#honestly i should just post all of my things that i have in a folder called 'shit doodles' because i have some good oc ship stuff in there

[droppingartintotheinfinite]

How do you have time to make these many drawings?? Nice art style tho

I draw fast. And often. I don’t know how to knit so I have to have some kind of hand activity to do when I’m bored, I guess. One time I drew like 100 things over two days lol

I’m glad you like my stuff :)

[forwards-beckon-rebound]

jason todd instagram hcs

basics

his account's private

he created it around the same time he first knew about you

yes, he did do it because he realized it's probably weird for him to not have any sort of social media

and then randomly posted 2 things so he looked interesting (the shirtless pic may or may not be intentional and obviously the books to show his intellectual side or whatever)

really really bad with social media and all of the naming stuff (i mean are we surprised)

followers + following

mostly his family, friends, and other vigilantes he's worked with

literally whooped with joy the day wonder woman requested to follow him and he would not shut up about it

only person he's following is you ofc (he has a burner account so he can follow people and make sure his brothers aren't doing stupid stuff but he won't admit it)

highlights

yes he does refer to you as his wife to anybody who will listen (and even if they don't he'll still try to anyways)

it's a lot of photos of you guys on dates, some candids of you, basically whenever he thinks you look pretty (all the time) and you let him post the photo

i don't really see him being particularly sappy with his words so he probably just writes like "with my girl" or "date night" or something simple like that

and then some like classic rock song in the bg

honestly idrk what nunya is, i just thought it'd be funny to use that pic for something

probably him hanging out with his friends or random funny stuff he sees

will beat up a guy and then be like "lol went to check this guy's id and his name is deadass buford"

dog is of course photos of your dog, dog!! you guys share custody of her and you would kill anybody for her

there are some photos of him and dog that you've taken

but a lot of them are of you and dog

he likes to go through his wife and dog highlights when he's away on missions and stuff like that (but also he definitely has folders with way more photos on his phone)

posts

he doesn't post that often

but when he does it's usually of you lmfao

definitely posted the third pic from the bottom up when you guys got together

you took the photos of him for him and convinced him to post his to his instagram for once

the book he's reading is actually one you recommended

you guys have a mini book club between the two of you (you guys just read and annotate books and then trade)

you got him the harley davidson jacket because you figured he should have different jackets when he's going out as red hood and as jason todd or else he's not gonna have a secret identity for very long

he's kind of obsessed with it

accidentally got some sort of theme going on? you think it's so funny because this man didn't even know that instagram themes were a thing

dick ver.

[idiopath-fic-smile]

i dunno if that counts as a wip, but personally i've been thinking abt the "conversation at the dinner table of enjolras' family" series for years now so i gotta jump on the oppurunity

oh my gosh, sure thing! when i checked my WIP folder, i learned i'd actually already written a second whole installment (and then completely forgotten about it) so i'll post that too, and then my new chunk after it.

first bit is here. throwing this under a cut bc it's not short!

Two

“So,” said Dad as he ladled the first round of Saturday morning pancake batter onto the griddle, “tell us about this boy you’re dating?”

Enjolras consciously steadied his hands, took a sip of green tea to stall, and reminded himself that if the relationship was real, he would have been dying to share everything he knew about the boy in question. With an unpleasant lurch, he realized this was almost nothing. He wasn’t even sure what grade Grantaire was in.

“He’s…great,” said Enjolras, hoping that with any luck, his panic could be read as lovestruck embarrassment.

Mom curled her hands around her coffee cup and leaned in, conspiratorial. “Is he cute?”

Between Friday afternoon and now, Enjolras had dedicated a staggering amount of thought to the situation, but he hadn’t made much forward progress. Any time he tried, his mind tended to get snagged, or caught in loops, or lost on wild tangents like, Did Grantaire really mean it when he said he would be okay kissing for the sake of this pretense? How could he possibly be alright with that? Was he kidding? But it honestly didn’t seem like he was kidding. But how would it even come up?

One of very few conclusions Enjolras had reached: he needed to find a way to lie to his parents as little as possible. The thought of deceiving them on purpose for months already made the pit of his stomach feel heavy.

“Yeah,” he said weakly, “he’s…got cool hair.” This was true, if asinine. “And um, a good smile. A really good smile.” Also true, although Enjolras mostly saw it either accompanied by a lot of sarcasm or directed at other people.

“So.” Dad craned around to face him, spatula in hand. “Good at smiling. What else?”

Really, Enjolras thought, he should have been able to anticipate this. He could’ve drawn up his talking points beforehand, like he had with the detention. Set aside the time to brainstorm something better than ‘cool hair,’ for crying out loud. He wondered what Grantaire himself would’ve thought of this conversation, the face Grantaire would’ve pulled at Enjolras’s ludicrous attempts to sound like a person with a boyfriend.

Come to think of it, he wondered what Grantaire was telling his own parents about the whole affair. Maybe nothing. Probably nothing. Grantaire didn’t strike him as the kind of kid to spend weekends bonding with his family. Besides, given the demographics of the area, it was unlikely that they’d be supportive of Grantaire’s—fake coming out? Real coming out under fake circumstances? Enjolras didn’t even know whether or not Grantaire was gay. On one hand, it was a pretty outrageous thing for a straight guy to do. On the other hand—well. It was a pretty outrageous thing for a closeted gay guy to do, too.

With no conscious input from his brain, Enjolras’s memory rewound itself, yet again, to the sight of Grantaire calling his name yesterday in the cafeteria—eyes flashing under that mop of wild dark hair, back straight, fists clenched at his sides like he was about to take on the whole school in one go and win.

Enjolras had seen him and thought, ‘This is why Nicolas Sparks books work on people. This is why half the songs on the radio are the same insipid story over and over again.’ Novelists and songwriters wasted all those words trying to capture a sensation and tame it into words but really it was just Grantaire—smartass Grantaire who was annoying and disruptive and weirdly moody sometimes, who refused to take anything seriously, who didn’t even like Enjolras—it was just Grantaire striding forward with Enjolras’s name on his lips, fury on his face, throwing away every scrap of popularity to back up a cause he had bitterly ridiculed just days ago, for no reason Enjolras could see.

It was a lot to think about.

God, Enjolras was in so far over his head.

“Are you blushing?” said Mom.

“No,” said Enjolras.

“Frank,” she said, “Frank, he’s blushing.”

Enjolras slumped down in his chair. “He’s—funny,” Enjolras blurted, because any line of inquiry was preferable to this, even admitting out loud that he wasn’t totally immune to Grantaire’s jokes. More than once, Enjolras had walked out of a meeting with a raw spot on the inside of his cheek from an hour of trying not to laugh at his most recent shenanigans. If anything, it was more of a liability than a point in Grantaire’s favor. He never would have been able to bring everything grinding to a halt by just shouting out quotes from Family Guy or whatever passed for humor among most of their peers. He was quick and clever and creative—and he used it to make everything infinitely harder than it needed to be.

He’d been different at lunch, though, Enjolras thought, squinting unseeing at the syrup. Once the initial shock of are these the next two and a half months of my life had started to wear off, one of the first things Enjolras had noticed was how much energy Grantaire put into making the table laugh.

“Sense of humor,” said Dad. “That’s crucial.”

“Yeah,” said Enjolras. “And—a good artist.” This was something he only knew from Jehan, since the contents of Grantaire’s notebooks were apparently top secret to the rest of the world. “A really good artist,” he added. It might’ve been true, at any rate. Enjolras couldn’t picture Grantaire concentrating that hard at anything but maybe he had natural talent. “He can draw anything. And he plays the drums.”

“A musician!” Dad called over his shoulder. “Let us know if he has any gigs coming up.”

“What did you say his name was?” Mom asked.

Enjolras told her. She grimaced around a mouthful of coffee.

“What?”

“I’ve met his mom,” she said. “She’s in my Jazzercise group. She’s—well, maybe he takes after his dad.”

“Why,” said Enjolras, “did she—” He frowned at his empty plate, but of course there was no way to end that sentence without scraping too close to the truth. Try to make you feel ridiculous for caring about anything? Roll her eyes at you for reacting? Mock and defend your friends in the same breath?

“What?” said Mom.

“Nothing.”

Mom pursed her lips. “I want to be fair, maybe I caught her on a bad day, but she—struck me as pretty phony. A very Stepford feel. Plus, when I told her I had a teenage son, she laughed and said ‘I’m sorry,’ which—you know how that kind of thing burns me. Like, look, lady, I’ve got a kid I feel great about, who I love spending time with. Don’t project your issues on me.” She took another sip of coffee. “I thought her son was younger. She didn’t really mention him but she had one of those middle school honor roll bumper stickers?”

“Does he have a little brother, maybe?” Dad suggested, flipping pancakes with practiced ease.

Enjolras shrugged.

“How did you meet him?” said Mom.

“He’s—he goes to all the meetings, for the ABC,” said Enjolras, because stressing their shared history of detention felt like an unwise move and anyway this, too, was technically accurate, just in that slippery politician way that Enjolras hated—dropping breadcrumbs and letting the listener fill in the lie for themselves.

“He’s dedicated, then,” said Mom.

Completely dedicated. Not dedicated at all. I have no idea. “Yeah,” he said. “And smart.” Truthful, if misleading. “And—nice.” Maybe truthful? Enjolras seemed to be the only person he went out of his way to annoy, at any rate. “I don’t know,” Enjolras mumbled, which was, he thought wryly, the most honest claim he’d made so far. “I just—I just like him a lot,” he finished, and nothing in the words or how he said them was an act.

That was the problem.

Three

“So,” said Mom brightly, “how was Joly’s party?”

Enjolras chewed his black bean burger and fought the urge to tug up the neck of his T-shirt over the completely obvious bite bruise blooming slightly north of his clavicle.��

He swallowed. “Fine,” said Enjolras. “Good.”

“How are things with Grantaire?” she added and okay, yes, only a fool wouldn't have seen this coming.

Enjolras set down his bun. He couldn’t deal with Mom or Dad thinking he had been pressured in any way. The thought was not only abhorrent, it was completely out of character for Grantaire. Who, regardless of where he actually sat politically, had way more principles than he’d let on.

Enjolras summoned up all the sincerity he could muster. “Great,” he said, thinking of how Grantaire talked to Joly, goofy and kind, without an ounce of condescension. He could feel himself starting to smile. “Really great.” Dad cleared his throat. “You know,” he said. “When you came out to us as asexual, we assumed it meant we could skip over some conversations, but now, uh." Mom and Dad exchanged the slightest of looks.

"It's a spectrum," said Enjolras, face flaming. He hadn't articulated to them where exactly he sat on that spectrum, because for one thing he hadn't known for sure, and for another thing he could think of nothing more painful that tracing the exact topography of his attraction with his parents, for crying out loud.

"Well, there's no harm in knowledge, right?" Dad continued. His voice had the slightest practiced quality to it. Enjolras could imagine him going over his argument out loud before dinner, searching for the best way to make his case. Enjolras found this obscurely comforting. "Plus, you know," said Dad. "Kids talk about these things with each other and there's so much misinformation out there; you might appreciate the chance to be a resource for your friends. About dating or relationships, or the things that happen in a relationship. Is it okay if we go over a few things?”

Enjolras swung his foot under the table and carefully didn't think about Grantaire determinedly giving him a hickey in the kitten-wallpapered bathroom of Joly's basement.

"Sure."

"Great," said Dad, relief rushing into his face. He stood. "If it helps, I have some handouts I can go quick print out."

[yellowocaballero]

“I’m afraid I must call you out of retirement for a final mission.”

Cold ice shot through Tobi’s chest. Fuck.

Did he know? He couldn’t. If he knew, he wouldn’t show it like this. His visit with T&I would be a lot less cheerful, that’s for sure. Was he prodding Tobi, watching for his reaction? Did Sarutobi honestly think he’d slip up? Tobi was incapable of slipping up. He couldn’t tell the truth with a kunai to his throat at this point.

“What sort of mission is it?” Tobi asked excitedly, ripping open the folder. He held the paper up and slowly mouthed the words on the page, fighting to get through the page. Look at him, he filled out his mission reports in crayon and could barely read. “Mission report…assignment duration, promotion or release…pay…oh, ew…assignment…jounin sensei…”

Tobi trailed off.

Distantly, he heard himself say, “Um. Maybe this is a mistake?”

As promised in last post. Kakashi & Obito roleswap. Barely. It's complicated. Please pay no attention to how many roleswaps I have written. Just ignore it. Do me a favor and do not think about it. OK? Thank you.

Snippet from a much longer, much messier document. This part was the very first part writiten and very much a proof of concept. I'm trying to figure out if I should overhaul the thing and turn this into an actual story, so let me know.

Short beginning scene of Tobito's Wild Ride under the cut.

“Tobi. Thank you for coming.”

Obviously, Tobi didn’t bow or kneel. That wasn’t the sort of person Tobi was. He just grinned broadly, waving so broadly that his body swayed with the motion. “Gramps! Hello! Wow, you’ve gotten old since I’ve seen you!”

Sarutobi chuckled, raising a pipe to his mouth. The pipe - either ‘I’m thinking hard’, ‘I want to pretend I’m thinking hard and giving due consideration to your idea when I don’t really care’, or ‘I’ve already decided and I’m pretending that you have a say in this’. What was the point of the last one? This was a literal military dictatorship. Tobi forgot how exhausting this man could be. 

“It has been a while,” Sarutobi said indulgently. “Since…the T&I incident, I believe?”

Tobi giggled, high and childish. “Inoichi-san got sooo mad. But Tobi said he was real, real, real sorry, so I hope he’s not still mad…oh, no.” Tobi gasped, face falling in desolation. “Is Inoichi-san still mad at me? Oh, Tobi can go apologize again -”

“It’s water under the bridge.” Tobi exhaled gustily, wiping the back of his hand against his brow. It wasn’t his fault Inoichi hated him. Apparently his mind was absolutely impenetrable. Something about constant children’s lullabies just playing full blast in his head. Or songs regarding a specific time of day someplace in the world. “I have to apologize, Tobi. I always feel as if I should keep a better eye on you. There’s never enough time in the day for all of the people we care about. Please forgive me for my inattention to you.”

Manipulative old fuck. Tobi panicked, embarrassed by the attention and affection. He waved his hands quickly, almost jumping up and down. “Gramps! It’s okay! Tobi’s not lonely or sad! He still has Sasuke-chan! Sasuke-chan wasn’t brutally murdered, so Tobi’s A-OK!” Tobi had to tell himself that a lot. Every morning after a nightmare, which meant every morning period. “And I met a really nice old lady yesterday and helped her down the street. She gave me an apple sweet. It was delicious! So there’s nothing to forgive, Gramps!”

“I’m glad,” Sarutobi said warmly. Ugh. Tobi knew objectively that Minato-sensei had tried to imitate that tone, but he still liked to convince himself that Sarutobi was mimicking Minato-sensei. That was a good one, he’d have to use it. “Sasuke-kun is actually why I called you here today.” 

That kid. Tobi sighed. “Tobi is sorry that Tobi cannot control Sasuke-chan. I’ve told him that punching Naruto-kun is bad, but he just doesn’t listen…”

“I’m sure you’ll find a method somehow.” Sarutobi pushed a thin file folder across the desk, and Tobi curiously stepped forward and picked it up. He’d know a file like that anywhere. It was a mission assignment folder. “I’m afraid I must call you out of retirement for a final mission.”

Cold ice shot through Tobi’s chest. Fuck.

Did he know? He couldn’t. If he knew, he wouldn’t show it like this. His visit with T&I would be a lot less cheerful, that’s for sure. Was he prodding Tobi, watching for his reaction? Did Sarutobi honestly think he’d slip up? Tobi was incapable of slipping up. He couldn’t tell the truth with a kunai to his throat at this point.

How did Tobi feel about this? Tobi sure as hell knew how Obito felt - desperately wondering if a T&I visit was in his future. Tobi was scared of the missions, sure. But he was a five year old. How would a five year old react to these things? 

Well. Tobi knew how he would have reacted. He would have sighed and rolled his eyes about yet another mission. Pretty impressive when you were burned out of your career at five years old. He blamed the two month graduation for years before he learned of Rin and Kakashi’s hell and eventually concluded that it could have been worse. At least Tobi was paid for his war zone. 

“A mission?” Tobi gushed. He clenched on the folder far too tightly, like a child clutching a wheezing frog. “I’m going on missions again?” He jumped a little, his usual little show of excitement. Kept his energy up. “Does that mean Gramps isn’t mad at me anymore?”

Tobi carefully snuck a glance up from the folder, checking Sarutobi’s expression. Sarutobi’s face was impassive stone, as usual, but he looked a little worn too. “We were never angry with you.”

Tobi fully looked up, tilting his head and frowning. “Nuh-uh. Tobi remembers. Everybody was so mad at Tobi. Just because his hand slipped…it wasn’t Tobi’s fault.”

“We know,” Sarutobi said gently. “Minato didn’t retire you because he was angry with you. He was only looking out for you.”

Well, Tobi didn’t want to be out of fucking retirement. It was objectively insane to put him on any mission. Tobi had gotten sabotaging every attempt to make him a useful member of society down to a fucking art. He had a shitton of inheritance to blow and a nice long civilian life to blow it on. Maybe he was too stubborn about it - Iruka was definitely convinced that he was the second laziest person in the village and sabotaged his assigned jobs on purpose, which Tobi would have resented if it wasn’t absolutely true - but spite was important. Spite woke him up in the morning. 

The only thing that helped him tolerate this stupid village was his hate for it. Ain’t that just the way.

“What sort of mission is it?” Tobi asked excitedly, ripping open the folder. He held the paper up and slowly mouthed the words on the page, fighting to get through the page. Look at him, he filled out his mission reports in crayon and could barely read. “Mission report…assignment duration, promotion or release…pay…oh, ew…assignment…jounin sensei…”

Tobi trailed off.

Distantly, he heard himself say, “Um. Maybe this is a mistake?”

“Trust me. You’re hardly our first choice.” Finally, they agreed on something. “But you’re the only one in this village with a Sharingan, Tobi. You’re the only one who can teach Sasuke how to use his power.”

