like his family and it’s expectations.

Yet, it’s like he summoned you out of his thoughts and now, here you were, materialized before him and ready to give him all the love he deserved—through the adorable pout you were unwittingly doing, awaiting for his kiss, to the way you stood on your toes, your own way to help him out when he eventually leans down. Were you even aware of how adorable you were to him? If not, it just transformed his perception of you into something even lovelier.

«I won’t keep you waiting any longer» Naoya promises as he readjusted his gentle hold of your face, giving you one last smile before finally beginning to lean down towards you. Taking in your scent, your softness, your warmth…

Closing his eyes when just a few millimeters away from your lips, preparing to take in your affection, and then—

He kisses you.

Carefully and sweetly, his world is suddenly filled with color when his lips finally touch your soft ones, the very sensation he always imagined you’d have—no, this was much, much better than all he could conjure up.

It filled a void he’s been desperately craving to satisfy, the need to feel loved, cared for, needed—you gave him all that with just a simple gesture…

How could he not fall more in love with you? His life had become far more thrilling with you in it, and this was only the evidence of such.

And while it ended as a quick kiss, nothing short of inexperienced, found with some hesitance along the way… none of these things mattered in the bigger picture.

To you and Naoya, this was the official declaration of each other’s love, leaning deeper into each other’s embrace once eventually separated.

“S—so…? How—How was it?” you ask, doing your best to push down your heart from coming out your throat as you glanced up to him. “Was—was it… good?”

“Ye—yeah.” Naoya quietly admits, resting his head alongside yours. “It… tasted like ramen.”

“You—stop it! Be serious!” you fret, already a nervous mess when asking for his opinion, his comment simply made it worse!

But naturally, he was only making a slight jest of the moment, his instinctive reaction to trying to ease his jumping heart from bursting out of his chest, as you’d come to notice when placing your ear next to it—it’s the first time you’ve ever heard such quickness coming from him… enough evidence to know he enjoyed it, much to your delight.

“I like it.” he confesses, you smile, leaning deeper into his chest. “It was… much, much better than I expected.”

“I can hear that.” you giggle, hugging him tightly. “... I liked it very much too.”

“Enough to kiss me again?” he teases once more, you blush.

“I don’t know if my poor heart can take it.” you jest back. “My ears are ringing too.”

“Well, you know what they say—the more you keep doing something, the more comfortable you feel with it.” Naoya implicitly suggests.

“Are you saying…”

He nods. “...but only if you want… please.”

You grin.

After such a lovely date, and with so sweetly that he asked…

You had no other option. Not that you’d have many once Naoya grew confident enough to kiss you over and over again later on, if anything, you’d soon find yourself begging him to give you a second to breathe. It would be a miracle if he even gave you a chance to speak in between kisses!

But oh, who are you kidding? Deep within, you knew you enjoyed it, always looking forward to the moment the love of your life would come rushing to steal all your kisses away, you’d probably won’t have any to share by the end of the year!

And you wouldn’t want it any other way.

“By the way, princess. Why didn’t you want me to pick you up? It was nothing, you know? I could’ve easily gone to your house and done so.”

“Well, because I didn’t want to inconvenience you.” you say, he frowns. “I know, you just said it wouldn’t. But I also felt like taking the public transport, I haven’t used it since we got out on holiday.”

“I don’t feel comfortable with you taking the public transport, it’s… unbefitting for someone like you.”

“The public transport isn’t that bad, first of all.” You say, tightly holding his hand as the two headed towards the nearest station, time to head back home unless you wished to deal with an angry father. “...But if you really want to know… I didn’t ask you to pick me up because I didn’t want your motorcycle ruining my outfit.”

“Ruinning your outfit—really? Is that all?” He chuckles.

“Hey, don’t judge me! And besides, you should know too! You’re quite cautious too, to put it one day.”

“I wasn't going to pick you up with the motorcycle, I have cars too, you know?”

“...A car?” you blink. “You have a car too??”

“Cars. Plural.” Naoya explains proudly. “I just choose whichever matches with what I’m wearing.”

“Naoya, I knew you had money, but that’s just ridiculous!”

“It’s our money now, actually.” He says. “All that is mine is yours; so technically the cars are yours too.”

“No Naoya, oh my god.” you gasp. “I can’t—I can’t accept that! Just what did I get myself into?!”

“Hmmm, I don’t know, I guess the best time of your life?”

You blush.

