#I’ve been dreading it from the start to have to deal with them in game

[loverchanting]

I’ve been playing thru re4 og, hoping to beat it soon but I think the chapter with the regenerators might be my personal hell

[fr33time]

Hiii (˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶), can I request for a hurt/comfort reader x Jin or Romeo fic?

✦❘༻Self care to forget༺❘✦

Divider credits: @thecutestgrotto

Pairing: Romeo Lucci x GN!reader

Synopsis: MC was cursed by an anomaly, which caused them to have one of the worst days of their life. After breaking their arm after an investigation with Vagastrom, Romeo calls MC to his private room on business, but MC is more than over with the day.

A/N: Yesss of course!! I chose Romeo this time, so I hope you’ll enjoy the idea I have for him!!! I don’t find many Romeo fics so I felt like I should fill the space with one. He’s still a tad difficult to write but I made sure to go through his in game chats, and check through the wikis to see how he spoke. I had fun writing this, and it’s interesting to try something new. Enjoy! Also sorry this took so long to release, I’ve been busy again and I have work to do so I’ll probably only get to writing on weekends. I wrote most of this late at night so I apologize for any mistakes, feel free to let me know! I’ve been waiting for episode 9 to release and I can’t wait since it looks like a Halloween special chapter. Until my next work!

Genre: Hurt/comfort, oneshot

Find my requesting rules here!

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Life did not particularly favour you at the moment. You ended up being taken to an emergency room for breaking your arm, if it had been a sort of sprain then a couple anomalous medicine packs could have fixed it, but the world loves to beat you when you’re down.

About 4 days ago you were sent to be the inspector of a mission with the Vagastrom house. They were investigating a mass wave of kidnappings that they believed to have been caused by an anomaly. This morning was supposed to be the final day of the investigation, where you and the ghouls were planning to capture the anomaly and complete the mission. The day was doomed from the start with an air of bad luck following you throughout. You fell through the floor of the Clementia house, you kept stepping in pot holes and almost spraining your ankle, when the world was seemingly trying to kill you, it also made everything very inconvenient. You were losing everything you placed on furniture the previous night, stepped on a pregnant spider, the power went out, etc.

The final straw was when the investigation was reaching its final stages. Some plans flew off the rails and you ended up being chased by the anomaly. Once it grabbed you, you managed to maneuver yourself out of its grasp, but in turn you ended up falling from the second floor of a building onto the first floor because of a giant hole in the floor. It would not have been this bad if you fell in a different position, but you fell head first and it triggered the instinct to break the fall with your arms.

You were rushed to the emergency room after the anomaly was unfortunately destroyed. Apparently, the anomaly put a mini curse on you that gave you dreadful bad luck. On the bright side, darkwick had come across a curse like this before and was able to lift it almost immediately. Your arm was patched up, and was told that it would heal in up to 12 weeks on account of the clean break, and sent you home.

You felt shitty, all you wanted was to rest and you were stuck having to deal with the ghouls in Vagastrom on the way back. Alan and Sho seemed really concerned for you, but decided to stay silent for now in fear that you weren’t into conversation. Leo on the other hand had a bitter face plastered on, it will always be perplexing how he manages to say the worst things at the worst times.

“Y’know, we could’ve captured that anomaly if honour roll hadn’t screwed up.” Alan immediately threw him a nasty look and signalled him to shut up. Honestly, you weren’t in the mood, if you didn’t feel so drained then you could’ve responded back to him but you didn’t have the heart. Soon, you were back at your dorm, once the Vagastrom ghouls dropped you off and said they would check on you later, you sat in silence for a while. You laid down on the bed and started to drift to sleep until you heard a buzzing on your phone. You could’ve ignored it but clearly someone was spam texting you to get your attention. Out of obligation, you peeked at your phone and checked the messages.

New girl!

Report to the VIP room this instant!

Are you ignoring me?!?!

This won’t be tolerated, if you’re not here in 5 minutes there will be serious consequences!

You groaned out of frustration seeing Romeo’s spammed messages on your screen. You immediately went to pick up your phone and text back, trying to explain what happened today,

Romeo I can’t come right now, can you let me off the hook this time? I’ve had a really bad day and I just want to lay down…

I don’t want your excuses, I’ll add 2 extra minutes on your clock, you better be grateful because you’re wasting my precious time!

And it’s Fico, get it right!

You guessed that there was no saying no to him. You rushed to Sinostra as best you could, but there was no way that you were going to attempt to run there. As you walked inside, the guards that were standing outside of the VIP room were greeting you,

“MC, Fico’s expecting you, head inside.” Most of the staff knew who you were by now. You had been working around Sinostra more recently due to Romeo making you do “Eyes in the Sky” surveillance for him. He was a teensy bit more lenient on you lately, you weren’t sure why but you liked to think that he was getting used to you, bit by bit. It was already later than usual, so you wondered why Romeo wanted you to come to the VIP room at 9PM. The guards opened up the VIP room for you, and stepped inside. Romeo was sitting down on the luxurious couch, sifting through paper work that surrounded his desk. The door behind you closed, and you realized that Romeo didn’t bother to have bodyguards with him. You stood in front of the table, barely keeping it together. It felt like you could snap the tiny bit of composure that you had at any time.

“I thought I told you to rush over here!” Romeo finally decided to look at you and noticed your horrendous physique. Your arm was in a cast, clothes were dirty, eyes drooped down to hell, and your posture was so unacceptable that it felt violating to his eyes.

“What the hell happened to you?”

In that moment, everything inside of your head spilled out onto the floor. You couldn’t hold it any longer. Before you realized what happened, you were on the floor, breaking down. Your chest tightened and tears streamed out on your face and onto the floor. It felt humiliating, crying in front of Romeo like this but you’ve never felt so down on your luck before. It was crushing that it felt like the whole world was against you today, it wasn’t always like that but a pile of stress was building up over the course of the mission, especially today.

“I just- I just wanted to be left alone! My arm hurts so bad- everything is so fucking- shitty!” Your brain couldn’t keep up with your words, your line of consciousness was being interrupted by your hyperventilating. Your throat hurt, it hurt so much from wanting to cry out and having to swallow everything down.

“Just leave me- the fuck alone! I want to sleep— so fucking bad- why won’t any- one just let me rest for once today!” Romeo was stunned, he sat there looking at you while your cries were the only noise echoing in the room. Your eyes were red, and puffy, you looked pitiful while sitting on the floor of his expensive private room. He got up from his couch and kneeled down in front of you, hovering his finger over your mouth.

“Shut up for a moment!” You stopped speaking but there was nothing you could do about your hyperventilation. You tried to breathe deeply, but didn’t help your uncontrollable gasps for air. You looked away from his eyes and tried to look down at the floor, it felt less shameful. Romeo sighed heavily, and got up onto his feet.

“Stand up” you followed what he said and tried to get off of your knees.

“Just looking at the state you’re in is giving me wrinkles. Don’t say anything and follow me” Romeo started walking and signalled you to come along. You followed him and ended up in his bathroom, one of the most spotless bathrooms you’ve ever seen with countless beauty products on the counters and in cupboards. Your breathing was starting to calm down but you were still in rough shape. Now you were confused, why would Romeo take you in here? He started filing through his cabinets and grabbing a few things.

“I’m going to fix you up because you look horrendous, but for now go and monitor my EITS and wait till I’m done. This just means you’re gonna work twice as hard tomorrow as payment for this.” You started to realize that he was going to take care of you when you looked at all of the products in his arms. You listened to what he said and sat down on his couch to look at the cameras in the casino. You didn’t mind staying any longer anymore, it would be nice to rest but you felt like Romeo wanted to help you in his own weird way. That’s what you wanted to believe, and in reality it wasn’t that far from the truth. It made you smile a bit, but you knew that if Romeo caught you then he would probably throw you out in an instant, so you kept it down. You were done with everything, this was the best you were gonna get out of everything. Not much time passed before Romeo set up, he called you over before you knew it.

“New girl! Get over here!” You got up and met Romeo in the bathroom, finding a chair in front of the sink, with a whole line of facial items set up.

“Sit down and straighten your back. I won’t accept sloppiness.” As you sat down, Romeo cleared space and put his laptop on the counter in front of you. It looked like he still wanted you to work, but he interrupted your thought as he spoke.

“I’ll watch it, but tell me if you see something wrong or there’ll be consequences.” Romeo turned your chair so that it was parallel to the counter. Facing it towards him, it helped him see your face better and it was easier to apply things on you. He stayed organized and started to put things on your face, first a cold compress eye mask, then a cold towel to reduce overall swelling in your face, applied a couple moisturizers, gently massaging your eyelids, it felt like pure bliss. You weren’t sure why he was doing this, and even Romeo was questioning why he did this all for you. He wanted to make you stop crying by giving you a mini facial, and registered it as wanting to get rid of your scrunched up face and out of his sight to use it against you later.

You looked in the mirror after he was done and barely recognized yourself. You were glowing, and it looked like you never even cried in the first place. When you checked the time, it was almost 11PM. There were many missed messages from Alan, asking where you were and if you were alright.

“Oh wow, it’s getting really late. I’m so sorry for taking up your time, I should be going soon!” When you were getting back up, you felt a pair of hands push down gently on your shoulders to make you sit.

“You’re sleeping here tonight, I’m not listening to complaints. You’re getting up in the morning and working all day for me tomorrow as payment. I spent my precious time on you, so you should feel indebted to me.” He folded his arms and looked at you, expecting an answer.

“Um… where would I even sleep?” You didn’t have the strength to fight, it’s not like you wanted to walk all the way back to your dorm late at night anyways. You were tired and needed to rest, it didn’t matter where it was anymore.

“On the couch, it’s high quality so it should be better than the shabby one you have. Any BFB would be able to tell the quality difference as soon as they sat down.” You were a bit perplexed by his out of place acronyms, but you had no clue what he was talking about.

“…BFB?”

“Bumbling Fucking Buffoons, it should be obvious.” All you could do was smile slightly and nodding your head to appease him. Romeo got up to set up the couch comfortably, you still had a broken arm so you needed a cozy space to be in to put your mind at ease.

“Thank you Romeo, I feel much better now. You helped me alot, and I appreciate it.” He was turned away from you, so you couldn’t see the look on his face, but a slight blush came across his face. He shouldn’t be feeling embarrassed but he did, he didn’t understand his own feelings.

“It’s Fico, you BB. I’m making sure you wake up early to get started in an organized fashion, so enjoy comfort while it lasts.” You were surprised that Romeo did all of this for you, but it was sweet in his standards. He made you feel better by giving you some self care, and offered you to stay here so you wouldn’t walk back. He did want you to work all day tomorrow, but you could make it through, he didn’t assign hard tasks to you so you weren’t worried. You hoped that you and him could have a better relationship someday, it was going to take a while, he had multiple walls in front of him that were made out of brick. But it felt like you climbed over that first hurdle.

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[incorrect-fnaf-quotes]

A bunch of things being thrown around involving the Game AU that I wanted to mention? Yes. Yes indeed. :) @universewolfpup

RXQ/Shadow Bonnie is basically like... a character that one of the villains/bosses made at some point, hoping that they would help with their plans.

...Though the villain/boss was quickly proven wrong. Very quickly. Because RXQ was genuinely just like: “No.” and left, and eventually joined the team (Freddy, Crimson, etc).

Earlier, I was basically like: “What would Jack-O-Bonnie sound like?” and right now, I’ve just kind of settled on King Andrias’s VA from Amphibia. Might change, might not.

Jack-O was the first one who actually happened to find Crimson once she arrived. No matter if he actually had been or not, though, Crimson still becomes attached to him quite quickly.

There’s... just so many father-daughter things that I’m imagining with these two. And just little things here and there. He’s a decent singer, and will occasionally sing her lullabies.

Crimson just... absolutely doesn’t know how she’s supposed to get out of the game. She assumes, for a short time, that it’ll happen when she wins... but she has no idea.

And, even then, as she spends more time there, she honestly doesn’t really want to leave all that much, and is kind of starting to dread the eventual day. But, she knows she has to go.

Speaking of her being in and out of the game: In a previous post, I (think) I mentioned how her consciousness gets sent into the Game Avatar, while her body remains, and is simply unconscious/in a coma.

By the very end of it—when she does go back, her body has basically been like that for a couple of months at that point.

There would be game-overs that could be experienced—but they technically aren’t death ones. So it’s not like Crimson would repeatedly deal with that happening.

Instead, if she and the others were in a fight, and they all lost, they’d basically faint, and wake back up somewhere else (like Pokemon? There’s other comparisons.)

It doesn’t stop her from being anxious during battles, though. As also mentioned before, Crimson can see a lot of the stuff—text boxes, health, etc. So, when one keeps getting low... she keeps getting scared.

Mangle wasn’t torn apart by kids here or anything. But, for quite some time, she’s still sort of hesitant around Crimson—it just takes some time.

Crimson likes to get piggyback rides from Jack-O.

Whenever she does eventually leave, I keep comparing it to the endings of the Mystery Dungeon games—it’s angsty, but there’s still way more to it. She never returns.

Except for a smaller AU of this AU—where she does, and there’s less angst. She just sticks around 👍. Happy times, I guess.

While the other characters, in battle and everything, do have moves to use, Crimson doesn’t. At least, not immediately. So, she focuses on healing them with the items she has.

She does eventually start calling Jack-O “Dad.”

...This was a lot—anyways, I think that’s it. It’s late.

[cosmiccannibalcamille]

How Anaretic Pluto Impacts YOU

What: Pluto Rx in the 29th degree of Capricorn

When: Sept. 1 - Nov. 19, 2024

Who’s Impacted: EVERYONE, but esp. cardinal sign (Capricorn, Cancer, Libra, Aries) placements at 29°

Takeaway: The planet that tears things down and build them back up is re-pulverizing the part of YOUR chart ruled by Capricorn for the last time in our lifetime, so nbd, right?

     On Sept. 1, 2024, the big, bad planet of power, Pluto, began retrograding through the anaretic degree (a.k.a. the 29th degree) of Capricorn. If you’re thinking, “Oh great, what fresh hell is this?” I hear you. But before you spiral into existential dread like I did during all of August (thanks, Mercury Retrograde), let’s break down what this transit is really about—and how YOU can best work with it. First, a refresher on the anaretic degree in astrology. 

The Anaretic Degree in Astrology

     I wrote about this degree at great length in my Anaretic Neptune article, buuuut… In astrology, the 29th degree of any sign is like the final boss battle in a video game. It’s the degree of ultimate karma, where all the lessons of that sign come to a head. The term anaretic is derived from the Greek word anareta, meaning “destroyer” or “bringer of necessity.” As a practitioner of both modern and traditional astrology, I consider the anaretic degree as one that is a harbinger of challenging circumstances, which can indicate a sense of urgency or crisis that demands resolution, that also makes way for pivotal moments of growth.