“Nuh-uh. Um. This is a mistake. Ha ha.” Tobi ripped the paper from the folder, crumpling it into a ball and tossing it over his shoulder. “Because, um, I can’t use my Sharingan. Did Gramps maybe forget that? Ha ha?”

“But you still remember how to use it. Even if you can’t use it yourself, you can still walk Sasuke-kun through using his.” Sarutobi eyed Tobi knowingly, the dim glowing embers of his pipe reflecting a soft light in his eyes. “You were once a genius with the Sharingan, Tobi. They said you were the best since Madara.”

Yeah! Yeah, they did say that, old man! That was the whole fucking problem!

Mention of the Sharingan or Tobi’s old talents always upset him, so this was a great springboard into nipping this in the bud. He’d throw a hissy fit if he had to. Tobi had killer hissy fits. That was how Sasuke was given a seat as head of house in the Clan Council. Tobi’s wail could pierce eardrums and Sasuke had deserved that fucking seat. 

“Tobi doesn’t like the Sharingan anymore!” Tobi exclaimed. “Tobi wants to help Sasuke-chan, Gramps, cross Tobi’s heart! But Tobi doesn’t like the Sharingan and the Sharingan don’t like Tobi. And that’s just the truth.” Tobi crossed his arms, sniffling and scrunching his nose. “And don’t say what you’re gonna say. Tobi knows what’s up. Minato-sensei’s little boy is on that team too, isn’t he?”

He absolutely was. Tobi had speed-read the entire document while he was reading it out loud. But even the remnant of Obito’s genius was still considerable, and Tobi’s moments of keen insight were useful for pushing the enemy into a corner. 

“I thought you might appreciate the chance to look after your sensei’s son,” Sarutobi said mildly, removing a silver lighter from his pocket. Engraved, a gift from Biwako. Was that on purpose? A mind game on Tobi, an unconscious memory on his part, or a purposeful evocation of a memory just for him? Was he trying to remind Tobi of something or corner Obito? Damn this man. “Help him like your sensei helped you.”

The really great thing about Tobi was that he could get away with saying this. It was only to the left of cathartic, but at least it was in the zone. “I’m not stupid, Gramps!” Tobi yelled. The ANBU in the corners twitched, but when Sarutobi’s fingernail clicked on the silver lighter they subsided. “You’re giving Minato-sensei and Kushina-neechan’s little baby and his fox to the last Sharingan because you want the Sharingan to eat the Fox! Why are you doing what you want when you know it won’t work? Tobi’s tried, he can’t - he can’t, Gramps.”

It wasn’t the sort of thing any self-respecting Uchiha would admit. Half of them would kill themselves if they lost their Sharingan. Uchiha Obito, whose Sharingan was the pride and joy of the clan - who was the Uchiha’s Uchiha before Itachi-kun was even a twinkle in his mother’s eye - would never abandon his one point of value. 

And everybody knew how prideful the Uchiha were. There was no Uchiha alive who would pretend to be Tobi. Could you imagine? What Uchiha would humiliate themselves like this with a goofy smile on their face? A regular human being could barely do it. An Uchiha? Forget it. Impossible.

But Kushina-neechan’s favorite shinobi was always the most surprising of all. And Obito cared about that more than all the rest. 

The only ninja who would have ferreted him out was Kakashi. Kakashi and his dopey, stupid smile. His ridiculous porn books and his clumsy pratfalls. His laziness, lateness, and utter underachiever lifestyle. Only Kakashi ever said those words, with a wink and a smile: a true shinobi looked underneath the underneath. So save your energy and watch the clouds with me, Uchiha-kun. No? Maybe next time…

The next time never came. Being a good Uchiha had always meant something, and the useless son of a disgraced clan meant nothing at all. Nothing to anybody but Minato and Kushina and Rin and Obito.

“You’re better than nothing.” In that second, Sarutobi really did look very tired. He didn’t look like he was lying at all. “You’re the best we have, Tobi.”

Tobi was silent. Sarutobi knew it wasn’t much of a compliment. Even somebody like Tobi would know that. 

“As a favor to Sasuke-kun and Naruto-kun,” Sarutobi said, “and as a favor to me. Please give these children the help you can. Don’t worry - I’ll ask the other jounin to pitch in and help.” 

Tobi lowered his voice, and he allowed his tone to grow a little more serious. “I’m not strong. I’m not good at molding chakra and I haven’t really fought anyone in a long time. I can’t protect the children.” 

“We’ll be careful,” Sarutobi allowed. But there was something in his eye… “You may be rusty, but I doubt you’re out of the ring yet. Have a little faith in yourself.” The look in his eyes glinted and grew, and for the first time he stared right at Tobi. “You did hold your own against Uchiha Itachi.”

They stared at each other for a long second, two. A little too late, Tobi laughed and scrubbed the back of his neck. “Silly Gramps! I said a billion times. Tobi hid. I don’t think Itachi-kun thought it was worth it to kill me…I don’t think Itachi-kun ever thought I was a real Uchiha. But we’ve showed him, huh?” Tobi grinned, jabbing a finger at his chest. “Now there’s three whole Uchiha in the whole wide world! One third’s a serial killer, one third’s twelve, and one third is…drumroll please…Tobi! Konoha’s in good hands, ne?”

Tobi smiled at the man who ordered Uchiha Itachi to kill their entire family.

Sarutobi smiled back at the man who was currently pulling the most intricate and improbable lying campaign in a village of ninjas. In Obito’s defense, it was to save his own life. Sarutobi had murdered his family to - well, save the village, but Tobi didn’t have to like it. 

“Thank you for accepting the mission. I trust you’ll do splendidly.”

“Uh. Tobi didn’t -”

“The children ought to be waiting for you in the schoolroom at 1000 hours. You ought to head over - I expect you’re already late.”

Tobi squealed, looking at the unwound watch on his wrist and slapping his head. “Oh no! I’m late, I’m late, I’m late! Bye, Gramps! You promise-promise to get back-up for Tobi, right?”

Pleasantly, Sarutobi said, “I would not trust you alone with those children, no.”

“Yay! Okay, gotta goooo!”

When he left Sarutobi’s office, he was about ten minutes late to his meeting with the children. By the time he arrived at the school he was over an hour late. Lost on the road of life and all that. It didn’t matter - venting about this ridiculousness to Kakashi was way more important than meeting the brats on time.

This would be a disaster. There was no way this would end well. Tobi was a brain damaged, traumatized moron who couldn’t use his one skill and who hadn’t been on active duty since he whoopsie-daisy’d his sword into his best friend’s heart. If Sarutobi didn’t keep up his promise and drag in the other jounin to take up his slack then he’d riot. Did he want Tobi to do work? Tobi? He had resigned from capitalism and the military industrial complex. Pulling him into this shit again - as if he hadn’t suffered enough -

As if Sasuke and Naruto hadn’t. Maybe one of Sarutobi’s stupid-ass motivations was because he knew that only Tobi would be nice to Sasuke and Naruto. Damn Naruto especially. For that, at least…if only as a favor to Minato-sensei…

To make up for it…maybe a little bit of real work would be the least he could do.

Ugh. Hopefully not that much.

Tobi finally touched down at the school, following the Academy hallways to Sasuke’s classroom by route memory. He dropped off Sasuke’s lunch a lot. It embarrassed him so much. It was classic.

Tobi walked into the classroom and allowed a large basket of glitter to fall on top of his head.

A peal of laughter squealed throughout the room, and Tobi opened his eyes to see Uzumaki Naruto clutching his sides and laughing his ass off. Quite rudely, Sasuke had his feet propped up on a desk. That third girl was sitting primly in her seat, terrified. 

“What an idiot! Our new sensei actually fell for - wait.” Naruto straightened, squinting at Tobi. He yelled, jabbing a finger at him. “Hey! Number Two Ramen Fan! What the hell are you doing here?”

Sasuke almost fell out of his seat. He scrambled to his feet, panicked in his special Sasuke way - that was, eyes a little wider than usual. “Tobi? Did I forget my lunch?”

“Um?” Sakura Haruno hunched her shoulders in her seat, picking at the corner of a scroll. “Uchiha Obito’s our sensei. I thought you knew. Did you…not know?”

“Is this a joke?” Sasuke cried. “Who the hell thought this was funny? Tobi couldn’t fight his way out of a paper bag! If they’re bullying us again, I swear to god I’ll strangle whoever -”

“Whoah,” Naruto cried, impressed. “Violent!”

“Everybody’s always bullying Tobi,” Sasuke snapped. “I’m an Uchiha. What sort of Uchiha would I be if I tolerated that?”

Glitter dripped down Tobi’s hair and sprinkled onto his clothing. He smiled, big and bright, and clapped his hands together. Sasuke was groaning, but Naruto and Sakura just leaned in closer - caught in a morbid curiosity, desperate to meet their own fate. Signed and sealed. “Tobi’s first impression of you all is…you’re so funny! Tobi likes you!”

The kids paled. 

[the-californicationist]

WIP Game

Thanks for the tag @ethereal-night-fairy

Rules: In a new post, post the names of all the files in your WIP folder regardless of how nondescript or ridiculous. Let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them and then post a little snippet and tell us about it!

I have taken a big step back lately because of my work, but I do have some things I'm slowly putting paragraphs into.

Long Fics in Progress

Ursa Major - Bear!Price x Female Reader - John Price is a hot, lumberjack werebear. This is the most self-indulgent fic I've ever written, and I will not apologize. Updates are weekly, for the most part.

The Sin Eater - Monster!Price x Female Reader - A dark, monster fic based off of the Jekyll and Hyde paradigm. Co-authored with amazing @vampirekilmerfic, but updates are extremely slow. It's a hard fic for me to write.

The Window - Poly!141 x Female Reader - Pregnancy fic with a poly/reverse harem theme. This should've stayed a one-shot, honestly. I don't know what the heck I'm doing with this.

The Fox & The Hound - PornStar!Soap x Female Reader - I love this fic so much. I should just stop, but I can't let it go. For some reason, this story just lives in my heart rent-free.

My Brother's Keeper - Regency!Price x Female Reader - Unpublished arranged marriage childhood friends-to-lovers dual virginity fic with a huge twist. It'll probably come out midsummer? I think.

Doubt Thou the Stars - Space!Price x Alien!Female OC - Unpublished space fic where John Price is basically Malcolm Reynolds from Firefly. Self-indulgent and weird. I might never publish it because it's so odd.

The Cube - Ghost x Female Reader - We don't talk about The Cube. But, it's there... lurking.

One-Shots in Progress

Down the Hatch - Gaz x Female Reader - Gaz convinces you to fuck him inside a tank.

Pas de Deux - Ghost x Ballerina!Female Reader - Inspired by an ask, but a bit of a divergence from the original request. Ghost falls for Gaz's sister as she performs as Odette in Swan Lake.

Against Medical Advice - Price x Female Reader - Inspired by an ask where Price gets shot in the thigh and ends up convincing you, his medic, to get nasty with him anyways.

A Knight's Errand - Medieval!141 x Female Reader - In order to avoid a dangerous foreign king from being eligible to marry their queen, her knights work hard to ensure that she is with-child, securing her position on the throne. (I think this fic already exists? I don't remember the name of it, though. But, that's why it's unpublished. Maybe it's a two-cakes situation, but I don't want to publish it and have it be so similar that it repeats their original idea.)

I hope some of these are interesting to y'all! Feel free to ask me about them if you have questions.

No pressure tags: @vampirekilmerfic @gemmahale @kit-williams @deadbranch @ceilidho

[imobsessivesometimes]

Eazy-Duz-It // Logan Howlett x Reader

PT 4

a/n ok last of spam post as of 11/22/24 ('merican notation)

this chapter genuinely took me so long to write, writers block is so real

"Ok!" I clapped my hands to begin, "Since it's our first lesson, I think we should get to know what kind of music you like!" The kid in front of me was scrawny, grumpy, overall uninterested. Ororo told me the only reason why he signed up is because she asked. Guess the kid has a crush on her.

"I don't really listen to music." he remarked listlessly. He hunched in his chair like he was rivaling the guy from that Notre dame movie. It was hard to keep my eye from twitching. I have NO idea what I'm doing.

"That's ok! Yeah, that's, yeah, totally fine. I, uh, actually put together a list of a few songs that I think matches your--uh--vibe!" I grabbed the folder on the piano bench to my right, opened it and grabbed a semi-crumpled piece of paper out of it. "I had seen you in the halls a few times, Oror--I mean, Storm, Miss Ororo, Miss Storm? --anyways, she pointed you out to me and, well, just look at it." I put out the piece of paper to him and he grabs it limply. His eyes rack over the small list and looks back at me unimpressed. "Oh! Right, right, you don't listen to music, so obviously you wouldn't know most if not all of these songs. That's ok! We can listen to them on my speaker and that can be our lesson for the day. And maybe next time we can figure out if you'd like to play an instrument, which one, or if you'd like to sing." I take the piece of paper back from him. I stand up to go to the piano where a small speaker is perched on the top. I que a few of the songs and we started to listen. He slouched down further and crossed his arms. 

Dark Entries (Bauhaus)

The kid emanates a punk attitude. Ororo had mentioned he barely listened in class, didn't participate in exercises unless he wanted to, and he talks back to Charles Xavier. Maybe music that'll get him to stomp around and move will be what he needs.

As the chorus came on, I saw his foot start to tap to the beat, or at least what he thought was the beat. I could see the slight movement of his head rocking. I think I might've clocked what he'll like. I played a few more songs until our 50 minutes was up. I gave him the list again and told him to explore different artists within the same genre. He seemed excited to see me next week.

I lean on the door frame, watching him walk away. His head bopped a little bit, I could feel that his heart was still beating at the same bpm as the last song we listened to. It honestly made me happy to see. Maybe this faux-"music therapy" was going to work. Before I turned back into my little classroom, I heard a gruff voice call out to me.

"Hey, teach," Logan lounged down the hallway, quickly making it over to me in a few strides, "I see you got Jacob to sign up?" he smirked, clearly knowing the kind of kid he was.

"I wish, Ororo did, actually. I think the kid has a thing for her," I scoffed with a smile. Logan leaned against the wall next to the side of the frame I was against. "Not busy?"

"Nah, sometimes you gotta ditch your own class." he shrugged. This guy, I tell ya. "I forgot you got put down here. All good?"

"Yeah, thanks for asking. I didn't think you were the type to check on the noobie." I pushed his shoulder slightly. It was odd, though. The first impression I got from him is that he didn't give a damn about anything or anyone. Maybe Jean Grey, if my eyes are working properly.

"Eh, well, I thought I'd be charitable, for once." he shrugged, "I was told I need to be 'nicer'" he put in quotes, his eyes roll under his furrowed eyebrows. All in jest, I think. 

"Mm, that's sweet," I say, "Got some more time on your hands?"

He raises an eyebrow at me, "Why?"

"I just thought maybe you'd wanna listen to some music with me. I don't have any other students today, literally only one signed up. Maybe you'll be more motivated to work after." I shrug. I try not to let my nerves get the better of me. Asking Logan to basically hang out was not something I was expecting to come out of my mouth, but something in me wants to spend more time with him. Something in me makes me want to get to know him better, maybe even help him. Also, if students know that I'm buddies with the big bad Logan, they'll want to sign up for lessons with me!

Logan looked at me suspiciously. I purse my lips in a thin line with wide eyes waiting for him to answer. "I don't really listen to music, kid, hate to break it to ya."

"Literally no one here does," I push off the frame with an eyeroll. It's getting frustrating how none of these people want to even try to get into something new, "Well, I'm going to practice piano, or something. Have fun at-- well, at whatever you do," I still give him a smile before I retreat back into my room. He gives a grunt in response when I close the door. I plop down on the piano bench and sigh. 

Being in this mansion was starting to get suffocating. And being in this little room with one window felt worse than that stupid shipping container. Worse than anything that fucking "RainTec" did to me. I don't understand why no one has come to talk to me about, or even to see if I'm ok. I am, but it'd still be nice to be asked. I hope I'm not always going to be useless and invisible here. I'm hidden in the farthest corner on the highest floor of this place. It's a wonder why Logan was up here in the first place. Maybe he goes on walks or something, I don't know. He's a weird guy, nothing he does would surprise me, honestly. Well, except if he started acting like Ororo or Kitty.

I sat at the piano for a while; for how long, I don't know, I don't have a clock. My speaker pinged and a muffled voice came out of it asking me to go down to the Professors office. I think it might've been Jean who hacked into my speaker. After another second, I get up begrudgingly. Sitting in my wallows was more appealing, ignoring this would be stupid, though. Besides, it's probably something important. I quickly make my way down to the first floor where Charles' office is located. I open the door to a few people around his desk, looks like I'm the last to the party. Scott, Jean, Ororo, and Logan were the people I recognized. There was another young man, he was blue with a tail and sharp teeth.

"Y/n, I'm happy you could join us on such short notice. I hope I didn't interrupt anything," Charles Xavier greeted. He's always nice to me. Skeptically, he might be a little too nice. "I know you haven't had any training, but the x-men would be at benefit of your knowledge and abilities for this mission." he began to explain, "You wouldn't be put on the battlefield, you'd be conducting behind the scenes work from the jet." he smiled.

"Uhm, ok? What is this mission even about?" I asked.

"My apologies, I forgot you weren't here when I went over it with the other x-men. We've found a base of RainTec's that we have records of you being held there recently. We've gotten reports of mutant's captive there, the mission is to help them escape and bring the base down in the process." he finished. The Professor didn't seemed bother in the slightest by my connection to RainTec, not even by the fact that I was also held captive there recently. But, despite that, this could be a good opportunity to prove myself useful. Maybe by helping them with this, it'll show that I can help people. Logan said that the first step is wanting to help, I guess this is my second. "Are you willing to help?"

"Yeah, sure." 

[tsukkismoonlight]

When It Comes To You || J.K × Reader

Summary: You've somehow gotten stuck with the most obnoxious (Minus boy genius Armin Arlert) group ever for a college class project. Eren Jeager, and Jean Kirstein. The latter of which seems to find a way to weasel his way into your life, making your plans for a quiet college experience fall away.

