#i just opened the pdf of this after like a year. the only comment i left on it is on a line that says: | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

kazoosandfannypacks · 8 days ago

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

also on ao3!

need a player 2?

No, that definitely sounded insincere.

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

Duh. Too obvious. Try again.

Perfect.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"So she's a mystery girl."

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

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

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

"Isn't her follower count only…"

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

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

💜.🎮.🧡

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

💜.🎮.🧡

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

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

She watched the comment section flare up with responses.

💜.🎮.🧡

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

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

Ezra turned around and tried to hide his guilty expression.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

💜.🎮.🧡

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

💜.🎮.🧡

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Thanks, Professor Syndulla."

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

💜.🎮.🧡

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ezra didn't respond.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She sighed. "It's alright."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

💜.🎮.🧡

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

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

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

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

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

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

💜.🎮.🧡

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Spectre_pheonix had commented on one of his livestreams.

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

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

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

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

💜.🎮.🧡

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

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

💜.🎮.🧡

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

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

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

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

💜.🎮.🧡

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

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

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

💜.🎮.🧡

"I KNOW WHO YOU ARE!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I think you do," he said.

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

"Because I'm spectre_6."

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

Still, she needed confirmation.

"What?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"You have no idea," he said.

💜.🎮.🧡

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

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

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

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

"Surprise."

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

"The first one," Ezra said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Alright," a girl's voice said.

A girl?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Wild Ghost Chase?"

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

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

"Hey!" Ezra said.

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

"What prediction?" Ezra asked.

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

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

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

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

💜.🎮.🧡

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

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

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

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

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

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

"If only you knew," Ezra thought.

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

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

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

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

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

"And why do you suppose that is?"

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

But somehow he could tell Sabine would understand.

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

"She— what?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

"How do you feel about it all?"

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

"Do you really wanna know?" Ezra asked.

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

"Yeah," she said.

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

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

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

"Oh."

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

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

"They're getting married," he said.

"What?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

"What?"

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

"Why?" Ezra asked.

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

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

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

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

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

"Do you wanna come to dinner on Sunday?"

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

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

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

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

💜.🎮.🧡

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

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

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

💜.🎮.🧡

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

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

"Not often. Why?"

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

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

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

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

He smiled at Sabine.

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

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

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

💜.🎮.🧡

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

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

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

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

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shellingtons-failed-driving-test · 6 months ago

Text

Chapter One

4,311 Words

Authoru's Note:

Sorry, this doesn't have a title yet, but I'm trying to think up one. I just wanted to go ahead and post it to see what people think. If you have any suggestions pls put them in the comments.

Oh, my word this got way longer than I'd originally intended. I hope I was okay with the characterisation. I was worrying so much as I was writing it. I hope the interactions feel in character and you enjoy it.

Also, I have changed the ages slightly, which I think is fine because they're unspecified. However, it is canon that Peso has finished Medical school, but in the story, he has not. He's 19 and a half because he went to nursing school right after high school and plans to get a medical degree later.

And, in this universe, all humans are animal hybrids so they have actual hands and feet but still ears and tails. I'm not exactly sure how to explain it, but they're referred to by what type of hybrid they are as well as their race. Certain areas have more common hybrids that correspond to what "regular/normal" animals live there. EX: skunk hybrids are only in the Americas because skunks don't live anywhere else.

Anyway, sorry about my ramblings, and happy reading!

Peso's Perspective:

The big car stops with a squeal, throwing me forward with its sudden breaking. As soon as the door opens the sound of waves crashing and seagulls crying fills my ears. The sea breeze is refreshing after being cooped up in a vehicle for so long.

“Here we are.” The driver says curtly. He’s a state government employee with a scruffy beard that makes him look older than he probably is. He didn’t say a single word the entire drive, leaving me in silence broken only by the occasional crackling of the radio. In a way, it was good because it gave me a chance to do some last-minute studying of the Octonauts handbook pdf I printed out at home. Still, I felt like he was kind of glaring at me in the mirror. Maybe it’s just the anxiety. Maybe he’s just a grumpy person. He had photographs of his children clipped to his visor, but I didn’t see a wedding ring. Divorced, maybe?

“Thank you, sir.”

“It’s just my job. Say, you’re with that team of astro- er, aqua- whatever, scientist, right?”

“The Octonauts, yes.”

“Right, that’s what it was.” He nods as he helps me unload my bags. I gulp a bit at their size. I’m really going to be living at sea for months. I hope my family will be okay.

As soon as he sets the bags down, he closes the hatch and drives off, leaving me once again alone. The other Octonauts, the original Octonauts, have been at sea for a year already. They got a send-off with fanfare at their port in England, all I got was a crumpled map to try and find my way around this place. I’m not jealous but . . . it only reminds me that I’m the newbie, not one of them.

I’m only here as a filler for Dr. Deere, who had to leave due to a research development for one of his projects on land. They’re going to have a proper replacement, someone qualified, in six months at the latest, that’s what they said. It takes a lot to qualify for this programme, the best of the best with years of study in their fields and here I am, just some lucky guy. I’m not even an actual doctor, just a nurse, and even then I still have a few final training courses to complete. All week I’ve wondered, why on earth would they pick me? Am I even good enough?

I blink at the blare of a ship’s horn. Crap, I can’t zone out like that! I need to be prepared for anything, ANYTHING. I will be . . . as soon as I find the ship.

I was sent the training videos, all 600-something of them, on a hard drive the size of my hand, but obviously, I haven’t had time to watch them all and downloading them would’ve taken nearly all of my storage space, so I just packed the whole hard drive instead. The schematics are on the hard drive too, so I have no idea what this thing looks like. They said they’d go over plans and safety once I was settled, but I wish I could at least have a photo. It’s got to be some kind of submarine, right?

The port on the Isle of Skye is a small, but bustling place. The signage is old, and blocked by containers coming in. A crew pulls a fishing net of turtles out onto the dock, and I wince. Then, I see they’re all for studying. Several scientists surround them, scanning red tags on the fins and retrieving cameras from their shells. I smile as I pass them, waving at the turtles, who wave back. I notice one of the scientists, a brown-haired man hurrying around. When he looks at his tablet he jumps in surprise.

“Jumping jellyfish! We were totally wrong about the feeding grounds. This is amazing! I thought . . .”

I don’t catch the rest as I walk on. I’ve never heard someone so excited about being proven wrong before.

As I round the corner, I see it.

Dios mío . . .

It looks like an octopus. Of course, it does. I’m so stupid. It’s the Octopod. A state-of-the-art international research station with laboratories capable of housing a crew of 10 for extended periods. Can I just go in?

I stop when I get to the ramp, hesitating at the bottom, I survey the large oddly shaped submarine once more. My temporary home. As I look up something flickers in the window, like a lamp, or a streak of orange, but it’s gone before I’m sure.

I remember what my 4th grade science teacher, Mr. Perez always said: Take a deep breath. I do, and even after all this time, it helps.

The ramp echoes under my feet in a comforting way, assuring me of the ship’s solidity. A small yellow creature greets me, and I gasp. It frowns.

“Oh, I’m sorry, that was terribly rude of me. You’re very cute looking, you just scared me.”

It makes a chirping sound, which sounds affirmative. Laughing, I follow it into the elevator, as it closes I hear footsteps, someone running.

“Tunip!” A male voice pants, he has a heavy Scottish accent. “Don’t . . . leave me.”

Huffing and a little winded the scientist from before appears. The yellow creature makes a sound that sounds like a scold.

“Ah, well, sorry. I got distracted with the turtles.” the man says sheepishly. He’s the same scientist I saw with the turtles. Now that I can see him better it’s clear that he’s not too much older than me. His chestnut brown hair is messy and his eyes have bags underneath them but are still concerningly bright, He bears the appearance of an overworked uni student, and yet somehow still cute.

The creature blows a raspberry at him and starts to close the lift doors.

“Hey, now that’s not very kind! I was just trying to– Ah, hey! Don’t close the lift on me!”

The creature huffs, sounding almost affectionate, but allows the man into the lift.

Once inside he takes a deep breath, pulling a handful of Polaroids from his shoulder bag, looking at them as if to make sure they don’t disappear. They’re of the turtles, and a few have him in them, but he doesn’t spend as much time looking at them. Finally, he turns to me, as if he’s just noticed me.

“Oh, hello there. Forgive me, I didn’t see you. I’m Shellington.” He doesn’t extend his hand, only nodding, but the greeting is still just as friendly.

“I’m Peso. I’m the temporary medic.”

He nods, more to himself than to me, I think, muttering “Oh, good. It’s dangerous for us not to have one on board, especially with Kwazii.”

As the lift rises, it makes a loud mechanical whirring, as if no one had bothered to dampen it as they do in most lifts. In fact, the whole thing looks industrial and feels about five degrees colder than before the door was closed. I wonder why, I also wonder who Kwazii is. Finally, it dings and the doors open and he steps out into a small dark room. I trip after him, barely able to see a centimetre in front of me.

“Uhhh?”

My foot collides with something and I go sprawling over (except not really because there’s barely space in this room for my body length).

“Owwie! You’ve stood on my foot!”

“Oh, I’m so sorry. But, where are we?”

“Oh, whoops, I must’ve forgotten to mention. This lift is only here because some equipment would be unsafe to carry any other way, either because it contains potentially hazardous materials or it’s simply too large.”

“Oh . . . I suppose that makes sense.”

It would be hard to carry an entire x-ray machine up and down stairs, even a portable one.

“Welcome to my closet!” He says it with his arms wide to indicate the space around us with affected excitement, but the space is small so he can’t extend his arms very much. I can’t help but laugh.

The idea of being in a closet makes me laugh a bit, but I still don’t like dark spaces.

“Can we, um, maybe get out?”

“Oh, right, yes.”

He presses a switch I can’t see and light streams in. With a sigh of relief, I follow him into the larger room. It’s a laboratory. It’s very green, with light green walls, floors and posters. Now that I pay attention, even his shirt is olive green. He must really love green.

I turn to ask him about where I’m supposed to be, only to see he’s already gone back to work. Right, they don’t have time for a bumbling rookie. After a moment of debate with myself, I tap him lightly on the shoulder. It takes a few times before he notices, and when he does he jumps again.

“Excuse me, do you know where it is I’m supposed to go?”

He furrows his brow thoughtfully, “Hmm, I don’t have much to do with the recruitment process, that’s Professor Inkling and the Captain’s job, but I believe you’re supposed to meet with the Captain, he should be in HQ. I have to finish processing this data, but Tunip can take you.”

“Okay.”

The creature, Turnip, seems to smile. He chirps excitedly leading me back to the lift. When he gets in he jumps high enough to press the button that reads HQ. The ride is short and the doors open out to a large circular room. Glass makes up the top half of the room, a large skylight. I can only imagine what it must look like underwater. It must be incredible.

In the centre stands a tall man, not quite old enough to be my father, but a little older than Pogo, with neatly combed white hair, he wears a blue uniform with a tool belt. This must be the captain. He smiles, extending his hand. He towers over me.

“Good morning, you must be Peso. I’m Captain Barnacles, it’s lovely to finally meet you, Dr. Deere told me all about you.” His voice is loud, but kind.

“Oh, h-he did?” It comes out as a question, and I stutter under everyone’s sudden gaze. Even Tunip looks expectantly at me. “I mean, I’m glad he did. And I’m very glad to meet all of you and be working with you.”

“Us as well, we hope you can learn a lot during your time here. Let’s meet everyone.”

He waves for me to follow and takes me to a station full of buttons and computers. A woman gets up when she sees us. She has warm brown skin and hair cut in a fluffy chin-length bob, sunbleached with blond highlights. She’s a bit taller than me

“Dashi, meet Peso, our new medic.”

“Rad! Nice to meet you Peso. I’m Dashi, head of system and operation here in the Octopod. I run all the computer systems and track the weather patterns, but on my days off, I’m a surfer.”