     Sounds confusing, but it really isn’t. When a planet occupies the anaretic degree in a birth chart or during a transit, it can amplify the sense of urgency associated with that planet’s energy. It’s neither good nor bad, but it can feel rather ~karmic~. That is, you feel like you keep repeating the same lessons again and again until finally…YOU LEARN. You master. You stop the cycle.

     At least, that’s my takeaway of the anaretic degree. It is a degree that holds a unique significance, often regarded as a critical point of transition and culmination. This degree—the 29th degree—has always been a degree of interest to me, as I have my Venus in the degree; I’ve always attributed a lot of my relationship / self-love / family troubles, lessons, and struggles to this degree. But I’ve also realized over the years just how critical this degree is in the good parts of my personality: my drive, urgency, and tenacity to DO SOMETHING. 

Key Themes of Pluto in 29° Capricorn

     When a planet like Pluto—a.k.a. the cosmic wrecking ball of transformation, death, rebirth, and all things underworld—hits this degree, you better believe it’s pulling out all the stops. Since Pluto is retrograde, you’re getting a second (or third, or fourth) chance to deal with the baggage you’ve been lugging around since Pluto first entered Capricorn in 2008. Speaking of which… Think back to 2008: What were you doing? Where were you in your life? What was going on? In the world, we had the GFC—or, global financial crisis—the most devastating financial crisis since the Great Depression.  

     Slowly but surely, this transit has been dismantling outdated structures, both in our personal lives and out in the world. We’ve seen it in the collapse of big institutions (again, I cite 2008), the rise of new power players, and the endless debates over capitalism, authority, and control. When Pluto first entered Capricorn, the financial world got real intense, real fast. The focus? Power dynamics in money—who had it, who wanted it, and who lost it. It was all about examining the deep foundations of our financial systems and questioning the status quo. As Pluto prepares to take its last curtsy in Capricorn in our lifetime, nestling into 29°, these other Pluto in Capricorn themes are coming to a head:

     The patriarchal structures that have ruled for centuries are up (and have been up) for review. We are still questioning where authority comes from and whether it’s still relevant—or if it’s just another relic of a bygone era. The old guard is clinging to power, but cracks are starting to appear in their seemingly impenetrable walls. On a personal level, this brief transit might push you to reassess your career and business goals. Are you building something lasting, or are you just playing by the rules because that’s what you’ve been taught? Pluto’s retrograde energy can veer towards ruthless—use it to get real with yourself about your ambitions and whether they’re aligned with your true inner power.

Related Reading Work with Anaretic Pluto in Capricorn with my 2024 Birth Chart Reading. Learn how to work with the remaining transits of 2024—along with Pluto in the 29th degree—to foster transformative personal growth.

The Opportunities & Struggles of Anaretic Pluto 

     Despite the heavy vibes, retrograde Pluto at the anaretic degree offers some pretty powerful opportunities. For one, this transit might manifest as an invitation to take back your power. Whether it’s in your career, finances, or personal life, reassess where you’ve been giving away your control. Use this period to set stronger boundaries, get disciplined about your goals, and start building the structures that will support your long-term success.

     Pluto’s retrograde can also help you confront and transform your scarcity mindset. If you’ve been operating from a place of lack—whether that’s in terms of money, love, or self-worth—this is your chance to dig deep and root out those limiting beliefs. Scarcity is just fear in a fancy outfit. Strip it down to its core, and you’ll find the strength to create abundance from within.

     That said, power struggles might come to a head during this final leg of Pluto in Capricorn. Whether it’s at work, in your relationships, or on a larger societal scale (*AHEM* politics), expect power dynamics to be front and center. Pluto at 29° Capricorn might push you to confront those who hold power over you—or to face the ways in which you’ve been misusing your own power. Pluto’s energy is all about transformation, but that doesn’t mean we’re always ready for it. The anaretic degree can stir up a lot of fear around change, especially when it comes to letting go of old structures and ways of being. Remember, though—fear is just a sign that you’re on the brink of something big.

Get YOUR Horoscope for this final leg of Retrograde Pluto in Capricorn on The Cosmic Almanac:

[forgottenghosty]

Dang I miss Immortal/Undead Male Whump with possible wholesome romance as tv shows...

I just got done rewatching FOREVER (2014) and Moonlight (2008) and want to watch more shows and even movies of the similar tastes and it’s hard to find.

(Forever 2014)

(Moonlight 2008) (Fun facts, the character Joseph from the show voices Terra in the Kingdom Hearts games. A book was published years after the show that inspired the series called “Angel of Vengeance” by  Trevor O’ Munson. The show went on hiatus due to the writers strikes and received 4 new episodes before ending, being cancelled, and not being picked up again.) 

I miss seeing shows where the male lead has to keep the secret or deal with someone knowing their secret and trying to live with it. All of it based more in a realistic reality of the actual world, while still be fictitious enough to have things that could never happen in reality as well.

I know there are some show or movies out there similar, but they don’t fit my tastes or I did watch them for a time and then stopped cause they started getting crazy or boring for me.

I’m not one for watching something with sex in it, nor a lot of demonic things in it either. Some exceptions have been Angel and Buffy, but those are more supernatural fiction. I tried watch Vampire Diaries and did enjoy it for a time, same with the Teen Wolf series, but they both got to a point I couldn’t stand them and just stopped watching and couldn’t get myself to watch them again. I’ve tried with Teen Wolf, but just got bored.

I did try watching some of True Blood to see what it was like and only came out enjoying the theme song and left that quick. I don’t think I made it past the first episode.

Tried watching Penny Dreadful and same thing happened. The Sabrina remake as well. One ep and then I ditched it. I hated the the demonic stuff and just dipped. Made me miss the 90s show I grew up all the more.

I used to watch Forever Knight as a kid, She Wolf, and Beauty and the Beast as well, but not really into watching the super older shows of late 80s early 90s right now.

Also sucks how I can’t get season 2 of Invisible Man (2000) in the US. UK is lucky and got the second season of Invisible Man, we only got Season 1, which I bought up so fast. Though based more in science, Invisible Man was another good one. Poor guy couldn’t catch a break. Miss it so much.

(The Invisible Man (2000) (Thankfully, though only 2 seasons, the series got to end with an actually ending.)

Thankful we keep getting Psych movies every few years or so, though movie 2 and 3 haven’t been available to buy yet, which is frustrating since they only show it on peacock, though 2 was on USA recently and 4 is in the works.

(Psych (2006-2014, Movies ongoing)

Enjoyed watching Dracula, the NBC, not the BBC one. That one I hated. I enjoyed Jekyll and Sherlock, but Dracula was horrible.

Dracula NBC ended too soon.

(Dracula (2013))

One I didn’t see until after it aired, that for a time was free to watch on old Hulu, was The Crow: Stairway to Heaven. Very 90′s, but enjoyable all the same.

(The Crow: Stairway to Heaven (1998) and yes that is Mark Dacascos probably known by many as The Chairman of Iron Cheif.)

Which I recently found out they finally have made a remake of the 90′s movie with Bill Skarsgard that I hope will be good. Just leaves adding any vfx and so on they need to before release.

Many will know him more as Pennywise the Clown and leads into why I sat through watching all of Hemlock Grove.

Only good reason to watch that show on Netflix. 

It has Vampires and Werewolves and more, but man, it isn’t worth it in the end with the plot they give.

So, yeah, really wish we got more immortal / undead whump with possible wholesome romances.

[ramonag-if]

It’s one of the first times a story line here in the if community has truly hit me. The idea of coming to find yourself, a child, seemingly replaced by another is really scary. A very why not me? Situation. It makes me react visercally. It’s something I’ve had to try and cope with in real life and hope not to feel again, I’ve been given reassurance but the tingling possibility makes me feel sick. Reading about the mcs situation made me feel ill. I felt anger towards her new kid, like a child again. Real child like driven resentment all doom end of the world type beat and it was suffocating. Reading her call the mc planned and the new child a ‘blessing’ made me enraged. (Hope I’m remember ing correctly) They’re a blessing but mv isn’t? Mc was ‘planned’? Planned for what? And you left them? Yet you insist on how the new child is a blessing? What is mc to you? What does that even mean, once you got your use out of them it was over and done with? Did you ever plan to love, care and hold them for the rest of their days? It makes me incredibly upset. It’s so nauseating. It’s demeaning and it’s cruel. I’m hearing based on your posts they tried to contact the mc through the father and maybe this is personal child like never gonna forgive you wanna bawl my eyes out trauma speaking but it doesn’t matter. I don’t know their circumstances, but at the end of the day you didn’t come. You didn’t show up. You didn’t care for them when they were ill, didn’t touch up their wounds and didn’t have to deal with the dumb unreasonable repercussions of their identity and what trauma it brought them due to others. You didn’t support them. My relationship with my mother has only truly started these recent few years, for a lot of reasons. It truly hits home for me.

It’s not the kids fault, but a part of me can’t help but be bitter and resentful and no child deserves to be put in that position. Just the idea of ‘the new child’ is so rotten. Like dear Lord it’s sickening I can’t do it. It’s hard to make yourself sympathetic no matter how reasonable you know you should try and be. I hope mc gets so much cuddles and love. That is all.

Thankyou for the work you’re doing, you’re truly bringing up some real topics. It is a truly unfortunate and dreadful thing and I can’t help but be negative. Give me a ray of lightttt aghhhh help

Thank you so much for playing 😊🌼 I'm so happy that the game could make you feel so deeply! I do enjoy writing angst and poor/complicated parental dynamics because I find it so fun 😅

There is a lot to unpack with Salyra and her choices. She's made some bad decisions and Ahlf did play a part in it too. I don't think I ever set out to make them this complicated, but the more I wrote their characters, the more they seemed to shape into villains for the MC. A lot of bad parenting is showcased in the game. Unfortunately, the MC just experiences it first-hand 😅 Elora and Irus also have their own issues with parents and I can say that Anu and Oren also have issues regarding their biological parents 👀

I tend to steer away from any deep, heavy topics when writing but, here we are 😅🤷‍♀️ I couldn't resist a fantasy game with tons of angst and emotional upheaval.

Thank you for your support 🌼

[jojolovenotes]

gintoki and 28 for the f/o game please!

Meet Cutes: 28. mistaking the other for their friend and getting embarrassed when they turn around

You always dreaded going out grocery shopping. As much as you tried to be prepared and keep a list, you somehow always ended up forgetting something no matter how many times you went over the list. Despite not feeling very optimistic about yet another grocery trip, you still tried to encourage yourself to get it done. Maybe it would be much easier if you had invited a friend to join you, but you also wondered if that might be weird too. Edo was always a busy place, in that regard at least you knew with a crowdful of people you felt eyes wouldn’t solely be on you while you were doing your shopping. 

You nodded your head and bowed politely when the employee greeted you. You made sure to quickly grab a shopping basket and duck into one of the aisles hoping that no one asked if you needed help with anything. Having to converse with employees more than necessary could be painfully stressful at times. You turned your attention to one of the shelves to see what aisle you ended up starting in - AISLE 03 SPICES.

Your eyes scanned through your list now trying to find the section where the spices had been written. You were focused until you caught a glimpse of someone walking by which shifted your attention to the person who walked by you now. While you didn’t get a good look at their face, you just knew that had to be your friend. Normally you would’ve been against approaching with such confidence, but feeling overjoyed to see a familiar face made you decide to act impulsively.

“Hello!” you exclaimed (not very loudly). The person didn’t turn around, and you figured perhaps you aren't loud enough. You shuffle closer to them now tugging on their sleeve, “Excuse me… Hi! It’s nice to see you!” you exclaim with a bit more confidence this time, until the person in question turns around and all the confidence you mustered suddenly leaves your body.

“...Huh?” the man who turned around definitely wasn’t your friend. 

From behind his hair looked like it had been more orderly, but now seeing him facing you you saw just how disheveled his appearance had been. It didn’t help that the man had been sticking a finger in his nose and didn’t seem to try to hide this from you. You tried not to look so judgmental, but at the same time you were surprised he didn’t seem to rush to pull his finger out or anything.

“...I’m so sorry. I thought you were someone else.” You admitted sheepishly now looking away.

“Who’d you think I was? A celebrity maybe?” the stranger almost sounded a bit hopeful. Well, at least now his finger was out of his nose and found its way into his ear now. 

“No… Just someone I thought I knew. A friend… Well, more of an acquaintance.” you gave him a shy smile. Even if he seemed a bit odd he was kind of cute now that you got a better look at him. 

“Sorry to disappoint you.” he said with a shrug. 

“Oh no… If anything I’m sorry for making the mistake, really.” You waved your hands in front of you dismissively. 

“It’s not a big deal… I’ve had stranger things happen.” he said with a shrug. 

That was definitely an understatement.

“You seem like a guy that has a lot of stories to tell.” Your confidence returned to you. Normally you didn’t chat much with strangers, but something about him made you want to continue this conversation.

“You can tell?” He replied with a laugh. “Gintoki Sakata. I do odd jobs so if you need something done I got you. I guess this is kind of an odd job for me… I normally don’t go to the store. At all. But you see, we ran out of an important ingredient so I figured I might as well go… The people I live with, they aren’t that dependable. It’s hopeless.” 

You listened intently now wondering who these people were that Gintoki lived with… That was until you saw someone else approaching him. It was a younger looking man who had a cart full of groceries already seeming like he was ready to scold Gintoki for what he had in his basket - you didn’t notice but it seemed as though his basket had been filled with sweets. What an odd experience. 

While he was being dragged away he managed to give you a business card.

“Give me a call sometime!” Gintoki exclaimed before he was dragged away. 

What an interesting day….

[nuttyrabbit]

I genuinely liked all the obscure Sonic Facts that Greeny would post about! It sucks, but I found them really interesting!

However, the constant Ian Flynn bashing was really annoying. I understand not liking his writing style, it’s not perfect and can be criticized. But I swear to fuck, he would complain about the tiniest things!

Then he would talk about Flynn stans and how they sucked his dick constantly. I’m sorry to say this, but Greeny was hate-sucking Ian’s dick constantly!!!!

I don’t usually follow drama in the Sonic Fandom, since I’m too old to be getting angry over stupid things. I just stay in my lane, occasionally read fanfics for my ships, reblog theorizing/positive posts and cute fanart. Like, I think fandoms should be fun, so I try to have fun.

I followed Greeny since, as I said, I like the trivia they posted about and wanted to learn more.

At some point though, I think I became embarrassed to like IDW Sonic because of how much Greeny and their group would criticize Flynn and Evan. I took a break from the comics because the zombot arc had exhausted me, but I think reading the constant criticism made me not want to pick it back up. I still haven’t picked IDW Sonic back up.

I also feel like it’s gotten worse over the years. Like, I don’t remember seeing this type of stuff, or at least not as much complaining, back when I first started following Greeny.