Author's Note: okay, like a year and some odd change in months later i'm finally posting this fic!! Honestly life kinda got in the way but we all know how it is. Anywayyyys, I hope yall enjoy! This is my first longer fic, so let me know what you guys think! Also super big shoutout to my buddies on discord for beta reading the first portion of this! <3 wk: 16.7k

Warnings: unedited, probably ooc characteristics who knows

"Would you two knock it off?" were your first words since the two bone-headed, annoying, loud-mouthed boys had started arguing. 

Here you were, in an empty classroom, supposed to be working on a group project for at least an hour or two, and the /only/ thing that your group had done was bicker back and forth. 

The first of the two boneheads, Eren Jeager, had spent the whole time insisting on his ideas, and his ideas alone, while the other, Jean Kirstein, had only been arguing that the former's ideas were stupid and that 'if anything, Eren should shut his trap and just do the grunt work.'

The blonde, Armin Arlert, was clearly just as done with them, but took a more quiet approach to trying to stop them. Any time he could interject, he tried to reason with the two, but of course neither would listen. 

So, when you stood up, slamming your palms onto the table and shouting at them, all three of them quickly grew quiet. "We only have so much time to work on this project, and I am /not/ going to fail this project because you two idiots can't let go of your egos for more than two seconds!" 

"Well, maybe if this asshole would-" Eren started, mostly keeping his voice at a low grumble, sounding like a scolded child.

Jean, cutting Eren's words short while crossing his arms across his chest, "Oh yeah, /I'm/ the asshole here…"

But with another of your glares sent to both of them, the two stopped once more.

"Maybe we should split up the work?" Armin was already writing out two plans, where you could make out his name and Eren, meaning that you were stuck with Jean. 

Not that you wanted to be with either of them. You'd rather take Armin and just leave the other two to fail. But, as this was a group project, Professor Hange had made it clear that points were to be docked for any group that did not complete the assignment together.  

You plopped back into your seat, sighing heavily. "Okay, we will work in two groups. Looks like Eren, you're going with Armin, and Jean, you're with me." You paused as Armin slid over the paper he had drafted up. 

Glancing over it, you could see that he had given you and Jean a good amount of work, yet he had still given himself more. Part of you wanted to point it out, maybe even offer to take some of the load, but the other part of you knew that Armin would refuse and somehow make it sound like the nicest thing he'd ever do.

"Okay, so, from there, once all the research is done, Armin and I will meet up in person to work on the presentation bits, which means that Eren and Jean, you will only need to put your findings in a document for us. That should be easy enough." 

When no one objected, you started to pack up your things.You waited for Jean to take a picture of the draft before tucking it away in a folder carefully. 

Around you, the others started to do the same. With a small breath of relief, you finished packing up and slung your bag over your shoulders, looking to each of your groupmates slowly. "If anyone has questions,” you announced, “please text me. I gave Armin my number already, but if you need mine, ask now."

Eren slid his phone across the table to you, a sour look on his face, as he was clearly upset with the whole situation, and the fact that he had been yelled at over it. You ignored his attitude and typed in your number before returning the phone to him.

Next was Jean, who looked at you for a few moments, then handed his phone over to you, where you repeated the process of saving your number for him. 

With that done you set off to your dorm.You didn't live alone, but it was bound to be a wonderful change in pace (and in volume levels). When you arrived, you slipped your shoes off and headed for your room, pausing for a second as you saw one of your roommate and probably your closest friend Sasha Braus. Currently she was sitting on the floor of her room, clutching a bowl of soup…or what was probably a bowl of soup, as it was empty now. 

"Oh, hey! You're back already?" she asked, turning to you with a spoon dangling from her mouth. It caused a slight slur in her words, so it came out more like, "Ohhh, heyyy, yer bick alreaty?"

With a sigh, you walked into her room, dropping your bag by the door before flopping onto her bed (which was incredibly comfortable). "Yeah, I called it quits early because I got paired with Armin, Jean, and Eren, and Armin is fine and all, but your stupid friend and Eren can't go more than five seconds without fighting." 

You could hear a soft clink as Sasha put her spoon down. "Well, it always works for me to hit them." 

"I can't hit my group mates…even if I want to," you grumbled, rolling over onto your side so you could see her.

"I can hit them for you then, just tell me when and where." She flexed her arms, raising her eyebrows up and down at you as she did so. 

This caused a breathy laugh to come from you. You could feel yourself starting to relax. Your two roommates were probably the only reason that you had stayed sane so far. 

Sasha was always good at getting you to smile, at times she wouldn't stop until you showed some sign of positivity. And of course you were more than grateful for it. 

When you had first moved to the dorms, you had kept to yourself, unsure if you really liked her at all. But with time, you warmed up to her easily. 

There had been a handful of nights where she would invite you to stay up and just talk, or watch some movie. And, at times, she would share food with you, which you learned wasn't always her favorite thing to do. 

"Hey, one of these days we need to catch up on Food wars." 

You looked back to her, nodding along, "Oh for sure! Maybe sometime this next week I can stay up with you and we can watch it. Maybe buy some junk food too." 

At the prospect of snacks, she perked up even more. "Can we get-"

"Yes, we can get the baked potato flavored chips." 

"You didn't even let me finish!" Sasha pouted a little, though still unable to hide her excitement at the confirmation of her favorite snack.

You reached down and flicked her forehead lightly, "Well I already knew what you were going to say. It wasn't hard to figure out."

"Hey! I could have asked for something different! Like, salt and vinegar ones!" 

"You don't even like those, and neither do I. We wouldn't ever buy any." 

The two of you talked for another five or so minutes until she had to leave, shouting something about Connie Springer owing her dinner. You took the time to go back into your own room which you actually shared with a third roommate ( neither of you wanted to share a room with Sasha because of her snoring). However, he wasn't home yet, which meant that he'd probably be back late.

You pulled your laptop out of your bag and plugged it in; then you went to grab your notebooks, some pens and pencils, and finally your copy of the book for your project. It was best to get a headstart on the project, as it was worth most of your grade. 

Professor Hange had assigned the class to read and analyze an old book written by a nameless author. The idea and plot was interesting to a point. It was a war between mere humans, and a race of humans that could take control of what they called titans. The main two parties at war were named Marley and Eldia, both of which claimed that the other was in the wrong, and had vowed to take revenge, wanting to eradicate the other's existence. Towards the end, there was something of a compromise, and Marley seemed to come out victorious. All in all, there was a lot more to it, and the details were typically gorey and morally wrong. The ending wasn't ever written, leaving all readers to question what they knew and what they may not have been told. 

This is where your project came in: you were to try and look into the book, outside sources, even artwork, whatever the class could get their hands on, and work on an analysis. Hange hadn't given many guidelines; they wanted to leave it open and see what the class would come up with. Your group hadn't made a decision yet, but so far, Eren was dead set on writing an analysis on who he thought was right and freedom and some other crap, while Jean only had talked about how Eren was wrong. 

Luckily enough, Armin had already written up a potential analysis summary, one that focused on how the two sides were similar and what they shared in common with the rest of humanity, and how trying to pick a side would only allow their bloody history to repeat again. His was rather long winded, but it allowed for you to pick and choose the best parts, and what you guys wouldn't really need. 

You spent some time searching the internet for more sources, coming across a few articles on what could be a deeper meaning to the story, and a few on what could have been the rest of the world's view on both Marley and Eldia. 

That was when you came across a page for the local museum; it seemed that there was going to be an exhibit about the book, featuring many different artists and even some written works. Taking a moment to write down the dates and price for tickets in your phone’s note app. You then sent a quick text to Armin about it, letting him know that if he wanted, you could go and check it out with Jean. 

Clicking your phone off, you gave a heavy sigh and stood up, pulling your arms above your head in a stretch before continuing to work on the project. You knew that you should probably eat something, and drink some water, as you hadn’t really been able to do so in the last few hours. But with the project being so important, you decided against getting back up. If you got up now, chances were that you’d end up wasting some time doing who knows what. You really needed to just focus on your work, food, water and relaxing could come later. This was typical for you, what was one more time anyways?

Quietly, your afternoon quickly turned to night, and you wouldn't have noticed if it weren't for both of your roommates crashing into your room. 

You turned around, eyeballing Sasha and your third roommate, Marco Bodt, unsure if you really wanted to ask questions. 

"She was drinking with Connie at his place," 

"Huh? Noo I waz'nt ! Conn and I were jus playin a game an' then…and then..mmkay maybe I was drinking, but!" Sasha rambles on for a minute, still leaning heavily on Marco, who just gave a half hearted and weary smile. 

You shook your head, and stood up, making your way over to Sasha taking her off Marco's hands "Was Connie like this too?" you asked.

"Yeah, he and Jean both…" Marco sighed, following you as you took Sasha to her room. While you carefully put her in her bed,  Marco pulled her shoes off for her. 

At his words, you paused for just a moment then you continued to fish Sasha's phone from her pocket, placing it on the charger for her. 

"Of course, Jean was drinking, too." you remarked. You tried your best to ignore the irritation rising in you. It wasn't like you guys had to get the whole project done right away, or that Jean couldn't enjoy a drink with his friends. But, it wouldn't surprise you if only Armin and yourself had been the only two to even start.

As the two of you left Sasha to sleep, Marco motioned to the kitchen, saying, "Hungry?" You gave a small nod in response.

Once in the small kitchen area, you hopped onto the counter while your roommate got to work on making something simple. From the looks of it, he was just making mac and cheese, but you couldn't really care less. You hadn't noticed it earlier, but you were actually starving. 

A quiet buzz from your pocket pulled your attention from Marco cooking, and you pulled your phone out, seeing a few messages from an unsaved number. 

"Heyy, it's me"

"Jean"

"just figured i'd text you since we have be partners"

"Not complaining cause i dont wanna be stuck with eren" 

You shook your head at your phone, typing a quick reply back, “Wow really? I couldn’t tell.”

Another buzz, another incoming message, “I really hate that guy. He’s stuck up, and always thinks he’s right”

“You know, I feel like there’s someone else like that too.” You sucked in a deep breath, already feeling a tinge of annoyance creeping its way into your body. Sure, Jean was bound to be the better of the two, but that didn’t mean that you wanted him texting you about his testosterone fueled hatred for Eren.

A few moments pass before he texts you again, the words a little hard to make out at first, “you better not be implying that im like him”

“I would never do that. You are an okay person in my eyes”

“Just okay? I’m fuckin’ great!”

“Yeahh, sure. I agree with you, 100%”

You could almost feel his skeptical gaze through your phone as he sent yet another message, “I dont know if I believe that.”

“I dont care if you believe it or not tbh”

“I cant tell if you like me or not”

At this, you paused. You didn’t really know the guy outside of what you were told by Marco and Sasha. And he definitely did not know you. If he did, he wouldn’t be bothering you right now. But as much as that all was true, you also didn’t want to outright say that you didn’t like him, at least not over text while he was suspiciously hitting you up out of the blue.

“im not sure if like is the right word. Right now I tolerate you.” 

“Thats a good thing right?”

You didn’t answer, figuring that he would eventually get the hint. But, within minutes, he was texting you yet again. You watched as more messages popped up one by one, all of which just as hard to read as the others. Though you eventually figured them out. He was promising to do his share of the project, as well as promising to keep on schedule with it. The last thing he sent was asking to meet up tomorrow, and figure out what you wanted him to do, and something about how he couldn't really understand the guideline sheet. 

You sent a quick reply, just a place and a time, before returning your phone to your pocket, and just in time, Marco had a bowl of delicious mac and cheese for you. 

"Thanks man, you're the best." 

"Hey, you cooked last night," he said, shrugging, "and somehow it was pretty impressive, given the fact that we're all super broke and have next to nothing in our cupboards," 

You let out a small laugh at that. "I am a person of many talents."

"Do tell your secrets, as I am eager to know," Marco says in-between bites, playing into the bit.

"Oh, I couldn't, because then you would have to learn my /tragic/ backstory of how I had to fend for myself as a child." You dramatically sigh, placing a hand to your forehead, and then paused, peeking out at Marco before saying, "That part is actually true. At my house, we often had 'Fend for Yourself Nights' where you kinda just threw stuff together it could be leftovers, cereal or, like, dry ramen." 

Marco chuckles, pointing his fork at you and saying "So that must be the secret then!" 

The kitchen rendezvous went on for a while longer before you both headed off to bed, agreeing that Sasha can do the dishes when she wakes up. 

The next day, you had managed to drag yourself out of bed and find your way to the coffee shop where you were supposed to be meeting up with Jean. 

Key word is 'supposed' to be, since it had been 30 minutes since you had gotten there. Hopefully, you didn't look like some poor soul that had gotten stood up on a date and more like someone enjoying their Saturday morning. 

Another ten minutes passed, and no word from Jean, you had finished your coffee, and had already finished working on pulling out key information from a few of the web sources that you found the night before. 

You glanced at the time again and cursed under your breath. You had better things to be doing. So, you quickly pack up your things and toss out the trash before leaving.  

Just as you returned to the little table to grab your bag, the bell at the door chimed, drawing your attention.  

There stood Jean Kirstein himself, out of breath, hair hastily brushed out of his face, and clothes a whole mess…you were pretty sure he had worn them yesterday too. 

However, his sudden entrance had also gathered stares from everyone in the shop;most people looked on with a frown, questioning why he had just thrown open the door like that, just to stand there looking like a lost puppy. 

You groaned, marching towards him and then grabbing his wrist and dragging him out of the way. 

"Seriously? You show up almost an hour late, and make a big scene?!" you say, continuing to pull him down the sidewalk.

"I know, I know!" He took in a sharp breath, stumbling as he went. 

"I mean seriously?! What's your deal?" 

"I didn't mean to be late! And can you stop shouting? My head is killing me…" 

You came to an abrupt stop and turned around to face him. "It doesn't matter if you didn't mean to be late, you were still late! I mean, come on, I sat there and looked completely stupid while I waited!" 

At your words, he tugged his arm free from your grasp, and hesitated for a moment before, saying, "Okay, I'm sorry. I should have been here on time." 

"Or at least texted me to tell me!" You sighed, bringing a hand up to your temple. "Whatever, let's just find somewhere else to sit and I can show you what your part of the project is." 

With those words, the two of you walked in silence until you were back at campus, arriving at one of the rooms designated for studying. It didn't take long to run through Jean's responsibilities, and for you both to settle into a somewhat uncomfortable quiet and begin to work. 

Currently, you were taking the information gathered earlier and writing them into evidence for your thesis while Jean was searching for art pieces to analyze. 

Every fifteen to twenty minutes or so, you'd check in with eachother and help if needed-and Jean needed more help than you did, really. 

And maybe if he hadn’t spammed you with drunk texts the night before, and then came late to your meeting, it wouldnt have bothered you as much. So when he did ask for your help, you were being short and to the point. Luckily for you, helping him was easy. It consisted of choosing between artwork, and identifying key themes or details that stood out, and then giving him ways to write it down so that it made sense with the overall idea behind your project. Now and then, you'd have him read over what you wrote, just to see what all he thought and if he had any suggestions.

Finally, after a few hours, Jean leaned back in his chair and sighed loudly. "Okay, I think we've got a lot done. Why don't we break for the day?" he suggested.

At his words, you hesitated. While a break did sound nice, you'd much rather keep working. If you got ahead, there'd be time for breaks later, or time for helping Armin and the others. 

"You go on ahead, I'm going to stay a little longer. Thanks for showing up today." You gave a small smile before looking back down to your laptop, trying to spot where you left off. 

For a moment or so, Jean packed up his things, not necessarily quietly, but enough for it not to bother you. Though, after he finished doing so, he didn't leave. Instead, he stood /annoyingly/ close to you, seemingly trying to burn holes into the back of your head. 

"Is there something you need or…?" 

"You're seriously going to stay and work more?" 

"...Yeah?" 

Jean let out a small series of 'tsk' noises and began to close your notebooks and the few textbooks you had brought. You stuttered out half of a sentence, none of it making any sense, as you watched him stack up your things, his finishing move to carefully close your laptop without even shutting it off. 

"What are you…Why…I mean-what?" 

"I think you work too hard." he remarked, grinning. Normally that would sound snarky coming from him, this time he sounded gentle, and nothing in his face seemed to show any ill will. "I mean, I've never seen you do anything fun. All you do is push yourself to do work." 

You were at a loss for words, face heating up with embarrassment. Just because he had never seen you do fun things didn't mean that you were some sort of shut in who only ever focused on homework and studying. 

Jean waited for you to pack your things, all of which you did while in a small haze, trying to comprehend it all. When you were done, he motioned for you to follow him, not saying a word of what he had planned. 

The two of you walked outside, Jean slightly ahead of you as he continued to lead the way. Occasionally, someone would stop Jean, asking him about a party or a class. He seemed to have a lot of friends, or rather just a lot of acquaintances.

Eventually, you both came to a little grassy field, one where students often came to waste time, or play games like spikeball, or frisbee. Currently, it wasn't very busy, and the two of you found a spot to sit and relax under a warm spring sky.

For the first five minutes, you sat in silence, an almost comfortable one. You found yourself mumbling about how this wasn't so bad, noticing from the corner of your eye as Jean turned to look at you. 

"Would I ever lead you astray?" Jean elbowed you carefully, earning a scowl from you. 

"Given that we don't really know each other, I'm not sure," you retorted. 

"I know that we've had at least three classes together since freshman year, and that you don't seem to like anyone," he pointed out. 

"Not true,” you said. “Sasha and Marco are very nice people who I like a lot," 

At this he barked out a laugh, a wonderful sound really, compared to his typical evil sounding snicker. "Okay, so you appreciate the presence of three specific people." 

"Three? I only named two people," you said, holding up two fingers to signify your only two friends. 

"Well, correct me if I'm wrong, but right now you don't seem to hate me, so I counted myself."

You gave another scowl."If we were able to pick our own groups, I would have picked other people, just for the record" 

"Ouch, that kind of stings." 

You couldn't tell if he was serious or not, but one thing you did know was that he probably wouldn't have picked you either.  Not that it really bothered you. While it was true that you've shared classes in the two years that you've been in college, the two of you never really talked. 

Sure, you've had the quick conversations in the hall, or maybe accidentally bumped into each other when trying to take Sasha home, or even just when Jean would hang out with Marco at your dorm. 