“That would be one way to put it, I guess.” You frown, making him laugh and subsequently press a kiss on your cheek, on your lips…

“As long as you’re with me, you’ll always have what you need.” He swears, pressing one last kiss on your knuckles. “Whatever you want, I’ll make sure you have it. And I won’t stop at any limit to achieve so.”

Whether he referred to love, or monetary possessions, both guided you to the same conclusion:

“I know.”

NGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH Nothing was ever the same after that point; 🥺 I just... well, I hoped you liked it!! I wanted this to be as sweet and somewhat awkward as possible lol they're teenagers, after all; but not enough to ruin the experience. I hope I managed to convey that 🥹

Luckily I have another version of their first kiss so if you don't particularly enjoy this, there's always another 😏 but i'll get to that one eventually.

Now, take care, and hope you have a wonderful day!!

#naoya zenin #naoya zen'in #naoya x reader #naoya zenin x reader #naoya zenin x you #jjk naoya #naoya zen'in x reader #jjk x reader #jjk fluff #jjk x you #prompt series: jujutsu kaisen

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dodorimo · 4 months ago

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WIP Wednesday

Theater director!Raphael x Tav

He's supposed to be kinda creepy here, so yeah, this is a warning.

· · ────── ❊ ────── · ·

It is a disaster, a travesty.

He wonders. When Tacitus beheld the charred remains of his beloved Rome, did he feel a similar way?

Chorus girls look to each other for guidance while lead actors traipse over the stage, painfully off-key. He has seen high school productions with more verve than this one.

That he has to share a room with such insipid talent. It is truly heartbreaking.

With a weary sigh, his eyes survey the stage for the weak link, and that’s where he finds her. A girl in the back row, looking a little lost and scared out of her mind.

“Dear God, who does casting these days?” he laments to no one in particular, crossing his legs on the leather seat.

“You do, sir.”

Raphael turns to look at the man beside him, taking in his ill-fitting suit and old-fashioned glasses. Poor fellow. He has neither the knack nor the grip for the job. And the syndicate thought sending this boy would keep him on his toes?

“Oh, I didn’t audition this one or I’d remember her.” There’s a pause while he mulls over his thoughts. “Tell me, Jameson,” he says and ignores when the other man voices a correction. “Why is she here?”

“The girl has promise,” comes the curt response. “She was highly recommended.”

The vague answer does nothing to placate his quickly dampening mood. “Recommended by who? Her parents? Her elementary teacher, perhaps?”

A few cleaning women choose this moment to walk past their seats, prompting the man to lower his voice. “The Royal, sir.”

Raphael reclines back in his seat. There we have it.

What these newcomers fail to understand is that admission to a fancy college isn’t nearly enough accolades for his standards. He didn’t build his reputation by bowing down to paper-pushers and sycophants. In this theater, he dictates the rules. In this theater, he is king.

With a wave of his hand and a few scathing words, he orders the session to be dismissed, much to the relief of those present.

“May I suggest a break instead?”

“You did well today, Johnson. You may take the rest of the day off,” he replies, his tone final.

The man opens his mouth to protest, but turns to leave the room instead. The buzz of conversation slowly dwindles as cast and crew head backstage. They turn off the lights on their way out, leaving the theater in semi-penumbra.

Despite his predisposition for pomp and extravagance, Raphael always thought he worked better on a smaller stage.

“Not you.” He points to the girl tailgating the group. “I’d like to have a word.”

The girl stops in her tracks, a thousand emotions flashing across her face, before settling on fear.

While he waits for her to come around, he pulls two chairs and rearranges them facing each other in the middle of the stage, right below where the headlights shine brightest. The girl moves to sit on one of the chairs, shaking like a foal standing on its hind legs for the first time.

“Fear not. This will only take a moment,” he says, his smile deceptively warm—a skill honed after many years in the business.

She is a pretty little thing, this new choir girl. But then, again, most choir girls are. If her theater career falls to pieces, he can imagine a profession or two where she would excel at.

“What do you say we start from the beginning of act two?” he suggests, tone amicable as to not alarm her further.

The girl scrambles to flip through the pages of the script, her eyes skimming over the words in rapid succession.

This won’t do. An easier question, then.

“What is your name, dear?”

“River, sir. My name is River.”

“My man told me you came from the capital. Do you like it there?”

“I like it very much, yes.” The small talk seems to calm her enough to allow her to find the right page. What she finds there, however, does not please her in the slightest.

“Sir, this is a scene for two…” she trails off, eyes fearful.