With her Australian accent, it definitely makes sense.

“Ooh, fun.”

“It is, have you met anyone else yet?”

“The Captain, but that was obvious, sorry, and Shellington. He introduced himself as just Shellington, but does he have credentials I should call him by?”

“Not yet, but finished uni and he’s doing his PhD research on this mission, so he will. Have you met the vegimals yet?”

“The what?”

“They’re what he’s doing his research on. Oh, I’m sure you’ll just love them. I think Barrot is with Tweak right now actually.”

At this, Captain Barnacles nods, “Yes, I’m taking him to meet Tweak next.”

“Great, see you around, Peso!”

“You too.” I take a breath as we get back in the lift.

“This must be a lot for you.”

“Oh, no, sir. It’s really fine.”

“Oh, I’m sure you can handle it, but if you ever need anything, please don’t hesitate to ask any of us. I know they can be a bit intense at first, but they’re all good people and they all want the same thing, to help creatures in the ocean. We’re happy to have you and they’ll be happy to help you adjust.”

“Thank you, Captain.” I can tell from his voice just how much he believes in the crew and in me, the only question is whether the crew feels the same, and if I even deserve that belief.

“I do hope you’ll settle in easily.”

“I’ll try my best. The crew all seem really nice.”

The lift dings then, relaising us to what looks like a garage with a large pool in the centre.

I see more of the creatures like Tunip standing next to a machine I can only describe as looking like a big orange shark, holding wrenches. What was it Dashi called them? Vegi-mals? The vegi-mal is as orange as the gup.

“47, please.” a female voice calls. Whoever she is, she has a southern United States accent like I’ve never heard before. I look around for the woman but I only see a pair of fluffy, light green ears sticking out from underneath the metal shark. They contrast oddly with the orange.

The vegi-mal hands her the large wrench he was holding.

“Thanks, screwdriver.”

She reaches up and he puts a small screwdriver in her hand.

“Thanks.” she hands the wrench back, “carrot.”

Huh?

The vegi-mal hands her a carrot straight out of the toolbox.

“Tweak, are you almost finished?” the Captain asks.

“You bet, I’ll be done faster n’ you can say buncha munchy crunchy carrots.”

Just as she pronounces the “t” she slides out from under the machine, half-eaten carrot in hand.

“What’s up?” Her hazel eyes sparkle in a nice way.

“Tweak, I’d like you to meet the new member of our team, Peso. He’ll be our medic for the next few months.”

She jumps up, striding over to shake my hand, “Nice to meet ya, Peso. Welcome abroad, and welcome to the Launch Bay.”

She takes a big bite of carrot, smiling, her green braid swinging as she walks over to the control panel. She’s more muscular than I am, wearing a jumpsuit not zipped all the way so it shows her tank top revealing her build. Her belt is full of tools I can’t even name, she looks like she belongs here.

“Thank you, it’s such a nice space,” I tell her honestly, looking around at all the gadgets. Finally, I spot something familiar. Ring of Fire, it's my younger brother, Pinto’s favourite video game. Seeing it makes me miss him more.

She follows my gaze, “You play? I’m always up for a tournament!”

“Oh, ah, no. My younger brother. I’ve joined him a few times but I always die before the first round.”

“Shame, maybe I can teach you. Perhaps I can even teach you so well you’ll beat Kwazii. Ah, speakin’ of Kwaz, I should probably put Bea way before he comes lookin’ for her.”

Two people now have mentioned Kwazii. I wonder what his deal is? Is he the Octonauts mischievous pet or something? Whoever he is, I really want to meet him now. Meanwhile, there's a bubbling and the orange metal contraption disappears into the water.

The Captain laughs, “Yes, you should. Thank you for taking the time for Peso, I’m sure we’ll be back soon to see which Gup he’ll be riding in.”

“Well I was working’ on a little project . . . but yeah, s’probably best if he just rides with one of us for now. Gup A’s probably safest. You’re going to see the professor?”

“Yes.”

“Okay, well tell him thanks for the book, it’s helped a lot with my design.”

“I will. He’ll be glad to hear it.” The Captain smiles as he takes us back to the lift.

“The Equipment elevator, really, Cap?”

“Well, I thought that—”

Suddenly there’s a whooshing, and somebody lands right next to me.

“Ahoy Tweak!” A male voice shouts.

Tweak looks unimpressed, but I can see hidden affection when she rolls her eyes. “She’s not here.”

“Not anywhere?”

“Nope, ya just missed here.”

He whines, “Tweeeak! When am I gonna get my Gup back?”

“Come on, it’s just repairs, we do this every quarter, you know this.”

“I know, but . . .” he turns, starting to stalk off, then calls over his shoulder, “Fine, but I’ll be back!”

“I’m sure you will.”

While he’s looking at Tweak he stalks right into me. I fall very gracefully onto my butt. He snaps his head back in my direction with surprise, looking down.

“Oh, hey there little fella. I’m sorry about that.” he bends down offering his hand, and after a second I decide to embrace the humiliation and take it. He smiles, “So what brings you here?”

“I-”

“Are you lost?”

“What? No, I-”

“Kwazii.”

“I’m just trying to make conversation, Captain.”

“I know but-”

“Are you here for a tour? I didn’t think they let people do that.”

“Kwazii.” Captain taps him hard on the shoulder.

“Ouch! What is it, Captain?”

“He works here now.”

The man, Kwazzi, steps back, eye wide, then narrowing into basically a slit. I shiver. “Oh.” he lifts his eyes patch, squinting to look at me . . . and then he bursts out laughing.

I feel my entire body heating up with humiliation. Tweak winces.

“Oh, matey, I’m so sorry!” he manages between laughs, “I thought you were a kid. My bad, my bad.” At last, he recovers himself, extending his hand. “You must be Peso. I’m Kwazii, First Lieutenant.”

I don’t shake his hand. He frowns, retracting it and crossing his arms in disappointment. He seems kind, like someone who cares but that only makes it more patronising, only he isn’t wrong. Of course, he thought I was a kid. I am a kid. I don’t belong here with these smart talented adults.

It must show on my face because he softens, he steps forward, then back as if unsure of what to do. I don’t want to be babied. I’m not some creature he has to help. I want to be here to help, and here I am obviously a penguin out of water.

“Oh, I’m not laughing at you, I was laughing at meself, for being so knot-headed”

It’s fine really. I’m used to it, to being underestimated (even though I’m not sure I even have the skills) I don’t let it touch me anymore. (at least that's what I’m trying to tell myself. It’s not working.) I shake my head, not able to help the sign that escapes me. I am so in over my head. I don’t think he meant to be rude (surely not, but maybe insulting rookies is acceptable in scientific communities. Even if he sounds like some sort of pirate, he’s probably waaay smarter than me). “Oh. No, it's perfectly fine, you’re not the first and won’t be the last.”

He stands even farther back, not saying a thing, arms still crossed. His eyes scan over me, as if picking me apart, definitely judging me. He almost looks still, almost, but I can tell he’s not, not on the inside anyway. He can’t seem to truly stand still, his tail and ears twitching impatiently. He rocks on his feet ready to go do whatever it is he does at a moment's notice. Now that he’s as close to still as I suspect he gets I take the chance to really look at him.

The last member of my new team is tall (well, tall to me, and most people are tall to me, so probably medium height), and ginger. Unlike most gingers I’ve seen he’s not actually strawberry blond or a carrot top, but a light shade of orange that changes colour as the light shifts. It’s pretty.

His eye does the same. I can only see the right one and it's hard to tell because he keeps twitching but I think he has heterochromia, the rarer kind where one eye has two colours. The eye that I can see is brown with an amber in a ring around the middle.

But that’s not the strangest thing about him, one of his ears has a piece missing from it. I shiver at the thought of what could’ve done that. Did he get it while on a mission? Luckily they said I won’t have to go on missions . . . probably.

The Captain coughs awkwardly to break the silence. “Kwazii is field personnel, so he spends most of his time outside of the Octopod. You most likely won’t be seeing each other too often.” he looks at me as if trying to assure me. I know it’s unkind, but it makes me feel a bit better that I won’t have to spend much time around Kwazii. He's loud, seems unpredictable and looks dangerous (though I’m sure he’s not).

“That must be very exciting. I’m sure we can get to know each other some other time, then.”

He smiles but like all cats he has fangs, so it’s all teeth. I try my best not to gulp. Thankfully Captain leads me toward the lift. As we walk away I hear Kwazii whisper to Tweak “Huh? Where are they going?” I don’t even know why I turn around, but I do.

“Why aren’t you using the octochute?”

“The what?”

“The octochutes, haven’t you been using them?” I can tell he’s not trying to be mean. He looks so genuinely confused that it’s almost comical. His face is like the "???” expression in real life. It makes me laugh a little, releasing the tension.

“No.”

“Well then how’ve you been getting around, then?”

“I just took the lift.”

“But . . . it’s for equipment?”

“Yes, Shellington told me.”

He still looks incredulous. “The equipment lift? Why in the seven seas would ya do that, matey?”

“I don’t know, I just . . . did.”

“Matey, we ONLY use it for equipment, plus it’s sooo slow, and cold.”

Oh, that would explain why it isn’t nearly as fancy as the rest of the ship and opens into closets. I feel dumb for not realising it before. I guess I just thought they were cramped for space, but of course not. How stupid of me.

“Kwazii. Be polite, I told him too. It is his first day, after all. The octochutes can be a bit shocking at first, and he’s already come a long way to get here. I wanted to ease him into it.”

Kwazii droops, face losing the confusion and entering to a neutral state with no expression at all, after seeing him so energised it looks wrong like excitement is the natural state of his particles.

The Captain leads me away, back into a second equipment lift (I didn’t know there were two), I exhale when it closes and Kwazii and Tweak disappear.

After escaping another closet, we step into a bright blue and white room. It’s filled with medical equipment. This must be the Medical Bay. Through the door’s small window, I can see through the window across the hall. In his laboratory, Shellington is typing away on a desktop. Probably finishing the data he was talking about earlier.

“Here we are.”

I turn back to where the Captain stands.

“This is the Medical Bay, where you’ll be working for the next few months. You share a sleeping pod with Dashi and there’s an Octochute that will take you there.”

“Sh-hare?” I mean, sure, I’m gay, I’ve known that since I was young, but still, wouldn’t Dashi like her privacy? I’d like my privacy. We barely know each other!

“Oh, not like that, this isn't a sleepaway camp. We’re all professional adults, she gets one half and you get the other, there’s a wall in the middle with an Octochute. If you want Dashi to show you how to use it she’ll be happy to, I’m sure.”

“Oh, okay. Thank you, Captain.”

“I hate to leave you all by yourself, but I have a meeting with Tweak to discuss her latest project. If you need anything just find one of us.”

“Oh, okay.”

He leaves, and then I’m alone. The Octopod must be soundproofed to outside sounds because I can hear nothing but the air system cycling. I pull my phone from my pocket for music, but the battery is dead. Great! And then, I’m not even sure exactly why but I start to cry. I’m an idiot, trapped on a ship with people I don’t know who probably think I’m incompetent and unqualified for a job I didn’t even sign up for. The meeting with Kwazii showed me exactly how much I don’t know. Now here I am, pathetically crying. I miss my family.

There was a cat in my class in primary school, an orange tabby just like First Lieutenant Kwazii. He’d been held back a year so he was taller and bigger than all of us and he was loud too and would always bully the smaller kids and get away with it. I don’t even know why I’m remembering him all of a sudden. I know he and Kwazii aren’t the same, but I’ve never liked loud unpredictable people. They scare me. Maybe that’s why.

And something tells me I’ll be seeing Kwazii in the Medical Bay somewhat often. I’m not sure how to feel about that. I don’t dislike him, of course not, but I feel . . . wary.