It wasn't that you didn't like him (aside from his huge ego and inability to get along with certain people) or even that you didn't like people in general. You honestly just wanted to focus on school, so that you would graduate on time, and get the hell out of this town. Personal relationships could come later, and you were completely content with that. Being alone wasn't something that bothered you. Or, something that you /let/ bother you. 

You leaned back until you were laying down in the grass, staring up at the cloudy sky. The more you thought about it, the more your head seemed to churn with an anxious and maybe even guilty conscience. 

"By the way, I'd say that, even though we didn't get to pick our own groups, I don't mind being paired with you." You sighed, keeping your eyes trained on the sky as Jean laid down next to you. 

From there, the conversation switched to a few different topics, one of them being a small argument over the particular shape of a cloud and what you thought it was. 

Eventually, the clouds dissipated, and the sky faded from its blue to a dusty orange lined with a pale pink-ish-purple. 

"I guess it's time to go home for the night," Jean said. 

"Mhm, guess so," you quietly said, but made no effort to sit up yet. 

Next to you, Jean stood, brushing off his clothes and running a hand through his hair, attempting to make sure there wasn't any grass on his person. Then, when it was apparent that you still hadn't even moved, he nudged you with his shoe. "You coming or what?" 

"I’m waiting," 

"For what?" 

"The first star I see" 

Jean slowly looked away from you and to the sky, "Can I ask why?" 

"No." 

It wasn't really a big deal, but this was your favorite time of the day, and you had the habit of looking for the first star you could find and making a small wish on it. It had been something you'd done ever since you were a kid; old habits die hard. But it wasn't something you just went and told people about, especially not someone like Jean. You were sure that he'd poke fun at you for it. 

His voice pulled you away from your thoughts, and you watched as he pointed just above your heads. "I think there's one over there." 

From your perspective, he was lined up to where the star was atop his finger.The sight made you smile softly; you didn’t notice that he had glanced back down, watching the small moment. 

"Okay, now we can go." You sat up slowly and climbed to your feet, grabbing your bag from where it had been by your feet. 

The two of you parted ways for the night, and you found yourself back at your dorm, which was uncharacteristically empty and quiet. Either Sasha would come home drunk again (or with her hands full of food that she got from Connie or that Niccolo guy) or that she would stay out for the night. Marco on the other hand, was probably visiting some other friends for the short weekend, so most likely, you had the place to yourself until the following evening. 

With the freedom at hand, you took some time to make dinner and lounged around the shared living space, until eventually, your eyelids grew heavy, and you forced yourself into your bed for the night.

The sound of knocking at your door woke you up. At first, you had half a mind to ignore it, but with your roommates, and the friends they had, the knocking wouldn't stop.  You glanced at the clock, seeing that it was around noon, a time that you hardly ever slept in till.

"Yeah, okay, I'm up. Who is it?" you grumbled at the door, noting that if it was Marco, he wouldn't necessarily need to knock, meaning that it must be Sasha. 

And it was. At your words, she swung the door open lazily, and leaned around the corner, "Heyyy, I was wondering if you had plans today? Connie, Jean, and I were going to play some volleyball! Wanna come? Marco is gonna join us later!" 

You took a moment to think it over. It was Sunday, so you didn't have classes, and depending on how long you were out, you could always do more homework later. Not to mention, Jean's comment about how you worked too much was still fresh in your mind. 

"...Yeah, okay, I'll come play. Give me a few minutes and I'll get dressed." 

She gave you a huge grin, shouting over her shoulder, "They said they'd come! You guys still have the net?" 

You watched as she disappeared back into the main area of the dorm, and then shut your door to change. When you exited, you could see the three of them waiting by the door, Jean holding the net, while Connie was tossing the ball between his hands. 

The walk was fairly short, as Jean had suggested the field that the two of you had been at the other day, and just like the day before, there weren't very many people out. You guys could set up a spot without having to worry about anyone else. 

At least, that's how it was at first. The game went smoothly. Surprisingly, all three of them were pretty good at the sport; though, if you had to rank them, it would be Sasha, then Jean (mostly because he can use his height to his advantage), and then Connie. 

For the first game you played, it was you and Sasha versus Jean and Connie. Then, it switched to you and Connie, and finally, you and Jean. 

No one was really counting points; no one could keep track, though each side was sure that they were winning, even if they weren't. It was about halfway through the current match, right as you were about to serve, when something came crashing into your head. 

It had hit you pretty hard, and it took you a moment to even realize what had happened and what was currently happening. 

"Hey, man, watch where you throw this thing! You nearly took my partner out!" Jean was holding a football and pointing it aggressively at another college student, who you think was named Floch or something close to it. 

The guy snatched the ball from Jean, giving him the dirtiest look. "Well, maybe you guys shouldn't be playing so close to where we are." 

At this, Connie and Sasha stepped up. Connie took to Jean's side, starting to bicker with the guy, while Sasha checked your head, fussing over you. 

"Just say sorry to our friend already. You can at least agree that you hit them!" You weren't sure who said that, as all the voices blended together until that moment. Suddenly all eyes were on you. 

More specifically, Floch's eyes. He regarded you warily, annoyance clear in his eyes and voice. "Your dumbass friend looks fine to me,” he sneered. “And besides, we tried to warn them, and they didn't move. It's their own fault. Don't go blaming me for your friend being an idiot." 

You weren't sure what came over you; maybe it was anger from the childish name calling, or maybe it was the stress of the week getting to you, but within an instant, you had crossed the few feet to get to him, and threw a punch. 

You watched as he stumbled back, nearly running into one of his nameless friends, as he clutched at his face. He was clearly seeing red.

"How dare you!" he shouted out. He started to make his way over to you, obscenities of all sorts falling from his mouth.

None of which you really heard, because at that exact moment, Sasha and Connie both shouted the same thing, 'Run,' and took off. 

And, before you knew it, Jean grabbed your hand, pulling you along as he chased after the two, until you four were sure that Floch and his extras weren't going to follow you. 

When you finally stopped, everyone was bent over, stuck in between laughing and gasping for air. 

"Holy shit! That was insane!" Sasha wheezed out, and straightened out, turning to the group with a large smile on her face.

Connie spoke next, hands still on his knees. "I can't believe we ran away." 

All at once, realization hit you: you had just clocked a guy, and then ran away, without even thinking twice. Never in your life had you done something like that. You weren't super confrontational, and you certainly would rather avoid physical altercations. But, at that moment, you had just done it. And, the crazy thing about it was how amusing you found it. Because even though you were struggling to breathe, you were laughing. The kind of laugh where you couldn't stop, and your eyes would start to tear up. 

From where he was standing at your side, Jean watched for a moment, a certain fluttering in his chest (though he could pass it off as his own endeavors with taking in air). You, for the first time that he had seen, were so laid back about the fact that you had hit someone. And the way that you were now chuckling to yourself, clearly in a sort of disbelief mixed with content. 

Jean drew your attention, "Is it bad that I kind of liked seeing you hit him?" Then he paused, as if he had rethought his choice of words. "I mean, in the sense that Floch is a stuck up, entitled bastard, and that he had it coming." 

You gave a little huff, and shrugged. "Well, I'm sure anyone would pay to see that…I honestly didn't know that I was going to hit him…until right after." 

"Well, that was amazing! That guy's been a tyrant since the beginning of the year! He even tries to get in with Eren's group, as if he was even worth being someone to talk to." Connie clapped a hand on your back, his adrenaline still running through him. 

"And I thought that Jean was the one to start fights," Sasha teased.

"Sasha! I don't start fights!" 

Around you, the three continued to talk while you watched, enjoying the sight.  

It was rather nice, for once. You weren't holed up in your dorm room while everyone else had fun, even if the fun was getting into a fight of sorts—which, as you thought back on it, the whole thing was kind of funny. It would have easily been solved if those assholes had just apologized, but you were starting to think that this outcome was better. 

“Hey, should we go back for our things?” Jean asked, pulling your attention to him.

“Yeah, probably, and if those assholes are still there, I think we know someone who can take them on for us.” Connie sent a lopsided grin your way, a certain mischievous look in his eyes.

You shrugged, acting as innocent as possible. “Oh yeah, you’d be the perfect guy for that, even with the serious height disadvantage.” 

Connie’s mouth dropped open, not quite expecting that kind of remark from you. As far as he knew, you were silent, hardworking, and the person who likes to keep to yourself. Even you were a little surprised, but, maybe after today’s events you could try out some new ways to enjoy your life a little more.

Once again, the four of you made your way back to the field, and as you did, you could see a familiar figure standing by your net, looking down at his phone. 

“Marco! You made it!” Connie shouted out, drawing your friend’s attention. “You missed all the action; it was insane!”

“Huh? Did I miss out on playing? And where were you guys?” 

As you approached, Sasha and Connie exploded into answers for his question. 

“You only missed a little of our game-”

“We had to run from Forrester and his braindead lackeys!”

“We’ve got our own Rocky! You should have seen the way they punched him! No hesitation at all!”

Slowly, Marco seemed to piece all of the information together, nodding as he thought it all over. His eyes looked at everyone one by one until he got to you. “You punched someone? The most I've ever seen from you was the time you swore at your computer when it crashed!”

A small and almost shy smile escaped you, “Well, to be fair he started it. I honestly didn’t even think about doing it; my hand moved on it’s own,”

He only shook his head, looking back around the group. “So, are we still playing?”

Jean shook his head. “Maybe we should head back to one of the dorms? Relax or play some games?”

“Oh! I’ve got some fun games!” Sasha chimed in, then paused. “But I’m kind of hungry, so maybe we could make some food, too!”

Once everyone agreed to the plan, the now five of you ended up in the dorm you shared with Marco and Sasha, where Connie, Sasha and Marco focused on setting up some games in the little living room area, and you and Jean were tasked with making some dinner. Of course, it wasn’t exactly easy, given the few options, but eventually, the two of you were able to settle on a college delicacy: instant ramen. 

You pulled out a pot to fill with water, while Jean opened a few packs of said ramen. All in all, it was easy to make, and didn’t take terribly long. Before you knew it, you were handing out bowls to the other three while Jean brought over yours and his to where you were now sitting on the floor, some game cards in front of you. 

“Okay, listen up, I’m not explaining this twice,” Connie announced. “The game is simple: read a card to yourself and then say someones name who you think matches the card. You flip a coin. If it’s heads, you tell everyone what was on the card and give that person the card. If it’s tails, you keep it to yourself, and the card is yours.” Connie gave everyone a pointed look, and when no questions or objections were raised, the game started.

The first to go is Marco; he took a moment to read his card before immediately calling out Connie’s name. Then when the coin was flipped, it landed on heads, earning a small sigh from Marco. 

“It asked who would be the one to need parental supervision no matter what age someone is,” Marco explained.

“What? Why not Sasha?! She gets into more trouble than I do!” 

“Hah! Say that to Professor Levi and all the times he has had to tell you to shut up,” Jean remarked “And not to mention you black out at every party you go to. Do you know how many times I have to carry you home while you sing at the top of your lungs?”

Connie grumbled a bit, but didn’t try to deny the claims. Instead, he pulled out a card to read. His turn ended with a flip of tails, making it now your turn. 

From the main deck, you pulled your card and read it over silently: ‘Out of everyone in the group, who would you rather make out with?’

You can feel your face heat up, already knowing that you only really have two options, Jean or Marco. And Marco is only really a choice because of how well you know him, but even then, you wouldn’t really want to do that with him. So after a few moments of silence, you call Jean’s name, looking anywhere but at his face. 

“That took you some time; must be a good card.” Sasha grinned, reaching for the coin and giving it an impressive flip. Everyone seemed to hold their breath as it landed, and all at once, five heads stuck together to see the outcome.

Heads. The worst possible way for things to go. You could feel all eyes on you now, and you begrudgingly read out the card, once again avoiding looking at Jean entirely. 

A chorus of ooo’s and ahh’s filled your ears, and everyone had something to say about your answer. 

The only one you even managed to hear was the man himself: “I hope you plan to take me out first, I’m not won over so easily." Of course, he had a cocky smirk on his face, pointed directly at you. 

“Whatever, just…whoever is next, take your turn.” You shook your head, busying yourself with eating some of your food that was now starting to get a little cold. 

Time seemed to escape you all and the night drew to a close with Connie and Jean taking their leave. Marco took the time to wash the dishes, roping Sasha into helping, and you retired to your room. You took the time to change into some comfier clothes and settle into your bed, though not quite wanting to sleep just yet. 

Your mind was still stuck on the first game you played and the card you had picked Jean for. While you wouldn’t argue against the idea of finding Jean attractive, or even the idea of kissing him, you just weren’t sure why you were so trapped in thinking about it. You didn’t even know him all that well, and for the most part, you had thought that he was pretty unbearable. 

And yet, the more your thoughts seemed to revolve around him, the more you could feel an uneasy knot forming in your stomach. There was no way that you were going to let yourself get wrapped up in developing feelings for him, or anyone. You were supposed to be focusing on school so that you could get the hell out of this town and make something of yourself.

Not to mention the fact that all of your previous attempts at relationships crashed and burned. The last time that you had gotten close with someone in that way, you ended up with a mixture of being heartbroken and incredibly angry. That was about the time you started keeping to yourself, as if getting to know someone in a more than platonic way would cause your world to shatter again. You couldn’t-no /wouldn’t/ deal with something like that again. 

You let out a groan, planting face first into your pillow and trying to shoo away all thoughts related to romance and feelings, and of Jean Kirstein. 

“Suffocating yourself?” 

You jumped lightly, head snapping up to see Marco in the doorway, leaning against the door frame. His expression was a little hard to read, though he could be like that at times. 

“Uh…no, not quite what I’m going for, but if it gets the job done, then sure,” you joked.

He moved across the room to his own bed where he took a seat, facing you. “Then what’s with the face-in-pillow tactic?”

You hesitated, knowing full and well how close Marco was with Jean, closer than he was with you. “Oh, uh, just, school things, homework, assignments, that sort of thing…”

His eyes narrowed slightly, brows furrowing. “Yeah, for once I don’t buy that, but if you don’t want to talk about it, I won’t force you to spill the details."

Again, you paused, turning away from Marco and looking towards the door. In truth, it wouldn’t hurt to tell him, since he wouldn’t ever tell a secret that wasn’t his. He was definitely the guy who would just want to talk things out, not wanting things to end badly. 

“Okay…Well…that card I got earlier,” you began. “I’m just worried, and I know that it’s just a stupid game, but I cant help but think about it.”

“Worried that Jean took it the wrong way, or worried that you’d actually want to kiss him?”

Marco was somehow always hitting the nail on the head, a talent of his. 

“Would saying both make sense?”

He thought for a moment, the room filling with an unnamable silence, until he spoke again. “Well, I’m sure Jean is going to take it in the way he always does: an ego boost for his way too big head.” Another pause. “As for the idea of maybe wanting to kiss him, I wouldn’t say that's an all too terrible idea, besides the fact that it’s Jean. But, if you really aren't sure about how you feel towards him, maybe you could…test it out?"

“Test it out?” you repeated, confused.

“Yeah,” he said, nodding. “Like ask him to hang out or something. You don’t have to necessarily make it like a date, but you could use the time to get to know him more, and figure out if it’s just because everyone made a big deal out of it, or if you might actually be interested in him, or getting to know him.”

You thought for a moment. The idea was pretty simple, and a good one at that, though just thinking about it made your heart rate speed up. It wasn’t like you had never been one on one with Jean, but now, with all of your thoughts being scrambled like eggs, it was slightly overwhelming. But when it came down to it, you wanted to sort it all out. If you could set your mind straight, and get rid of these terrible thoughts about Jean, you could get back on track for school.

“You’re right, I’ll definitely try that.” You let out a small breath of air and turned back to Marco. “Thanks, I’m glad you’re here.”

“What would you do without me? And don’t worry— I won’t say anything to anyone. my lips are sealed” He smiled, hand coming up to his mouth to mime a zipper motion.

“Okay, good. Unless you want to end up like the douche from earlier, I wouldn’t recommend telling a soul.” 

He gave a laugh before gathering some of his things to go and take a shower, leaving you alone once more. You eventually drifted off to sleep, and surprisingly, you didn’t wake up once.

The next day, you only had one class, and once that was over, you had gone to the library to study, needing to get work done for a few of your other classes. It was a nice change in pace from the day you had yesterday. It wasn’t super crowded, either, which meant you could focus on your work in peace. 

Though, it didn’t last long, as two new faces joined your table. You looked up, almost expecting to see Jean and Connie, or Marco and Sasha, but to your surprise, it was Eren and Armin. 

“I hope you don’t mind us joining you!” Armin smiles, though something in his eyes tells you that he didn’t pick your table without a reason. 

“Uh, no that’s okay.” 

He and Eren settled into two of the chairs, the latter of the two only pulling out his phone. Armin did the exact opposite. He took out two textbooks, a large notebook, and a handful of pens, pencils and markers. 

For the first five minutes or so, the three of you sat in silence. You worked on homework for a communications class, while armin was seemingly working on a paper for a psyche class. But when Eren suddenly scoffed at his phone, you stopped what you were doing to look up at him, questioning his action. 

He in turn looked at you, maybe even through you. “So, turns out, someone gave Forrester a nasty bruise yesterday. He wont say who, so i’m thinking he got his ass kicked and just doesn’t want to admit it.” 

You feigned ignorance, giving Eren a blank stare, “I’m not really sure who that is, but sounds like a tough time for him.”

Eren regarded you for a moment, but it wasn’t his stare that bothered you. You now had Armin’s attention, as if he wanted to ask a question. Or, make a comment on what you said. But instead he said, “Well, I’m not the one to really get into these things, but Floch does like to cause problems for himself, so maybe he deserved it?” 

You nodded along, not wanting to give Eren any more information. With him, rumors tended to get out of hand quickly, and you really did not want to be the talk of the school over an altercation with Floch. To everyone in the school, you were pretty much some nobody, and frankly, you weren’t upset at the idea. If it meant less trouble for you, it was going to be something you’d stay okay with.

“Well he’s been bitching about it all day. It’s starting to get on my nerves.” Eren flipped his phone over, leaning back in his chair as he did. 