Eventually, I stopped having fun and enjoy my time with Greeny’s posts. I felt like it made me more ashamed of what I enjoyed, and that’s not how I want to spend my time. It wasn’t even thoughtfully negative, it was just mean-spirited.

I recently stopped following Greeny, I think before Frontiers came out. He had made a post bashing the Flynn’s dialogue in one of the leaked cutscenes at the time (when Sonic first encounters the voice). Then he made another post translating the Japanese of that scene… and it was literally the exact same fucking sentence!!!!

I realized then that I was done with Greeny, that he was going to criticize the English dialogue for the entire fucking game. And I didn’t want to deal with it.

I wanted to try and enjoy Sonic Frontiers with being ashamed!

Sorry for the super long rant. Didn’t expect this ask to be a novel. I know you weren’t really talking about Greeny, but I’ve been holding this in and I just needed to air out my grievances.

You don’t have to answer or even post this ask, I just needed to get this off my chest. Again, sorry.

Honestly anon, I'm glad you posted this because my experience was very similar. For a long time I followed Greeny because they had good insights and made good posts, and even thought they acted cunty sometimes and had opinions that I thought were outright ignorant, I generally let it slide because things were relatively civil

But then yeah, the Zombot Arc brought out the worst in her and a lot of people, including me. God going back to my posts from that time is exhausting because I was furiously debating every one of these people and we were all being brick walls about it, and I could feel the discourse get naster and nastier.

It was around that time I remember her and the other people in her group just getting meaner in general and becoming very hateful towards Ian specifiaclly. Like they didn't like him a ton before but it became downright vitriolic and it felt like even discussing the guy in anything other than a negative light was a reason for them to jump down your throat

Even after the Zombot arc ended, shit remained so toxic that it was one of the reasons (well that and just my focus shifting from Tumblr in general) I just kinda left this site and didn't really look back, because it was getting to the point where I was dreading every issue coming out for the inevitable fucking discourse.

From the looks of it, it seemed like it only got worse with time, especially with the release of Frontiers.

Here's my ultimate fucking take. Greeny is entitled to her opinions, however crudely worded or wrong or bad faith they may be. But people are also entitled to call her out on her opinions and attitudes or just flat out ignore them, much as they are with anyone else's opinions, including mine.

The only reason I got involved in all of this shit was because I vented an opinion on Twitter and it got out of hand. Most of the time, I'm like you and just content to vibe in the fandom and talk about whatever, and I'd like to go back to that. I'd much rather be talking about my fucking OCs and my verse than dumb fandom drama bullshit

But like I said, I'm glad you sent this both to get it off your chest and to give me the chance to do the same. At this point I've just had so many bad experiences in this fandom (some of them of my own doing I will freely admit) that it's hard to care anymore. But I don't think anyone should be afriad to speak up about anyone in this fandom, even someone like Greeny or Crusher or a popular artist or whomstever the fuck

[novel-sugar]

So it’s been roughly a week since I finished all the currently available chapters of Dark Deception, and I felt like leaving my thoughts! Gonna be going in chronological order so let’s begin with:

Monkey Business

This level was definitely a strong start for the game. I remember back when the original demo in 2014 came out, so it felt really cool to see the hotel and the Murder Monkeys now in a higher quality. It serves as a good introduction to the main gist of the gameplay: you collect shards and avoid monsters. The difficulty isn’t too bad even without the insane powers you’ll get later on, but it certainly isn’t easy neither. Overall great way to begin this twisted tale!

Elementary Evil

Coupled with Monkey Business, this level also serves as a great introduction, but this time to the gimmick of powers and Malak as an active threat. This level was definitely a lot easier than the first, probably since Agatha is the only real threat for most of it. Fuck that semifinal chase though. Agatha as a whole is adorable in a weird way, found her gremlin shenanigans very fun. Really gotta give props to Kat Cressida for such an energetic performance!

Deadly Decadence

Fuck this level. Plain and simple. Another “tutorial level” (and one of my least favorites). This one introduces stage hazards and hoo boy they couldn’t have picked a more annoying scenario to place them in. The hedge maze in Zone 1 isn’t the worst and can be done easily as long as you’re not careless, but Zone 2 is just frustrating to say the least and Teleportation just didn’t feel like the right power up to introduce here. All in all not impossible, but it took me forever first time I played. The difficulty spike was like slamming into a brick wall during a joyride.

Stranger Sewers

Fuck this level but to a much lesser degree than Deadly Decadence. The last of the “tutorials”, here we’re introduced to enemies that can stun with the Dread Duckies. Needless to say, teleportation really showed it’s worth here due to the sewer water slowing you down in certain areas. Still had my fair share of deaths (many of which were frustrating) but compared to the previous level not nearly as infuriating. The final chase sequence with Doom Ducky was definitely the highlight of this level and really cool, overall this level was ok just wish it was more interesting aesthetically.

Crazy Carnevil

This is where the game really picked up for me, I was already enjoying myself for the most part but the introduction of the Primal Fear ability was a godsend. On top of that, the areas introduced in this level were much more colorful and diverse than in Stranger Sewers so it felt super refreshing. The Clown Gremlins weren’t the hardest enemy to deal with but still not to be underestimated, especially once you get to the Funhouse.  All in all a good level, not my favorite but a nice breath of fresh air from the chaos of Levels 3 and 4.

Torment Therapy

This level was pretty short and to compensate, they had a LOT of shards to collect. Telepathy and Primal Fear really had their work cut out for them whenever the Reaper Nurses were cloaked. The Reaper Nurses themselves have cool designs and it felt surreal hearing Tara Strong in an indie horror game (something I’d get use to for the rest of the game) Overall this level was alright but it could get a little grating at times, the overall map design was alright but nothing too special but I did love the foreshadowing for certain details we learn in the next level. The Matron boss fight was pretty cool but felt very slow paced compared to the previous bosses, a lot of waiting around for the Reaper Nurses to climb up and stun. If there’s one major gripe I’ve had while trying to S rank this level, the beginning goes on for way too long and after several attempts it just gets annoying. Really hope they can add a way to skip ahead to the actual gameplay in a future patch.

Mascot Mayhem

This level was actually the reason I got interested in the game in the first place. Ever since I began, I had been anticipating this level right from the get go, biding my time waiting until I could play it and by God did it deliver. The Joy Joy Gang were such fun characters (especially Penny) and could be a real bitch to deal with at certain points. I only wish that the other zones just had us unlocking different areas of the park instead of just going inside an office building and a factory, felt like a big missed opportunity. Zone 2 was definitely annoying with 2 of Hangry roaming around, especially when Vanish didn’t feel like working. Joykill was pretty alright, not the most interesting design wise but a tough boss nonetheless. The true highlights of this level for me were Best Girl ™️ Penny, Tara Strong must’ve had a field day voicing her, so hyperactive sweet and bloodthirsty all at the same time! Also the story revelations at the end of the level (after a delightful beating from the JJG).

Bearly Buried

Holy hell this level is good. Absolutely one of my favorites for a multitude of reasons: 1) The first area mixing it up by taking our powers away after getting so used to having them by this point. 2) The general vibe and area design are all so good especially Zones 1 & 3. 3) EVERYTHING ABOUT MAMA BEAR. She’s so cute yet so menacing! Once again Tara Strong brings some impeccable VO work, giving her this nice balance of monotone and motherly. Also her themes are honestly some of if not the absolute creepiest in the entire soundtrack so far. Abso-fucking-lutely on par with Penny for being my favorite character. Like with Joy Joy Land, I kinda wish they got a little more creative with the later zones but that’s just a nitpick. Out of all the boss encounters, I actually think the final confrontation with Mama was the most difficult for me, but trial and error is an effective teacher. All in all a fun time that leaves me thirsty for more.

Closing Thoughts: Overall a good game! It’s definitely not for everyone but I feel like a lot of people can get some enjoyment out of it. One thing I haven’t mentioned that I feel should be addressed is the amount of bugs that are currently present in this game (especially in the last 3 levels), but that’s a whole other conversation and I still managed to have fun regardless. If you have $20, a weekend without plans and the slightest interest, I’d say give this game a go! As for me? Now begins the agonizing wait for Chapter 5 and the epic conclusion it’ll bring.

[the-one-who-lambs]

SIT DOWN it’s STORY TIME.

Y'all would not fucking BELIEVE the counseling appointment I just had. I PROMISE it’s related to Cult of the Lamb. Just sit tight.

TL;DR: I have been questioning whether I am autistic for YEARS. What helped actually set a potential diagnosis for me in action? It was motherfucking Cult of the Lamb.

Context: I recently moved, transferred health systems, and needed to refill my adhd medication (vyvanse, which is a controlled substance) so since my new health system has different diagnostic requirements for ADHD I had to go in for a psych eval to basically confirm that yes I still have adhd. Which all worked out, btw, I have access to my medication again.

BUT.

When I thought the appointment was nearing a close, she brought up the fact that I had self-identified as "neurodivergent" and last time she had asked me to explain what it meant to me. I explained that it encompassed many different ways of thinking and different brain chemistries/structures, including but not limited to ADHD, autism, PTSD, cerebral palsy etc. She then asked if I could potentially relate to any more of these identities and nudged me towards autism. Which was so validating because I've been wondering for years but like. For a therapist to just come out and lay it right in front of me was... unexpected. So that day I told her yes, I related to many autistic traits but that I also knew that there was a lot of overlap of symptoms between autism and ADHD and that non-autistic people could have autistic traits as well. I was deflecting wanting to deal with this and apparently it was obvious because she brought it back up again today.

There was a part of me dreading this appointment because I knew there was a chance she'd bring this up and then I would have to deal with it and it would feel real. So when she asked about it again and pointed out, hey your psych results and history questionnaire from your parents and past diagnoses and etc all line up with this and i just start tearing up because I don't know what else to do

And we had a long conversation about it and kinda unpacked my internalized ableism about this and pointed out some things in my history/questionnaire/eval that had led her to pose the question about pursuing a potential second evaluation for autism. So I accepted, because I had been procrastinating it for a while (due to fear of finding out that I was right I guess? but also really wanting to know and knowing in my heart that I know myself best and I was probably right?). If not now, when. So I have a follow-up appointment for an autism evaluation on October 24. Whatever the outcome I'm just proud I did this today.

Here's the fucking kicker that I think y'all are gonna appreciate.

So many of y'all know I write Narinder as autistic and boy howdy have I been projecting onto him so hard. When doing research for writing Requiem I realized how many of these traits I was checking off for myself. I published it like 2 days before the appointment. I have a LOT of trouble describing myself. My personality, my symptoms when asked about them, etc etc. But because I had done so much reading I had an idea fresh in my mind about what my autistic traits were because I had written them out and compared them to what I was writing. So I was able to articulate the things my counselor was asking me about so well and I felt like I had the most productive appointment I've had in ages. Looking back, I realized a lot of the things she asked me were autism-related rather than ADHD related. (For example, she asked me about any special interests I might have. Literally infodumped about the history of ALL my hyperfixations for ten minutes, then infodumped about my current hyperfixation cult of the lamb and my special interest (creative writing) and how I've been combining these two things and projecting onto blorbo from my video games and shit.) And all this really helped her in my evaluation and led her to propose the further evaluation for autism in the first place.

Also kinda screaming at the fact that I might have to send my therapist my fanfics so she can use them as a diagnostic tool.

Well. Back to writing.

[whoredmode]

What is Dex's relationship like with Kiki, Viola, and Oleg? And what is Oleg's relationship like with the DeWynter twins?

Does Kiki still die in your rewrite? If she does, how does her death affect Dex? How did Loren's death impact Dex?

Does Matt Miller still join the Saints in your rewrite?

ooh fun questions. always happy to answer rewrite stuff

to preface i’ll link a longer post i did explaining the syndicate side of things in the rewrite; some of this is answered in that but i’m happy to talk about it again. also putting a readmore bc this got a bit longer than i thought haha

so kiki and viola had been undercover, rising in the ranks of the syndicate long before dex ever joined ultor. they’re mercenaries hired by ultor to get information on the syndicate and eventually kill loren; i’d say they started their mission around 2005-2006, eventually becoming loren’s right hands around 2009-ish. though dex was made head of security probably around 2008-09, he wasn’t made aware of these sorts of more shadowy, espionage-based missions as his work primarily dealt with stilwater and the surrounding areas (nor do i think dex was that interested (at the time) in ultor’s more international dealings since i hc he was made head of security unwillingly). that isn’t to say he wasn’t aware of who loren was, he just didn’t know that kiki and viola were undercover spies being paid by ultor.

so when dex flees ultor and seeks loren’s protection in late 2011, he just assumed the twins were always part of the syndicate. not to say he isn’t suspicious of them—bc he’s suspicious of everyone at that point—but as far as he knows they’re not going to hurt him. but as we know, their objective changes once eric gryphon, acting as the new CEO and as someone who knew kiki and viola back then due to his work in weapons manufacturing, orders them to kill dex and loren. anyway all that to say, dex’s relationship with the twins is very much just. strictly professional. he’s not looking to get to know them, and to them he’s just another target.

oleg’s an interesting one. lemme link my posts on rewrite oleg (if you’re interested) bc i’ve made his story different than what’s in the game—he’s an assassin from an old crime family that’s been held prisoner and tortured by loren for years. i hc the dynamic between oleg and loren to be a very longstanding one—very personal and filled with extreme mutual hatred. i don’t think loren would ever allow dex to be aware of oleg. he wants to eliminate the possibility of dex even thinking about oleg. i’m sure oleg becomes aware of dex, just through hearing through the walls and whatnot. oleg’s relationship with the twins is similarly bitter, mainly because they likely took part in the torture. perhaps even as an initiation of sorts to become loren’s second-in-commands. after oleg and viola both join the saints they just kinda avoid each other; i think their relationship in the saints plays similarly to how it does in-game. they’re distrustful of each other.

loren’s death didn’t really have much of a personal effect on dex initially, because he just assumed that meant he was finally free of their arrangement and he could leave steelport. now that he knows the saints are there, he wants to leave to avoid seeing them since he believes anteros is gonna kill him. however, killbane won’t let him leave. that whole scene of killbane taking control of the syndicate plays like it does in-game: dex says he’s leaving, as do the twins, but killbane grabs kiki and snaps her neck, warning dex that he’s next if he doesn’t stay right there. killbane only has one dex. kiki’s death scares dex more than anything; he feels bad for viola, but it mostly just gives him a deeper sense of dread. he fears that he’s going to be stuck here forever. however with dex still being stuck in the syndicate, when viola leaves for the saints, she uses dex as a bargaining chip. she can give them all the information she has if they help her kill killbane. without her sister, she has nothing left to truly work for, so she abandons their mission of killing dex.

matt miller does NOT join the saints. he’s way too scared of them. they spare him after johnny beats him within an inch of his life because he also has useful intel, but johnny also shoots him in the foot and they allow him to hide in the penthouse for a few days to heal a bit and give them everything he knows before they send him back to england. he does return in the sriv rewrite, working/studying under asha. asha is leading part of a joint investigation on the philosotology cult and their illegal dealings (Z is originally from the UK so that’s why this concerns them at all), and the saints end up crashing an operation. this is how they cross paths again. asha tells matt not to work with them, but anteros puts a gun to his head later and oops now they’re involved in this too.