Oh well. I won’t allow him or anyone else to interfere with my job. I will prove to myself and them that I can handle myself for a few months. And then it’ll all be over and I’ll get to go home again.

Taking a deep breath, I keep busy by familiarising myself with the workings of the Medical Bay and everything in it. It’s fully stocked with any supplies and equipment I could need so all I brought were clothes. There isn’t much to do, so I resort to cleaning the space that’s probably already sterile, just because it calms me down.

After a while, an announcement comes over the speakers that we’ll be departing for the Mediterranean Sea to aid in the preservation of coral at sunrise tomorrow.

Before I know it I find myself falling asleep at the work table. Too tired by the day’s events I let myself drift off.

(A/N: Poor Kwazii, he can be kinda scary without meaning to be. He’s just so confused as to why someone wouldn’t want to use the super duper fun octochutes. LOL)

#octonauts #kwazii #kwazii cat #peso #octonauts peso #octonauts kwazii #kwazii x peso #peso x kwazii #kwaso #pazii #octonauts fanfic #octonauts fandom #fanfic #fanfiction #octonauts fanfiction

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cleolinda · 1 year ago

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In which we try to do something with the Patreon

I'm gonna try something tomorrow: the first of the month is when the Patreon billing cycle starts, so on Sunday (October 1st), I'll open a $5 level. (Right now I just have a $1 level with tumbleweed rolling by as a tip jar sort of thing.) There, you'll be able to see Effort Posts, you know, the essay-length things about vampires or perfume or music, or anything else that strikes me, early. At least 24 hours early, in a handy PDF file, and also, I can see if people like the piece before I post it here on Tumblr. Some personal pieces may stay Patreon-only, depending on the topic (do I want Tumblr at large commenting on my genealogical research? Probably not!), so there's also that. Similar things I've already posted are the Varney recaps, Donna Summer and Disco Demolition Night, Sparking Joy (Jean Patou, 1930), or my retelling of Tiny Moist Hand, so that's the kind of thing you'd see early.

That up there, in screenshot preview format, is a two-part (true) story called "I Grew Up in a Haunted House and I Didn't Notice"; it's about 5300 words all told. (Question: would you rather have the pdf in the larger font size, which I found easier to read on mobile, or the standard 12 pt, both shown above?)

After a day or so, I'll put the story here as two normal tumblr posts. So you will be able to see them here, but if you want to know how tf I could have been haunted and not known it and then my sister said I had it all wrong anyway, you can see it tomorrow on Patreon Dot Com Slash Cleolinda.

What I would also like to do is start posting weekend links as free/public posts on Sundays--kind of like a newsletter you can get whether you chip anything in or not. I'm more concerned with people knowing where I am while all these social media platforms crumble into the sea, honestly. I'll also archive some older posts as PDFs as well, although that might take a minute, so there'll be a back catalogue to browse.

As we go along, I'd like to see if I can either record some readings or just do short (under five minutes) voice posts, but I would also want to type up transcripts for those, so I need to get a feel for how much time that takes. I miss doing podcasts, although I deeply need to get a new headset. And some Throat Coat. I'm already looking over the two short Halloween stories from Livejournal that people mentioned, the ones I read aloud years ago; I'll repost those as we get further into October, and I have some posts about scary movies in the works. And you'd get those delivered to your inbox rather than them be solely awash on the waves of Tumblr.

Anyway, I'll reblog this tomorrow once the $5 level goes live, but I thought I'd get some feedback a bit in advance.

#me for some reason #odds and ends #I've spent eight months being nervous about this #THE BRAVEST GIRL

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degeneratehourss · 1 year ago

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After many years and hundreds of pages worth of fanfiction, I'm excited to announce that I'm opening a Patreon (18+ ONLY)! If you like what I do and enjoy my smut, please consider supporting me <3

There are two tiers, one of which gives you early access while the other gives you a chance to suggest a prompt and if it gets the most likes in the comments, I shall write it (along with a few other benefits)!

I will largely be posting on my patreon the future chapters of my Genshin fics along with new, super smutty stories (One of which is almost over and will be up on my Patreon very soon *cough* kamisatocest *cough*).

This does not mean that my fanfiction will be behind a paywall. I will continue to post my chapters and drabbles for free as usual on AO3 and Tumblr. This is just something extra for those of you who'd like to support me while also getting early access to new chapters (generally two to three weeks before I upload it to AO3), answer polls that will influence next chapters, sneak peeks, random drabbles and pdf file downloads of all chapters.

I am uploading chapters one by one and will be putting them up daily. As of now, I have a few of the Mondstad men's chapters up, a poll as well as a sneak peek for the next Lumine Harem chapter. I'll keep updating regularly and provide you all with the smutty content we all deserve <3

I love writing but what I love more is sharing it with all of you. The feedback and community I feel I have after starting these series have been so lovely and brings me lots of joy and motivates me to continue writing. Please consider supporting me and all the hard work I put into my fics and I promise I won't disappoint <3

(Please consider reblogging as it would help a lot. If you have any questions, feel free to DM me or send in an ask! If you read all the way here, I love you!)

#subby links #subby patreon #patreon #genshin impact smut #genshin smut #genshin impact #aelumi #lumine x aether #aether x lumine #lumine smut #kimetsu no yaiba fanfiction #kimetsu no yaiba smut #kamisatocest #ayaka x ayato

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supergoopersworld · 1 year ago

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This post assumes you know the basics by now Part 2

Welcome back sickos (quikos?). Since I already covered the time constraints, team management and compensation aspect of the Flowergothic saga, we are moving on to what is unmistakably the core of the nontroversy.

As I wrote previously, there's no denying there was an at least platonic aspect to this whole thing from Julia's part, the two drunken love confessions appear in the last 5 or so pages if you want to see them in context. The stalking happened in Twitter and no party has come forward to either prove or disprove it.

Let's get some facts straight. Julia ended her video about working for Quinton saying that the partnership ended for very personal reasons she wasn't comfortable disclosing. It isn't a reach to assume those reasons are why Quinton decides to start his response the way he did and by the end of it he spins the whole narrative around to being unable to trust collaborators in fear they may want to get too personal. Yeah, let's say I could write a frigging essay about my problems with his response.

So Julia complains she was told she was a friend but was never treated as such and in the context of the chat logs I can see what actually happened.

Quinton pretty much friend zoned a woman he wasn't even friends with. He calls her a friend in order to defuse her advances without having to say no directly and let's just say when he opens his bulleted list to reject her with "I saw it coming" I was like no shit.

If you were to open the PDF file and just speedrun it without skipping pages you would see a good deal of pages are Julia selfies fishing for compliments.

If you were to see more carefully you would see the many virtual hugs, I like yous and looking cute todays.

So maybe you are thinking, maybe Quinton is just keeping it professional right? Nope, he proceeds to vent about his own problems because his Discord server isn't enough.

It seems this Flowergothic person actually overplayed the supportive friend role for Quinton, huh? Honestly is kind of concerning on both ends specially at the point Julia starts posting fan reactions and comments for iBinged iCarly in order to cheer him up.

So let's move to how this contrasts with some of her complaints about Quinton not accommodating her emotional needs she has mentioned on Twitter, TikTok and YouTube for over a year. Including her editing duties were also affecting her own channel (mainly her video on the Duggar family), opening up about dealing with her own KF thread and having to deal directly with an iCarly episode that reminded her of trauma.

That would be iHurt Lewbert.

Here's a TikTok that acts as a pretty grounded summary of things from her perspective with evidence.

Remember that the stalker narrative depends on a Twitter exchange we can't verify because Quinton softblocked her and according to him he doesn't have it either yet he has the screen caps he showed in his response. He only has the messages right after the Discord conversation ends when Julia was very civil, then says she became very aggressive and then has his evidence to prove it.

Truth be told I think he is owed as much scepticism as Julia faced, because this became a big game of he said, she said. Specially because people started throwing SH accusations for what’s in the same league as Quinton's very own DM humiliation a couple of years back.

Just remember one of the opening lines of the response is "I was hoping this was going to go away by ignoring it".

Here's the Drive link so you can come to your own conclusions: https://drive.google.com/drive/folders/1b3-rLmMYK7EFMFsA4aNITLKgtH6ILWeB

#quinton reviews #quinton #flowergothic

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theessayproject · 6 months ago

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CRC

Reading: ‘Debunking “Trans Women Are Not Women” Arguments’ by Julia Serano

Previewing

PDF file attached in the submission in bright space

2. Contextualizing

The article was published in June 2017, the article was written after commerce recognised pride month on June 19th. The author probably saw this as an opportunity to share what it was like to be a trans woman in America and how they viewed the world at the time.

Julia Serano wrote the article, she is a writer, performer, activist, musician, and biologist. She is best known for her book “Whipping Girl: A Transsexual Woman on Sexism and the Scapegoating of Femininity” written back in 2007 with personal essays that debunk some myths. Julia wrote the article to showcase how she views trans female in society along with her own experiences, along with other fallacies that we still question to this day.

Julia proposes many great topics along with great words to describe what she is feeling along with proposing some great topics and debunking them as well. Having friends in the trans community opens doors to how they view society and how they deal with it. Julia brings in her own experiences in the beginning of the article and as the article continues they bring up facts on how society has been warped by celebrities and how it has changed.

3. Questioning to understand and remember: Asking questions about the content.

In 2017 societal standards the trans community was still small enough where there were trans people, but it wasn’t talked about like it's talked about now in 2024. I want to know more on how society sees trans people and how they were treated before 2017.

Serano also brings up how certain celebrities have come out as trans later in life, and how it’s changed how they view themselves as a trans woman in society. The example they used is Caitlyn Jenner, and that shocked not only the athletic community but also the societal view of those around them.

Serano also brings up in the last bits of the article about trans women in the 1960s-1970s where it wasn’t as talked about back then and how de-stigmatised it was for those women. Along with how as the years went by how certain cisgendered people saw trans women as an object in society that should not be seen.

4. Reflecting on challenges to your beliefs and values: Examining your personal responses.

Statement 1: I have lived more of my adult life as a woman than as someone who was perceived to be a man, and I have experienced plenty of sexism since my transition: street remarks and sexual harassment, attempted date rape, men talking over me or not taking me seriously, and so on. (Serano, 2017, par 11).

As someone who grew up hearing stuff much like what Serano has gone through after they transitioned earlier in life, it changed the trajectory of how I now think about trans women as a whole because if they are experiencing these types of emotions as well as comments who’s to say they aren’t also experiencing the darker side of it all.

Statement 2: Furthermore, the whole purpose of talking about privilege (whether it be male, white, middle/upper-class, able-bodied, or straight privilege, to name a few) is to raise awareness about the advantages that members of the dominant/majority group experience due to the fact that they do not face a particular type of sexism or marginalization. (Serano, 2017, par 17).

Privilege is something that most people have, it just takes money to fully show off how much privilege somebody has. University itself is a privilege for most people as their parents didn’t have the chance to go so they put their children into university themselves. Privilege is something that people shouldn’t be worried about in todays society in my opinion because I think it’s the way you carry yourself as a person in society that makes you seemed ‘privileged’. People regardless of race, sexuality, or class systems should not be told they don’t have privilege due to any of those factors. A lot of our society today needs to change their outlook on how they see privilege because one persons privilege is so different from another person’s.

5. Outlining and summarizing: Identifying the main ideas and restating them in your own words.

Serano explains in the article her own experience as a young trans women who grew into it in adulthood and how the world now views certain values of trans women. The article covers topics like Caitlyn Jenner, male centred arguments, the science behind being a female, and much more. Serano brings in lots of good questions that she has had over the years about the treatment of those who are in the trans community and how the answers to them have changed as society has started to learn more and more about the community itself.