“Does he expect you to do something about it?” You asked, still trying to keep a low profile, while also trying to pry more information out of him.

“I’m sure thats what he wants, but I’m not going to help him with that, Floch can fight his own battles.”

A thick silence descended over your table. You took it as a sign that you could continue working on your homework. The one for your comms class wasn’t due until tomorrow, but you really wanted to finish it. 

This had always really been how you did things. You tried to finish things early, study as soon as possible, take as much time to get your work done as possible. And you weren’t the only one. Armin had also gone back to his work, and though you weren’t sure when it was due for him, but it wouldn’t be surprising if it was due at the end of the week or so.

You weren’t all that close with Armin, but the two of you had taken the time to study with eachother for the one class that you did share, and you had even reached out once to ask if he would tutor you for a few sessions, needing help with your math at the time. It was a nice thought to know that you weren’t the only student to stray from the eyes of their peers.

Though he had a harder time with it, being best friends with Eren and all. Not to mention he was also friends with Mikasa Ackerman, who was arguably the girl who drew most people’s attention. 

Before you knew it, two hours had passed, and you felt your phone buzz. You picked it up from the table, squinting your eyes at the bright screen. It was Jean.

“Hey, why are you with Armin, and that idiot.”

At this, you paused, looking around the library, not seeing Jean. 

“Where are you?” you replied.

After a minute or two, your phone buzzed again.

“Come and find me.” 

And that was it. He didn’t send any other messages, even after you sent him two more, questioning him again. You frowned, then looked to your things. You had been working for awhile, so getting up and moving might not be the worst thing. You proceeded to pack everything that you had pulled out earlier, and stood from your chair, looking to the other two.

“I think I’m going to head out. Let’s meet up again later in the week to work on Professor Hange’s assignment.”

Armin glanced up, and smiled, “Okay! How about Thursday? I can show you what all I’ve finished!”

“Sounds good.” You gave a short wave, and turned away from the table, scanning the surrounding areas before setting off in a random direction. 

There were a few more tables behind some of the bookshelves, but none of the students sitting at them were Jean. You checked out the library’s computer section next, and kept looking until you ended up near Armin and Eren again. Another frown crossed your face, until you heard a muffled laugh. 

With the new hint, you looked upwards to the second floor. And there he was, leaning against the railing, smirking down at you. You felt your face heat up in what you were going to call embarrassment, and definitely not any other word that had to do with your complicated thoughts on him, and how from where you stood, he looked almost handsome. 

You sent a halfhearted glare his way and headed up the stairs, making your way over to him, about to comment on his antics, but you weren’t able to get a word out before he could make fun of you. 

“You looked really dumb running around trying to find me.”

You gave an astonished laugh, “Yeah, well you sounded like a complete stalker just now.”

“And you still came to find me. I’m starting to think you like me more than you let on.” 

The unsettling feeling returned to your stomach at his words, though you weren’t surprised that he was poking fun at you after yesterdays game. “In your dreams.” You crossed your arms over your chest, trying to ease the increasing amount of uneasiness that was slowly taking ahold of you. 

“Hm, I guess that’s true. Does that mean you want me to dream about it?” He looked at you contently, despite all of what he said being the brashest thing you had heard from him yet.

You didn’t say anything to that, instead you changed the subject quickly. “To answer your question about who I was with, I actually didn’t plan on sitting with them. Armin and Eren joined me.”

He gave a slow nod, and peered back at the table down below, where the two were still sitting, “Do you think I could spit on Eren from here?”

“No, and I dont think you should even try.” 

“Buzzkill.”

You scoffed, “I am not a buzzkill. You are just in the middle of some pointless battle of being better than each other.”

Jean looked back to you, staring at you for a moment. Then back down at Eren. “I just don’t get what everyone sees in that guy. He’s clearly an egotistical bastard with no regards to anyone else.”

“Do you think that you guys have anything in common in the fact that you both have ridiculously large egos?”

“Don’t lump me in with him.” This he said more seriously, “Anyways, enough about him, do you want to go do something?”

“Like what?”

He shrugged, and started for the stairs. You followed him wordlessly, and the two of you left the library, now back outside where a light breeze met you. The silence continued to hang over you two as you walked aimlessly in a random direction. You couldn’t tell if he was still thinking about your comment on him and Eren, or something else completely. You decided against asking him about it, and instead found a different topic. 

“Hey so, I found this art exhibit at the museum, it’s about the book Hange assigned us. I was thinking that we could go and check it out and see if we can find anything useful?”

He thought for a moment, eyes wandering the path ahead. “Okay, it doesn’t sound like the worst way to spend an afternoon.”

“Would eleven in the morning on Friday or Saturday be okay?”

“Friday works better for me, I think I’ve got plans with Connie on Satuday.” 

“Okay, Friday it is.” You paused, a smile slowly making it’s way onto your face, “Just make sure to be on time. I wont wait for you this time.”

“Hey! I already apologized for that.” He stopped in place, giving you a pointed look.

You stopped a few feet in front of him, shrugging as you continued to speak, “I need to cover all the bases. I am not going to wait around for you, just for you to tell me that you were hungover.”

“I am not going to be hungover again. I’m not going to make you wait, I swear.”

“You better not, I won’t be as forgiving this time.” You go to move past him, elbowing him as you do. 

He turns on his heel to catch up with you, giving you a slight push at the same time, “You were hardly forgiving last time. You were mad the entire time we were working on the assignment,” Jean pauses, taking a moment to look at the path that you had set off on, “Wait, where are we even going?”

You glanced over to him, then back infront of you. “Well, I’ve done nothing but school work today, and you didn’t mention anything specific other than ‘go do something’ and last time you picked where we went, so now its my turn.”

“Are you going to tell me where we are heading at least?”

“No.” You smiled a little at the statement, remembering how you had done the same thing to him when he had asked about you caring so much about seeing the stars. Looking back over to Jean, who was staring straight ahead, you took a moment to really look at him.

He was pretty tall, and when he wasn’t smiling like some sort of evil bastard, he had a pretty nasty resting bitch face, a combination that probably scared anyone who didn’t know him. Though, you could say that despite all that, he had a few attractive features to him. When he was smiling, actually smiling that is, his eyes lit up. You hadn’t noticed it much before, but now when you thought back on the past few days of being around him, you could see the way his eyes would hold a certain softness.  And when he was thinking, he tended to frown, scrunching up his nose until he came to whatever conclusion he needed. And when the two of you were in the field the other evening, he had an almost blissful aura to him, as if he had no cares in the world, you wouldn't ever guess that he was someone who caused so much trouble. Honestly it was probably a good thing that he had a difficult personality. If his ego was bad now, you don't want to know what he'd be like if he knew all of this about himself.

You looked away before he could catch you staring, and before you gave yourself any more time to think about him, not wanting to let yourself actually fall for the guy. 

Instead you focused on finding your way to today's randomized destination. If you were being honest, you hadn't actually thought of somewhere to go, and frankly, with how little you actually went out, you didn't know too many spots around campus. Regardless, you continued to lead the way, until an idea formed in your head. 

Earlier in the year, you had gotten a tad bit lost while trying to find a class, and ended up on the edge of your campus, where you stumbled on an old tree. Aside from the size of the thing, it seemed completely normal. But when you had looked further at it, there was something of a hidey hole in its backside. Since discovering it, you had made countless trips to the tree, using it as a place to get away from the school. You definitely weren't the first person to discover it, but it seemed like no one else ever really visited the old thing. 

As you and Jean came upon the tree, he gave a low whistle, craning his head back to take in it's height, "If I didn't know any better, I'd say that you just took me to a make out spot," 

You threw a bewildered look at him, before shaking your head slowly, "Well, since you do know better, you should know that it's more likely that I've brought you to the best place on campus to hide a body."

He in turn shook his own head, "And here I thought we we're getting closer," 

"Closer to hiding your body?"

"Not quite what I was thinking…" he trailed off, taking a moment to circle around the tree, his hand trailing along the bark as he went, "so, what made you pick here? Other than premeditated murder."

As he came back around, you watched as he took the time to drop his bag at the ground by his feet, kneeling down next to it for a moment, searching its contents. 

"Hm, I'm not entirely sure. I'm pretty sure I'm the only person who ever comes here anymore." You pause, eyeballing what Jean was now holding in his hands, "It's kind of like a secret hideout minus the secret part, since anyone can stumble on this old tree." 

"And yet you brought me here…I'm starting to worry about my wellbeing," he chuckles, then takes a seat a few feet away from the tree. 

In his hands, he held a sketchbook. It looked a good few years old, as loose pages stuck out here and there, and the sheets were starting to yellow along the edges. You watched on quietly, as he flipped open to one of the last few pages, pausing as he glanced back at the tree. 

After a few moments you moved to stand just behind him, looking down at the page, which now held some sketch lines, resembling the tree just ahead of you.

You kept quiet for a bit, watching him quietly. He was lighthanded, it was as if any stray line within the whole piece would fly off the page and into the world around you. 

"You know you can sit and watch me draw too, right?"

"Yeah, and sit next to you? No thanks." You moved away from him, a slight flustered tone in your voice as you realized just how long you had been observing him. 

Instead, you took a seat at the base of the tree, opening your own bag, pulling out some more of your homework. Between the two of you, the only noises were the sounds of pencil on paper, and the occasional shifting of branches in the wind. 

You weren't really sure just how long things stayed that way. The only thing that brought your mind back to reality was the feeling of being stared at. 

"Need something?" You asked, arching a quizzical eyebrow in Jean's direction.

He shook his head, closing his sketchbook quietly, "Not at all. I was just wondering how much homework you were going to do before you got bored of being such a studious person." 

You scoffed at him. He was teasing you for this again? 

"Well, unlike some people, I need to pass all my classes so I can get the hell out of here." 

"You hate it here that much?" 

You paused, a lump forming in your throat. How were you even supposed to answer that question? All in all, this small town was horrible, and had been that way your entire life. Growing up you didn't have very many friends, and your family was fairly distant to you. You had shouldered all of your problems and responsibilities by yourself. Even now, in your college years it was hard to shake the feeling that you were still alone. 

You drew in a breath. "Sometimes, I sit by myself at my desk, and just stare at one of my notebooks until all the lines blur together. And then I realize that I'm crying. But what's funny about that is, I never know why I'm crying. " you start, bringing your eyes to his, "I never have the words to describe what i'm feeling in those moments. It's the same with how I feel about this place. I really don't know if I hate it, or if I'm just…projecting something else onto it." 

Jean stills with the information, until he takes a long breath in, "Art isn't much of a passion for me, as much as it is a hobby. I can't tell you how many half finished sketches I have. Sometimes I feel like I just don't have it in me to finish them, as if I'm scared of not knowing what I'm going to do next." 

He isn't talking about art. You know this from the way that Jean looks at you, not with pity, but with a hint of understanding. 

It was silent once again. Your brain turned over and over as you repeated his words in your head. Slowly, a wistful smile spread across your face. 

"You know Jean, you're not so bad after all." 

He stands up, shaking his head as he does, and makes his way over to you, holding out a hand for you to take, "I have my moments, I can't always be the charming asshole everyone says I am."

You hesitated for a moment, eyes flicking to his hand. Slender fingers and a wide palm, his hand looked soft, and the thought of holding it, even just for a moment, would be comforting. You took his hand, averting your gaze as he helped you to your feet. 

"I'm sure everyone leaves out the 'charming' part."

"That's where you're wrong, everyone thinks I'm charming."

"Everyone but me that is," you chirp back, letting your hands fall to your sides.

"You dont think I'm charming?" 

The churning sensation is back. You /wanted/ to say no, to tell him that he was annoying, loud-mouthed, and a pain in the ass, but somewhere in the time you'd known him, he had become annoyingly endearing, loudly funny, and a pain in the ass to ignore the thumping in your chest. 

"I can't say charming is the word I'd use to describe you. Horribly pleasant maybe, but not charming."

At this he smirks, starting to walk backwards away from you, "Oh so you think I'm pleasant? Hopefully in the way that I'm nice to look at." 

"You missed the word horrible," 

He waved off your comment, instead placing one hand on his chest, right over his heart, while reaching out the other hand towards you, "and yet, if I asked you to join me to a delicious five star dinner at my dorm, you'd still say yes." 

You could feel your face flush, knowing that he didn't mean anything more than just to hang out for a little bit longer, and not in some sort of lame date way, "I'd only come because it would be free food, even if the food is terrible. Like you." 

"So, that's a yes you'll be joining me for dinner? I've got…box mashed potatoes, frozen broccoli, and hopefully leftover seasoned chicken." 

You turned back to where you had left your things, a slightly messy sight. "Alright alright, I'll come, pick up your things and we can go." 

You knelt down next to your bag, trying to ignore the nervous shaking of your hands as you collected your things. Your mind raced with warring thoughts. How did this happen? How was it that Jean Kirstein of all people, had weaseled his way into being someone that you didn't fully hate? But, there was no way you were going to let him get in the way of school, and your plans to finally be free from this horrible town. But then part of you wondered, was it all one sided? Jean seemed to be the type to have all sorts of girls and guys fawning over him, even if he had only ever been open about one specific girl that he was interested in, which of course had been Mikasa. But you couldn't even blame him, she was out of everyone's league. How she seemed to be completely and obviously in love with Eren Jeager of all people was a mystery to you. 

"Hey, are you listening?" His voice stopped your thoughts in their tracks, as you hadn't even noticed that he had been speaking to you. 

"Now why would I be doing that?" You shouldered your bag, standing back up and facing him.

"We've been over this, because I'm charming- sorry, pleasant." 

"Again, you left out the horrible part." 

"I've got a feeling that you don't mean that, otherwise you'd just call me horrible." He turns halfway away from you, looking back to the general area of the school. 

You paused, walking up next to him, trying to ignore the fact that he was right, "You just have selective hearing." 

Jean eyed you while starting to head back to the dorms, a different and softer smile making its way onto his face, "Not when it comes to you." 

You nearly tripped over a stray rock, his words repeating in cycles in your head. You could only give him a glance, busying yourself with avoiding any other stones on the sidewalk. 

What did he mean by that? What did you want those words to mean? Your mind flashes back to your conversation with Marco. The feeling of your heart painfully pounding against your ribs surfaces. Your hands tremble ever so slightly while they grasp at the straps of your bag. Marco was right, and he hadn’t even said anything about you actually having feelings for Jean. 

As the thought hit, you spared another quick look towards him. He was looking at you. Careful eyes studying your demeanor. The way you walked. The way your eyes struggled to meet his. The way your mouth formed a tight line as you realized all of this was happening.

“Hey, if you really don’t want to try my cooking, you don’t have to come.” He let out a breath, running a hand through his hair for a moment. 

You looked away. You could turn him down, you could go home. It would be the easy way out. You could ignore any of his future attempts at hanging out. You could finish school and leave this place. Leave him and everyone else again. 

The thought of it made you shudder. In doing so, you would be condemning yourself to your worst self. Being alone. 

You looked back to Jean, his face morphed into one of concern, clearly puzzled as to why you were taking so long to answer. 

You were tired of being alone. Tired of pushing away your own happiness in pursuit of a future that wasn’t even set in stone. 

You flashed a smile his way, and waved off his words, “No way, you said it was a five star dinner. I can’t pass on that.”

He stared at you for a moment. Then, his confusion melted away, replaced by that famous cocky smile, “Okay good, I wasn’t sure what to do if you bailed on me.”

“Maybe you could have cooked for Connie too, light some candles, play some mood music, you know, make it all romantic for the two of you.” You chuckled, about to make another remark when Jean gave you a playful shove. 

“Why would you say that! I can’t have a romantic dinner with Connie of all people!” 

“Sure you can! It’s easy! Candles, music, food! All you need!” 

Jean groaned and shook his head. “You’re horrible.”

“Pleasant, actually.” You grinned. 

He hummed in response, and you could’ve swore you heard him mumble ‘horribly pleasant my ass’

His dorm room was warm, and set up similarly to yours. The same bland, small kitchen and the same questionable excuse for a couch just a few feet away. Three sets of doors that led to his roommates, and two bathrooms. 

One of the doors were open, and you caught a glimpse of Connie attempting to take mirror selfies. He would take one, bring the phone close to his face, frown and then try again. It wasn’t until his third or forth picture that he noticed you staring through the mirror. 

“Well if it isn’t our very own Rocky!” He grinned, hastily shoving his phone into the pocket of his sweats. 

“Hey Connie” you waved, then smirked a little, “I'm sure the ladies will love all of those selfies.” 

His face flushed slightly, and he stepped out of his small room, “For your information, the ladies already love seeing my handsome face. I was just taking a few more for-”

Jean cut him off, a bark of a laugh filling the room, “Like you can get a girl to think your ugly mug is anything worth looking at.” 

Connie gaped, “Dude, that’s just cold. I thought you liked my face.” 

You eyeballed the two, before turning to Jean and mouthing the words, ‘romantic dinner’ 

Jean glared halfheartedly, before a smile broke through, “and here I thought I was treating you to a five star, romantic dinner.” 

Connie was now the one looking between the two of you, unsure if Jean was being serious or not. You, on the other hand, could feel your face heat up. He had to be joking. Jean was making a joke based off of your joke. That was the only thing that would make sense at the moment. 

“Only if it involves candles and music.” You attempt to force your voice into sounding level, as if you weren’t sickeningly thrilled by the idea of your dinner with Jean being a little more than friendly. 

His head swivels around the room, scanning the small area before emitting a sigh of halfhearted defeat, “Might need a raincheck on that, I don't have any candles.” Jean pauses, thinking for a moment, “Unless you had your heart set on the romantic dinner with candles and music, maybe I can make something work.” He smirked in your direction, true to his usual cheeky self. 

You faced away from him, moving to set your backpack down on the floor by the door, “No candles, no deal.” You pause, practically feeling Connie��s wide eyed stare pointed at your back. 

“That’s not a no to having a more than friendly dinner, now is it?” Jean fires back, smiling in a not so innocent way. Your stomach twisted in knots. He wasn’t wrong. You had intentionally avoided his question, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of yet another person falling for his aggravating charm. 