[go-to-the-mirror]

chains? wtf is this? a dungeon??

do they have chains in modern day prisons? i really don't think they have chains in modern day prisons. did elias just get the chains for show?

anyway, welcome to your regularly scheduled rambling! I have thoughts about this episode, so, be prepared for good words :D!

@a-mag-a-day

CWs for suicide/self-sacrifice (discussed, canon-typical)

ELIAS Come on, Martin, it’s been so long since I’ve seen you; let’s not start with lies.

For some reason, the "let's not start with lies" part of this sounds a lot like Zolf Smith from RQG. Yes, I know Ben Meredith voices both of them, but this sounds a lot like Zolf, more than Elias usually.

ELIAS My relationship to the apocalypse is more… complicated.

Bastard.

ELIAS In my case, while Peter has talked of it before, it is only very recently that I’ve been forced to admit The Extinction is real. And as for our dear Archivist, I’m afraid I no longer have any real control over what he does or does not know. Unlike yourself.

HE SAYS, HIDING IN PRISON BECAUSE OTHERWISE JON'LL KNOW ABOUT HIS *tim voice* SPOOKY EVIL PLANS.

MARTIN Yeah well, I’m still not sure I really believe it. A-And I don’t— I’m… ELIAS Worried he might charge off into another coffin?

Like, alright, whatever, it's a valid fear, I'd understand why Martin would be worried about that, I'd be worried about that in Martin's position. But, well, I'm not in Martin's position, not with this. I've been on the other side of that, and... I mean he's not talking to Jon but this line in MAG 199:

MARTIN And you can’t just arbitrarily decide it isn’t, because you want a better reason to martyr yourself! ARCHIVIST That’s not what’s happening! MARTIN Isn’t it?

It just feels similar to me, people throwing that you did something stupid once back in your face, it stings, it hurts. It feels like they don't trust you anymore, to me... it feels like they're... using it as... like a way to hurt you, and I understand that Martin's worried here, and yeah Jon's not exactly the fondest of living in this episode or 199, but... I don't know... I just think that hearing that Martin's motivation -- at least partially -- for dealing with the extinction on his own was worrying about Jon charging off into another coffin would probably make him feel guilty, and ashamed, and hurt, and feel the urge to jump into another coffin because it's awkward and it's private.

MARTIN (Incredulous) What? That’s it? No, no monologue? No mind games? You love manipulating people. ELIAS That makes two of us. But no, this too important for me to jeopardise with cheap “mind games”. I simply have to trust that when the time comes, you’ll make the right choice.

Oh really? Oh, really, mate? Bloody hell, I want to punch him.

What we built at Millbank should be left well enough alone, resigned to the nightmares of the reprobates and brigands contained within its walls.

Literally, must I point it out?

Did I ever tell you about the dreams? I’m sure I must have. I would dream about them, you see, as a young man. Long before I devised my taxonomy. I would find myself in nightmares of strange far-off places: a field of graves, a grasping tunnel, an abattoir knee deep in pigs’ blood. I believed then, as I still believe now, that these places I saw were the Powers themselves, expressed in their truest form, far more entirely than any secret book can claim. And if, as I came to believe, the Dread Powers were themselves places of a sort, then surely with the right space, the right architecture, they could be contained. Channelled. Harnessed.

Mass ritual? With the dreams, I still hear the song in my dreams, the different fears, the looking up and the sky blinks like??? Was the reform club an unknowing attempt at a mass ritual -- or no, not unknowing, without understanding. He intended to channel all of them for "balance," presumably, but instead he channelled all of them for... not a lovely time in spooky tunnels. These are wild theories I'm throwing out here but... it's not that far fetched.

Apocalypse. Apotheosis.

Look, I just like this line. I quote it so much.

I wonder, did my work bring about these dreadful things, or did I simply develop the means by which they can be known?

Actually... both, sort of? I mean, I'm not sure about the rituals, but the powers themselves... I'm not saying that he was right or whatever, but I am saying that his classification system was so popular that it shaped the fears themselves, you know as a mag a day said before, dreams are shaped by the dreamers.

Fictionalized Robert Smirke learn about spectrums challenge.

I have been dreaming again, Jonah. The same every night for months now. I imagine myself a boy again at Aspley. I awake, cold and alone, in the dormitory. The sky outside is dark and I see no stars. I light a candle to better see my way and step down the silent corridor. The masters’ rooms are empty, the fire in the kitchen is dead. Eventually my steps lead out into the courtyard. It is so quiet that the sound of my feet upon the grass is painful to my ears. I stop and look up at the sky, that empty black nothing and I see the edges of the horizon becoming a dull white. I cannot understand what I am looking at. And then the sky blinks. And I awake.

(MAG 138)

And at last, the Archivist looks up. At last he looks into the eye that sees all and knows all and clutches at the secret terrors of your heart. The ceaseless watcher of all that is and all that was. The voracious infinite hunger that tears at his soul, invoking him to discover, to observe, to experience all and everything and forever. It stares into him and it stares out of him and he is falling into the devouring eternity of its pupil. He wants to cry out in horror, but he cannot. He is whole.

(MAG 120)

ARCHIVIST Look at the sky, Martin. Look at the sky. It’s looking back.

(MAG 160)

Well. Looking up, the sky looks back, ooooh foreshadowing, sort of. I just, I just love it! Like dreaming, and then the eyepocolypse is dream logic and all and it's I don't know just look at these quotes I took.

Last night I was awoken by a noise from the drawing room. [...] It was then I began composing this letter.

This section is pretty spooky! I like it :3

Uh, a-apparently Robert Smirke was found collapsed in his study that evening, dead of, uh, “apoplexy”.

Used to refer to a stroke.

Good luck, Jon, I— Stay safe.

HE WAS ABOUT TO SAY I LOVE YOU D:

stop pining and just gouge your eyes out and make out, I beg.

Anyway, fun episode! Pretty spooky! Oversharing on tumblr dot com, sorry lol. can't wait till chosen tomorrow :3

[natehoodreviews]

2022 Year End Compilation

The Ancient Minstrel, Jim Harrison

Hm. A meandering, unfocused disappointment. In the introduction Harrison admitted that he surrendered to fictionalizing his autobiography. I wish he hadn’t. His fictitious flourishes only detract from his usually gorgeous prose.

Eggs, Jim Harrison

Hmmm! Considerably drier than I expected. It feels like he abandoned his usual poetic prose in favor of a more traditional―dare I say Russian―psychological study. The result is surprisingly staid.

The Case of the Howling Buddhas, Jim Harrison

HMMM!!! This was dreadful. Harrison has never been embarrassed by sex, but this novella feels like he wrote it with his penis.

Brida, Paulo Coelho

I have no idea if the magical system Coelho presents here is his own invention or not, but personally I don’t really care. I adored this book and its bizarre yet gentle syncretism of paganism and Christianity. I know many find Coelho’s books unbearably twee, but so far all the ones I’ve read have hit the sweet spot between sentimentality and sincerity. 

Undermajordomo Minor, Patrick deWitt

At a certain point this book started to feel like deWitt wrote it solely to surprise and outguess himself. That’s the only explanation I can think of for a book that takes so many surreal and thematically nonsensical turns. I enjoyed a good deal of it, but I can’t help but wish deWitt had settled it all on a central point or two. That said, I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to forget the most bizarre secret aristocratic orgy this side of Eyes Wide Shut.

The Running Man, Stephen King [as Richard Bachman]

Deliciously, succulently furious. I had no idea King had this kind of fury in him. It made an already lean thriller absolutely propulsive. This was the pulpy palate cleanser I’ve been looking for for a long, long time.

The Far Cry, Fredric Brown

This was...very much not what I was expecting. When I picked this book up, I expected a decently entertaining crime thriller. Instead, it’s a slow-burn psychological drama of a man investigating a murder and becoming obsessed with the dead victim. So much of it predicts Alfred Hitchcock’s Vertigo. The first chunk of the book is a bit dry, but once the obsession begins to really take hold of the protagonist it becomes quite engaging.

Reality Check, Peter Abrahams

Apparently, this book won a Young Adult literary award when it was published. All I can say is that if books this dull were considered industry exemplars at the time, then losing an entire generation of young readers to Twilight and dystopian death games suddenly makes much more sense.

Roadwork, Stephen King [as Richard Bachman]

This book makes an interesting counterpoint with Pet Sematary: both films are, in their own ways, about dealing with grief. But whereas Sematary reacts passively with resignation, Roadwork reacts actively with rage. It’s a bit bloated, but the whole thing still vibrates with the anger that makes King’s Bachman books so compelling.

Fever 1793, Laurie Halse Anderson

A brisk and snappy work of young adult historical fiction. Would be fascinated to see what this book would’ve been if it’d been written in the shadow of our current pandemic and its plague of misinformation and anti-vaxx sentiment.

The Thing Around Your Neck, Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie

Adichie’s short stories all, in one way or another, see people trapped between the push and pull of different identities and cultures, whether they’re racial, ethnic, or geopolitical. The opening story, the ghastly and sad “Cell One,” even extends this to see a young man incapable of adapting to the us vs. them mentality of prisoners and prisoner guards after getting arrested over suspicions of murder. It’s a fantastic collection of stories, even if all of them don’t hit equal heights. A personal favorite is “Jumping Monkey Hill.” I could’ve easily read a book-length version of that one.

Patrimony: A True Story, Philip Roth

Knowing that I’ll probably go through something similar with my own father, reading this book was like placing my hand on a hot skillet.

A Lost Lady, Willa Cather

The elegiac downfall of a man, a house, a woman, a nation, a myth. Lovely, sad, and rich with Cather’s unmistakable sense of place.

Jesus’ Son, Denis Johnson

“I had a moment’s glory that night, though. I was certain I was here in this world because I couldn’t tolerate any other place.”

The Violent Bear It Away, Flannery O’Connor

Only someone with a devout faith could write a book with such venom towards organized religion.

The Crying of Lot 49, Thomas Pynchon

Perhaps choosing this as my first novel to read while mentally burnt out after finishing a semester of seminary wasn’t the best idea.

Mao II, Don DeLillo

Terrifyingly prescient in its vision of a future where terrorism replaces the written word as the most effective means of mass communication. However, the book itself feels inherently disjointed, even within the context of DeLillo’s usual chronological and POV flourishes. Only the prologue and epilogue at the mass Moonie wedding and the revolutionary unrest in Beirut told from the perspectives of the book’s two central women seem to actually engage with DeLillo’s thesis of “the future belongs to crowds.” The middle clump of the book is mostly—both figuratively and literally—tortured writer porn.

Running Dog, Don DeLillo

Migraine-inducing in its byzantinism. This novel’s first half where it was just a pulpy spy thriller was more fun than the philosophically nihilistic second. The actual content of Hitler’s home movie was a brilliant coup, but it did little to relieve the overall turgidness of the overcomplicated narrative.

A Good Man Is Hard to Find and Other Stories, Flannery O’Connor

An essential Catholic corrective to the current of gloomy Calvinism that infects so much of American literature. The title story, “The River,” and “A Temple of the Holy Ghost” are sad and beautiful while “Good Country People” and “The Displaced Person” are deliciously nasty.

The Magic Barrel, Bernard Malamud

I enjoyed the modern Jewish parables well enough, but the “American Jew in Italy” stories sapped almost all of my enthusiasm out from reading this book.

The Pale King, David Foster Wallace

Somehow, simultaneously, one of the dullest, most thrilling, most banal, and most touching novels I’ve ever read. Wallace delves into the nature of boredom, proving that the ability to navigate mundanity and monotony is just as central to the human experience as the capacity to comprehend beauty. Parts of this novel lodged into my mind like a splinter, none more than the first chapter which might be one of the single most gorgeous pieces of prose in American literature.

A Really Big Lunch: Meditations on Food and Life from the Roving Gourmand, Jim Harrison

Possibly the finest book I’ve ever read about food, eating, the love of both, and how they all inform the act of living as a bodily human being. You can taste the marrow in this book’s bones.

The Book of Daniel, E. L. Doctorow

The fact that Julius and Ethel Rosenberg were later proven guilty as sin by declassified Soviet documents does nothing to lessen this book as a chilling portrait of how America scapegoats and lynches its poor, dispossessed, and racially marginalized. Also, I could read Doctorow’s descriptions of NYC crowds, streets, neighborhoods, and markets forever.

Homer & Langley, E. L. Doctorow

Oh, how I wish Doctorow had stretched his imaginary history of the Collyer brothers to include 9/11. Also, I feel like Doctorow might have fumbled a possible creative flourish by not revealing that the book itself was a copy of Langley’s fabled newspaper which, upon completion, managed to speculate on the future.

World’s Fair, E. L. Doctorow

Pleasant enough as a childhood autobiography of growing up in early twentieth century New York City, but at times it felt more like Doctorow was writing a laundry list of sense memories than he was the story of his youth. Also, it’s kind of cringy how much of it was recycled from The Book of Daniel.

The Ponder Heart, Eudora Welty

The rare Southern Gothic comedy that’s genuinely clutch-your-side funny, not the sardonic, wince-through-the-tragedy “comedy” of Flannery O’Connor.

Delta Wedding, Eudora Welty

**heavy sigh** You know what this book reminds me of? Those awful late 70s Robert Altman films where he filled his casts with too many damn characters all with barely anything to do. 

As I Lay Dying, William Faulkner

As amazing as everyone says it is. I was a Faulkner agnostic after reading The Sound and the Fury which I admired only on a technical level and Light in August which I didn’t like at all. But this novel was a tour de force portrait of Southern decrepitude writ large with the imagery of the Old Testament and the tragedy of the ancient Greeks.

Mexican Gothic, Silvia Moreno-Garcia

Delightfully morbid, thrilling, and disgusting. Was not expecting this book to go in the direction of weird science, but I’m glad it did.

Midnight’s Children, Salman Rushdie

It was around the halfway point of this book—right when Saleem and Shiva were about to meet for the first time—that I heard the news that Salman Rushdie had been attacked and stabbed in New York. What a testament for how little has truly changed since his literary career started.

A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man, James Joyce

Statler: “What was this book called again? A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man?”

Waldorf: “More like Portrait of the Reader as Bored Senseless!”

Both: “D’oh-ho-ho-ho!!”

[kaija-rayne-author]

I’m also new to Dragon Age. I haven’t played the first two but I’m currently playing Inquisition. I should be finished by now but…I keep putting it off because I know the ending and it’ll make me sad XD

Yes…I am very much in Solavellan hell. Ironically I only started playing DAI because I wanted to write an analysis of Solas as a successful Twist Villain. Then the son of a bitch went and got me invested. I’m honestly so impressed with how Weekes handled his character. A weaker writer would have just let him be another MCU Loki Edgelord. Soooo glad that’s not what we ended up with.