“Make the best of it. Improvise. I can play the part of your would-be lover if you wish.” The abrasive approach isn’t to his liking. Unfortunately for this girl, he is short on patience.

If he had any hope that under the veneer of the ingénue might hide a true thespian spirit, it vanishes the moment she utters the first line.

He stands up and paces aimlessly around the stage. The girl stares at him, dumbfounded.

“You have been on the run. This man, this stranger, offers you solace and a roof above your head. He is charming and not too hard on the eyes. You feel indebted to him. You’re young, naive and you’ve never been properly courted.”

The deviation from the script wouldn’t pose an issue. He is the author, after all, and the play, a successful piece from his earlier career. “Updated” for modern audiences. The word alone is enough to make him grit his teeth. None of his plays needed “updating”. Younger audiences can take their grievances back to their food-stained couches. They had no respect for the classics.

His little summary provokes the intended reaction. He sees the pieces falling into place in her mind.

“Harlequin…” she tries again, this time with more passion. And is that the hint of tears he sees in her eyes? “I've never met anyone like you. If only I could repay you in kind.”

“Good, good… much better.” He returns to his seat.

“Say the word and my body will be yours.” She leans forward, exposing just enough of her cleavage for his eager eyes. It’s a bold move, but not unwelcome. His fingers twitch on his lap. This little dove may surprise him still.

Raphael recites the words that have become second nature to him. “Columbina. I’d rather you not return to your old ways. If you choose to lie with me, it must be of your own free will.” If his voice sounded more condescending than the play requires, it’s just an act of improvisation on his part.

He points to the script in her hand. It’s the cue for her musical number.

If the girl clearly struggled with the finer nuances of the text before, here she needs no assistance. Hers is a voice of singular beauty, the likes of which emerge once in a generation. He suddenly understood why James was so hellbent on bringing her here. It wasn’t just the charming Harlequin who was finding himself enthralled.

When it’s done, he takes off his glasses without saying a word and puts them carefully in his pocket.

“Oh dear, this is…” Beautiful, stupendous, awe-inspiring, his mind supplies. “A little crude, if you don’t mind my directness.”

The girl looks positively devastated, her lips quivering as if about to cry.

“But even the roughest of rocks can be polished into a beautiful piece of jewelry. Isn’t this what they say? Meet me at my office after tomorrow’s rehearsal. I expect you to be well acquainted with the text by then.”

“Thank you, sir. I won’t disappoint you.”

“Call me Raphael.”

“Raphael…” Her voice rings like angelic bells to his ears. “Until tomorrow.”

#raphael fanfiction #raphael bg3 #raphael #my writing #I hope it's not TOO obvious where this is going #raphtav #raphael x tav

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puppyeared · 5 months ago

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i feel like im not making any sense but does anyone else feel like there are stories that let u run with them and ones that spell everything out for you

#im reading that post that says artists are directors of audience reaction and not its dictator:#'you cannot guarantee that everyone viewing your work will react as you are trying t make them react. a good artist knows that this is what #allows work to breath. by definition you cannot have art where the viewer brings nothing to the table ... this is why you have to let go of #the urge to plainly state in text exactly how you think the work should be interpreted ... its better to be misinterpreted sometimes than #to talk down to your audience. you wont even gain any control that way; people will still develop their opinions no matter what you do #im thinking abt this again cuz i was thinking maybe the thing that lets adventure time work so well the way it does is cuz it doesnt #take itself too seriously that it gives the audience enough room to fuck with subtext and then fuck with them back yknow. i think it was #mentioned somewhere that they werent even planning to run with the postapocalyptic elements that are hinted in the show but changed their #mind after the one off with the frozen businessmen and dominoed into marcy and simons backstory. on the other side there are stories that #explain too much to let the story speak for itself and i think it ends up having to do more with the crew trying to lead ppl in a certain #direction than expand on what they have and i see a lot of this with miraculous. like when interviews and tweets are used as word of god in #arguments and it becomes a little stifling to play around with it knowing the creator can just interject. u can say its the crews effort to #engage with its audience but it feels more like micromanaging. and none of this is to say there ISNT room for stories that spell things out #theyre just suited for different things. if sesame street tried abstract approaches to themes and nuance itd be counterproductive #a lot of things fly over my head so i need help picking things apart to get it- but it doesnt have to be from the story itself. ive picked #picked up or built on my own interpretations listening to other ppl share their thoughts which creates conversation around the same thing #sometimes stories will spell things out for you without being so obvious abt it that it feels like its woven into the text. my fav example #for this might be ATLA using younger characters as its main cast but instead of feeling like its dumbed down for kids to understand why war #is bad its framed from a childs point of view so younger audiences can pick up on it by relating to the characters. maybe an 8 year old #wont get how geopolitics works but at least they get 'hey the world is a little more complicated than everyone vs. fire nation'. same for #steven universe bc its like theyre trying to describe and put feelings into words that kids might not have so they have smth to start with #especially with the metaphors around relationships bc even if it looks unfamiliar as a kid now maybe the hope is for it to be smth you can #look back to. thats why it feels like these shows grew up with me.. instead of saving difficult topics for 'when im ready for it'#as if its preparing me for high school it gave me smth to turn in my hands and revisit again and again as i grow. stories that never #treated u as dumb all along. just someone who could learn and come back to it as many times as u need to. i loved SU for the longest time #but i felt guilty for enjoying it hearing the way ppl bash it. bc i was a kid and thought other ppl understood it better than me and made #feel bad for leaning into the message of paying forward kindness and not questioning why steven didnt punish the diamonds or hold them #accountable. but im rewatching it now and going oh. i still love this show and what it was trying to teach me #yapping #diary