You shrug a response, giving back another flippant response, “Sure, if it helps you sleep at night to think of it that way.” 

After a moment of silence, Connie’s voice fills the room. “Yeah so, I don’t really know whats going on here, but i’m gonna head out. Sasha is waiting for me with Marco.” He slides on a pair of shoes, grabs a bag and promptly leaves, but not before saying a goodbye, “See ya later Rocky, and Jean, I hope you choke on your food.”

To which, all Jean says is, “Yeah, whatever man.”

You watch him leave quietly, then turn back to face Jean, studying him for a moment. He hasn’t noticed your stares yet,  not when he’s busying himself with pulling out what he needed for this dinner supposedly high rated by Michelin themselves. 

Throughout the past year or so, you had noticed that when Jean was concentrating, he tended to screw up his face a little, eyebrows scrunched in, mouth quirked off to the side, usually whatever was in his hands was being toyed with. But right now, he was different. A content soft smile, and the look in his eyes was gentle. Fond. Domestic. 

“Do you need help with anything?” You asked, feeling the need to do something other than just stand around. 

Jean looked back up at you, bag of frozen broccoli in his hands. “Do you want to make the instant potatoes or the broccoli?” 

You walked to him, and grabbed the bag from him, “Where do you keep your pots and pans?”

“Planning on making this a fancy dinner?” He paused, taking a moment to grab out a small pot for you, and then a lid. “Are you steaming them?”

You set the bag down, then eyed the pot and lid, “Would you happen to have one of those steaming baskets? Or do I need to get creative?”

Jean smiled sheepishly, “I’ve got Connie for a roommate. If I was Niccolo I would definitely have one of those, therefore, you’ll have to get creative. But you’re pretty smart, so I believe in you.”

You nodded slowly. That made sense. Jean and Connie were in the same boat as Sasha, Marco and yourself. If you had done more planning for dinner you probably could have worked something else with Niccolo to borrow his cooking supplies. Though you were sure that the guy would say no, as he was pretty particular about his things. Oh well. You’d have to figure something else. 

The rest of the preparations went fine, and before you knew it, the two of you were sitting at a dingy table that each dorm room had, making small talk over left over chicken and mid-tier potatoes and broccoli. 

“Okay, so I’ll  bite. What’s your deal?” Jean asked suddenly, then his eyes went a little wide as he realized the wording of his question, “I mean! Uh…Well-”

You cut him off, easily able to tell what he meant, “Do you mean why do I have no life and only study and do my work alone?”

He melted under your gaze, before nodding slowly, “I meant it a little nicer though.”

“Its okay, I got what you meant…I think.” You set your fork down, suddenly scrutinizing a small crack in your plate. 

Jean cleared his throat a bit before speaking again, “It’s just that…you spend so much time studying, and it definitely pays off. I’ve heard from Sasha that you have really good grades. But…”

“But?”

“They worry about you. Sasha and Marco that is…and well, I kind of do too. At least, more now that I know you a little better.”

You don’t respond. He’s going somewhere with this. You can tell by the cadence of his voice, how he seems to be picking his words carefully.

“I think that even just in the past few days, you’ve opened  up a lot…I finally got to see you smile.” He paused, “I remember one time last year, in one of our shared classes, I went to see the professor, but you were already there, pleading with him for some extra credit. And when you came out, you look like you had been crying. The next day, I went out of my way to tell you a joke, hoping that maybe you’d smile.”

“I remember that. I told you that I was busy with a make up assignment and ignored you.” You hummed a little, thinking back to Jean back then. His hair was shorter, and he was even more obnoxious that he had been this year. It was one of the few times you had actually spoke to him at the time.

“So…I guess I was just wondering where all this pressure on you comes from?” He fidgets with something in his hands. Like when he’s focusing on his work. You’ve seen it countless times in the past, you just never thought about it until now.

With a sigh, you resign yourself to telling him a little bit about yourself, “I’ve lived here my whole life. And my whole life, I’ve basically been alone. Friends were hard to come by, especially after I decided that all I wanted to do was leave. So, with no one to hold me back, as long as I finish college strong, I can leave and go anywhere I want. I have to do this. Staying here is out of the question…” You trailed off, thinking about how you had never truly said these words out loud. 

“But?” He spoke softly, as if he could tell that you had been battling with yourself on what you truly wanted. He stared at you, not through you as most other people did. Your heart sped up. What were you supposed to say now? You had only started to question your aspirations because of him. And you absolutely would not be sharing that thought now. 

“But nothing. I meant what I said. I’m getting out of this hell and I’m not looking back. Ever.”  you spat the words out, a sudden low and hollow feeling settling in your stomach. What were you doing? A small voice in the back of your head answered that question for you. The same one that you let control most of your college days. You were wasting time, you had assignments to do and a degree to work towards. 

You moved to stand suddenly. “I have to go…I forgot that I’m supposed to meet with Armin tomorrow. I should really make sure that I’m ready to show him my part..and yours too.” You grabbed your backpack, and escaping out into the hall. 

You stood there quietly, chest moving up and down as you took in harsh breaths,  not entirely sure why you did all of that. With a shake of your head you made the journey back to your own dorm, not bothering to take off your shoes at the door like you normally did, instead you merely trudged into your room, tossing your bag onto the ground by your desk, and finding a seat on the edge of your bed. 

“Are you okay?” Your freckled friend spoke up, nearly giving you a heart attack in the process. You hadn’t even noticed that he was home.

You didn’t answer. Instead, tears began to fill your eyes. He was by your side in an instant, arms wrapping around you carefully. Muffled sobs wracked your body. With each one Marco only hugged you a little tighter. He let you cry until you were done. 

“I don’t know what I’m doing anymore.” The words fell from your lips, and you couldn’t stop what came after them, “This whole time i’ve had one goal; to graduate with soaring grades, and to leave. Make as few friends as possible so that way I wouldn’t get distracted…and so that leaving would be easier.” 

“What changed then?” Marco asked, his voice soft and careful. You got the feeling that he already knew the answer.

“Jean. Jean crashed into my life and ruined my plans. I haven’t even really known him that long and suddenly I’m throwing away school just to hang out with him. I haven’t been studying the same way I used to, instead I’m playing volleyball with him, and he’s holding my hand as we run away. I’m sitting with him by that old tree and thinking about him instead of the words on my papers. I’m cooking with him and thinking about how muchI want to do it all again.” Your words are quiet, but Marco hears them all the same.

“You do know that those don’t have to be bad things, right?” He lets you go, taking a moment to scoot away ever so slightly, making you look up at his face, where a small smile rests, “It’s been nice to see you let loose. And I know that you’ve been enjoying yourself.”

You attempt to frown, “Thats not true.” 

A beat passes and you speak again, “Okay. Maybe a little…but I-”

“No. No buts. You are the hardest working person I know. You are smart and you always apply yourself to your work. You are doing amazing. It’s time that you see that for yourself. You will finish school, and you will be able to go out into the world and do whatever you want to do, but that doesn’t mean you have to wait to have any of that fun. You deserve to enjoy your life, the one right now in the present that you are living, okay?”

His words played on repeat in your mind a few times, you tried to interalize them, make them into your own instead of letting that voice shoo them away. 

“Okay.” You nodded, then brought a hand up to your face, covering your mouth for a moment, “I left Jean.”

“What?”

“We were eating dinner and talking and then I got upset and I just…I just left. “

Marco pursed his lips, nodding slightly as he tried to imagine the scene. Jean sitting alone at his table, probably confused and wondering what he did wrong. “Well…theres only so much you can do about that, which I suggest texting him. Let him know that you’re alright, and just so that the poor guy doesn’t overthink, that he didn’t cause you to run off.”

You nodded, “Right. Okay. I can do that.”

It grew quiet between you and Marco, though it didn’t last very long. There was a light tone in his voice, one he used when he wanted to tease someone without making them aware of it, though you had learned to recognize it fairly well. 

“So, I’m assuming that you like Jean…at least a little bit.”

“Okay. Get off my bed. This moment is over.” You push him gently, facing away from Marco. 

“Are you going to tell him?”

“Oh would you look at the time? I should really head to bed, okay goodnight Marco, get off my bed.”

He laughed, and did as you said, letting you have the room so you could change, “goodnight lovebird.”

Ignoring him as best as you could, you changed quickly, and crawled right back into your bed, under the safety of your comforter.  Once there, you pulled out your phone, fingers trembling as you brought up the chat with Jean.

You stared at it for a moment. The last messages were from earlier this day. He hadn’t said anything since then. 

Slowly you typed out an apology. “Hey Jean, I’m really sorry for just bailing earlier. Super not cool of me.”

You groaned at the words, quickly backspacing and starting again. “Sorry about earlier, I didn’t mean to just leave you there. I promise things are fine. It wasn’t you, or the food for that matter.” 

You hit send, not giving yourself time to overthink the text any longer. 

Fairly quick after your message had been sent, Jean had already replied. “Its okay! You had me worried for a minute there. Thought maybe the food tasted so bad that you just had to leave to get an actual five star dinner.”

He was being courteous. Trying to keep the conversation light as to not scare you off again. 

Your fingers flew across the keyboard once more, “Let me make it up to you. Friday, 11am, at the museum.”

“You really don’t have to make anything up to me, I get it.”

“Jean. Just let me feel bad and try to make it up. Or else I will think about this all night.”

His next message wasn’t exactly what you thought he’d say…or actually, it was exactly what he would say, “Oh, so if I don’t let you have your way, you will be up all night…thinking about me?”

“No.” You hit send. Then sent another message, “Ykw nevermind. I’m not sorry. Be on time friday or else.”

He was quick to shoot back another response, “Okay fine. Make it up to me.”

Then another message, “How do you plan on doing that anyways?”

“You’ll see. Be patient.”

It wasn’t long after that did you eventually fall asleep. The next day was pretty uneventful. Your meeting with Armin was fine, as the guy already had about half of the presentation outline done, and with all of the information and other necessary work that you had gathered, Armin would most likely have the whole thing done by the time he went to bed that night. 

The rest of the day passed quickly, almost too quickly for your liking. Before you knew it, your alarm was going off, signalling that it was ten twenty-five in the morning. 

You had spent some time the day before thinking of how to make up for ditching Jean the other night, and finally settled on an idea. Said idea was currently sitting on your desk, inside a plastic bag. 

You gave it a quick look before climbing out of your bed, moving to your dresser to get ready for the day. 

You had just thrown on your shoes, sparing a glance at your phone to the time. It was eleven. You were going to be late. Of course after all that talk to Jean about being on time, you were going to be running behind this time. You could only imagine what he would have to say about it.

You hurriedly grabbed the bag from your desk, and shoved your phone into you pocket after sending yet another apology to Jean. 

The trip to the museum took about twenty minutes with public transport. It was eleven twenty-three and you had finally made it to the museum doors. 

Jean was standing just to the right of them, staring down at his phone, his back to you. You watched as he brought his phone to his ear, and smiled slightly as your phone buzzed in your pocket. 

You let it ring. Walking up and tapping his shoulder a few times. “Sorry I’m late.”

He spun around, eyes landing on your form. His mouth hung up for a moment before he hung up the phone call, “Is this to get back at me for the other day?”

“No…I just slept past my first alarm.”

“Oh so when you’re late its okay but when I’m late its the worst thing ever.”

You shrugged slightly, “I at least texted you in advance.” You paused, then remembered the bag you were holding, “Oh…um. I got you this. To make up for bailing.”

He eyed the bag suspiciously, “I thought I told you not to worry about it.”

“I worried about it. Now just say thanks and take the bag from me.” You rushed the words out, holding it out to him, “No refunds so you have to keep it.”

His fingers deftly took the plastic handles from you, and reached inside the bag. You watched quietly as he lifted the gift out, eyes softening as he realized what it was. 

“You bought me a new sketchbook?” He hummed a little, looking at the cover for a few moments, “This is a really nice brand too. I’ve always wanted to try it out.”

“Your other one looked a little full the other day…so I figured I could afford a nice one to say that I’m sorry. “

Jean let the sketchbook slide back into the bag, “Well…thank you. I really appreciate this.” He toed something on the ground, eyes unable to find yours. 

You instead took this moment to find the exhibit tickets on your phone, nudging him slightly, “Let’s get going, there’s a couple of pieces I think we should look at specifically.”

Once inside, you took a few moments to study the map of the place, trying to figure out which hall you needed to go to, before Jean took your hand in his, face a little flushed as he did so. 

“I come here pretty often, most of the new exhibits are near the back on the first floor.” He said, pulling you along with him. 

It wasn’t too crowded, and as most museums were, it was quiet. A nice solitude for those who liked to hide away from the world, and find new ones in the art and historical pieces sheltered there.

When the both of you made it to the exhibit, you found that you were the only ones there. Meaning that you could stare at the art as long as you needed. Which you did. Slowly you let Jean’s hand slip from yours.

You hadn’t thought about seeing the art in real life, and how much it would effect you. Entrap you in every single paint stroke, every single carving of marble. It was beautiful. Clearly the story that was assigned to you had meant a lot the various artists. 

You found Jean staring at a drawing. It was mostly in charcoal, though some color had been added here and there, giving the piece whimsical dimension. It looked to be a tree. A large, barren tree in a valley of never ending sand. From the branches, blue and green spilled out across the paper, spanning what would be the sky. 

“You like this one?” You asked with a hush, not wanting to startle him. 

He nodded, “It’s simple, but I just know that the artist put a lot of work into it. Every line is purposeful. And we will never truly know what it means.” He responded, eyes traveling down to the plaque, where it read the piece’s title, “Paths.” With an unnamed author. 

You let him look at the drawing for as long as he needed. You wandered to a sculpture on display a few steps to the right. It seemed to be one of the titans depicted in the story. Creme colored marble in the form of a woman, skeletal mouth open in what the book claimed to be a war cry. There were ribs formed around her abdomen. Her hand outstretched towards the open air. From this perspective, despite the lack of facial features, the statue almost looked sad. A women with an extraordinary ability, forced to use it for harm, all because she was in love with the wrong person. At least, that’s what you wanted to think.  You were sure that others in your class thought the opposite. Which of course was exactly what your analysis was going to focus on. 

You studied it for a few more moments, before looking away, finding Jean now standing across the room, in front of another painting. You moved to stand next to him, looking at what held his attention.

It was of a starry night sky, bathed in dark blues and purples. Underneath, was a lone pig in a field, head faced towards the grass. 

“This is what started the book, right?” You asked, watching as he nodded once.

“But that’s not what i’m thinking about.”

“Then what’s going on in your mind?”

Jean looked back to you, smiling sideways, “Why did you wait the other night, at the field? I figured that you were waiting for a star, but why?”

You brought your eyes back to the painting, looking from the dark green grass, to the pig that was grazing on it peacefully, then to a star painted to be the brightest one there. 

“When I was younger, I used to stand outside, or at my window, and just wait. As soon as I saw the first star of the night, I made a wish on it.” You paused, thinking back on your childhood, “I used to wish for a friend, or someone more than that. I was pretty lonely as a kid. Eventually I started wishing for a future other than that…and then, I stopped wishing. I still would wait for the star, but I made sure that I wasn’t relying on a ball of gas in the sky to make my wishes come true.”

“I’d say that they came true then.” Jean turned his body to face yours, looking down towards you, some thought dancing in his eyes.

You mimicked his motion, allowing yourself to face him fully, “And what makes you say that?”

“You’ve made two whole friends.” 

“I’ve made three.” You corrected him softly, thinking back to your first conversation about it with him, “Sasha and Marco are very nice people who I like a lot.” You state matter of factly.

He chuckles, shaking his head. “And the third? Don’t tell me it’s Floch…or even worse, Eren.”

“Mmm close. It’s you.” 

He places a hand to his heart, dramatic words escaping him, “How long have I waited for you to realize that you and I are friends.”

“You’re still horribly pleasant.” You remark, shaking your head, “Maybe I should take it back about being friends.”

“Too late, you already said it. No refunds.” He drew closer to you, enough to where you could feel his warmth. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Isn’t that technically already a question?” You pause, then nod to him, “But, yeah, go for it.”

“When you graduate, and leave this town. Will you forget about your friends?”

You hesitate. You knew that he wasn’t really asking about Marco or Sasha. You can feel your stomach flip over a few times, that annoying feeling of nervousness that came whenever you thought about Jean.

“No. I wont. How could I?” Your words seem to have some sort of effect on Jean, as he dodesn’t speak. You continue, trying to pick your words carefully, “When it comes to you, specifically you…I would have one hell of a time forgetting you, Jean.”

“I am pretty cool…” He mumbles, then swallows his pride, “But, what if I don’t want you to remember me?” 

You tilt your head to the side, giving him a confused look, but still allowing him to continue.

“I just mean…what if I want to be remembered as not just a friend. As more than that?” 

He locks eyes with you, his face serious as he waits for you to say something, to say anything really. 

You swear that your heart stops beating altogether. It wasn’t one sided. You thought back to your conversation with Marco from two nights before. You deserved this. Deserved to enjoy yourself. To let yourself live a little. 

“I think i’d like that.” You smile warmly, “Because I like you Jean. I tried really hard not to, but I do. And maybe, just maybe I don’t want to look back on college and only remember you as a friend.” You pause, taking in a small breath and willed yourself to finish your thought, “Maybe, after I graduate, we both can look back on the time. Together.”

“So, you don’t want to skip town and never look back?” he asks

“Skip town? Still do, but I can’t afford to ignore my time here.” 

“What if I came with you when you leave.” it’s less of a question, and more of an idea.

“Let’s just get to graduation first, Jean.”

He lets out a breathy laugh, nodding as he does, “Got ahead of myself there. But I have one more question.”

You study him for a moment, just as you had been studying the rest of the art in the museum. “You know, you were only supposed to ask one question anyways.”

“Last one, I promise.” 

“Okay, okay, what is it?”

“Can I kiss you?”

You’re suddenly all too aware of the small gap in your bodies, and his baited breath, and the sensation in your stomach that feels less like churning water and more like butterflies floating around blooming flowers. You hardly hear yourself tell him yes. 