I’ve been catching up on lore about the first two games because, thanks to my writer brain, I am an obsessive fan theorist XD

I just can’t not theorize. It’s so much fun. My fiancé and I (he’s played all the games) have been discussing theories left and right and there’s so much juicy potential for Dreadwolf. Like, dang. It’s going to suck waiting another year to see if any of those theories were close.

But mostly I just want to see Solas again and find out if we can save this idiot from himself 🫠

….also maybe from Flemeth.

I started playing DA in Aprilish of '23. I've had them forever, but just have never gotten around to playing them.

I had a friend who played suggest I play them all in order for story reasons and I'm glad I did. I'm debating restarting DAO, because I've read there's references all through the series to The Dread Wolf and I'm a sucker for more Solas anything 😅. (And desperate, not gonna lie.)

Solas really is a masterfully created character, such a fascinating blend of nobility, gentleness, and prideful flaws and gah!

I did the same thing 😅, kept putting off the end. I've actually played DAI 3 times now, my original Dorian Romance, then I got curious about what the big deal was with Solas. So out of curiousity (curiousity absolutely gets me into trouble, frequently) I did a Solavellan run. (Even knowing who Solas was!) And I landed myself on the Solavellan Hell train. I'm a writer and editor so I know all the tropes and can usually see the twists coming from miles out. Sadly, not a lot touches me anymore.

I honestly didn't think Weekes would add my heart to their very notched belt. But they're such a strong writer and made Solas so nuanced and interesting!

Weekes definitely impressed me on a professional level. Very, very few authors manage that anymore. (Do highly suggest reading the Dragon Age books too. Especially Weekes' Masked Empire. They give a lot more depth to the games/world. First book is a bit rough, but Gaider got better in the next two.)

I utterly adore theorizing and analyzing literature, movies, any kind of fiction, really. People sadly don't enjoy that aspect of my brain as often as I'd like.

I keep hoping my partner will play them. I really think he'd enjoy them. And he loves breaking stuff down as much as I do.

I'm trying to keep my hopes low for Dreadwolf, but yessss there's so much potential!

And I'm not buying the game unless I can somehow save Solas' dumb, stubborn, prideful ass.🤣

My third playthrough was 'make Solas hate me', and it was sooooo hard. I played a Qunari so I wouldn't end up Romancing the bugger again 😅. It was somewhat fun to antagonize Solas for a bit. But I was happy to finish it. The angry Solas lines in Trespasser are totally worth it.

TBF I only did the minimal necessary for the hate me run. I really didn't like him hating me 😅.

[sunderlust]

this is me trying ii (rooster x reader)

masterlist part 1 | part 2 | part 3 pairing: bradley 'rooster' bradshaw x reader synopsis: bradley bradshaw is the bane of your existence on north island - you finally got a chance to tell him off for giving you a hard time, but the guilt is weighing down on you and making it harder for you to deal with your ongoing existential crisis. maybe all it takes is a volleyball game and a heart to heart to make you see clearly... (read p1 first i'm begging you) warnings: explicit language, mentions of alcohol consumption, later explicit sexual activity, lots of existential dread, volleyball shenanigans, hiking, hangman no use of y/n, one small mention of suicidal thoughts near the very end note: seasonsbloom and gretagerwigsmuse - i love u both forever i dedicate everything to you both. also full disclaimer I don't know anything about volleyball or the sunset cliffs hiking trail lol. wc: 9k (holy fucking shit sorry y'all I just may'd)

The first thing you feel Thursday night is relief - ever since you moved to this stupid city, the weight of holding back all your anger and annoyance with Bradley had returned in full force. After your fight with him, you feel a fifty-ton weight lift from your shoulders; you can breathe for the first time in two weeks. 

“I told Bradley off,” you tell Cam and Cher casually after dinner. They both share a weird look, waiting for you to elaborate. “He’s been giving me a hard time at Java. Coming in with ridiculous orders and mocking me and tipping large amounts just to make fun of me. And he thinks he can tell me it’s just teasing between friends?! Since when were we friends?”

On Friday morning, when 6:30 rolls around with Bradley being a no-show, you feel unease settle over you. It’s minuscule - it feels like you’re carrying an obese cat on your shoulders - but it’s noticeable. And as the day goes on, you start to mull over yesterday’s debacle, wondering if you were a little too harsh. 

You waste your weekend thinking about it more, replaying your words, recalling every single detail. Each time you restart the memory, your stomach sinks lower when you see Bradley’s crestfallen and shocked expression. The obese cat grows bigger, and your anxiety makes you feel smaller. 

On Sunday night, you groan and collapse on the loveseat in Cam’s living room with a languid sigh. Cher’s lounging on the L-shaped couch reading on her iPad, while Cam’s puttering around in the kitchen. 

“I don’t know how much more water I can tread, guys.” you groan and bury your face into a soft velvet throw pillow.  

“Can I be frank with you?” Cher asks, switching her tablet off and setting it aside. 

“Always,” you nod as best as you can, voice muffled by the fabric. 

“You need another outlet.” 

You lift your head from the velvet. “What kind of outlet can I find on this stupid island? No offense,” you add. “I thought I could get by doing nothing, but I finished all of the Stranger Kids show and a bunch of Academy Award winners that I’ve missed and I almost got sucked into something called Bridgerton-” 

“You need a physical outlet,” Cher interrupts, smiling comfortingly. 

You sigh again. “Years at a desk job have completely wrecked my ankles too much for me to go on long morning jogs again. Like, if I did a deep squat right now, my heels are going to lift so high I’ll tip over like a fucking cow. And I know you told me to do yoga with Cam, but I’m not sure I can bring myself to get up at 5 AM on a Saturday - I need to sleep in on the weekends.” 

Cam comes in and plops themself down in their favorite armchair facing the TV. “I wasn’t going to suggest yoga again. But my friend Natasha from class asked if I knew anyone who played volleyball, and you were the first person to come to mind. They’re playing tomorrow evening.” 

You gape at them. “I haven’t played in years. I think the last time I touched a volleyball was at a company team retreat a few years back, and I was just a spectator tossing it back to the cutie from the web team.” 

“The cutie from GUI,” Cher dreamily breathes out, laughing as she dodges the throw pillow you launch at her face.

“Come on!” Cam implores. “You were great at intramural volleyball back in undergrad! And it’s just casual, they need someone to even out the teams so no one sits out. They’ll buy you drinks afterward - guaranteed.” 

You mull over the idea in your mind. Who in their sound mind would NOT want to meet a bunch of strangers and fumble through a sport they haven’t played in years? 

Although, you would love to be able to get out of the house and into the sunshine again without feeling the overwhelming anxiety of doing things on your own. A week ago, you’d bookmarked the Sunset Cliffs Natural Park over on Point Loma, west of North Island. But hiking on your own felt too intimidating, and you hadn’t gotten around to asking Cher and Cam to join. 

Maybe this was another saving grace - another opportunity falling into your lap to do something new and push yourself out of your comfort zone. A chance to do something meaningful, to make friends outside of Cam and Cher so you could stop mooching off of them and draining their energy. Because as much as you knew they loved you and were happy to host you, there was still that small part of you that insisted they were counting down the days for you to leave. 

Worst case? You fumble the ball and never have to see these people again. Best case? Maybe you make some friends, burn some energy, and potentially google hot people on the beach, bumping and setting the ball in slow motion like they’re on Baywatch. 

Yeah, that last point is rather convincing.

“Alright,” you sigh. “If anything, I’ll spike the ball and pretend it’s Bradshaw’s face.” 

Cam and Cher share another weird look. 

-- 

At 6 PM, you pull into the parking lot for the Hard Deck and immediately spot a gaggle of tall, muscled guys setting up the sand volleyball court boundaries out on the beach. The light of the late afternoon sun glistens off their tanned skin and sends your nerves into a frenzy; you don’t know how you’ll be able to play a casual game of volleyball with the likes of these people. 

“Hey! Cam’s friend, right? It’s so great to meet you!” Natasha calls out as you approach her and her SUV. She immediately goes in for a hug, which makes you feel both giddy and incredibly shy as you return it - it feels like it’s been a while since you’ve tried to make a new friend. 

“Hi, Natasha, it’s so nice to meet you! Thanks for inviting me, it’s so nice to do something other than Netflix and chill with myself in the evening,” you cringe at yourself. Why the fuck did you say that to another person? 

But Natasha shakes her head with a huge, understanding smile. “It’s no biggie - we’ve all just been playing pool over at the Hard Deck and Bob suggested maybe we get some sunlight for once. It’ll be great to work off some tension after work - sorry in advance if anyone’s particularly intense here,” she laughs. 

“Oh, what do you all do?” you ask, eyeing one tall, dark-skinned man and how his muscles ripple as he handles a volleyball between two large palms. 

“We’re Navy - all of us are pilots,” Natasha says. 

Your stomach plummets. Oh fuck. If these guys are all coworkers AND in the Navy AND pilots - well, you didn’t need your stupid engineering degree to do the math. There’s a high probability that someone’s about to make his presence known-

“Yo, Phoenix!” a husky, familiar voice calls out behind you. “Yale said he wouldn’t be able to make it, so we’ll probably have to...” his voice trails off as he recognizes you. 

You pause, meeting his gaze through your sunglasses. “Hi, Bradley,” you say, deciding to at least be the bigger person and not outright ignore him. 

He doesn’t seem to share the same sentiment, nodding once your way before redirecting his attention back to Phoenix. “I guess we’re even on teams then. I’ll go help set things up.” 

You feel a twinge of something in your chest - almost feeling hurt that he was still so upset with you. But you dismiss it as quickly as it came - you have nothing to feel bad about and apparently, neither does Bradley as he jogs away towards the group around the newly set up court. Natasha looks on with a curious expression before picking up an extra volleyball and leading you to where the rest of the group is. 

Bradley doesn’t even look at you. He’s off to the side, tossing a volleyball between both his hands idly and conversing with a man in glasses. 

A taller, dark-skinned man approaches the two of you with a broad smile, giving Natasha a high five and you a friendly nod. She’s still explaining the game setup to you. “We’ll have two teams of five, we might switch things around here and there and we might be dicks to each other, but I promise we’ll keep you out of the line of fire. Just look the other way if I start acting like a sore loser.” 

“Natasha, I’m not sure if Cam’s mentioned, but my competitiveness in IM volleyball got me ejected from a game after I slammed the ball into another guy’s face. No worries.” 

She and the other man laugh, and he reaches a hand out to shake yours. You introduce yourself to him, and he does the same. “Reuben - but call me Payback. And I’m not sure if she’s mentioned, but she goes by Phoenix.” 

You’re confused. “Phoenix?” 

“It’s her callsign,” he replies as if that explains everything. 

“Callsign?” you repeat, looking between the two of them. 

“Yeah, it’s like a unique identifier for each of us. We get it assigned to us by our class, usually when we do something stupid in boot camp,” Nat- or, Phoenix explains to you. 

“Can’t I just call you all by your real name? Instead of nicknames?” 

“Callsigns,” Payback corrects. “And honestly, you could. But it’ll catch us off guard. I mean, if you called out ‘Reuben’ mid-game, I’d probably book it to the ocean because my gut instinct will be telling me that my ex has finally tracked me down to get back the NSYNC CD I stole from her.” 

“Poor girl,” you muse, and he laughs. 

“Come on, we’ll introduce you to everyone and you’ll have everyone’s sign down in no time! We’ll only be using those so you’ll get confused if you don’t know them.” 

He and Phoenix walk you over to a tall, blond Adonis. Like the others, he’s shirtless, tanned, and muscled. You wonder if he could crack walnuts with his biceps. “This is Jake, or ‘Bagman’-” 

“Hangman,” the Ken doll says, rubbing the stubble along his jawline which is tightly clenched as he surveys the game being set up. He looks over at you briefly to nod once. “Nice to meet you.” 

“Don’t mind him,” Phoenix tells you with an eye roll. “He’s hung up on his girl, but she’s not talking to him.” 

You nod, only half paying attention now that you’ve caught sight of Bradley making his way over to your gaggle of three. You can’t read his expression thanks to the trusty Ray Bans he’s wearing, but his strut is as cocky as ever. 

“Hangman has a girl?” Payback asks just as Bradley reaches earshot. 

“Oh yeah, Penny’s tutor friend? Hangman spilled a mojito on her after Dogfight the other day. Poor girl looked terrified.” Bradley teases and smacks Hangman on the back. The others laugh along at a stoic-faced Hangman whose cheeks have slightly flushed. 

“You pilots really seem to have a knack for tormenting innocent women,” you blurt out, narrowing your eyes at the three boys. Bradley’s eyebrows furrow right back. 

“Guess we do,” he says shortly. 

Phoenix shifts her eyes between the two of you before clearing her throat. “This is Bradley - I suppose you already know. We call him Rooster.” 

“Rooster? That’s your callsign?” you ask, incredulously. 

“Yeah! Because he looks out for his own,” Payback says in a high-pitched, almost mocking tone. He couples his words with a sharp pinch to Bradley’s cheek, and he abruptly smacks Payback’s hands away. 

At long last, Hangman breaks his silence with a loud bark of laughter. “Hold on, do you two know each other?” Hangman asks, a grin replacing his scowl. “Why so tense, Bradshaw? Did she give you the slip in the wee hours of the morning?” 

“Shut up,” Rooster threatens at the same time that you say, “We were at UVA together.” 

You blink, feeling slightly hurt for a second before realizing he definitely wouldn’t care enough to tell his Navy buddies about his old college friend who hypothetically got dropped from her hotshot engineering job and was now in Fightertown. You try your best to swallow the lump that still appears in your throat. 

A beat of silence follows. “Apparently, we’re arch nemeses,” Bradley says bitterly, and you’re pretty sure you catch him rolling his eyes behind his sunglasses. 

You narrow your eyes. “Always so dramatic, huh, Bradley?” 

“Me? I’m being dramatic? You’re the one who said it! This is some real pot-meet-kettle crap, Buttercup.”

“Buttercup?” Phoenix deadpans, looking at you sympathetically. You beat Bradley to answer. 

“It’s a stupid joke he’s kept going for fifteen years because Bradley’s quite skilled at never letting things go!” you spit out. 

“Oh, don’t we know it?” Hangman says under his breath before Bradley can retort, then swiftly catches a volleyball from someone over by the court. He crooks one finger in your direction. “We’ll have to call you Buttercup - both because it might piss off Rooster over here, and because I didn’t catch your name.” 

“Jake,” Bradley says warningly, but Hangman’s jogged away before he can get another word out. 

Stupid Rooster. And even stupider Hangman. 