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hailsatanacab · 2 years ago

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@the-ghost-trader - ooooh, i love this! it has the potential to be so incredibly sad, too, like poor Damian just trying to carve out something normal for himself only for it blow up in his face

BUT, shockingly, i'm not about the angst today! not yet anyway 😇

---

“So, how was your day?”

Despite his answering groan, Damian likes this. This. This whole… thing he has with Danielle. With Ellie.

And, yeah, he’s not exactly told any of the others yet, but can you blame him? For wanting to keep something, anything, to himself. Wanting to keep this small little slice of goodness he’s managed to carve out, untouched and unmarred by his family, by their other lives, by the rogues, the vigilantes, the assassins, everyone.

“That bad, huh?”

Being with Ellie is freeing. That’s the best way to describe it.

She knows. Damian surprised even himself when he told her—not about the others, mind, but he supposes it’s not hard to put two and two together and Dani has always been smarter than most—but it’s the best decision he’s ever made, and no matter what the niggling little voice in the back of his head says (the one that sounds suspiciously like Father), he can’t bring himself to regret it.

He won’t. Because having Ellie know gives him freedom.

She’s a safe place, a hand to hold, a warm, welcoming presence when things inevitably turn ugly. It’s the freedom to just be normal when everything else in his life spirals into stranger and more stressful missions.

“Richard is being insufferable again. I do not understand his incessant need to know everything about my life.”

“Oh? What’s he done now?”

“I was subjected to an hour long interrogation about my love life, like it’s any of his business. It’s infuriating!”

“Ugh, tell me about it. I get the same thing from Jazz, constantly. It can be suffocating.” Ellie says as she curls herself tighter into his side. “But it’s just how they show they care.”

“Yes, well, sometimes I wish he wouldn’t—”

“Hey!” Ellie pushes herself up to glare at him, punctuating her shout with a soft whack to his arm for good measure. “What have I said about using that word?”

“Yes, yes,” he placates with a roll of his eyes, “‘Be careful what you wish for.’ I apologise, it won't happen again.”

“Damn straight it won't.”

She maintains eye contact with him for a second longer before tucking herself back into his side, squirming around with a long, contented hum that Damian can feel rumble through him. He smiles and doesn’t complain even when he has to shift to give her more room after a particularly strong elbow jabs him in the ribs. It means leaving the warm patch on the couch, but he’s rewarded with another long, happy moan as she settles and Damian can’t bring himself to mind.

Ellie constantly makes noises. Little mews and hums and laughs and songs known only to her. It reminds him of a cat, sometimes. He likes it. It calms him down; it means she’s happy, so he's happy.

They settle back into the cushions and Damian lets the subject drop, not wanting to spoil the moment. Outside, the wind changes direction and from where he’s laying he can watch as the snow starts to come down thick and heavy. Hopefully it’ll mean a quiet night's patrol.

“Is that why you haven’t introduced me yet?”

“What?” He can't help it, he stiffens at the thought of losing his secret, of the scrutiny he'll be inviting if he lets anyone know.

“Are you worried I’ll embarrass you?”

Damian’s eyes snap down quick to reassure her, only to see her light, teasing grin. He lets out a breath of relief. It figures she wouldn't worry about that.