The stiffness leaves Jean’s body, and he brings his hand free from the plastic bag up to your face, cupping your cheek lightly. His hand is warm, but not as warm as your flushed face is. His thumb moves back and forth slightly as he pulls you to him. His lips are soft, and you can feel his lashes flutter against your cheek. You easily find it in you to move in sync with him, allowing yourself to lean into the kiss, a small smile finding its way onto your face. 

He lets you pull away first. And for a moment all the two of you can do is stand there. You’re sure that you could stand there all day with him. 

You let him speak first. 

“So, am I still horrible?”

“Horribly, yet pleasantly charming. Yes.”

[clumsyraccoon]

OK, here it is...

Kusakabe Atsuya (JuJutsu Kaisen) x AFAB!reader

Reader is afab but I tried to keep anything else as gender neutral as possible, so description of body should be ambiguous. "pussy", "cunt" and "clit" used to describe genitalia. No pronouns used.

Adding details: reader is a foreigner sorcerer, mentions of previous make out session (I said it was self indulgent… >.>”), mentions of alcohol

Smut (MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, THANK YOU): fingering, vaginal sex, unprotected sex

Words: 2630

[I swear to the gods I don't know what (or who) possessed me while writing this O_O It's honestly my first time ever finishing a smut piece, so if you have comments and/or constructive criticisms, as always I will be more than welcome to hear them! ^^]

[Ah, yes, not beta read, minor edit just to not post a complete mess XD]

The now empty boxes of your take-out are set aside in a corner of the table, to make room for all the preparatory paperwork for the mission. Forms, applications, and all the paperwork required: you also had to learn all the bureaucratic minutiae in order to become a full-fledged sorcerer. You flanked several professional sorcerers since you arrived at Tokyo JuJutsu High, to better understand all the various processes and to see how every individual had their way of doing the work, and for the mission at hand it was Kusakabe-san turn.

After the end of class for that day, you both opted go to the home of one of the two: as much as JuJutsu High provided rooms and offices for their personnel, the both of you wanted somewhere more cosy and relaxed, as winter was fast approaching and being in the office when it was already so dark outside spoiled the mood of the man paired with you.

In that first year in Japan, you had the chance to meet a variety of exceptional and extravagant people that left you almost without breath sometimes, first above anyone else the person that scouted you: Gojo Satoru. But Kusakabe was somehow...different. He was indeed a powerful and skilled sorcerer, a Grade 1 nonetheless, but his demeanor was so in contrast with people like Gojo or Mei-Mei that he seemed almost...normal. And that was kind of a relief, especially for a foreigner that has been oblivious about the jujutsu society for most of their life. He was a good teacher and when he came to you, he used the same patience and tranquility in explaining things: just as he didn't treat any of his students as stupid (maybe apart from the occasional times when they drove him nuts), he never made you feel inferior, putting you at the same level of every other sorcerer and explaining things calmly and clearly.

“Now, we begin with filling the Prearranged Team Management Form.” his low voice takes you out of your own thoughts, bringing you back to the delightfully bureaucratic filled present. He slides a blank folder under your nose, pointing with his finger the protocol number. “It serves to organise who will be in the team and leave a track of which exact people will be at which exact location. Obviously 99% of the time it is filled out after the mission is over, due to the lack of advance notice...but I have to teach you properly, so here it is.”

As much as he hates missions, he is a very thorough individual. Every paper is neatly placed in front of you, a small semi-transparent differently coloured post-it at the corner of every folder, a way to categorise them depending on their function and who they should be delivered to in the office. You nod, trying to memorise number and use of said form, while Kusakabe lends you a pen. “Experience is the best teacher – he says, a small grin appearing on his lips – so I’ll let you do the honor” Another nod from you, while you put all the concentration you’re capable of into filling the form out. He snorts at your face, a smile tugging at he corners of his lips “Don’t worry, you’re not under exam.”

---

A couple of hours later and the atmosphere is far more relaxed, thanks to the majority of the papers being taken care of...and also to the couple of bottles of red wine you had brought from your country.

“There - you say, stretching and lying on the floor, since sitting on a chabudai for too long was something your body was still not that used to – should be the last one, right?” The wine in your system is not that much, you would not call yourself drunk right now, but it leaves a pleasant buzz throughout your whole body, your senses slightly enhanced by the alcohol. There’s also a pleasant warmth that radiates form you and, even if you’re wearing just a t-shirt and a pair of jeans, you feel it slowly increasing. Turning your head towards him, you take the chance to glance at Kusakabe while he’s still preoccupied with checking papers: your gaze start from the hand on the floor he’s putting his weight on, then slowly trails up his hairy forearm (when did he took of his suit jacket and rolled his sleeves up?!?), the slightly unbuttoned shirt, revealing just a hint of his also hairy chest…

“Yep, everything seems fine to me”

...his neck and jaw, idly moving whenever he turned his lollipop around in his mouth...(his neck and jaw that you explored oh so well in an half-drunk yet very aroused state after Ieiri’s birthday party...)

“Y/N?”

You snap out of your trance and meet his questioning gaze, the warmth inside of you making a sudden surge. But, somehow, you don’t feel embarrassed nor guilty. You never felt like that with him, always making you feel at ease, as if he was something solid, something certain that brings stability in the frenzy of life.

“Yes?”

“Are you drunk?”

A heartfelt laugh escapes your lips, while you pat the futon at your side, inviting him to join you on the floor. “No, just happy we finally finished all the boring stuff.” you answer, while he lies on his side near you, propped up on one elbow, hand supporting his head. You look up at him, trying to ignore the warmth that heavily radiates from his body as well.

“Thank you, Kusakabe-san” you murmur.

“Ah, I’ve already told you – he retorts, a small grimace on his features, while he takes the stick of his now finished lollipop out of his mouth – you can call me Atsuya.”

“Well, then... thank you, Atsuya.”

The way you say his given name is not even consciously intended, but it slips out of your lips nonetheless, taking down the raising heat by a couple degrees...but not in an unpleasant manner. Your own voice send a shiver down your spine, the way you said his name probably giving away way more than you had intended to, and you search his gaze, to see and assess how much damage you have done. His brown eyes are instantly locked into yours, a flick of hesitation already fleeting away to give space to...to… You don’t know how to describe what you see, you just feel the warmth of his body raising again and his already wide pupils taking over his irises completely, two dark pools you’re sure you’ll drown into, if you’re not careful. He doesn’t say anything, just exhales a tad too loudly than normal, while still not breaking eye-contact with you. His free hand slowly reaches for you and you don’t notice, still too enthralled by the soft, welcoming abyss of his eyes, until his fingertips brush against the exposed skin between your t-shirt and jeans, fingertips so hot they threaten to burn holes into your flesh, so hot they send another, more powerful this time, shiver up you spine. It’s your time now to exhale loudly, anticipation already making you squirm under his touch.

“Atsuya”

His name rolls out of your tongue another time, more shyly yet more pleading, a whisper that becomes a prayer on his ears and in his heart. How can he deny you, resist you anymore when you say his name oh so nicely? How can he find the strength to stop the both of you once again when you’re here, on his futon, looking up at him with that gaze, calling his name with that tone? How can he withdraw from your warmth? How can he suppress all that turmoil you cause in his heart every damn time he sees you?

He, simply, can’t.

So, finally, instead of fighting back what he now knows to be unbeatable, he surrender. He surrender himself to your smile that goes with your every “Good morning!”, he surrender himself to electricity that surges every time your hands brush by accident, he surrender himself to the optimism you sport every time you go on a mission together. He surrender himself to you, completely and undeniably.

The fingertips on your skin become a palm, sneaking under the hem of your t-shirt and gently caressing what’s underneath it. Your answer wants to be a soft gasp, but there’s no time for it to form before his lips descend on yours. The kiss is so sweet it is almost chaste, that first contact delivering all the feelings the both of you have tried to store away in the depths of your hearts, finally revealing what you have always been afraid to say. It feels liberating to finally let go, and you feel Kusakabe’s muscles relax in sync with yours, months of pining quickly dissolving from your bodies and souls.

One of your hand finds its way to his hair and gently tugs at it, with the result of making him part his lips and moan into your mouth, giving you the chance to deepen the kiss. The flavour of his lollipop floods your taste buds and you devour each other, almost like teenagers at their first shot at kissing, and your body already ask, no scream for so much more that you try to turn on your side to have a better position, but Kusakabe’s hand keeps you firmly in place. He pulls away just enough to look at you “Please, let me…” he murmurs against your lips. And in his tone there’s a plea that sink right into your heart and turns it into jelly. Replying with a nod you let yourself relax again on the futon, while his hand lifts your shirt all the way up, leaving your flushed chest exposed to him. He takes a moment to feel your erratic beating heart, palm pressed right in the middle of your chest, before resuming his exploration of your skin.

Despite the callousness of his hands, his touch is gentle, almost feather-like. Fingertips lightly brush against your skin, trailing around your nipples, but never touching them, down towards your navel, to your hips, up your sides. No haste nor hurry, but taking their damn time into exploring every inch of you, as if they were explorers into territory unknown to mankind up until now. They then skim just above the hem of your jeans, goosebumps now covering the entirety of your body, while his mouth descends to leave warm kisses on your chest. They are almost shy at first, sealed lips barely touching your skin, but as soon as your hand find its place in his hair again, they become more bold, tongue poking out to wet the path.

It takes a few minutes of kisses placed with utter adoration all over your exposed body, before Kusakabe muster the courage to latch on one of your nipples. And when he does, you start to sing. A moan finally fall freely from your parted lips, your body arching into his touch, craving him not only there, but everywhere on your burning body. Your free hand joins the other and entangles itself in his brown locks, instinctively squeezing every time you feel his teeth grazing against your sensitive flesh and receiving a pleased grunt from him in exchange.

There’s a trickle of saliva connecting your nipple to his tongue when he parts from you, and you look at it glimmering in the room’s light, almost enraptured by the vision, before your attention is diverted from it by the man’s hand. Slowly, he’s unbuttoning your jeans, his gaze fixated on you and, as you reciprocate his look, the thought that crosses your mind is that he’s insanely handsome. A blush covers the majority of his face and the tips of his ears, his hair is ruffled by all of your toying, and in his eyes you can see the real feeling he always nurtured for you.

Warm fingers slip past the waistband of your panties and push the clothes down enough your tights to leave your core exposed, the sudden chill air against you heated skin sending a shiver up your spine. Cupping his face with your hands, you kiss Kusakabe deeply, pulling him closer to you, while his fingers start to roam your tight like they previously did on your chest. Your focus shifts from his mouth to his neck (god how you missed it) and you unbutton his shirt, trying to spur him, but his touches are painstakingly slow, fingers too far away from where you wanted them most. Undaunted, you continue your attack, tongue tracing pathways of pleasure into his skin, teeth scarping and sinking, lips comforting and eliciting.

Circles are drawn on the canvas of your skin, smaller and smaller, until he finally reaches your cunt and you start to loose track of time, his fingers teasing your folds but never entering, caresses on your clit that never turns into that something more enough for you to finally cum. Squirming and whimpering through the sweet anguish he persists in doing, yet you hear the first signs of capitulations in his own grunts and moans.

Yet he persists.

Yet he persists.

Yet he persists.

Your breaths are hot and short against each other, the temperature of both your bodies so high now you might have a fever. Your face nuzzle in the crook of his neck, his ministration starting to make you see stars in your vision, while you desperately cling to his now exposed chest, hair soft under your touch.

“A-atsuya...p-pleeease…”

Deft fingers continue to caress your sex, eliciting a new series of moans and cries out of your mouth, his tongue trailing from your ear down your neck, leaving the skin burning in its wake. And you know that, if he continues to torture you like that, it’s no long before you come undone under him. So, with the last remnants of your will, the leg trapped in between his tries to grind against his hard, still clothed, cock, while one of your hand tries to get a hold of his forearm, in a futile attempt to slow him down or hurry him up, you’re not even sure of what you want to do anymore. You just now that you will not resist a second more.

As if he reads your mind, Kusakabe finally finally push a finger past your folds and inside your aching pussy, your lewd cry of pleasure making his dick throb in his pants. There’s no need for a second digit, as your orgasm hits you suddenly and violently, leaving you shaking so bad you cling to him for dear life.

You stay like that for a couple of minutes, but as soon as the shivers start to subside, you look up at him “Need you...inside...pl-please…” is all you manage to say in between your broken breaths. A soft kiss on your temple “Are you sure?”

Just a nod from you and he’s unbuckling his pants, letting his cock finally free. Impatient hands pull him closer and he’s already lined up to your entrance and ready, but he takes his time to smile down and then softly kiss you, before entering in one go in your wet hole. It’s your turn now to moan into his mouth, while he hooks your legs over his arms, a mating press the best way to deal with all the too many clothes you two still wear.

It doesn’t take long for the both of you to reach your peaks, pent-up as you are, moans and cries being swallowed into hungry kisses, bodies trembling in unison. And as your breath slowly come back to normal and you both descend from your high, the way Kusakabe embraces you tells you everything you wanted to hear from him.

[panelshowsource]

i feel like i'm so annoying being like JOE WILKINSON ROISIN CONATY but please understand i say it because it would be guaranteed hilarious 🥹

but okay okay let's think

first i think it would be funny to have some of the well-known bonafide smartypantses on, like jo brand, david and victoria, charlie brooker, clive anderson, richard osman, dara, and john oliver, because it's just funny as heck to see them get tripped up or stumped hehe and you may be thinking "what about stephen fry and sandi toksvig?" THERE IS NO STUMPING THEM. EVER. AND DON'T YOU FORGET IT.

there are lots of other lowkey smartypantses who would be so funny — paul foot, armando iannucci, adam buxton, elis james, lee mack, rhod gilbert, bill bailey, miles jupp, wild card suggestion is darragh from the chase he cracks me up. now, random people smartypants and otherwise i think would kill the format hmmm okay besides joe and roisin who mean everything to me, guz khan, lucy beaumont, prof. hannah fry, ed gamble, chloe petts, mel giedroyc, vic reeves, claudia, matt forde? could be quite funny actually and i think guy would laugh at him a lot?, ahir shah, jess hynes, nish kumar, judi love, johnny vegas, jamie laing, jessica knappett, sara barron, kerry godliman, fatiha el-ghorri, ivo graham, get william hanson on there why not

🚨 danny dyer, susie dent, catherine tate, alan carr 🚨 HANDS DOWN!!!

don't you think this format would be perfect for chris addison to come back into our panel show lives

and omg mark watson because remember when guy was having a lil go at him 😭😭😭💀💀💀

CUZ THAT IS VERY IMPORTANT guy is the host and he needs to think the guests are funny... hmm who would have a hilarious dynamic with guy...well...everyone😁 guy is the best😁

it makes sense, too, that some of the funniest dynamics on a format like cats does countdown would work on guy mont spelling bee, since it's all about being a lil smarty — so russell howard and roisin on the same panel would be great because she does her best and he takes the piss out of her. people who take the piss out of each other...hmm...fatiha el-ghorri and phil wang lmfao...alan carr and romesh one of my underrated faves...frankie boyle and miles jupp would be so good omg

I SHOULD STOP NOW hehehe sorry for the block of text i answered this stream of consciousness i hope you don't mind heheheheh

what about you??

aww what a cute question 🥰 honestly i do associate it with autumn because it often comes out in september/october (so i think of it as part of the fall tv schedule)! but, really, i associate different series with different seasons? like i think of s7 as being winter time because kerry made that big circle in the snow hahaha that kind of thing! it wouldn't surprise me if a lot of people think of taskmaster + summer tho?

omg i love map men they're so funny

thanks for taking the time to send in these other recs i'll check them out 🥹🫶 posting these for everyone else to enjoy too!!!

i haven't seen either yet!!! how are they? they're both on my drive waiting for me to watch them 🥹 i might watch ahir's tonight

sorry anon i don't, only the epub version is easily available 😞 maybe someone reading this will be able to help out?

someone sent it over!! i added it to the drive :)<3

hello anon yes! i threw it in the alex horne collection folder here it is :)

hello! you're not the first person to ask me this but i really don't think you can! as far as i know there is no proshot, it was never streamed in cinemas, never streamed online... someone can correct me if i'm wrong but :(

i think we just missed seeing it at the actual theatre (▱˘︹˘▱)

—

PANEL SHOW WATCH LINKS / NON-PANEL SHOW WATCH LINKS FAQ / TAGS / ASK

[yrfemmehusband]

I have a doctor's appointment tomorrow and I'm thinking a lot about my own role in my medical treatment and how I've definitely aided in my own prolonged diagnosis. Yes, lots of doctors gaslight, and lots of doctors are starkly rude and unhelpful. But it's hard to deny I've also played a role in not getting what I need from appointments and Drs.

My severe medical trauma makes it really difficult to explain what exactly I want to say. It makes it hard to say anything. And while that's hard to overcome when you keep getting traumatized, it's something I really need to do. Not being able to fully articulate to my doctors what's going on with me has severely negatively impacted my care.

It is also up to the patient to redirect their care if it isn't going in the direction they feel it needs to go. I have known this whole time I need to go up a neurologist but on some level I have allowed myself to be yanked from specialist to specialist to not find anything wrong. Investigating issues that might be a problem but don't fit all my symptoms, especially the most important ones. I should have emphasized which symptoms were affecting me most and I should have displayed more of my knowledge about where I think their origin could be.

All of this was hard to do for multiple reasons. These things have been more or less out of my control, it was hard to recognize what I needed to do. Part of the issue is fear of doctors and the medical system as a whole. Listing off all of my symptoms is difficult because they are so widespread. Ive had so many gaslight me that it's easier to pick a few most impactful symptoms and leave out the rest.

Another reason is because of my illness itself. Doing anything has been extremely difficult for two years now. It's hard to make art, to post, to organize my symptoms let alone keep track of them. Ive wanted to make a folder of my symptoms, diagnoses, a timeline and pictures. I want to, just feel like it's not within my grasp to do it at all. It's difficult to pick up new habits or learn new things at home and at work. Everything is difficult for me. Add medical trauma on top of this and I was nearly mute in so many of my doctors appointments. Even now it's simply hard to articulate everything and remember everything I want to say.

Honestly I don't blame myself, this isn't my fault. The medical system and doctors should put in more effort and safeguards for people who have issues articulating their issues, and a patient advocate did not help me either, it wasn't even his fault to be honest.