6. Evaluating an argument: Testing the logic of a text as well as it’s credibility and emotional impact.

Julia Serano’s argument proves many points that make you want to understand the topic of how trans women are treated in society as well as wonder why they are treated the way they are. The evidence provided is factual and lines up with the topic of the article which helps debunk the fact that trans women are women regardless of how they came to be. I find the argument convincing because Serano has brought up a major topic in the media which was Caitlyn Jenner’s transformation into being a trans woman and how the majority of society saw it as a good thing for Caitlyn and how men saw and perceived them differently. With the status of celebrities coming out, it’s most definitely different from how a normal child may come out to friends and family and it may be taken the wrong way. Serano brings up many topics that are definitely worth looking into in 2024 as well because there are still hints of how people from 2017 have not changed on the outlook of transgendered people.

7. Comparing and contrasting related readings: Julia Serano “Debunking “Trans women are not real women” Arguments” and Shanti Das “Inside the violent, mysoginistic world of TikTok’s new star, Andrew Tate”

The texts are somewhat related in the sense now that social media is very popular among both young and old now, TikTok has become a platform for both of these specific subjects. They overlap because if Andrew Tate himself is showing the world of young boys that its okay to do certain things to women regardless if they say no, and Julia Serano has imposed that regardless of being trans, women are women, then they overlap into that void of becoming dangerous. The arguments are somewhat similar due to the fact that they both are informational pieces which provide a secondary platform for them. They influence and challenge each other because on one hand one may be satire (Tate), and the other side informational (Serano). The article on Tate creates a sense of urgency to remove people like that from a platform much like TikTok as it can spread to a younger audience and influence the wrong people to be committing crimes on trans women in the future.

#essay writing #critical reading #feminism #lgbtq community #school

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givereadersahug · 1 year ago

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For fics I read -- I use a combo of notebooks (physical) and Notion (digital). I log a lot of stats to make my brain happy (and because my memory is not that good and AO3 can only do so much and I read from too many fandoms and look into too many ships). I also like to know if I left a kudo and a comment, since I tend to leave comments months after I read a fic (cause RL is busy but I still want to show my appreciation). And I like the sorting options. (Say if I want to sort by a particular tag/ship/feels.) Notion is great. It's free and I have yet to feel the need to upgrade. There is a learning curve, but I love using the site/software to log my books/fics/writing/etc (Seriously, I log everything in my life and Notion is just feeding into my madness lol) (There's also a mobile version, too!) There are a ton of free templates on the site and online when you Google. I also use an extension on my browser to quickly log my tabs onto a worksheet so I don't have 10000000 tabs open.

My current fic logging system on Notion - template (easy to duplicate and modify to your own personal use)

For fics I download -- I use Calibre, an ebook management system. It allows me to make columns and add my own tags, so I can sort my files via fandoms/ships/etc. And it's easy to convert a file to another format (MOBI, PDF, AZW, etc). Also, another software with a learning curve, but worth it! There is a subreddit, if you need help (same with Notion). (And Youtube vids! For both software.) There are also a lot of plug-ins. I use the FanficFare plugin to download fics in bulk (when I discover a new writer and I HAVE to read all their works but going to each story one by one on AO3 is a hassle) and download fics from other fanfic websites, like Fanfiction.Net (no more advertisements for me!).

Notion

Calibre

A learning curve for both! (Seriously. I still get confused and I've been using them both for a few years now 😅) And a bit of time to set-up and figure out your system, but once you do, it's great. No more forgetting fics for me! (I still forget fics all the time. My memory really is not that good lol)

hi! how do you keep track of the fics you’ve read? do you have a list or a spreadsheet or just use ao3 functions to do so?

i’m interested in making myself a lil record keeper but not sure the best way to go about it. i think i want my own rather than to use bookmarks and tagging but if there’s a great way for that to work i’m open to it too.

if any followers have systems they love pls share!!! :))))

Thanks for the ask, anon! I’d love to say I’m super organized with a master spreadsheet in which I keep track of everything but alas 🥲🥲 I basically bookmark everything I enjoy and/or rec and rely on both ao3 and on my memory to make recs. Not a great system tbh, it takes me ages to go through my bookmarks (I’m so lazy I didn’t even come up with a tagging system and now I’m over 1k bookmarks I wonder what’s the point anyway 🤷🏻‍♀️) so I’m probably not v helpful with organization and fic tracking advice. I’ve seen people doing gdocs and excel archives which sounds cool! Would definitely try and make a spreadsheet if I had the time and focus. Let’s see if my followers can share more tips :)

#fanfic #logging system #calibre #notion

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hexfeathers · 4 years ago

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My thoughts on the growth of the witchcraft community

Hi, I’m Rex. And I’ve been an active member of the witchcraft community since I started studying it in 2005.

For the past few years, I’m sure everyone in the witchcraft and pagan communities have noticed the sudden *boom* of interest in what we do. Crystals are becoming trendy, you can purchase books on magic at Walmart, and many, many younger people are posting about their journey into witchcraft on their social media.

On Tumblr, #witchblr was one of the most active tags of 2020, Reddit has seen a growth in related posts, and we’re all quite familiar with just how large the “WitchTok” community has grown on TikTok.

I’ve seen the influx of people approaching those of us who have 10, 20, 30 something years of experience in the community, proudly labeling themselves as a “baby witch”, wishing to learn as much as they can about the craft. And that’s GREAT! It’s AWESOME! I LOVE sharing my knowledge with all of these new people joining the community!

However, I’ve also seen an increase in comments such as:

“This sucks, witchcraft is so popular now and it’s being used like a fashion statement.”

“I can’t go anywhere without hearing some Gen Z kid claim to be a ~Space Witch~.”

“Ugh! These young kids are embarrassing us and making things up about witchcraft!”

“I used to be bullied as a teenager for being Wiccan, now it makes you cool.”

Folks, the reality is that we as a people are becoming more and more open to alternative lifestyles. Humanity is opening up and becoming more in touch with their spirituality. And that is a good thing.

Yes, it sucks that we got bullied and were made to feel like outcasts when we were young practitioners, but just because we struggled, doesn’t mean we should wish the same out of envy on the newcomers. If anything, we should be gracious that they’re safe.

The fact that we have younger people who can safely practice witchcraft THIS openly means that we did something right.

We made it safer and more acceptable to read about the occult.

We made it safer and more acceptable to talk about holistic medicines.

We made it safer and more acceptable to talk about energy, the stars, the planets, and everything that we adore about the universe.

And yes, I’m just as guilty of rolling my eyes when I hear someone claim that a certain crystal is going to destroy their life because it’s super powerful (looking at you, Moldavite), but we all started somewhere. Just because we started out by reading Scott Cunningham and Raymond Buckland in the back of a Borders or Waldenbooks doesn’t make us any better than these younger people who are getting their first taste of the craft from TikTok, Amino or Tumblr.

It’s our role as people with more experience in the community to gently nudge these kids (and adults) in the right direction, if we so choose to be teachers. If you’d rather not be a teacher, then at least be patient with these kids.

I’m personally grateful that witchcraft is more accessible in this day and age. When I was a young witch back in 2005, it definitely wasn’t. Unless you had a local metaphysical shop or a bookstore in driving distance, we were basically SOL. I kinda wish that I could have just jumped on the internet and found PDFs of what I wanted to learn! And, I’m certain that these kids jumping into the craft in 2021 will grow to be wonderful practitioners, and more knowledgeable than us one day-- because that’s the point. We want the generation after us to always be better.

And y’know, maybe there WILL be people who are only jumping onto this for a trend. . . That isn’t new though. I knew many people in middle school and high school who read books on Wicca just because all of their other friends were, and then never picked a book up again. We still shouldn’t shame people for their curiosity.

So, as someone who has been doing this for a while, this is what I have to say to those who are new to this awesome community:

Never stop reading! Read as much as you can, the best knowledge that you’ll get is what you pick up yourself.

Not everything is set in stone. What works for one practitioner may not work for you.

Practice discernment and question everything.

Don’t be culturally appropriative, treat what is sacred to others with respect, and understand that not everything is for you.

Don’t eat essential oils... Please.

Everyone is going to tell you their own meaning of a crystal. Pick up the crystal yourself and figure out what it does for you personally.

Other witches and practitioners are not obligated to share their personal practice, spells, tradition, etc. with you, please be respectful of that. You will likely grow to keep certain things to yourself as well.

Other witches and practitioners are not obligated to be your teacher. While many of us like to teach, there are still a lot of us who would rather not, and that decision needs to be respected.

Listen to what experienced practitioners have to say about safety.

And, lastly:

There is nothing wrong with making mistakes and being curious. None of us got it right when we first started. Learn from your mistakes, and you’ll see growth.

#hexfeathers #witchcraft #the crow's opinions #I've been sitting on these thoughts for a while.#I figured it's time that I share them.#Let's go into 2021 being a little nicer to each other.#witchblr #witchtok

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theburialofstrawberries · 7 months ago

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“I was looking back and I saw some old footage of that game and we both look really, really young,” Clark said yesterday. “It's cool to see how our careers have evolved.” It is cool to see careers evolve over four years; it’s been just as interesting to watch the rest of the world evolve, too. Maybe Lisa Bluder, who couldn’t cross half-court when she grew up playing basketball in Iowa, thinks about this often. Maybe Kim Mulkey, when she read a Los Angeles Times columnist call her players “dirty debutantes,” thought the world hadn't actually changed that much. The columnist has since apologized. In his quest to be an alliterative dumbass, he did help me understand what has been so captivating about this group of players. The debutante is a young woman in transition, acquiring some sense of herself just as the world imposes its own limits on what she can be. “I’ve been sexualized, I’ve been threatened, I’ve been so many things,” Reese said, choking up at the press conference after LSU’s loss to Iowa. One TV commentator turned this into a gotcha moment. “You can't be the big, bad wolf but then cry like Courage the Cowardly Dog,” he said. As if it weren’t the most ordinary thing in the world for a 21-year-old woman to take some thrill in being seen, and to, at the same time, feel frightened by how much of herself she has ceded to other people. I have thought of these college stars in a battle of orientation, one between portrait and landscape. The portrait focuses on its subject, the landscape situates her in something she can’t hope to control. Always searching for the great women’s sports novel, but not expecting to find one so timely, I picked up Rita Bullwinkel’s debut, Headshot, a few weeks ago. It studies eight teenage girls at a boxing tournament in Reno. Their stories unfold in bracket form; each chapter pits one fighter’s monologue against another’s in their bout. None of them will find lasting glory in her sport—this Bullwinkel confirms for the reader, as she peers into each girl's future. Boxing will leave Artemis Victor only with hands “so spoiled that it will be hard to open the refrigerator door. No one in her life at that point, including her daughter, will have any remembrance of the meaning attached to what it means to be a boxer.” One girl will become a pharmacist, another an admissions officer. But for this weekend in Reno, the girls are suspended in tournament time, which feels like forever, no matter how fleeting it really is. In their heads, we become party to their freakish drive and ambition, forces we know will be circumscribed by the outside world. The novel’s title evokes the boxer’s weapon, and also the act of portraiture, which has the same power to stun. In this sense, they differ from the young women who headline the NCAA tournament, each of whom is made constantly aware of The Implications For Women's Basketball. “I'll take the villain role. I'll take the hit for it, but I know we're growing women's basketball. If this is the way we're going to do it, then this is the way we're going to do it,” Reese said before Monday's Elite Eight game. This year, amid the noise of the tournament, the actual games have come as relief. The players shine most when, like Bullwinkel’s boxers, they’re understood as something more specific than a jumble of stakes. And on the court, their loud, brilliant play crowds everything out. They take up the frame. Could you really watch what millions of people watched on Monday night, or what millions of people will watch tonight, and understand it only as the simple race war, as “milk and cookies” vs. “dirty debutantes,” as David vs. Goliath, or good vs. evil, or Magic vs. Bird? Can you do justice to Reese's blocks, each one so crushing, and to the hazy magic of Clark's pull-up shot, if you flatten them into something else?