-- 

Volleyball starts easy enough once you’re introduced to the rest of the team. Phoenix keeps you on her team along with Fanboy, an intimidatingly handsome man who goes by Coyote, and a really sweet, round-faced man wearing glasses named Bob. Bradley sticks to the other side, trying hard not to look annoyed with Hangman ordering his teammates around. 

“So you’re Bradley’s friend? Ow!” Coyote starts to ask, but Phoenix cuts him off by elbowing him in the side. 

“No, she’s my friend. I met her through someone from yoga.” She gives him a hard look. “That’s right, I know people outside of you creeps.” 

Coyote furrows his brow. “When do you have the time to go to yoga? And do they have any open spots? Preferably a mat right behind you, Phoe- Jesus!” Coyote rubs the back of his head where Bob’s initial practice serve had landed.

“Sorry!” he calls out, but you can see the curve of a smile on his face as he turns away from Coyote’s glare. You like Bob. 

Once everyone’s in position, Bob makes the first serve - this time a perfect one that arcs the ball over the net and into Payback’s waiting hands. He bumps it over the net, and the game continues. 

The sun beats down on you as you play into the evening. You try your hardest not to ogle the guys around you - or Natasha, for that matter - and it’s relatively easy once you start focusing on the game. But unexplainably, every single time Bradley leaps up to spike the ball, you feel a jolt of excitement at the sight of his abs clenching and his bicep muscles rippling in slow motion. It’s all tan skin and toned calves and bulging biceps and- 

Your train of thought is interrupted by Bob calling out “Buttercup, eyes up!” 

You swiftly bounce back into motion, bumping the ball over to Phoenix, who slams the ball over the net. Close one. And that’s another thing - you’ve adjusted shockingly well to your honorary callsign as every one of your teammates decides to use it, even Natasha a few times (you only feel slightly betrayed at that). 

They reshuffle the groups every game and somewhere along the line, Bradley’s suddenly on your team. You resign yourself to staying as far away from him as possible and let him take the front line and you linger towards the back, and for the most part, your team works like a well-oiled machine. 

You’re surprised at how well Bradley can predict your next move, always positioning himself in the perfect spot to catch your set and spike it over the net. It’s like years of verbal sparring somehow prepared you for this moment to absolutely annihilate Hangman’s team together at volleyball. After one particularly spectacular play, you lock eyes with him and marvel at how in sync the two of you are. Mindlessly, you offer him a double thumbs up. 

Jesus Christ, you’re a dork, you think to yourself before Bradley enthusiastically throws up a goofy thumbs up in return. 

After Coyote’s attempt to save the ball ended with him diving and skidding into the sand, the opposing team wins the game point. “Alright, I think I’m gonna call it,” he says loudly and stands up to brush the sand off his knees. 

You look up and finally realize just how much time has passed. The sun’s making its way down the horizon, and the sky has transformed into a beautiful spectrum of orange and pink hues scattered across the wide expanse. The Hard Deck behind you is already lit with colorful LEDs, and the parking lot is a few cars fuller as more locals make their way in for evening drinks. 

Natasha, who had already relocated to the other team earlier, raises both hands in the air. “I’m still down for a game or two! Bob?” 

“You guys go ahead,” Bob says, wiping at his glasses. “I gotta rinse the sand off these, I can’t see shit.” As he makes his way back to the cars, he holds his hand out for you to slap your palm into for a quick low five. A couple of other pilots agree to make their way in for drinks, except Hangman. 

“I’m game.” - “I’ll play.” you and Bradley both say at the same time, then eye each other curiously. He’s finally removed his sunglasses and you observe how his light brown eyes shine in the evening light. Somehow, his mustache has bits of sand stuck into it from his many dives to the ground. 

You know you’re not much better off - you’ll be scraping sand out from your scalp for days after this. 

“I’ll play with Phoenix,” Hangman proclaims, and tosses a ball over to Bradley. “Losers can serve this time.” 

Everyone else rolls their eyes. “You uh... You want to start?” Bradley turns to you, idly tossing the ball in the air. “I mean, serve?” 

You nod your head and he passes it to you to begin the game. Somehow, you and Bradley work even better as a team of two without the extra people to keep track of. Neither of you even has to call out your next move - both just instinctively making way for the other when Nat or Hangman sends the ball barrelling over the net. It’s easy, effortless, something you never really felt with Bradley until you opened yourself up to working together with him. 

“Heads up!” Bradley calls out and passes the ball to you, setting you up for a nice spike that wins you the game. “Nice one, Buttercup!” 

After celebrating your victory with Rooster with an awkward high five that you can still feel vibrating in your right hand, you make your way back up to the Hard Deck. Natasha is toweling off sand near her car and she holds out a water bottle as you approach, which you accept gratefully. 

“Thanks for coming. I know it was late notice, but the guys really liked you,” she grins as you chug half of the water in record time. 

“I had a great time!” you tell her and screw the cap back on. “I really can’t express enough how much I appreciate the invite and getting to know you all. You all are so welcoming - i-it just means a lot to me, being new here and all.” 

She’s quiet for a moment, then looks at you with what you can best describe as a guilty expression. “I’ve gotta be honest because I feel bad about hiding things. Cam and I may have conspired to bring you here to make nice with Bradley.” 

Your heart sinks. “What?” you ask numbly, 

She slams the trunk of her SUV shut before responding. “Hear me out - Cam’s a really good friend. I met them back when I was at TOP GUN for the first time. And now we’ve been catching up over yoga and they told me about your whole thing with Rooster - I mean, Bradley - from your college days. And I thought it was funny, honestly, it doesn’t come as a surprise to me that he was a little shit back then. 

“But I know something happened between the two of you last week,” she says, and you stiffen. “Because Bradley’s going through some rough shit with this mission, but he was worse than usual last Thursday. And I wasn’t sure what could’ve caused it - I thought it was the same shit with our instructor or something. But then he got super wasted back at base and was just moping around about some Buttercup or whatever and I put together the bits and pieces. Long story short, this mission is so fucking crucial. It’s life or death, and we need the best of the best to be on their A-game, and that especially includes Rooster. 

“Plus, Cam thinks you should let bygones be bygones for the sake of your journey - which I don’t know many details about and I’m not going to pry, but I trust them. So yeah, I suggested volleyball to the team, and conveniently, Yale wasn’t able to make it so I offered to have you sub in, and here we are now,” she finishes quickly, still looking nervous. 

You breathe in heavily, leaning against her car and mulling over her words. “I don’t... I’m not sure what I can do with him.” 

“For what it’s worth, you two seemed to make a really good team near the end there. Maybe you can go smooth things over with him now,” she gestures to where Bradley is currently sitting on one of the wooden beach chairs in the sand. 

You settle an unimpressed look on her and she hastily corrects herself. “Like - not that you’ve done anything wrong to smooth things over. Just... Look, I think he just feels really bad about it - as he should! - but he’s definitely too embarrassed to approach you, let alone apologize out of the blue for how things went down. And maybe if you just go over there, he’ll feel comfortable enough to tell you what he said to me Friday night.” 

“What did he say Friday night?” you quirk an eyebrow. 

She sighs. “I’d love to tell you, girl, but it’s not my place. Just talk to him?” 

You nod, crossing your arms. “I’m not entirely thrilled that you and Cam tried to be all sneaky,” Natasha has the decency to look a little ashamed. “But I understand why. And I mean... At this point, I’m tired of being in this weird limbo with him.” 

She nods in understanding. “No matter what happens, it’ll be okay. I owe you a mint g&t afterward!”

“Sounds great. Wait, how do you know I drink-” you start, but Phoenix is already walking towards the Hard Deck with a sly grin on her face. 

“Good luck, Buttercup!” she calls out before disappearing around the corner of the building. 

You sigh again and shoot a glance over to where Bradley’s still sitting, still staring at the sky changing colors over the horizon. It’s now or never, you think, then silently berate yourself for thinking something so cliche. Taking another deep breath, you make your way across the beach to the unoccupied chair under the umbrella. 

“Hey,” you come up behind him, wavering to see if he’s going to dismiss you or let him join him. 

He looks up, and you try to ignore the weird feeling in your stomach when his warm, chocolate eyes meet your nervous gaze. Why isn’t he being a regular douche and wearing his sunglasses? “Hi, Buttercup.” 

You shuffle your feet around slightly, shifting your eyes around to avoid that weird feeling again. Maybe you’re just hungry. “Mind if I join you?” 

He extends a hand out to gesture toward the empty chair to his right. “By all means.” 

You mumble a quick “thanks” and plop down in the seat next to him. A few minutes of silence pass between the two of you - to pass the time, you look up at the multi-colored umbrella above you and count how many different colored stripes there are. 

You’re at four reds when Bradley breaks the silence. “‘Bane of your existence', huh?” he says with a crooked smile. “What is this, Bridgerton?”

You raise an eyebrow. “Sorry?” 

“Bridgerton on Netflix? Season 2? Anthony and Kate?” 

You look over at him with an incredulous look. “You’ve seen that entire show?” you deadpan. 

He stretches his legs out, brushing some sand from his knees absentmindedly. “I mean... Yeah. Love me some Shonda. No Grey’s for me though - couldn’t get past season 2.” 

You snort, looking over at him. “I don’t think I’ve managed to finish a show at all in the last five years. My job was always... Well, either way, I just finished Stranger Things on Saturday. Bridgerton might be next.” 

“It’s pretty good.” He bounces his head in a nod, looking back out at the horizon. Another few beats of silence pass, and you struggle to find the exact words you want to say. But it seems like Natasha was right about him after all because Bradley beats you to the punch before you can open your mouth. “Listen, I just... I feel terrible about what happened in college. And I know I was all petty and mean earlier today and I don’t want to just make excuses for my actions. Shit, I want to keep myself accountable but I never could have imagined I was making you feel that way in college. And especially here, you know?” 

You chew your lower lip and tightly grip the armrests of the chair nervously. “I just... I shouldn’t have blown up at you on Thursday-” 

He’s shaking his head. “No, no, I totally deserved that-” 

“I just got so angry-” 

“As you should be-”

“And things have just been so hard lately-” 

“I’m really sorry about that, I had no business trying to pry-”

“Jesus Christ, let me finish, Bradley!” you interrupt loudly. He shrinks back and you rub your temples warily.

“That’s what she said,” he mumbles and you look at him incredulously.

A burst of laughter falls from your lips. “Are you twelve?” you ask through a giggle and he breaks out into a wide smile. 

“I’m sorry. I’ll let you speak. My lips are sealed,” he mimes sealing them with an imaginary key and then throwing it behind him. Your eyes linger over the small crinkles by his eyes as he’s smiling, and you quickly snap them back to the sand in front of you, choosing your next words carefully. 

“I guess... Well, first things first you should know that I quit my job.” 

Bradley looks shocked. "What?! At Java-"

"No, not Java Roasters. I mean my job in Raleigh," you huff out and lean all the way back so that your head rests against the wood. His eyes are trained on you, unblinking. 

“Why?” he asks. 

"I quit... because I hated it. I hated the daily minutia of logging onto a computer and attending stupid morning meetings and reporting my stupid project progress and pretending my work is meaningful- I just... I couldn't do it anymore.” 

Bradley’s gaze is still focused solely on you. It feels less intense now, less nerve-wracking than it’s ever felt before. Like there’s no judgment or threat of mocking, just Bradley listening like you’re telling him the most riveting tale and not the story of how everything is falling apart. He hums, encouraging you to continue. 

“I remember the moment I made the decision so clearly. Like on my way back from work, driving down I-40 and I couldn’t imagine living the rest of my life that way like a... Like a blur. I don’t even recall the last time I picked up a book for fun or got into a tv show or followed one of my passions.”

You pause to take a breath, feeling the returning lump in your throat become increasingly hard to swallow as you realize just how vulnerable you’re becoming. “So I quit. Called up all my friends and Camila was the only one to offer me something that wasn’t another job in the field that literally burned me out. So I’m here now. Just a failure, but at least I didn’t get fired,” you joke, turning away to wipe the one tear that’s fallen down your right cheek. 

“Hey, it’s fine, it’s okay,” you hear Bradley say and suddenly his hand is there - open-faced on your left armrest, not touching you in the slightest. An invitation. A peace offering. A symbol of support. You hesitate for a moment before grasping his hand with your left, squeezing lightly. He continues, “Nothing about this tells me you’re a failure. I never even thought that word was in your vocabulary.” 

“You know, you learn something new every day,” you reply through a soggy giggle. He chuckles and squeezes his hand twice. “I don’t know. Back in undergrad, I thought this was what I wanted. Working for a big-shot company with cutting-edge tech. Then I just got pigeonholed into doing the same thing over and over again, and the work was rarely that stimulating.

“Anyways,” you continue. “I guess I just wanted to explain myself and why I’m here now. And Cam says I’ve been holding onto the past for too long, so I guess that’s why everything just all came out last Thursday. I’m sorry - you didn’t deserve me yelling at you like that.” 

Bradley’s been attentive, nodding throughout your spiel and holding onto your hand tightly. When you gesture for him to say his piece, he clears his throat and removes his hand from your grasp. You ignore how cold your fingers feel now and shove them under your thigh. 

“I never knew there was a different side to our... relationship. I always figured it was friendly competition like we were just pushing each other. And honestly, I think it got me through some of my gen eds because I studied so hard into the night trying to impress you-” 

“Impress me?” you ask, partly from shock. “Why?” 

He shrugs. “I dunno. You were smart and so sincere about school and it was always so inspiring, I wanted to do the same. Maybe you’d think I was... cool. I guess” You let his words sit in the air, looking back on every single interaction with him from undergrad that you can remember. 

Because you can’t remember him being malicious, or him being cruel or mean. If you took off your Petty Goggles™, you can see that maybe he never meant to talk to you in a mocking, demeaning way. Maybe. 

“I’m sorry,” Bradley goes on. “I never meant to give you a hard time in college. I wish I saw how my teasing affected you earlier and I wish I was observant enough to realize you never played along, you always just sort of... took it. That’s not fair to you at all. And I wish I hadn't been so obnoxious and fallen back into old habits this past week. I’m just really sorry. And moving forward I’d like to be more self-aware.” 

You nod, cracking a half smile. “You were pretty fucking obnoxious. Caramel in matcha sounds terrible.”

“It’s incredible,” he defends. “And just for the record, I finished every single drink you made for me. You’re doing amazing as a barista so far, sweetheart.”

The two of you laugh, and you feel so much lighter. At this moment, you think that maybe you and Bradley could be friendly - at least, you definitely could leave the past in the past and get a fresh start just like you were hoping to do when you came to North Island. Let go of this stuff with Bradley and get to know him for who he is. 

“Listen... If you’re willing, I-I’d like to have a fresh start?” he says, and he stumbles over the words clumsily, like he’s rehearsed them like he’s hoping you won’t turn him down. 

You smile. “Yeah. I think I’d like that, Bradley.” 

Bradley beams at you - oh fuck, there’s that weird nauseating feeling in your gut - and you hesitantly smile right back. “Let’s head back inside. I’ll get you a drink,” he starts to stand. 