This time I'm setting aside time to write everything down. I already have a chart and timeline of my symptoms and diagnoses I made with my therapist and now I'm going to draft a script for my appointment tomorrow. Pls wish me luck and if anyone has any advice that is welcomed thanks if u read my rant lol

[wings-of-ink]

First Devlog?

Hello everyone...boy, there are a lot of you already, still trying to digest that...

So, I gather that I should do these logs on occasion. I do not know how often, perhaps just when I have a few things to say. I will try not to ramble too much, but my fingies like to talk.

Anyway, I am working on chapter 3 right now. There’s some fun moments so far in it that I hope you’ll like, and we’ll get to meet Zahn, Duri'naan, and then Rundis. I’m trying not to rush because there are some exciting scenes that I’m eager to get to. I’ve outlined them to tide myself over until I get that far. There’s some quiet moments you’ll get to have as well, and right now I feel like that’s what I’m struggling with. Those areas of my story are like bridges to the next, more exciting, parts and sometimes I feel like they fall a little flat. But, I’m trying to keep in mind this is my first draft. I’ll go through it another time or two to perk things up. Those moments are still important for letting the MC get to know each RO.

My mind has been in a million directions lately too, and I’ve had a lot of ‘duh’ moments. I’ve done so much world building since I started this last year (around August/September I think), that I have pockets of important details that I kinda just forgot! So, I plan to re-read all the notes I’ve made and try to also put them into one place. I have some in my phone, in a notebook, and in no less than three folders on my laptop. It’s a wonder I have survived this many years…

What you can expect for coming updates…

-A couple fixes, of course – thank you to those who found some of those pesky buggy bois for me.

-A nicer front page, instead of being slapped with my ramblings, I’d like to actually have a nice start page. I’ll figure it out eventually, lol.

-I’ll be adding a name bank to the MC’s Nameday scene that will also show you what each name means, so if that is important to you, it’ll save you the internet search. If it tickles your fancy, the name selection will correspond in some way to the marks (names meaning "night" or "storm," etc.) so you can theme your MC a bit.

-Extra coding in case you decide to shorten MC’s given name to just “Ravi.” I did not once consider that anyone would do this, and my first play-tester – my own spouse – did….He told me about it since it made some dialog with Oswin make zero sense, and then I published the story without fixing it because I completely forgot about it.

-Different contrast color for dark mode links. I feel like I have drastically improved this with a new gold color. In retrospect, I don’t know why I didn’t use the gold before. I love it as an accent, I use it all over! The blue never felt 100% right, but my brain shut down after thinking about it too long. Here’s a sample and a (M) Zahn tease:

When can you expect an update?

I’d like to make my next update during the Amare Games Festival, ideally containing both chapters 3 and 4 since they go pretty tightly together. This will also insure that you meet the rest of the posse. It’s a tall order for both chapters to be submitted on time, and I don’t want to rush them either, but I’m going to try really really hard, lol. I will focus first on polishing chapter 3, so that no matter what, I can at least get it out in time.

Here’s a link to the post about it:

And this is the submission time frame: open from March 31st 2024 at 11:00 PM to May 1st 2024 at 12:00 AM

As a side message, should you want to read on…

I also wanted to give you all a big, like really big, heartfelt thank you. I have received so many kind messages and comments that I just can’t believe it. I am so happy (and honestly, genuinely shocked) that you’re enjoying my IF, and I’m motivated to work hard so you also enjoy each new chapter of your journey. There’s so many secrets I want to share with you about the world, and I am struggling to be patient myself, lol.

I am not usually a very open or social person, and I was scared for a long time to share anything I wrote. I reached a point in my personal life in the last few years where I just needed to embrace what I loved to do and share it with a community that shares in that love. I encourage you to do the same whether there is a story in your heart, music on your lips, or a paintbrush in your hands. Life is NOT about your 8-5. We may not be able to survive without it, but whatever moment you can, do what you actually love. Put away the those things that don’t matter, the things that stress you - including people, and make time for who you are.

Thank you all and take care!

~Lunan

[novelcain]

Please read 🙏

So. I mentioned in the tags of one of my first posts back that I had to announce a few things that'd probably lose me some followers, but like I don't blame anyone if you do skedaddle because I know most of you are here for the monkie (totally understandable tho)

That being said I am no longer hyperfixated on jttw/Sun Wukong and that likely won't happen again for a while cause main the thing that caused me to clock out for so long kinda left a bad taste in my brain. However I will eventually come back to it. I can guarantee that. It just won't be for a hot minute (maybe who knows I can't control my brain lol)

As for the 10 billion asks I have in my inbox rn I'll be taking screen shots of the ones that have to do with monkie and such and putting them in a folder so that when I DO get back into jttw I'll just immediately start with those. So yeah if you sent me a really long ask FEAR NOT!😃 for I refuse to get rid of any of them 🥰

With that information tho, I never really intended for this to be just a monkie blog that's just what my hyperfixation had been on since I started. But I also tried to force that hyperfixation to stay way longer than I should have so that I could keep making content that my followers would like which is a part of the reason why I needed a break for so long. I wore myself out, and I needed to convince myself that it was okay for me to make content that makes me happy too. 😌

Tho unfortunately that does mean all my current projects will be on hold and I'll be updating the titles on ao3 soon to On Hiatus. 😔

I ofc will still gladly interact with/absorb any art or writings inspired by or dedicated to my works even if they aren't something I'm currently fixated on because effort deserves recognition and I love seeing ya'lls stuff more than anything. 🥰 Same goes for any submissions with art or edits/videos.

Also I did finish my Triad AU Sun Wukong character sheet like... forever go and just forgot to post it. 😬 (I KNOW I'M SORRY! 😭) SO I'll be posting that soon once I'm done moving everything around and making things more manageable and ✨️aesthetic✨️ on the blog.

Tho that kinda brings me to the next announcement I'll be merging my art blog and my spam blog onto this blog (so many blogs😫) cause honestly 4 blogs is just too much and I just wanna vibe 😅🤚 lol

The last announcement is that once I'm done rearranging everything I'll be going through all my mentions that I've missed and checking out what you guys made while I was gone cause I heard from a few people that there's quite a bit 😊 *much excitement* (on god I need an emoji that looks like it's vibrating because I need visual representation of how I feel like imma explode sometimes)

[ageless-aislynn]

As mentioned in my last post, welcome to Aislynn's 1 Word For Each WIP November Extravaganza! (It was too long to fit all of that in the banner, so hence the number 4 coming in clutch, lol!)

Here's what I'm GOING TO write at least one word for in the month of November:

Halo the series

"15 Minutes" - (John/Female Reader) Chapter 12 is in progress and will get progressiver (word of the day) by at least 1 more word! *nodnods*

"Recreation" - (Kai/Male Reader) The final chapter will be slotting in between its sibling fic's *points up at "15M"* second to last and final chapter. I have notes on chapter 5 but no draft started... yet.

"Untitled Fluffy Vannak fic" - (Vannak/Female Reader) Just a one-shot that I wanted to do for the big guy, something sweet and fun because he got VERY LITTLE of either in season 2. 😭The draft is already in progress.

I also would like to write a Reader fic for Riz since the entire rest of Silver Team is getting something 👀but have nothing on tap just yet.🤞😣🤞 One day, I hope, but I'm not counting this as part of my WIPs to be finished in November... unless I should get a heck of a lot of work done on everything else. 😉

Halo: Reach

"Choices: A Choose Your Own Spartan Adventure" - (Noble Team/Female Reader) One of the most personally ambitious things I've attempted in a while, the first chapter that sets up the adventure is almost done. Next to go are each of the chapters where you choose which Noble Team member you'll continue the adventure with. I have the plot for all of them but only Emile's has something written. We'll also be getting a separate chapters for female and male Noble Six, since we're all about, you know, choosing who you want to adventure with and Six can be either in the game. 😎👍

The Flash

"The Price" (NSFW) - (Caitlin Frost/Hunter Zolomon) I've known what's going to happen in chapter 2 for a quite a while now. Just got to write it... one word at a time, right?

"Guardian Angel" - (Time Wraith!Caitlin Snow/Eobard Thawne) About 1/3 of chapter 3 has been done for, umm, years now. Just need to push it on through a little bit more! I'm not sure how many chapters in all it will be, at least this one and a 4th but that may be enough to finish it. We'll see!

"Split" - (Caitlin Snow/Eobard Thawne) The third and final fic in the Ghost of Eobard Thawne series turned out, to my surprise, to have 3 very ragged first drafts and part of a 4th chapter just hanging out in my Word docs after all of these years. I still have my *surprised Pikachu face* on for this one, what can I say? 🤷‍♀️😂

"Try" (NSFW) - (TomCav!Eobard Thawne/Caitlin Snow/Mattobard!Eobard Thawne) Oh yeah, I went there. After all of the versions of them that I've written, the only really surprising thing is that I didn't do this a lot sooner, lol! This one has 3 chapters of almost 8k words done that nobody has ever read. It's weirdly one of the few times I did world-building, too. It's projected to be pretty big, 20-25 chapters, so maybe 50k words? 😱 It's a really big undertaking for something that's honestly just for me but... I'd really like to be able to read the entire thing one day, lol! And there's only one way to do that: I've got to write it, one word at a time. 🤷‍♀️😉

I may have totally forgotten something but this was all that showed up in my WIPs folder. Of course, that folder was imperfectly copied from my previous computer and I had to go looking for several of these, so who knows. If I missed something, feel free to let me know.

So wish me luck, frens! This is a challenge I KNOW I can do and I'm so excited about it! 🥳🎉🎊💖

All of my masterlists are here.

[trilobi-te]

Chipspeech Twitter Archive Update

Hi I should have done this months ago.. I do not know when (or if) I am going to finish that website lmao. So I am just going to share my notes from Google Docs. Should be easier to read than the original posts and helpful as a starting point if anyone else decides to make a website :3

The documents are all on commenting mode so feel free to make comments to bookmark things for yourself or write your thoughts or whatever. Under the cut I have put some formatting notes.

It's a folder, each year of Twitter posts is its own document (I tried to compile them into one but it lagged too much). There is also a document with all of the original Tumblr posts (from the accounts I could find, no tags yet but I will go back and get them eventually, also no dates but they're all from 2015), and one with the bios from the official website for ease of access.

The formatting is a little (a lot) weird and there are probably pictures that need resizing/transcription but I figured it's better to give people access now. The text is small (to keep the page count as low as possible) so you will have to zoom in.

It goes by day, organized with a bulleted list. The top level bullets are each character that tweeted that day. The second level bullets are original tweets/retweets by that character. The third+ level bullets are comment threads under that tweet, the organization here is inconsistent but imo still readable (if you think something needs an edit for clarity let me know and I'll fix it).

For each character's section of the list, normal text is that character's tweets/comments. Italicized text is anyone who is not that character. If it is labeled with unitalicized text, it is that character/important account (e.g. the official Chipspeech account), otherwise it is a fan. I also included some labels and/or clarifying comments for Vocaloid producers I like, they're not central to the story though

I got rid of the line breaks within the tweets when copying them down because it was easier to format. Sorry about that. Idk how to fix it other than going through everything again but it doesn't take away from the story so I'm leaving it for now.

If something came from a website other than Twitter, I tried to provide the link (unless its content was deleted). I did my best to transcribe the Clyp posts that were not deleted.

If something is a text-only retweet, it is marked with [retweet]. If it includes an image, it's probably a screenshot of the whole thing. I only included retweets that felt story-relevant (so no miscellaneous cat pictures, Apple-related aesthetic images, etc.), but if people really want it I can go back and add the rest.

Deleted tweets are noted with [deleted tweet], with the characters they came from if applicable. Idk how Twitter works but it the person in the thread is replying to the username of a certain character, I assumed it was that character's tweet that had been deleted. If something says [deleted Dandy thread], assume there is a deleted Dandy tweet in between each of the listed tweets (or another character, but it's usually Dandy). That was meant to be a temporary time-saver and I've gone back and fixed the ones I've found, but there's probably more I accidentally skipped.

Anything not in English is translated in a comment. Except the X-Sampa (I will fix that sometime but there's not much of it). Also it was done with the built-in Google Translate feature so it may be a little incorrect. Unclear pictures and whatnot also have clarifying comments. I can add more clarifying comments (or image IDs) if anyone needs them.

I tried not to include any unattributed fanart but there are some that I forgot to copy the handle for (I am also fixing these when I find them).

As for any future updates to this folder as a whole, I kind of want to go back through each account's liked tweets to see if there's anything funny in there but idk when that will be. That would probably be its own document.

Honestly I should have given everyone access back in June.. oops. If you have any questions you can put them in a comment on this post (or reach out to me another way, idk). As I mentioned before, feel free to use all of this as a starting point if you're making your own website.

I'll pin this post so it's findable in the future. Also sorry for disappearing for several months (it will happen again).

[iam93percentstardust]

Hello friend!! Let’s make the stony fandom more vibrant! Tell me:

Favorite stony meta

Stony fic idea that you want to write but haven’t gotten to yet

Three most recent stony fics you read and why you liked them

🥰🥰🥰🥰

Henlo fren! Thanks for the ask!

Favorite stony meta

Oh god, I could talk about the dynamics between Tony, Steve, and Howard all day long. There's so much complication going on there. And I think it's a really interesting choice on the MCU's part not to write Howard and Steve as best friends. I went back and rewatched CATFA the other day, and it really struck me that Steve views Howard with a measure of awe (because of the things he creates and the fact that he seems to actually understand women where Steve doesn't) and a measure of wariness (for the same reasons), but they're not really friends. We don't see Howard spending time with the Howlies outside of strategy meetings, he's not in either of the bar scenes, and Steve never smiles around him. And on the flip side, up until Steve's death, Howard is fairly condescending towards Steve (at least towards his intelligence, given his remarks about Steve not understanding the Hydra tech). Honestly, I think that a lot of Howard's adoration for Steve came about only after Steve's death. It's easier to look up to a martyr, after all, than a living, breathing superhuman. And it would have been easy for Howard to convincingly claim that he'd admired Steve all along since he, like Tony, uses masks as easily as breathing

Stony fic idea I want to write

Ooh I've had this idea for an interactive reality show AU for literal years at this point, but I've been too intimidated to write it. The idea would be, as I said, a reality show AU with Steve and Tony as the judges, who are already in a relationship and have to deal with outside forces trying to break them up during the course of the season. The interactive part comes in with the fact that the actual reality show would be based on readers' votes. The Stevetony storyline would be pre-planned and completely independent of the reality show storyline. The reality show storyline would be written in real time, though, or as near to it as possible, and characters would be voted off as the readers vote.

As I said, I'm horribly intimidated by it. The interactive aspect makes me very, very nervous. I'm afraid to start writing it and then find out that no one is as interested in the concept as I am, so no one votes. I've had a couple times in the last few years where people claimed to be really excited to read something that I worked really hard on only to get 2-3 regular readers, and I'm just afraid for that to happen here. If it were any other fic, I'd be fine with it, but the fact that it's a fic that would rely on the readership in a time when people are more and more resentful of writers asking for interaction... Well, let's just say this fic is one that'll probably stay in the ideas folder.

Three most recent stony fics

Tomorrow We'll Be Born Again by KandiSheek: I love angsty fics where they think it's time to walk away because obviously the other one doesn't love them and it's over and their heart is breaking only to find out that no, the love is still there, they just don't know how to show it <3

In Written by naivelittleprincess: I like fics that do something clever with the formatting, and a love story written in post-it notes is right up my alley <3 It's funny and clever and super sweet. Defs recommend it for anyone who likes unusual styles

speak easy, swing hard by laiqualaurelote: Prohibition AUs, my beloved. I love 1920s fics, especially because I'll never write one of my own, and I love pre-serum Steve. I don't want to spoil the twist, but you should definitely read this one <3

[rubberhoze]

ive had thoughts abt this for a while now and i guess im finally voicing this but

for so many years before i had so many concepts and ideas and aus for like toon content (yknow me yknow this blog) but what i did ever end up posting was a very very small fraction of the ideas i did have. like i was very inspired in that time and i was always thinking of like neat concepts and ideas but because i was so afraid of backlash or people thinking im weird or """cringe""" or taking toon content too seriously i never ended up posting those ideas (and the stuff i did post was once again a very small fraction of all of it) and they ended up forgotten in the many many folders i have on my computer.

once in a while ill go through and look at my old art that ive saved over the years and ill think like.. damn!! this rules!! why didnt i ever share this!! and i guess in theory i Can still share those but because of both memory issues and also loss of interest i wouldnt really be able to tell you about all the neat little concepts i had in my head in that time, not the way i could have back then. and its just a shame yknow?

i really wish that back then i had the confidence to really express myself and my ideas through my art (i did do that back then and i also do now but i know i also had So much more back then that i never showed) and on that note i really wish that during that time on the internet people hadnt gotten so hostile to like.. genuinity and all that you know? sincerity? i feel like its gotten a little bit better since then (or maybe i just curate my stuff better lol) i do see many artists express themselves they really want to which is honestly different to the things i saw back in the mid-late 2010's. everyone was so full of irony back then (and theres still a lot of irony-poisoned people to this day BUT I DIGRESS) and im just so tired of that

id rather be genuine and sincere even if it means that ill be like cringe or embarassing or whatever. who cares!! sure peggle make phone calls who gives a shit anymore!! im tired of being afraid of the reception i will get if i post the content that i really truly feel something towards, even if its something like a silly au or whatever, if it makes me happy i should be able to post it to my own damn blog without being afraid of what responses i will get

overall i really regret not posting things that even if they were silly they Did make me happy back then or brought me comfort or anything. maybe other artists feel different about this but i really wish i had posted more of just whatever i wanted!! maybe if i did i probably would have been a little embarassed but i feel i wouldve been happier still than not sharing anything at all

so if you see this post and maybe youre afraid of the same things i did back then, take this as a sign to let loose and do whatever the hell you want. as long as youre not harming anyone and you just want to have fun then you can use your blog however you like. and if anyone harasses you or bothers you or questions you about it ill bite their head off ok? im cheering you on forever 👍