'See The Subject Beyond The Frame', by Maitreyi Anantharaman for Defector (great website I'd encourage you to sign up but if you can't link to pdf here)

actually shaken just read some of the best sports writing I have ever read

#and contrary to industry wisdom the flattening fit everyone into a premade storyline shtick is not a sustainable way to grow a interest #in a sport. carlos alcaraz bailed out five hundred overpaid tennis executives by being a young upstart man from spain #'oh that's rafa nadal 2.0' no its not. take him on his own terms #women's basketball

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softomi · 4 years ago

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now accepting boyfriend applications.

based on my fic idea: you’ve just become newly single, in a drunken fit, you posted a status indicating you’re accepting applications for your next boyfriend. Oddly, three boys take you up on that; sending in their most professional resumes for the position. It seems there’s some fierce competitors.

next up: literature

It hurt, why wouldn’t it hurt. Your boyfriend of almost two years dumped you over text message with no warning and his reason? He just wasn’t feeling it anymore, what the fuck. Well, twenty phone calls, a hundred text messages sent to him, and a pretty nasty voicemail. The moment you realized just how crazy you were being was when you began pounding on his door at almost ten at night. His neighbors poking their head out to stare, and it really smacked you in the face how stupid you were being.

So you threw caution into the wind. it’s a Wednesday night, your first class tomorrow didn’t start until noon and you’re literature teacher was more of a lecturer so she probably won’t notice if you’re hung over. If anything, you could always ask the guy next to you for the notes.

Thus, you decide to throw back shots to your heart’s desire, sitting in the middle of your tiny studio apartment, on your bed to scream and cry at the romance movie. Love is dead. You groan loudly when your neighbor knocks against the wall, trying to tell you to promptly shut the fuck up.

Halfway through the movie, your mind is already swaying. Your throat stings just momentarily and you sip your cheap wine in hope it’ll dull the shots you had taken previously. When the male protagonist kisses the beautiful female of his dreams, you promptly chug the rest of the wine in your glass. Upset at their love, you wrap your lips around the tip of the wine bottle, drinking straight from it.

“I can find someone better.” You’ve reached a different point in your post break up sadness, you were mixed with anger, sadness, and an overall feeling of I’ll find someone with a better dick.

It’s never a good decision to post on social media while drunk, but it’s a great decision right now. You were going to post a ‘newly single’ status. Just to be nice and not spam everyone, you think you’ll just post it to your private account for your five friends to see. You’ve clearly neglected that step when you press post and it uploads to your public twitter account.

The urge to hurl takes priority over the sudden notifications on your phone. Your hair disheveled as you’re trying to hold onto the toilet, hold onto your hair, and throw up at the same time. The romance film comes to an end once you’ve fully emptied your stomach. You shove all the things off your bed, food falling onto the floor, empty bottle of wine rolled under your bed, remote lost somewhere. You fall asleep despite your cell phone going off.

The alarm jolts you, it causes you to scream, your palm slapping the snooze button and you aggressively pull the wire so that it comes out of the socket. Your head is throbbing and your cell phone is ringing at the same time. Annoyed, your hand stretches along the bed trying to find your cell. When you come emptyhanded, you sit up. Your hand steading the pulsing of your brain and you spot your phone ringing and vibrating on the ground.

“What?” You spit out, not bothering to look at the contact as you try to block out the sun.

“What do you mean what?” The voice snaps at you, “You post about boyfriend applications all of a sudden, did you guys break up?”

Of course he would be the one calling you, the person who loves gossip more than you do, “Tooru, can you like shut up for a second.” Your brain is dying and he’s over here trying to get the latest dish on your love life, “He dumped me okay.”

“That asshole.” He gasps, “Do you want me to come over?”

You look at the time on your cell briefly, “No. I have class all day. If you’re free later?”

“Of course!”

The phone call ends and rather than getting ready for the class you have in an hour, you’re checking your notifications. You have about twenty missed calls from Oikawa, another thirty text messages from him, he even left a voicemail; god he must have been desperate. Facebook is bland, you spent most of your time on Instagram deleting the photos of your now ex, and rarely do you ever get Twitter notifications. Oddly, you have fifteen notifications; all coming from your public account.

haha, boyfriend applications are official open. only taking serious apps lol

“No.” You sit up.

It wasn’t your post that freaked you out, it wasn’t that somehow it ended up on your public account, no you could delete it and pretend as if no one saw it but people saw it.

Is she serious?

If she is, I’m down.

What does serious applications mean?

Three comments, five likes, and four retweets.

And three unread messages.

Your finger rushes to delete the tweet before it can be retweeted even more by random classmates. All was good now. Your finger presses onto the message icon, you’re confronted with the icons of three of your classmates.

The most recent is from Miya Atsumu, a terrible flirt in your biology class. He chose the seat next to you in lab when his friends ditched him and hoarded their own table. He spun around in his chair, shooting you a cheeky grin when you briefly looked at him.

His first sentence was, “Hey you’re cute.”

And yours was, “I have a boyfriend.”.

You skip over his message upon spotting his use of sweetheart in the preview.

The next icon is of the guy in your intro to business class, Kuroo Tetsuro. The first time you saw him was outside of the classroom, you two ended up accidentally reaching the doors at the same time. He lets you go in first and the both of you chose the seats farthest from the board, and closest to the door. Despite his bed hair that made him look like he was going to sleep the entire class, he was a rather studious guy; chill but smart, he was a business major after all.

“Did you understand anything he was saying?” You murmur to him as you grab your bag.

“Of course!” He states, “I don’t look at twitter on my laptop when he’s lecturing.” Ah, he caught you.

Your eyes briefly scan the preview, he’s saying something about a resume and you think he’s talking about the homework assignment. You’re about to click on his first when the last catches your eye.

It’s from Akaashi Keiji. On the first day of class, you were late due to waiting in line for coffee. You awkwardly opened the door to the classroom, everyone turning to stare, and you lower your head, choosing a random seat that now you’re stuck with for the rest of the semester because that’s just how college works. The professor goes over the syllabus and suddenly announces that the person sitting to your right will be your revision partner for the semester.

“Hey.” You stop him and for a brief minute you feel your heart skip a beat because he was absolutely pretty, “Sorry, I’m Y/n. Since we’re going to be partners, do you want to exchange info?”.

“Uh. Sure. I’m Akaashi Keiji.”

“I’m going to be late for my business class. Do you have twitter?” You were never a fan of giving your phone number out. Before he can answer, you’re scribbling your username onto a piece of paper, placing it on his desk before running out to catch your next class.

His message is brief: Did you get my email?

You click his message first; it must have been urgent if he messaged and emailed you. There’s nothing else to his message, his previous one dates almost a week before his current one, telling you that he finished reading the book you recommended and that he enjoyed it.

The screen is pulled up with your finger, alternating apps to your personal email. The subject of his email simply reads Application.

Curiously, you click the attachment he’s sent with no body text. Your jaw dropped, hand placed over your open mouth and a small scream emitting.

“Is he fucking serious?”

His name is displayed at the top, along with his birthday, star sign, zodiac sign, age, even the pronouns he uses. There’s a short sentence under it. I am submitting an application for the position of Boyfriend. You’re internally screaming, blinking fast hoping that this was a joke but his ‘application’ reads like a resume. It lists his education from middle school to his current, his previous jobs, his skills, and his own personal goals for the future.

Your blushing profusely, you want to pull your hair, scream, even throw your phone but you shove down the feelings that want to have you die of embarrassment. You don’t have the energy to sadly explain to him that you were drunk and weren’t serious; ugh and you’re going to have to continue seeing him for the rest of the semester.

You revert back to twitter; your heart suddenly drops when you think about Kuroo’s message. Quickly, you pull up the messages, clicking his and suddenly you want dig yourself a grave because he’s sent a link to a pdf and it’s simply titled Resume. He probably used a resume template and never changed the title.

And sure enough, it’s a fucking professional resume declaring the certain skills he has to be your boyfriend. In fact, like the professional business major he is, he includes a letter of intent; indicating his reasons of interest for the position. It details the little quirks he finds cute about you. You want to break your phone in half with how red in the face you feel.

As you exit his message, you’re slowly praying that Atsumu’s message is just a random flirty comment that he occasionally likes to throw you once in a while or perhaps you’re hoping that he fell in a ditch and you won’t have to work with him for the rest of the semester since he almost blew up the lab station last time.

Nope, it’s a link to a google document. Oddly, you click it. Your heart has sunk to the pit of the earth because when you open the document, you see his fucking name in the upper right corner indicating he’s still on the stupid document.

Fuck fuck fuck. You’re running away from the document, aggressively leaving the page but it doesn’t help that when you end up back at your twitter messages, you can see the three dots, telling you he’s typing.

Morning sweetheart hope you enjoy the app

He sends it with a flirty wink and you stare at it for five full minutes. Curiosity gets the best of you and you click back onto his link, he’s no longer on the same document and you sigh safely. For someone who’s barely passing biology, his document was rather professionally detailed. Damn, he’s on the school’s volleyball team? Weirdly the page cuts off halfway, you continue to scroll until the next title page boldly states: Bedroom skills.

It didn’t help that you were scrolling a little too fast and caught sight of an image showing off his toned upper body. There goes his professionalism.

Your phone suddenly blares low battery, your screen turns black and now your anxiety is through the roof. You jump on your bed, trying to plug in your phone and you’ve just now realized that it is thirty minutes until your first class starts and it is literature. You’re scrambling to find your laptop, you trip on the bag of chips from last night, awkwardly trying to stand as you reach for your school bag.

“Shit!” You scream. You suddenly remember letting your stupid ex-boyfriend borrow your laptop.

You fall to the floor, fingers pulling your hair as you suddenly think about the deep shit your in. First, your boyfriend dumped you, now you randomly have three guys who sent you applications to be your next boyfriend and you’re still going to have to see them for the rest of the semester if you reject them. Lastly, you’re going to have to go to your ex’s place to get your laptop after having made a scene yesterday, and your phone is dead so you can’t cry to Oikawa about the deep shit you’re in.

#haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #kuroo x reader #atsumu x reader #akaashi x reader #haikyuu scenarios #atsumu scenarios #kuroo scenarios #akaashi scenarios #kuroo #atsumu #akaashi #kuroo tetsurou #atsumu miya #akaashi keiji #hq #hq scenarios

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seraphdarlimg · 4 years ago

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wish I were (pt2)

harry acts like everything is good and dandy but reader sees Heather wearing the sweater

part 1 here

‘heather’ by conan gray WARNINGS - ANGST WORD COUNT - 1,892

A/N: hehe because it was december 3rd, I just had to get this chapter done to post even if it might be a little late but here ya go

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My guitar rested on my thigh as i brought my head down to lay on the fret, staring at the blank piece of lined paper in front of me. I sighed, turning my head away and just bathed in the silence of the separate room from the main studio. The weight on my chest might of suggested the frustration out of my creative block, unable to produce words or lyrics for the past weeks. Or that I was progressively losing the will to even pick up an instrument, as strumming the strings took a lot of energy for me to do.

The oversized hoodie I brought kept me warm, but i knew that wasn't satisfying enough. However the idea of wearing one of his hoodies I've place in a closed box in the corner of my apartment hurt too much and that now I'm back in the studio after weeks of trying to avoid coming here at all costs. After the New Year's party, I've done nothing but wallow up in my apartment alone, trying to come up with songs as quickly as possible just so I could get this project done and over with. That proved to be difficult however, especially with Harry trying to call on a normal basis.

"Helllooo bubs, why haven't you been showing up at the studio eh?" "You said at the beginning of this project that I could work at home whenever I want. I'm just taking you up on that offer." "Of course, you'd remember me sayin' that. How've you been love, haven't seen you in a while though." "Fine, just been doing my job." "Well yeah, can't write all these lovely songs without your talent, can I? You gonna come in tomorrow then?"