You narrow your eyes playfully. “Thought you wanted me to cover the next drink? You know, with my big STEMinist paycheck?” 

He closes his eyes, breathes in deeply, and turns his head up to the sky before exhaling with a pained smile. “I’m quite a jackass, aren’t I?” 

You roll your eyes and laugh before turning around and making your way through the cool sand. Your heart feels full - ten sizes bigger. “You seem like a good guy now, Bradshaw.” 

--

“Listen, Buttercup,” Bradley said at post-volleyball drinks, right as he was getting up to leave for the night. “I know you’re an organized girl and you like to keep things up to date - which is why I must inform you that whatever number you have under my name in your phone is most definitely out of date.”

“I’d honestly be impressed if you still had the same number fifteen years later,” you laughed. 

“Yeah, yeah, well if you want to reach out to me for any reason, here you go,” he slides over a bar napkin with hastily scribbled digits on it. “Just - save me under my real name? Not like ‘Satan’s Spawn’ or ‘My Worst Nightmare’.” 

“Both are accurate,” you say, pulling out your phone. “I believe I had you under ‘El Diablo’ back then.”

“The devil- Oh REAL clever.” 

Over the next few days, you find yourself texting Bradley more often than you ever thought you would - which to be fair is a low bar, seeing as you never thought you’d even reply to one of his texts. It’s sporadic since you know he’s busy preparing for a mission of some sort on base (he and Natasha didn’t elaborate much more on it during drinks) but he makes an effort to keep the conversation going throughout the day and into the late hours of the night when his replies are longer and more frequent. 

He invites you out to the Hard Deck on Wednesday evening, and you stay to talk late into the night until last call, talking about what you both have done since graduating and gossiping about old college friends. You’re both careful not to discuss what happened during college, your plans, or Bradley’s upcoming dangerous mission - for now, it’s just casual comfortable conversation. You’re becoming friends. 

Somehow, you finally feel at peace with being right where you are - just working at the coffee shop and being friends with Bradley and doing things other than catching up on tv shows. You shoot out emails to your old favorite professors and former colleagues, asking for guidance on what you can do next in your career, and for the first time, you feel hopeful about your future. 

You’ve advanced from treading water to doing a nice, comfortable backstroke. And it feels like it’ll be clear skies for some time. 

Saturday evening at around 5 PM, after you’ve listened to a motivational podcast and finished chores and your weekly laundry, your phone lights up with a call from Lieutenant Gallo. 

“Buttercup!” he sings out as soon as you answer. “What are you doing right now?” 

“Um,” you eye your empty kitchen sink, the spotless floors, and the crumb-free kitchen countertops. “Nothing. Just finished my laundry and some other chores.”  

“Oh perfect! I’m pulling up at your house in two minutes.” 

“I- what? Who gave you my address?” 

“Nat, who got it from Cam. You can yell at them later! Just change into something comfortable and wear tennis shoes.” He hangs up. 

Ten minutes later, you’re seated in the front seat of Bradley’s Ford Bronco. As soon as you slid into the vehicle, he shoved a paper bag towards you and an iced coffee from Starbucks (“Sorry for the betrayal, sweetheart, if only Java wasn’t closed on the weekends”). 

“Pulling out all the stops, huh?” you asked, breaking off a piece of a blueberry scone and popping it into your mouth.

“Well, you’ll need your energy,” he says vaguely and smiles at you through the side of his sunglasses. 

While you finish off your drink, you survey your enemy-turned-friend in the driver’s seat. Bradley’s right elbow is propped up on the middle console, his left hand extended to grip the steering wheel at the twelve o’clock position. The black, sleeveless athletic top is painfully well-fitted and accentuates his stupid muscles. Your eyes catch the way his bicep tenses when he maneuvers a left turn, the way the cords in his forearm clench when he takes a sip of his caramel matcha monstrosity. There’s some old song from the ‘80s playing at low volume on the radio, and your gaze travels to how his long fingers tap out the beat on the console. 

He’s so fucking pretty. And suddenly you’re going through your mental Rolodex of conversation starters, going through all the possible cool things you could say because holy fuck do you want to try and impress him right now. Or make him smile or laugh or maybe reach over and grab your hand again like he did on the beach 

“Sorry, my A/C’s busted,” he interrupts your train of thought. He’d rolled the windows down earlier for which you were grateful - despite it being late afternoon, it was still incredibly hot. 

“Eh, it’s better for the environment to roll the windows down,” you reply. “I mean - to a certain extent. Like I heard at higher speeds it’s not super fuel efficient because it causes more drag for the car and- well, I’m sure you know about that, being a pilot and all. Never-” 

“No no, keep going,” he says and you swear his mustache quirks up with his smile. “It’s not like I’m rolling down the windows in a F/A-18. I like hearing you STEMsplain it, Buttercup.” 

“Shut up,” you feel the heat rushing to your cheeks that must have something to do with the sun. You can’t be this nervous around a guy who almost fainted during his first keg stand. “So can you at least tell me where we are?” 

He heaves out a dramatic sigh. “Well, right now, we’re in San Diego-” 

“Bradley, I swear I’ll jump out of this car-” you threaten through a laugh. 

“We’ll be there in two minutes, Buttercup, jeez! We’re near Point Loma, though, and that’s all I’ll tell you.” 

Three minutes later, Bradley drives past a sign reading Sunset Cliffs Natural Park - and your heartbeat quickens. 

You didn’t even think he heard you offhandedly mentioning your plan to check out the short trail up near here but not wanting to go alone. Your long-winded spiel had been interrupted on Monday by Jake loudly calling you two over to watch his winning 9-ball move (he’d missed the pocket entirely, but that’s beside the point). 

Bradley pulling out all the stops today just makes it difficult to hate him, impossible to be annoyed with how he was before because you can tell he’s trying so hard to make it up to you and be a better friend. You resolve to do the same for him some time - maybe you’ll attempt to craft the matcha monstrosity after all.

“I got water and sunscreen in the back - it’s just like an hour to hike but I know you said you wanted to try something new here, so...” he seems a little nervous now, not meeting your eyes and busying himself with what’s in the back trunk. 

“Thanks, Bradley,” you tell him, and the smile he sends your way finally makes you understand just what Andrew Garfield was waxing poetic about with the shot of espresso nonsense. 

The two of you don’t chat much - mainly because the crashing waves of the Pacific Ocean drown out anything that isn’t a loud shout, but the silence is comfortable between the two. He lets you lead the way, following behind you and pointing out rocks that might trip you up. 

After reaching the turnaround point of the trail, you both settle on a large, flat rock to watch the water over the horizon, the waves forming from far out and crashing onto the side of the cliffs. It’s far too early to see any sunset views, but the sun is still warming your faces and the wind is breezy enough to cool you down without blowing sand into your eyes. It’s quieter here, and you settle into talking about anything and everything, just as you always have this past week.  

After an extended beat of silence, you muster up the courage to broach a subject that’s been plaguing your mind. "So what's up with you and your mission instructor?” you hesitantly ask. “Phoenix told me you guys have some beef. Like, really slow-roasted beef. Worse than your shit with pretty boy-"

"Oh my god," Bradley scrubs a hand over his face. "Please don't call Hangman a pretty boy. At the very least, not to his face. He'll never let me hear the end of it."

You giggle and shove his shoulder playfully in response. You don’t push the topic again, instead waiting for him to either accept the ball in his court or just lob a different conversation topic back at you. 

"He pulled my papers to the naval academy," Bradley says quietly. "Set me back four years."

“Oh...” you trail off, not sure what to say. “Why would he do that?” 

Bradley inhales deeply and shrugs his broad shoulders. “I always knew him as Uncle Pete - or Maverick. He flew with my dad - Goose - and they were really close friends. My mom joked about feeling like a third wheel at times and honestly, I can understand how from what I remember,” he huffs out a laugh, and you smile slightly. 

“I was four when my dad died. It was during some training exercise, their plane got caught in a jet stream and they had to eject. Maverick got out fine, my dad-” he cuts off, turning his head away to look at the ocean again. 

Feeling the deja vu hit, you hold your hand out, palm facing up. “You don’t have to go into the details,” you say as softly as you can above the sound of the wind and the waves. 

When he looks over, the pain in his eyes makes a pit form in your stomach, which is only slightly alleviated by him slipping his large, warm hand into your outstretched one. “No, no, it’s just... It’s been a while since I talked about it. And I’ve just been so angry in class and during training these past few weeks. I don’t know why he’d want to hold me back from making my dad proud. But I just can’t let go of it.”

You squeeze his hand once, letting his words sink in, giving him time to empty all his thoughts. If there’s one thing you’ve learned about listening and supporting people, it’s that you don’t always have to have a response. It’s just about being there.  

“I think he just... He didn’t think I could do it,” he goes on. “Or be as good as my dad. And neither he nor my mom wanted me to go into the Navy, but I wanted to for my dad. For Goose.”

A minute passes of silence. He squeezes your hand once, and you take it as a sign to reply. “For what it’s worth, I think he’d be really damn proud of you.” 

He shakes his head with a sad smile. “I don’t know. Sometimes I watch how Mav flies and think about how different we are. He’s fast, spontaneous, and reckless to a point. And my dad loved flying with him. I’m cautious - Jake’s already given me a hard time for being too slow. I don’t... I think my dad would’ve wanted me to stop holding back.” 

You nod, focusing on the way his hand feels in yours, the way his thumb has started absentmindedly rubbing circles over your knuckle. “I mean...” you start. “I don’t think your dad would be disappointed with the way you fly, Bradley. You’re the best of the best, like, Natasha told me how you’re all in the top 1% and you were all called back for this crazy mission and that’s such a big accomplishment in and of itself. But...” you trail off. 

He squeezes twice for you to continue. “But I think he wouldn’t want to see you holding this grudge against Maverick. And I know I’m the last person who should be telling you to let go of the past... But honestly, ever since our fresh start, I’ve felt so relieved, and hopeful, you know? And it’s absolutely not the same thing, I know. Mav betrayed you, and I mean, I was just mad you were better than me-” 

He scoffs. “It was more than that, Buttercup. Don’t downplay your struggles-”

You wave your free hand. “Regardless! I just mean to say... If this mission really is life or death like you said, then maybe the two of you need to talk it out. Have a fresh start. Just like we did - minus the hand holding, though,” you joke, holding up your joined hands slightly. 

He smiles softly, squeezing once, sending your heart into a frenzy. “Thanks. I really appreciate your input and I’ll think about it, Buttercup. Really. And for what it’s worth, I’m glad we’re on a fresh start.” 

The comfortable silence returns, and you turn your gaze back to the ocean, which isn’t as pretty as you remember it being. Even with the sun getting lower, casting rays that reflect brilliantly off the surface of the water, the sight still isn’t as breathtaking as the man next to you. 

“Sorry I’m still calling you Buttercup, by the way,” he breaks the silence. “I’ll stop - I mean it’ll take a while to switch over, but...” 

You shrug. “I’m getting used to it, honestly. If you called me by my real name, I might have a stroke.”

“Wouldn’t want that to happen,” Bradley laughs, eyes crinkling ever so sweetly, and just then you realize that the nauseous feeling plaguing you this whole week is butterflies. In your stomach. Just like the Miley Cyrus song.  

Sweet niblets. 

--

Tuesday finds you in the middle of another rom-com binge night - you’re on your third glass of ranch water (courtesy of some girl Brittany from Instagram) and your second throwback film of the night (Mean Girls) just for the comfort it provides. You hadn’t heard from Bradley yet - apparently, something happened during yesterday’s training and some Naval officer had passed away.

It’s been rough for him with the mission coming up next week - you’re happy to give him some space. 

Your phone starts buzzing between your ass and the couch, and you pull it out to see another call from Lieutenant Gallo. “Hey, Lieutenant,” you smile slightly, swirling the contents of your drink in the glass idly. “How are you feeling? How was the funeral?”

Bradley’s driving - you can hear the hum of the vehicle over the phone and the Bronco’s turn signal. “It was fine,” he says, finally, sounding distant - and not just because he’s put you on speaker.

“You okay?” You fold your legs underneath you and pause the TV, devoting your undivided attention to him. “You can talk to me.”

He’s still silent. Then, he says your name - your real name. Your stomach drops immediately like you just hit some turbulence, and you set your drink down on a coaster and wait for him to continue. “I don’t know. It just reminded me of how terrible this job can be. Losing someone like that. I mean, no one knew just how sick Admiral Kazansky was, but…. Fuck. It’s brutal here. And Phoenix and Bob both had to punch out,” you gasp softly, “...they stayed for overnight observation and they’re fine now, but it’s terrifying.”

You nod, even though he can’t see you. “I’m glad they’re okay. I know that must be terrifying, Bradley,” you say. “Are you... Are you just more worried about the mission now?”

A heavy sigh. “Yeah. Something like that.” Another turn signal click - your heartbeat is somehow outpacing it. “Listen…” he says your real name again. Your smartwatch is going to think you’re going into cardiac arrest. “I know… I appreciate our becoming friends now. You’ve gotta know that. I just need to warn you about this mission… it’s gonna be fucking brutal. And you know, after we get back - if we get back, sorry to put it that way - it just never ends… it’s onto the next thing. I might get shipped out to Manama or somewhere, I’m not sure. And I just wanted to warn you, because I don’t know how long you’re going to be stuck here for-“

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You say after a sharp intake of breath. His words strike deep into your heart, unearthing feelings of hopelessness you thought you were just starting to bury.

“I mean… look, I just know I’m headed out after this mission if I get back. And until you figure things out you’re staying here, right? I mean you said it yourself, you’re not sure what your next step is going to be.”

You nod again, thinking back to your breathing exercises, thinking back to your hike with Bradley, thinking back to the smell of sunscreen on his skin, the sound of the waves, the weight of his hand in yours. Your efforts are for naught though, as tears still find a way to roll down your cheeks in fat droplets - like the rain on the day you decided to just quit once and for all. The biggest fucking mistake of your life, maybe. “Yeah, I guess,” you croak out.

Bradley’s silent on the line for a second. “I just wanted to… fuck, I don’t know. I just wanted to be straightforward with you. Because I really appreciate your friendship. I wish we could’ve managed the niceties fifteen years ago,” he chuckles dryly. You feel something shift inside you at his phrasing - you’re annoyed at his leisurely tone. He knows exactly why things were the way they were in undergrad. “I just don’t want to keep you waiting here for me.”

That’s the final nail in the coffin. The cruel, painful reminder that your path ahead is terribly foggy, completely uncertain. To hear Bradley speak about it so matter-of-factly, as if he too is expecting nothing more from you but to stay in this guest house for the rest of eternity. It’s honestly starting to sound like a good idea. 