“Of course not, don’t be absurd. You could never embarrass me.”

“I don’t know,” she muses, her voice taking on a dangerous lilt, “that sounds like a challenge.”

“Believe me, having been subjected to Father’s Brucie persona at every gala I’ve been to, it would take a lot to embarrass me.”

“Alright, bet. I’ll get you, just you wait.”

“You’ve already got me.”

She flicks him on the nose. “You’re such a sap.”

He hums his agreement, enjoying the tinkling sound of her laughter. And then, before he can think otherwise, he asks, “Is that why you haven’t introduced me?”

“That’s different,” she scowls. “You know how hard it is to get there, there’s no signal, and Danny only gets a break like—oh, Ancients!”

Damian gets another elbow to the ribs as she bolts upright, a manic grin on her face that has him laughing.

“What is it?”

“It’s the holidays! It’s nearly Truce Day! You know I said I had a family thing around Christmas?”

“Yes?”

“Well, do you want to come to it? I can introduce you then! I mean, it’s going to be a bit formal and you’ll have to meet everyone, not just family. There’s going to be some banquets, you’ll have to sit through some long speeches and you have to be on your best behaviour at all times, okay? Absolutely no fighting, it’s called Truce Day for a reason!”

“What?”

“Yeah, it’ll be perfect! I think Jazz is going in a couple days earlier to help with the preparations, so I’ll get her to let Danny know—and fair warning, he will try to give you the shovel talk, but this is great! It’s Truce Day, so he can’t actually do anything about it!”

“I’m sorry, but you're going to have to explain a bit.”

“Yeah, I know, it’s a bit much—but that’s family, right? Danny can get pretty protective over me, which is why going on Truce Day is the best time to do it! He can’t even command the Fright Knight to stab you! It’s genius!”

“Ellie, what?”

“Like, yeah, sure, he’s the king, but even he has to obey the rules of Truce Day—and then once you’ve spent all day with him, he’ll see that you’re a fantastic, wonderful, kind, brilliant, smart, strong, capable person and he’ll get over himself and everything will be good!"

Damian collapses down onto the couch, the wind knocked out of him. This is… He had not expected anything like this at all. For all that Ellie talked about her family, she had never mentioned this.

“Did you… did you say your brother is a king?”

“Yeah! High King Phantom, have I…” The manic grin slips off her face as she turns round and notices Damian. “Have I not mentioned that before?”

“No. No, you have not.”

“Ah. Sorry. Probably should clarify that I’m also a princess.”

“Right. Yes, that follows.”

“And I’m not really his sister, I’m his clone.”

“What?”

Damian blinks and tries to say more, but he has no idea what he’s meant to do with… any of this information.

Normal. He thought she was meant to be his normal. Nothing could have prepared him for this.

Not that it changed anything, of course, of that he was certain. It’s just… a lot to take in. Overwhelming. But it's okay! He takes a deep breath, and another, and a sense of calm washes over him. Ellie makes one of her little hums as she cocks her head to the side to consider him and he can't help but relax at the normalcy of the sound. It'll be okay, he's dealt with stranger and he can deal with this.

“I’ve, uh… I’ve told you that we’re half ghosts, though, right?”

“What?”

#dpxdc #danny phantom batman #danny phantom crossover #damian wayne/dani phantom #do they have a ship name? probably but idk it sorry #this was fun!! damian is strong and smart and capable and he won't let this stop him!#sure it's a shock but what does that matter when he has the love of his life by his side!!#he can get through this! at least his girlfriend's brother/original/...father? can't get his knight to stab him #that's a point in truce day's favour - even if damian is regretting asking to be introduced #in ellie's defence she thought he knew! he's slightly liminal himself she just assumed he could pick it up! ... he could not.#when they actually get there damian loves it - he fits right in with all the ghosts #there's a little adjustment period where he is VERY prickly with everyone but he gets the hang of it very quickly #all the ghosts are very impressed with his willingness to throw down and he has to be reminded by a very stern ellie that it's TRUCE DAY #stop fighting!!#ah i really enjoyed this thank you for the prompt! i hope you enjoy it too!!#as always it came out a lot longer than i intended - i don't know why i even bothered with the whole 'five sentences'#it was obvious i wasn't going to stick to it smh #anyway i hope you liked it!!#(also but sorry i prefer to call her ellie sorry i know i'm in the minority here haha)#my writing #(shit how is it four in the morning eep)#cab writes

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