I hesitated for a second, biting my tongue when I felt my eyes pool up again. "I'll just send a pdf of lyrics to you Harry." "O-oh. Well that would conventionally work... yes but you have to come in tomorrow though." "Why? Just text me what you like and don't like about the verses and I'll fix them." "Bubs you know how I feel about in person collaboration. Plus the deadlines are coming up and it'll be easier and faster to have you in the studio." "Okay." He hesitates this time and I could see his brows furrowed together as well as having a hand on his hip. Most likely wearing lose sweats and the knitted cardigan he's been falling in love with over the months. His hair a bit longer than it was last time I saw him and his pink lips quirked to the side in thought. Maybe the bags under his eyes are gone, has been looking more happier lately. More happier than I could of made him to be over the months. "Are you okay?" "I have to go Harry, I'll see you tomorrow." "Oh see yo-"

He was the first one to greet me when I arrived, and I wanted nothing more than to burst out sobbing when I see his smile. It took everything not to do so, giving him a tight lip smile and quick side hug before sitting down farthest away from him. For the first hour and a half of discussion, I didn't say much and zoned off a lot, tuning in and out of the conversation Harry leaded about a song he had written recently. I felt his glances on me when I turned away, probably sensing my unwillingness to comment so he was considerate enough to not put me under the spotlight in the discussion. In the middle of it, Harry's phone started ringing and he didn't waste a second to excuse himself to answer it. "Hello? Oh hey darling, you almost here?" I froze when he grows a cheesy smile on his face as he walks further to the other side of the studio before telling us to continue without him. I took a deep breathe, not mentally prepared to be in the same room as her. Has she always been coming to the studio or did I just choose to worse day to finally come in? I try to focus doodling in my little notebook, but it grew harder and harder to focus on anything else but the way he crosses his arms and laughs while on the phone with her. From the corner of my eye, it was definite he's completely captivated just hearing her voice and I could just picture the angelic tone of it. I didn't realize I was tapping my pencil till I hear Sarah calling out my name, breaking me out of my thoughts. "Are you okay, haven't seen you in a while." I nodded, putting on a smile. "Yeah sorry, been getting a lot of work opportunities and just a bunch of family stuff that's exhausted me." Sarah gives me a look that resembles one of a mother who knows their child isn't telling the full truth, but she nods and pats my hand. "Completely understandable. But that's exciting, new artists been reaching out to you n' all that?" "Ha surprisingly, considering saying yes to all of them." my smile was growing genuine a little, thinking about how content I was with my career. Being a lyricist and songwriter was a definite risky path to take in terms of stability, but it made me happier knowing I was able to to do. "Oh of course, you can totally do it. Probably wanted to see what all the hype was about when Harry couldn't stop talking about you at every social gathering he's been at." Sarah chuckles, rolling her eyes playfully. "Yeah?" I quickly looked down, feeling my eyes water as the pang in my chest came back. "Mhmm, acts like Thomas and Mitch don't even exist." I laugh lightly at that, fiddling with my fingers as I focused down on my notebook. I found myself in an awkward situation, not knowing how to continue the conversation but knowing I didn't want to try. I love Sarah, but I was close to break down right there if I tried and it was not the place to do so. Not when everyone is trying to meet deadlines and Harry was about to walk in with Heather at any moment. "Hey, I actually have a lot of emails to respond to so I'm gonna be in the other room." I stood up, taking a guitar and my notebook. "Might actually be better for me to focus in." "Sure, we'll let Harry know." I gave her a grateful smile, walking out into the hallway to a different room. I let out another shaky breath, feeling overwhelmed once I was finally alone. But before I could close the door, I hear her. I peak out to see both her and Harry standing at the entrance of the building, huddled close together. "Sorry I forget it gets this cold in LA sometimes." She says, looking up at him while he rubs the sleeves of his sweater that was wrapped perfectly around her. It was a simple orange stripped sweater. A vintage that Harry bought in Vienna and became one of his favorites. It was just a simple polyester sweater, but it became my favorite too. So it was hard to give it back after wearing it that night we kissed, but fuck was it harder to see her wearing it. Now as I sit alone with no sense of motivation to do anything else but wallow in my own pity I thought about a lot of things. I should be angry, be fuming and cursing at Harry for how he's been acting. I should confront him, make him feel as hurt as he made me for choosing her. Or maybe I should hate Heather, despise her for taking the chance I had with him. But deep down I know I couldn't hate Heather. She's such an angel, it wasn't her fault he's still hung up on her. And as much as the image of his arm wrapped around her kills me, I couldn't hate him either for the same reason. She looked prettier in his sweater than I did. "You okay in here bubs?" As if the tears welling up in my eyes and heavy weight on my chest wasn't enough, the sound of knuckles against the door and his voice calling out my name made me almost sob. "Yeah, I'm good. Door's open." I quickly try to compose myself when he enters the room, giving me that warming smile of his. "Just wanted to check up on ya, been quiet since you got here." Harry looks at me with concerning eyes as he places a hand on my shoulder before crossing his arms and leaning against the wall in front of me. Keep your hand on my shoulder, the second it was there all the nerves went away. I wanted to say but instead I fake a smile again, waving it off and shrugging. "Oh no, just have a lot on my plate don't worry." He nods, feeling his eyes on me while I try to avoid his by opening my laptop and skimming through my inbox. "Sarah told me about different singers reaching out to you." He points at my laptop before taking a seat on the chair to the side. I nodded, humming while I typed out quick responses. "Yup, thanks by the way but now I gotta sort out a whole schedule for this year." I took a glance up to see him focused on my song journal on the table in front of us.

“So...you and Heather huh?” The sheepish smile he has tugs my heart strings but I tried to keep from fumbling with my fingers.

“Yeah uhh...” He scratches the back of his neck, keeping his eyes on his hands and looking like a young kid with a crush. “Started talking again and catching up, been working out stuff between us since the party.”

I tilt my head to the side, motioning him to continue. “She’s gorgeous...”

“She’s amazing.”

I finally looked away from him and onto my screen, letting out a little chuckle.

“So you guys are back together?”

“No no, we’re just sort of figuring things out at the moment.” Though it was an answer I was hoping for, the look in his face was none the less comforting.

“Well, hope everything goes great. You guys look perfect together.” I managed to say, going back to typing while he only responds with a nod and hum.

There was silence. Does he not feel it too? Uncomfortable silence was never a thing between us but it was prevalent here. "Not gonna leave early are you though?" He says out of no where and I stopped typing for a sec to give my attention to him. "Not going to ditch me for someone else of course." He says it with a laugh, playing it off like an obvious joke... but the way he looked at me. Part of me wanted to scream at how oblivious and selfish that statement sounded coming from him, as if he has no idea the drastic shift our relationship has taken. But I see the vulnerability in his eyes, sensing the subtext in his question that is practically asking me to stay. Stick by his side and help finish this passion project he's dedicated to put out, not only for his fans but for himself. Be with him to figure out what to do next, even if I would be in a different county or continent and working with someone else. Keep in touch throughout because I've become an important person in his life. Even if that person who used to fill that spot came back, he's still here and asking me to stay with him in a similar sense. It wasn't the kind of love I wanted, but never the less, it was still love from Harry. Did the smile I wear at that moment reach my eyes? When I placed my hand on top of his in reassurance, was the hesitance obvious? Maybe he did notice the little signs, but he took my hand in his anyways and placed it against his heart.

"Of course, 'm always gonna here Harry."

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part 3

A/N: guys my heart hurts writing this lol. There’s gonna be one or two more parts of this series, but thank you for reading! feedback is appreciated :)

#Harry Styles #harry styles angst #harry styles imagine #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles one shot #harry styles fluff #harry styles x reader #one direction #harry styles blurb #heather

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lasclarts · 2 years ago

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Miguel Casey Nicole Pollyfan

#MIGUEL CASEY NICOLE POLLYFAN FULL#

#MIGUEL CASEY NICOLE POLLYFAN PLUS#

This case presents a world of smoke and mirrors.”Ī world of smoke and mirrors that nevertheless resolves into a pretty damning scene: Police busted Prine, carrying a pizza box, as he approached the supposed 32-year-old mother’s apartment on Nov. “It is not just officers who pose,” he told the court. Prine’s lawyer is taking the “Internet as fantasyland” defense, claiming his client was simply role-playing. hristmas”ĭetective James Morton, who posted the ad, was using the capital letters as a simple code: In pedophile circles, PTHC stands for “pre-teen hardcore.” The ad was an invitation, and Prine took Morton up on his offer. “P.hamily fun serious replies only bama won yes T.erday and kansas state lost don’t forget to H. The flurry of emails began with this message posted to the “Casual Encounters” section of Craigslist: Jurors heard opening statements yesterday in the case of Alan Preston Prine, 60, arrested last November after exchanging more than 200 emails with an undercover officer posing as a 32-year-old housewife offering up her two pre-teen kids for sex. Each passage is prefaced by detailed introductory comments on the life and thought of each theologian and the significance of his/her work.A recent undercover sting in Mobile, Ala., provides a window into the secret world of coded language pedophiles use online.

#MIGUEL CASEY NICOLE POLLYFAN PLUS#

The volume includes substantial excerpts from notable women theologians and from black and liberation perspectives, plus a new section from deceased theologians such as Thomas Merton, Martin Luther King, Jr., and Karl Rahner. KerrLanguange: enPublisher by: Abingdon PressFormat Available: PDF, ePub, MobiTotal Read: 30Total Download: 875File Size: 43,8 MbDescription: Illuminates the history and development of Christian thought by offering selections from the writings of 55 great Christian theologians. Expanded rules for social interactions, Infamy, and dark rituals help players of all alignments, and in the included adventure, the Heretics must best a Pirate Prince of the Ragged Helix! Author by: Hugh T. I will keep this a little short since people thinking about buying this book have already heard about its size and prevalence of fey.Īuthor by: Kendall ButnerLanguange: enPublisher by:Format Available: PDF, ePub, MobiTotal Read: 62Total Download: 560File Size: 42,6 MbDescription: The Tome of Excess is a sinfully indulgent supplement for Black Crusade! Devoted to the Dark God Slaanesh and his followers, this comprehensive hardcover book introduces four new Heretic Archetypes, along with cruel weapons, rules for empowering minions, new Daemon Engines, and more.

#MIGUEL CASEY NICOLE POLLYFAN FULL#

However, I would have wanted maybe one entry for a dangerous water maiden, and an ample side bar or page dedicated to the various cultural variations that comprise the numerous myths surrounding women and water (and boo for not having “la llorona”, if you are going to go full on water maiden, be all inclusive!). In all fairness, it is an artefact of Pathfinder Pathfinder probably has more of the dangerous water maidens throughout its various bestiaries. Now I know a lot of people have mentioned this, but I have to echo that the “dangerous water maidens” are pretty prevalent. There is one other book that has Lovecraft monster and I hope to do a comparison on my blog, but so far I am loving the Kobold Press take on them.Now on to the things I didn’t like. This is a good addition to the Tome of Beasts, but actually makes me wish that Kobold press would put out a book of NPCs on its own!An honorable mention goes to the various Cthulhu creatures. Not only do we get pictures (unlike in the aforementioned monster manual) for every NPC, and the statistics can easily be used for a plethora of occasions.

#Miguel Casey Nicole Pollyfan

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whump-a-la-mode · 3 years ago

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Nemesis - Choose Your Own Whump 2

With A receiving the most votes on my last post, for this adventure we are going with a drugged Villain whumpee. Sorry about the generic name for this one, I really couldn’t think of anything else ^^

I hope you enjoy, and thanks to everyone for replying to the last post! As always, votes can be sent in through any method you want. Comments, asks, and PMs are all just fine. I’ll see it!