You eye your open laptop where you had pulled up info about Stanford University’s Masters and Ph.D. programs in Computer Science. A dozen tabs are open - programs for schools all across the world, YouTube videos of people outlining how they got into research and University teaching, and a very reassuring post on Reddit titled “How old is too old to attend grad school?”

Your heart sinks at the prospect of trying and failing again. At the realization that Bradley called just to informally shift things over to an awkward long-distance acquaintanceship. At the heartbreaking, anxious thought that maybe Bradley can sense you’re just not cut out to take yet another giant step in your career. That you’ll be here for a while. So you close your laptop with your free hand and squeeze your eyes shut.

“Right,” you say, keeping your voice as even as possible and wiping your wet cheeks with your shirt. “I get it. I just- yeah. Yeah, I don’t know how long I’ll be here. You’re right.”

Bradley sucks in air through his teeth. “I shouldn’t have said it like that. I didn’t mean-“

“No, no! It’s fine!” You cut him off. “You’re right. As always, you’re right. I um… Fuck.  I gotta go, I think.”

“Buttercup-“ he tries, but somehow it fuels a fire you didn’t even know was spreading through your body. All of your anxieties and fears of failure take a backseat to the burning anger in your chest and throat. You find yourself indescribably incensed with him - who the fuck does he think he is? Trying to warn you about staying in this city for too long? Pretending to be concerned about your future?

“Don’t fucking call me that!” You say sharply. “I’m not your buttercup, or your sweetheart, or whatever else you come up with. You know my fucking name, and apparently, you know my plans too! You just have me all figured out, don’t you, Bradshaw? Lieutenant Bradshaw, top 1% of all naval pilots - you know what? Good for you, Bradley. I’m glad you have it all figured out and you’re going off on some awesome adventure right after this with your awesome and talented flight buddies.” Oh god, you’re dangerously close to repeating Janis Ian’s angry monologue from Mean Girls. 

“They’re not adventures, hon-“

“You can fuck off, Bradshaw. I’ll try my best not to wither away here in Fightertown with no fucking opportunities for me whatsoever, working that fucking barista job trying to make sense of all the fucking ways you can make a macchiato because that’s all I can fucking manage! And you know what - for as long as I’ve hated this job, from just the three weeks I’ve been here that is truly only a modicum of my whole life, I’ve been trying to convince myself that there’s nothing wrong with treading water and waiting for your next move. But if you’re so worried I’m gonna waste my life waiting for you then I’ll make it easy for you, Bradshaw: I’m not waiting for anyone but my damn self. I’m gonna give myself time and patience because I fucking deserve that after practically killing myself trying to get a degree I might never use again. So thanks for your concern jackass - but you can shove it. I see even after fifteen years you haven’t lost your penchant for making me feel small!”

“Wait, what-“ you jab your finger at the end call button, effectively cutting Bradley Bradshaw out of your life once again.

~happy ending for these bbs coming in part 3 ~

[fandom-imagines-stories]

There With You

Peeta Mellark x Reader

Words: 2532

Summary: A panic attack during the Victor’s tour leaves the reader gasping for breath backstage. Her fiance is able to calm her down, but now she’s afraid that what’s real and what’s pretend will blur together.

Notes: This is another kind of comfort fic based on my own experience, so I hope someone out there can connect with it. I love reading things to help calm myself down, so I hope that my comfort imagines can do that for somebody else. Plus Peeta is one of my comfort characters, so it works out. (Also, the reader has taken Katniss’ place in this scenario. Still love Katniss, but this fit the story)

Warnings: Panic attack, anxiety, the like (This is not a depiction of every kind of panic attack. This is just what I have experienced in the past)

-

None of this was supposed to happen. There wasn’t supposed to be two of you. There weren't supposed to be riots. The romance wasn’t supposed to be real.

Then why was he the only one keeping you from sprinting off that stage?

Peeta’s fingers were intertwined with yours as he spoke to the crowd, keeping you grounded. You tried to focus on the sound of his voice instead of the hundreds of eyes staring up at you. You looked up at the screens and saw her looking back at you. Her. The first person you’d ever killed and you couldn’t even bring yourself to think of her name.

Your breathing hitched and you could feel the squeezing, twisting grip around your throat. No no no not now. Not in front of the entire crowd. What would President Snow do to you if you broke down in front of an entire district? What would he do to Peeta?

“Thank you.” Peeta finished up his speech and a few people in the crowd reluctantly applauded. His eyes locked on your face, seeing a single tear fall down your cheek and he quickly led you off the stage.

He knew that District 9 would be the hardest for you. He still remembered the knife and the blood and the gore. You had killed her to save him. And now you had to live with that for the rest of your life.

The doors closed behind you and you immediately fell back against them, clutching your chest with your free hand. You ripped open the buttons on your high-necked dress, foolishly thinking that it would make it easier to breathe. The invisible hand had closed around your throat, knees crushing down your chest. When you closed your eyes, Clove was on top of you, choking the life out of you slowly, whispering all of the ways she was going to torment Peeta once you were gone.

“Let’s get her out of here.” Haymitch said, his expression a mix of worry and unease. He knew the image of a weak Victor would mean more problems that you weren’t ready to deal with. He remembered what it was like to be under the eye of the Capitol.

“I can’t… I can’t do this. Peeta, I can’t keep-” You gasped in between shaky breaths. Your vision was blurred at the sides and you were gripping the door to keep from collapsing. “I-I-”

“Shh, it’s okay. You don’t have to talk now.” Peeta said, putting a hand on your cheek. “Can you walk to the train?” You nodded, but couldn’t seem to bring your hands away from the door. Peeta looked back at Haymitch and Effie for a moment before turning back to you. “I’m going to carry you, okay?” You must have nodded because he kissed your cheek before scooping you up in his arms.

Your hands released the door and instead latched onto the lapel of his jacket. Every part of you was shaking and the weight on your chest was only getting heavier.

“P-Peeta.” You cried, feeling the tears welling up in your eyes.

“I’ve got you. We’re almost there.” He tried to hide the crack in his voice, trying to be the strong one for you, but seeing you like this split his heart in half. Haymitch and Effie huddled around you, trying to block the two of you from any prying eyes or cameras.

You didn’t notice when they finally got you onto the train. In your head, you were still on that stage, staring out at the little brothers of the girl you murdered. You thought for sure you were suffocating. Every breath was becoming harder and more painful than the last and the blackness at the edge of your vision was growing.

Peeta sat down, holding you in his lap and gently stroking his fingers through your hair.

“It’s okay. It’s okay. I’ve got you. You’re safe. You aren’t in the arena. You’re here with me.” He buried his face in your neck, gently pressing a kiss to the place between your shoulder and your spine. “You’re with me.”

“I’ll never leave that arena.” You whispered, your voice so quiet you weren’t sure if he even heard you.

This was far from the first attack you’d had since winning the games, but it was certainly the worst.

Haymitch and Effie just watched you with sympathetic eyes for a moment before leaving the two of you alone. Peeta held you tight until your breathing started to return to a steady pace. While your vision cleared, your body couldn't stop shaking and you couldn’t seem to pry your hands away from his jacket.

“I’m sorry.” You sniffed, trying to wipe panicked tears away on your sleeve.

“You have nothing to be sorry for. I shouldn’t have made you go out there with me. I knew what it was going to be like for you and I should have-”

“They wouldn’t have let you go out there alone.” You shook your head. “There’s no hiding from them, Peeta.” You repeated your words like an echo, over and over again. “I’ll never leave that arena.”

“Then I’m right there with you.” He pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead and stood up, keeping you pressed against his chest. “Come on, we should try and get some sleep before we reach the next District.”

He carried you to your compartment and tucked you under the covers. He crawled up beside you without you having to ask. It had become an unsaid thing between the two of you. You kept the nightmares away as best as you could and when one of you woke up afraid, you weren’t alone.

-

Peeta had proposed for the cameras the day you left for the Victor’s tour, but it was all for show. The Capitol ate it up. When you really said yes, it was a week prior, just the two of you in the calming quiet in a meadow outside of the fence. It meant more that way.

Of course, Effie had picked out an extravagant ring for you to wear on stage and everything. It was gaudy and heavy and enough jewels to feed three districts for a month. But like the faked proposal, it wasn’t what was real.

You twisted the small bronze band around your finger, examining it in the faint light coming through the train windows. You had been awake for about an hour now, but Peeta’s peaceful sleep kept you from stirring. You rested in the warmth of his embrace and listened carefully to the slow, comforting sound of his heart beat.

You wanted to stay in this moment forever.

“Rise and shine you two.” Effie burst through the door and Peeta instantly went rigid beneath you, jolting up and pushing you behind him. You couldn’t see his face, but his expression frightened Effie. “I’m sorry, I didn’t think, I-”

“No, Effie, it’s okay. Really.” He said apologetically, his expression softening. “We’ll be out for breakfast in a second.”

“Alright. Don’t be long. I know they want to do a feature on engaged life. A little romance might be just what you two need.” She gave you both a small smile before walking out, the door sliding shut behind her. Peeta laid back on his elbows, blowing out a low sigh.

“I didn’t mean to scare her. I just heard the door open and all I could think was that someone was here to take you away.” He pulled you back down to him and gently pressed his lips to yours. Truthfully, he’d been in the middle of a nightmare when he heard Effie enter. He thought that the images in his head were becoming real.

“She’ll be okay.” You concluded, drawing circles on his chest . “Effie is tougher than she seems. And she knows what we’ve been through.” Despite her bright and sometimes obnoxiously optimistic attitude, you knew that Effie wasn’t a mindless pawn from the Capitol. She saw what the games did to you. She saw the children behind the victors.

Breakfast was mostly had in a settled quiet. While neither of you said anything, Haymitch glanced over at you and you nodded to let him know that you were okay. It was that silent understanding that was the foundation of your relationship with your former mentor.

“They’re doing an update interview to see how the Capitol’s darling lovebirds have been enjoying their tour.” Haymitch said gruffly. “Which means lots of blushing and doe-eyes from you two.”

“That won’t be hard.” Peeta noted, looking over at you. He meant it sweetly, but something about it sent a shiver of dread down your spine. You ignored it, giving him a small smile.

“It’s comforting to know we won’t need to convince anybody of the whole hopeless romantic thing.” Haymitch made a face. “You two do a wonderful job of making me nauseous all on your own.” Effie smacked him with her rolled up napkin.

“I think it’s wonderful.” She mused dreamily. “How something like that could bring you together.”

You stiffened, keeping your eyes on your plate, pushing your eggs around mindlessly with your fork. Sometimes you forgot that this was still all a TV show for people to gawk at. You would be the star crossed lovers from District 12 for the rest of your lives. No amount of real emotion you felt for Peeta was going to erase that.

The other three seemed to notice your shift and finished their meal in silence. Haymitch excused himself to the dining car for likely the rest of the day and Effie left to work on the speeches you’d have to read in front of District 8. You hadn’t eaten a bite, opting to sip slowly at your coffee instead.

“Just a few more days and we’ll get to go home.” Peeta said, noticing your empty stare and untouched meal. You just nodded, not really hearing him.

-

“So tell us, Peeta, when did you know that you wanted to propose?” Caesar grinned into the camera.

“Honestly, I knew the moment we stepped out of the arena that I wanted to spend the rest of my life with her.” Peeta gave your hand a squeeze and looked at you with complete and utter adoration. Caesar gasped in awe, eating up the fluffy romance that Peeta was perfect at portraying.

Is that all this is? The thought penetrated your mind before you could stop it. A performance? Is everything he says for the sake of the camera?

“I’m not sure if I’ll ever forgive you for not including me in the moment, Peeta.” Caesar pouted. “But it was just so sweet I can’t stay mad at you!” The two laughed and you forced a loving smile. “Really, proposing in front of the bakery just before you left for the tour- why, it’s probably the most romantic thing I have ever seen.”

“I’m glad it came off that way, because I was a nervous wreck!” Peeta exclaimed and they laughed again. You had to admire his acting ability. Maybe that’s what scared you so much.

He’s just performing. Is he performing with you?

“I think we all want to know,” Caesar beamed, turning his attention to you, “what was going through your head, Y/N? When Peeta got down on one knee?”

You pushed any doubt from your head and just focused on everything you knew was real. “Honestly, Caesar, I can’t think of a happier moment in my life. I never knew what I was missing until we found each other.”

“Don’t these two just make you believe in love, Claudius?” He gushed to his costar. “We’ll let the two of you get back to your tour, but I can’t say how excited we are to have you all to ourselves here in the Capitol.”

“We can’t wait.” Peeta grinned. You both smiled broadly, waiting for the little red recording light to turn off. As soon as the cameras were gone, Peeta lifted your hand up to his lips. “That went well.” He muttered against the skin of your palm.

“Yeah. I think they definitely believe that we’re the perfect couple.” You hadn’t meant to say it so bitterly, but as soon as the words left your mouth, Peeta’s expression changed.

“What’s wrong?” His eyes were different, the charisma that was there with Caesar was gone. His worry seemed to stem from something real, but you just couldn’t convince yourself that it was.

“Nothing.” None of this is real. It’s all just the games. What if you’re still in the arena? What if this is all in your head? You broke away from him, trying to hide the panic growing and growing inside you until it was all you could feel. You could hear him saying your name, but it sounded garbled and far away, like he was whispering in the rain.

What seized you now was unlike you’d ever felt before. Not only was it the dark panic that blurred your vision and tightened your throat until you couldn’t breathe- it was a complete disconnect from reality. It was like you were trapped inside one of their screens and you were banging on the glass, trying to get out.

-

You didn’t realize you had fainted until you woke up in Peeta’s arms. His was sitting up, cradling you in his lap like he had before, only now you were in your room and you had a blanket draped around your shoulders. You jerked away, your mind still terrified that even this wasn’t real.

“Woah, hey it’s okay. I’m right here.”

“This isn’t real. None of this is real.” You whispered in a panic, still trying to push away from him. This was the Capitol. They were in your head. “You aren’t real.” As hard as you shoved against him, his strong arms were locked around you. He pressed a kiss to your temple, holding you closer.

“I’m right here. I’m real. Just breathe. Come on, stay with me.” While his voice was soothing, your vision was still blurred with hot tears.

“We can never escape this. Every second of our lives belongs to them. Nothing is real. It’s all theirs.”

Peeta pulled away, taking your hand in his. He slid the bronze ring off your finger and held it up.

“This is ours. It’s not Snow’s, it’s not the Capitol’s, it’s ours. It’s real and it’s ours.” He put the ring back on and moved your hand to his chest. You could feel his heart beating beneath your fingertips. “I’m real,” He looked at you with a gentle and yet intense love, “and I am completely yours.”

You wiped away your tears and laid a hand on his cheek. “Peeta-”

“And no matter the nightmare, no matter the fear, or when your mind takes you back to the games, just remember I will always be there with you.”

He pulled you back to him and the two of you remained- away from the cameras and away from the Capitol. At least for now, you weren’t victors. You were a boy and a girl who had saved each other.