CW//Falling off a building, hostage situations, shapeshifting, medical abuse, extensive talk of sedatives, brief mention of a needle

Please note that the third scene of this piece is from the point of view of a drugged character, and thus the scene has some aspects that could be described as unreality. Please skip this scene if this would make you uncomfortable.

The video was grainy.

It was always grainy. That was the strange thing about it-- everyone carried around miniature computers in their pockets, equipped with tiny cameras that would have rivaled the most powerful devices of years prior. Any civilian could take a 4k quality video on some social media, but the moment anything actually important was happening, technology seemed to regress twenty years.

Hero supposed it didn’t matter. Their memory of the incident was certainly clear as day, better than any camera could ever capture.

And yet...

They clicked a button on the remote, and the clip restarted.

The sides of the screen were blocked out in fuzzy grey-- the video having been taken through the bars of a metal fence. Between them, the camera focused at first on the foot of a brown brick building, before panning upwards, only stopping upon reaching the roof. It took a moment for the visual to adjust, focusing against the glare of the sun overhead.

Two figures, on the building’s roof. Two figures seen so often together, in so many similar videos.

The standoff had taken from dawn till sunset. How Villain had gotten into the building unnoticed had yet to be fully understood, but, regardless of method, they wasted little time in taking hostage a group of professors, eating lunch together. A single one had been released, bringing with them a message:

“Everyone leaves. No one comes in. Everyone stays outside the fence.”

It had seemed like a trap, at first. Of course it had. It wouldn’t be the first time that Villain had played such a trick. After much debating, however, evacuation was deemed to be the best option, and the campus was soon barren.

The hours afterwards had been as long and hot as they had been nerve-wracking. The very thought of following orders from Villain made Hero’s stomach twist, but their orders were incredibly clear: Don’t do anything stupid.

It was an incredibly difficult order to follow.

Establishing a line of communication had been the hardest part. Villain had quickly disconnected any security cameras in the vicinity, alongside confiscating any technology their hostages might have held.

In the end, it was decided that a reporter would be the one to go in. One of the most recognizable faces in the city, and one that was neutral. Not fighting for either side, but representing the citizenry.

The whole plan bet on one fact: That the shapeshifting Hero could pull of the imitation.

It worked. At least, it worked for as long as it needed to. Villain accepted the olive branch, and allowed the supposed reporter to enter unharmed.

Of course, the illusion broke as soon as Hero opened their mouth. No matter how good they were at changing their shape, it did not change their voice. In the brief moment of confusion, the hostages had managed to make their escape.

Leaving only the two nemeses, and the building as their battlefield.

It was hard to remember the fight. They had waged so many battles against one another, they all seemed to blend together, at one point or another. There was broken glass, pushed over tables, exploding equipment, and then-

And then they were on the roof.

Villain was stupid, but they weren’t, well, they weren’t stupid. They may have had the moral compass of a kleptomaniac feline, and the brain cells to match, but they had common sense. A sense of self-preservation.

Forcing them to the edge of the roof... it was supposed to be like pushing them to a corner. Trapping them.

In the video, the two figures danced. Forward, and back, until one took the lead. Until they were up against the edge, with nowhere left to go.

They were supposed to stop. They weren’t supposed to fall.

They stopped their own fall, or at least they tried. They were telekinetic. Of course they did. But they were surprised, or confused, or, or something. They slowed themself down. But they did not stop. The force with which they struck the concrete parking lot below was more than enough to knock them out.

The video ended.

And... that was it. The end. Years and years of battles, some won, some lost, all ended. They should have been happy, and they were! They hated Villain, sincerely and truly hated them.

But no other villain fought like them. No other villain had their tongue, their wit. Their skill. Their fight.

Villain’s defeat should have been epic! The ultimate confrontation of good and evil, of chaos, and order.

Yet, their downfall was a simple trip.

In the corner of Hero’s TV screen, small white text helpfully reported to them just when that video had been recorded.

One year ago.

One year, since that day. Since Villain’s downfall. And now...

Hero’s phone buzzed. A text message. The confirmation of a meeting.

One whole year, and still, Hero’s mind was consumed by their lost nemesis.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

The diner was terribly busy, and yet, when Hacker walked through the door, Hero had no doubts as to their identity.

Despite their rather stereotypical appearance, there was nothing about the person’s manner that would have indicated the sheer amount of time they spent behind a computer screen. They greeted the receptionist, pointed to Hero, and exchanged a few words beyond that. With a smile, then, they parted, and made their way to Hero’s table.

Their manner only seemed strange when they sat down, and Hero noted that the way they smiled seemed to pain them.

“Is this seriously what you people act like?” They hissed through bared teeth. “Can I stop smiling now? Or will they look at me weird?”

“They’re already looking at you weird.”

“They are?”

“You- You don’t need to do that.”

“Oh thank god.” Immediately, their expression fell into one far more analytic. Far less friendly. “I, uh, don’t get out much.”

“Really?” Hero raised a brow incredulously.

“I’ve got more important things to do than, uh, than going out. Anyways.” They stuck a hand outwards. It was partially covered by a fingerless glove. “I’m Hacker.”

“I figured.” Hero shook the offered hand. “I’m Hero, though I suppose you already know that.”

“You’d think people here would be, uh, a bit more in awe? It’s not everyday you get to eat in the same building as a superhero.”

“Keep your voice down, please.”

“Oh, sorry. Is it, like, a secret? You don’t have a secret identity, do you?”

“No. But when I’m out of costume, I’m not exactly that recognizable. So let’s keep it that way. Kapish?”

“Kapash. But, still, oh my god. This is so cool! A real life hero...”

“Yeah... Yeah. A real hero alright.”

A hero who could hardly focus during battle. A hero who infuriated their team leader more than they aided them.

“Anyways.” Hacker raised their head, a far more natural smile coming onto their face. “I have the... thing.”

“You mentioned that. It’s about Villain, right?”

“Mhm.”

The person across the booth leaned down, prying a laptop from a carrying case and placing it atop the table. It was a bulky thing, and as soon as it was turned on, the shrill sound of fans struggling not to overheat filled Hero’s head. Hacker clicked around a bit. They gripped the edges of the device, as if about to spin it around, before they stopped, frowning.

“It’s been a year now, hasn’t it?” They commented.

“Since Villain was captured. Yes. 374 days.”

“You remember?”

“Yes.”

“You miss them, don’t you?”

It was so direct. Hero couldn’t help but stutter:

“I don’t- Of course I don’t miss them. I hate them.”

Hacker looked up over the laptop screen to give them an incredulous look. It wasn’t a convincing lie.

“I don’t miss them.” Hero stood their ground. “But I want to make sure they’re contained.”

“I just... I don’t know if this is something you want to see. You’re trying to move on, and-”

“Show me it.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. If it’s something to do with their containment, I need to know about it. I can’t let them hurt anyone else.”

“Well, that’s not the problem here. If you’re sure.”

With a sigh, Hacker spun the computer around, so that it’s screen faced Hero.

They weren’t sure what they expected. Some kind of... deep web threat? A message from Villain? A copycat? An escape attempt?

But they didn’t get any of that. Instead, the screen displayed a simple PDF. Medical records. At the top, in bold letters and a rather ostentatious logo, the header read:

Specialized Criminal Rehabilitation Unit of Organization

For the most part, the page was Greek to Hero. A slew of ID numbers and attending physicians with far too many acronyms following their names. What did make sense to them was the spreadsheet that made up most of the page, labelled:

Approved Daily Medication Dosage for Patient: Villain

The spreadsheet took up two pages with solid text. Hero did not recognize the medication names, of course, but they did not need to be a doctor to understand the entries written under the column labelled “Medication Purpose.”

Every single data cell, even as they scrolled to the bottom of the document, contained only one word. The same word.

Sedation

“This is...” Hero muttered, furrowing their brow. Scrolling up and down. This had to be wrong, somehow.

“I don’t understand most of it.” Hacker commented sheepishly. “But, uh, I have a few friends with some more medical knowledge than me. They’ve never seen anything like it. It’s more than enough medication to sedate a fucking elephant- sorry, excuse my language.”

“It’s fine.” The confusion in their voice was rapidly melting to fury.

“Even for major surgical procedures... nothing near this level would ever be used.”

“This has to be a mistake.” Hero shook their head. “A mix-up. Maybe it’s like... all the medications the facility ordered. And they just labelled it wrong.”

“Well, if it’s a mistake, they’ve been making the exact same one for an entire year. I’ve got 374 of these files. Newest one just got uploaded a few hours ago.”

“And they’re always the same?”

“With some minor dosage adjustments, but yes. That’s not, um, that’s not all of it.”

Hacker reached over, dragging the computer back so that it faced them again. There was more clicking this time, along with typing at a speed that made Hero’s fingers hurt, just to watch it.

When the laptop was spun back around, this time, it was a video.

A camera feed.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Villain felt about to choke on their tongue.

It wasn’t a new feeling. More or less, it was the only thing they felt, anymore. That heavy block of muscle in their mouth, threatening at any moment to block throat choke air no air no-

They were losing their words again. Words... wordsssssss... Voices. Voices spoke words. Sometimes, they did. Sometimes they grumbled and muttered and sputtered and murmured like a car murmured. Cars... or was it cats? No, cats didn’t murmur. They purred. What else did they do? Not bark... no, barking too loud for cats. Cat go mew mew, real quiet like.

Cat’s meow, that is a cat’s voice. There were other voices, too. Quiet like cats. Two of them, two voices. They knew those voices, those were the doctors’ voices. The doctors liked to talk a lot. They talked, but they did not see. Or... no. They were not seen. Villain did not see them. They wanted to, but their eyes were broken. The engines in their eyelids would not run anymore, would not open the garage door, Sally!

One of the doctors’ voices got closer. A million miles away, a hand was laid upon Villain’s wrist, flipping over their hand so that their palm faced downward.

“Let’s move it.”

It was a silly thing to say. Nothing moved in this place. Nothing that Villain could see, as their eyes were broken.

“Is the other vein healed enough?”

“It’s going to have to be.”

Silly words... Villain wanted to laugh, but their muscles were firmly locked away behind a padlock.

“Okay.” The doctor sounded so sad. Why were they so sad? Villain’s mouth was full of soil. The doctor was tired. “I’ll get the rest of the medicines.”

“We’re going 30 milligrams up from yesterday on the Propofol.”

“Oh? Why?”

“They opened their eyes, yesterday.”

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Hero felt sick. In the top right corner of the security footage, the same logo from the medical records was displayed. The Specialized Criminal Rehabilitation Unit of Organization. Below it, a subtitle.

“Keeping the city safe.”

Was this safety? It shouldn’t have been. They had known, of course, what had happened to Villain after their capture and very brief hospital stay. It was what happened to all villains. They were sent to the rehab unit.

A therapy program. Helping villains to control their powers and reform their lives. To return them to the straight and narrow. But, now that Hero thought about it...

Villain was the only one who had never been released.

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Thanks so much for reading! Just like last time, there are two options along with every part of this story. Alongside each options is a question, so that you guys can give more specific suggestions if you so wish. The option that receives the most votes will be the choice that our Hero makes!

A.) Tell someone about what is happening - Who should Hero tell? (They are on a small team, as well as part of a larger Organization, for reference.)

B.) Attempt a more direct approach. Visit Villain in the rehab program - Should Hero try to rescue Villain immediately?

#whump #whumpee #whumpblr #whump community #hero villain whump #drugged whumpee #drugged villain #villain whumpee #hero villain prompt #choose your own whump #choose your own adventure #nemesis

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ryuu-to-sobakasu-hime · 3 years ago

Text

Ryuu to Sobakasu no Hime (Belle) Novel | English Translation | Chapter 2

**This is a machine translation. I put it together by extracting text page-by-page from a .pdf version of the Japanese novel, and running it through Google translate. I have only minorly edited some of the more confusing lines to make it more read-able. It is still a very rough translation, but it’s good enough to understand what’s going on. If there is anyone out there who wants to properly translate the novel, I am more than happy to edit it, if you’ll contact me.**

———————————————

Chapter 2: Suzu

"Buhaa!"

I got up from a thin futon and took a big breath.

That made me almost hit my head against the low ceiling. This is a shabby attic in the countryside, with rafters supporting the roof approaching just above the bed. "Ah, ah .... ah ..."

It's morning. The sunlight is dazzling. The feeling of the glittering world up to that point remains. I close my eyelids because I want to reach for the residue. Certainly I was standing at the tip of the whale's nose and singing. Wearing gorgeous costumes, singing freely. When I open my eyelids, in front of me is a smartphone on the sheets with the display turned off. On the dark surface, you can see yourself illuminated by the sun. The faded pajamas I've been wearing since I was in junior high school. Messy hair from sleeping. Half-open eyes.

And the freckles scattered on my cheeks. It makes me very depressed. I sigh. Then, I heard my father's voice from the first floor, "Suzu? What's wrong?" I feel impatient. Of course, this isn't a soundproof room, it's just a miserable 7-year-old girl's room. The only way to prevent the sound from leaking out is to wrap it in a futon. Was my voice louder than usual? If so ... The cold sweat of regret floats on my back. "No, it’s nothing ...!"

I hurriedly reply that while crawling on all fours off the bed. What if he’s suspicious and comes upstairs? No, I don't think he’ll come. I changed into my uniform and went downstairs. I didn't see my father. He may be preparing to go to work. He opened the porch and left the window down to let in the cool morning air. He lightly cleaned the living room and dining room and cleaned up the magazines left on the table. While boiling the water, I put the flowers in the garden in a vase and placed it next to the photo frame in the kitchen. He puts a tea bag in a mug and pours hot water. Steam with the scent of black tea boils. My mother is still smiling in the picture frame today.

I'm eating rice. I was sitting on the porch, drinking tea. Dad, who wore a dark blue T-shirt on his tanned skin, came out to the garage with a backpack containing work tools on his shoulders. "Suzu, I’m leaving." I replied, keeping my mouth on the mug. "... Okay" "What about dinner?" "... I’m fine."

"... I see. Then, I'll go." Dad must have been in trouble. I could understand without looking. The engine of a four-wheel drive vehicle starts. After backing up, it turns back and goes down the slope. The sound of the tires travelling across the pebbles slowly drifts away.

I wonder how long I will not make eye contact with him. How long has it been since I stopped talking properly? I wonder how much time has passed since we stopped eating together. There was a notification sound. A balloon pops up on the screen of the smartphone. "Belle is the best beauty created by the virtual world "U." Languages around the world are translated instantly.

"Very unique and rare song" "Belle's song is full of self-confidence" "The most notable presence in 3 billion accounts"

The text balloons went up one after another, competing for the lead, and in a blink of an eye filled the area around the bell icon. But I have no joy, no sense of accomplishment, no sense of exhilaration. No matter how much attention Belle gets, it doesn't matter. With my mouth in my rimmed mug, I shut myself in my shell. The balloon with one comment swells up significantly. It is one of the functions of balloons to enlarge and display the comments that attract the most attention.

Of the tremendous number of comments, the one that attracted the most attention was "Who is she?" I don't think most people in the world know about it, but Shikoku and Kochi are proud of their rich climate, where the steep mountains that cover them, and of the beautiful blue shining clear streams that flow through the valleys. More than 150 years ago, we produced a number of people who dramatically reformed the long-standing feudal society of Japan, which is also one of our prides. The daylight hours are top class in Japan. Alcohol consumption is also top class. Perhaps because of that, my city’s personality is clear, and is said to be friendly and cheerful. But even in such a situation, some people are dark and are always looking down. One of them is me. My house is in the corner of a village with about 30 houses on the slope of a mountain.

A river called the Niyodo River runs ahead of me, and is connected to the opposite bank by a subsidence bridge. A subsidence bridge is a bridge without balustrades, and is designed so that it will not be washed away even if the river rises and the bridge sinks. I cross it every day unless this bridge sinks. The flow of the Niyodo River is still quiet and blue today. Occasionally tourists come by rental car and take a number of pictures on the subsidence bridge, saying that it's beautiful. It's a nice village, isn't it? They do not know the truth of the area. With the school bag on my side, I go down the stone steps and walk on a steep slope. A neighbor's grandmother who was sweeping and cleaning used to call out to me, "Oh, Suzu-chan, good morning," and so on. But not now. The shutters of many homes are tightly closed.

The number of people who live here gradually decreased as they died or moved to the city. There are many such settlements in the Niyodo River basin. It is said that it is near here that a sociologist coined the term "marginal village" long ago. I've been told many times since I was little that adults say that the number of people has decreased surprisingly compared to the village’s peak population. It is at the forefront of a declining population, declining birthrate and aging society, faster than anywhere else in Japan. That is an unmistakable fact. There is a stop at the end of the national highway after going up the slope. The rusty timetable at the bus stop only shows times in the morning and evening.

It's not yet time. After a while, the bus came. I sit in the usual seat at the back of the bus. No one else is in the bus. Passing through the stops one after another. No one is on board. While the bus is shaking, I dimly look at the bulletin board near the driver's seat.

"This bus route will be discontinued at the end of September.”

I live in a place where no one wants to live. It stands right next to a steep cliff approaching the rough sea. I reach the end of the bus route and transfer on to a train.

High school and junior high school students in uniforms from other schools come in little by little at each station. The closer you get to the center of the city, the less visible the floor is, and the two-car train fills up with customers. An announcement in the car tells me the name of the station I should get off at. I see many students of the same uniforms on the way to school. Together we climb a gentle slope. I am one of them. That gives me a lot of peace of mind, maybe.

The summer sunshine is dazzling. Last fall, the brass band was playing in front of the symbol tree in the courtyard. Many students surround it and listen to it. The announcement of the brass band is always popular. It's not just about playing. All players take steps as they perform. It's a lively and fun dance. All the instruments have the steps perfectly matched, yet the performance does not get twisted or shaken. I and Hiro-chan (short for Hiroka) also listened to it from the veranda on the 2nd floor of the gymnasium. When the first song ended and the second song started, a slender tall, beautiful girl was holding the alto saxophone in front of her. She came out. She shook her long, loosely waved hair and played her solo without any disturbance, taking attractive steps from side to side.

"……Cute."

I instinctively say it aloud. Luca-chan - her full name is Ruka Watanabe – I am sighingly fascinated by the lively beauty of her. I can hear the voices of other girls watching on the same balcony.

"Luka-chan is the princess of our school, isn't she?"

"She’s slim and has long legs.”

"Even if she wears a uniform, she look like a model."

They nodded together, saying, "Right~?”

Hiro-chan has a voice that only I can hear next to me, "The jealousy of kids who are neither thin nor slender...,” turning the pages of her book. The girls' voices can be heard continuously.

"Luka-chan naturally acts as a coordinator for everyone."

"I'm sure everyone will come together like Ohisama," Hiro-chan frowned at the back of her silver-rimmed glasses. "They’re annoying. In that respect, Suzu is like the opposite of Luka, so it's easy for no one to come near us."

"Hi- Hiro-chan…"

"Hmm?"

"You have a poisonous tongue, I wonder if you can be a little kinder....."

"A poisonous tongue? Who?" At that time, a loud voice that interrupted the performance echoed in the courtyard. "Why don't you join the canoe club?" Everyone looks back. "It's Kamishin!" "Kamishin has arrived!"

Kamishin – full name Shinjiro Senzu - has a canoe paddle in his hand and a banner with "CANOE" written on his back, and appears randomly.

"Oh, senpai. What about the canoe club?"

"Wow! Stop, Kamishin!"

"Don't enter, that's it." He chased the boys, and then laughed and ran away. Then, he turned around and headed for the group of girls.

"Hey, why don't you do canoeing?"

"Kya ~~~!" The girls scream seriously and run away.

"Oh, hey, let's do some canoeing!"

"Dangerous, run away~"

He is serious, but the reaction around him makes the Kamishin look like a weirdo. He’s like a beast that jumps into beautiful women and rampages.

"Hey, canoe ..."

Watching the girls run away, I feel like defending the hard work of Kamishin.

"It's amazing to start a canoe club by yourself, isn't it?"

"But he's the only one in it."

"I wonder why.”

"I wonder~”

Hiro turned her eyes to Luka, who seemed to be anxious about the hustle and bustle while playing. Luka stiffened and turned her back to Kamishin as if she didn't want to see him. Hiro-chan does not overlook the gesture. She closed her book and turned her stern eyes to Luka. “You’re being looked down on.”

We left the gymnasium and wandered around the school. Chorus club, biology club, light music club, dance club. Various club activities. The activity was appealing to each. As I crossed the glass-walled corridor, I heard the cheers and applause of the girls from somewhere.

10N1 was held at the one-on-one outdoor basketball court. It is a solicitation performance of the men's basketball club. A ball is thrown into the court for the next game. You can see a boy in a hoodie who catches it with a lean hand.

"Ah ..." The game starts. Shinobu-kun, full name Shinobu Kutake, slowly dribbles and watches the situation. The opponent's senpai is raising his right hand as a checker, being wary of the jump shot. Shinobu lowers his hips. Shinobu tries to pull out with a low dribble, but the opponent's guard is tight and he withdraws. When he thinks he has stopped Shibobu, he suddenly shoots a jump shot from a short motion.

He’s fast. The senior hurriedly reached out with his fingers spread out, but he couldn't reach Shinobu. The previous move was a feint. The ball drew a beautiful arc and passed through the goal net. The girls lined up in the corridor on the 3rd floor gave an enthusiastic applause. But Shinobu doesn't even smile. His coolness is attracting attention from girls in school. Before the applause stopped, the court had already moved on to the next game. Shinobu-kun, while measuring the timing, dribbles low to push the defense away. As if to say that you can't win even with power. If you forcibly cut in and pull out the senior in a blink of an eye, you will definitely go to the layup. There is a pleasant sound of the ball slipping through the goal net. Again, the girls' applause echoed on the walls of the school building. I told Hiro-chan,

"........ Shinobu-kun, I didn't think he would be that tall."

He’s my childhood friend.

"He was your childhood friend?"

"Ohon. Actually, I've been proposed to by Shinobu-kun."

"Seriously? What?"

"[Suzu, I'll protect you], he said.”

"When was that?"

"When we were 6 years old."

"....... Even if such an ancient story is spoken…"

Astonished, Hiro sighed. Another goal was scored. In the applause, Shinobu-kun, who finished the game, went out of the court alongside his senior without even smiling. Shinobu-kun, my childhood friend. He’s no longer within my reach.

I came back from school and crossed the subsidence bridge. I was with Shinobu from kindergarten through the lower grades of elementary school. After that, Shinobu moved to the city and we were separated. He was in my high school and we became classmates again. But it isn’t like it used to be. At that time, I didn't expect to become a child who is always looking down like I am now. There is a reason why this happened. I saw the quiet stream of the Niyodo River. Yes. That is an ancient story. A white bird passed low on the surface of the water.

-------------------

https://docs.google.com/document/d/1Dcx2NedPVBEdbfQaU-WC0pJMRmn20ASn7HSC0KY9R7E/edit?usp=sharing ~ Google Doc of the English-translated novel.

ryuutosobakasuhime.wordpress.com ~ English fan-site for Ryuu to Sobakasu no Hime where translations, scans, and other content is posted.

#belle #ryuu to sobakasu no hime #ryu to sobakasu no hime #ryuu #ryu #sobakasu #hime #studio chizu #mamoru hosoda #belle movie #竜とそばかすの姫 #belle 2021

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